t
ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA.
OR
DICTIONARY
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND GENERAL LITERATURE.
EIGHTH EDITION.
WITH EXTENSIVE IMPROVEMENTS AND ADDITIONS;
AND NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS.
VOLUME VIII.
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH.
MDCCCLV.
[The Proprietors of this Work give notice that they reserve the right of Translating it^\
NEILL AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
DIAMOND.
Diamond. DIAMOND, adamas of the ancients, almas of Persia
and heera of Hindustan, is the most brilliant of gems; and
although known from the remotest times, if we may judge
by the casual notice made of it in Scripture, it had in the
earlier periods of history obtained little more than a name.
Pliny states that it bore a price above all things in the ivorld,
and was known to very few except princes and crowned
heads. His meagre remarks on this gem are even less
satisfactory than those upon almost any other; which affords
another reason to conclude that the diamond still remained
in his time an object of great rarity. The localities quoted
by Pliny appear to be quite erroneous; at least subsequent
observations give us reason to think so.
Up to the commencement of the eighteenth century dia¬
monds were wholly derived from India, where they were
found in detached crystals, accompanied with grains of gold,
amongst metallic sand washed down from surrounding
mountains. In 1728 a similar territory, loaded with the
two most valuable substances in nature, was discovered on
the southern continent of the New World. When in pur¬
suit of gold, crystals of diamond were often found ; but the
labourers being ignorant of their value, laid them aside as
curiosities. A miner, who is said to have arrived in Brazil
at this time, first directed attention towards them; and,
without attempting to appropriate his discovery to his own
aggrandizement, he led his comrades to turn their pursuit
to the more engaging object. It soon, therefore, attracted
the notice of the government, and the district was shortly
afterwards taken possession of in name of the sovereign.
Hitherto the supply of diamonds was entirely confined to
Hindustan and the island of Borneo; and, as might rea¬
sonably be expected, the opening of a new field, the extent
of which was as yet wholly unknown, could not fail to affect
the market. I he discredit which was at first thrown upon
the accounts from Brazil, as also on the purity and perfec¬
tion of the stones, repressed the fears of the Asiatic dealers;
and the increased demand after the purchase of the Pitt
diamond, a circumstance which no doubt rendered that
gem far more recherche at the gay and luxurious court of
France, all tended to increase the demand, and keep it
more upon an equilibrium with the increased supply than
VOL. vm. /
could possibly have been anticipated. At a subsequent pe- Diamond,
riod, no doubt, the revolution of France interfered with the
value of jewels; but the surplus thus produced was soon
absorbed by the wealth of Britain, and diamonds of the
first water for a long time maintained their ground.
At the present day this perhaps cannot be said to hold
good. As a commercial commodity, diamonds must have
suffered depression like all others, and may, particularly
those beyond the smallest sizes, perhaps be valued at from
twenty-five to thirty per cent, under the prices which
they bore in the times of Tavernier; although Mawe ap¬
pears to have been anxious to inculcate a different doctrine.
After his examination of the Brazilian district, he says there
would be no difficulty in calculating the period requisite to
work out the whole of the diamond ground in that country ;
and as many of the mines of Hindustan are considered as
exhausted, the period must come sooner or later when dia- *
monds will be no longer to be had.
In India, Golconda has always been cited as one of its
principal repositories, although none was ever found in the
immediate vicinity of that fortress, a circumstance traceable
perhaps to the geological character of the neighbourhood,
which is entirely syenitic. It may have arisen, however, from
the fact, that the diamond mines of Raolconda and Ganee
Purteeal were situated in the territory of the Kootub
Shahee kings of Golconda. When that dynasty was
overthrown, and their country occupied by the officers
of the Mogul emperors, Golconda ceased to be the ca¬
pital, and Hyderabad, which is only a few miles distant,
became the occasional seat of the new government. The
territory in which the mines are situated has since been
ceded to the East India Company. It lies near Condapilly,
on the northern bank of the Kistna, about fifty miles from
the sea, and near the Pass of Bezoara, where the river ap¬
pears at some period to have forced its way through a chain
of hills, and to have emptied an extensive lake which had
existed to the westward of them. All attempts to work
them have been abandoned, as the produce has ceased to
refund the expense of labour. The localities of the dia¬
mond in Hindustan are so various that it would be almost
endlqss to enumerate them. Those on the Mahanuddy,
cJdd* A
2
D I A M O N D.
Diamond, vvith those on the Kistna and at Mallavilly, north-west of
Ellora, may be mentioned as probably the most productive
of this gem. The island of Borneo is the only other east¬
ern locality which can boast of its production. The diamond
occurs at Pontiana, in that island, directly under the line,
and ar, Benjarmassin, about three degrees south of the equa¬
tor. Here it is said to be of a quality superior to that of the
gems found in the other Indian localities; and to be distin¬
guished in consequence by the name of Landak, the place
where they are found. Here also the diamond occurs in allu¬
vial soil, accompanied with gold. One diamond of 367
carats was found there upwards of a century ago, and is sup¬
posed to be now in the hands of the chief of Pontiana.
rrom Heyne’s account of the working of diamond mines
in Hindustan, it seems to afford a very miserable livelihood.
He states that the diamond has hitherto been found only in
alluvial soil, or in the most recent rocks; and that the stones
are not scattered through the whole of these beds, but con¬
fined to one rather harder than the rest. The upper stra¬
tum, of eighteen inches, consists of sand, gravel, and loam;
next there is a deposit of stiff black clay or mud, about four
feet thick; and next the diamond bed, which is distinguished
by a mixture of large rounded stones. It is from two to
two and a half feet thick, closely cemented together with
clay. Sometimes this stratum is covered with calcareous
tufo. Here shallow pits are excavated, of a few feet in
diameter, in such spots as the practice of the workman may
induce him to select; he sinks to a depth of a few feet,
and searches the bed which he considers most promising
for his purposes; and if he meets with little encouragement,
he shifts his situation and proceeds elsewhere. Thus a
great deal of the country may be turned to waste and ne¬
glected, and, when it comes to be again wrought over more
carefully, may give rise to the absurd fancy of regenera¬
tion.
The miners, M. Voysey (Asiatic Researches, vol. xv.
p. 120) says, are of opinion all over India, that the chips and
small rejected pieces of former searchers actually increase
in size, and in process of time become large diamonds; and
he finishes his paper by hoping that some future mineralo¬
gist would ascertain whether there were any foundation
for the vulgar opinion of the continual growth of the dia¬
mond ; particularly as he hoped at some future period to
produce undeniable proof of the re-crystallization of ame¬
thyst, zeolite, and felspar, in alluvial soil. This ingenious
writer did not live to bring forward his proofs; but had
he been doomed to arrive at the age of the patriarchs of
old, we are of opinion he would have been puzzled to pro¬
duce them.
In Brazil, the diamond is more confined to one spot than
in India. 1 he district of Minas Geraes comprehends, as
far as we yet know, the whole of the diamond grounds
hitherto discovered in Brazil. There the workings ap¬
pear to be carried on more systematically than in India.
1 he operations at the Serra do Frio we have already noticed
in the article Brazil (vol. v. p. 293). The Serra do Frio,
or Cold Mountain, is a mountainous platform, having an ele¬
vation of from sixteen to eighteen hundred metres. The
district over which the diamonds are searched for extends
about sixteen leagues from north to south, by about eight from
east to west. It is situated twelve leagues north of Tdjuco,on
the river Tigitouhonha, which falls into the river San Fran-
. cisco. By the decomposition of the granite and mica-slate,
an agglomerate is formed, composed of rounded white quartz
pebbles and light-coloured sand, to which the natives give
the name of cascalaho; and it is in this substance that the
diamonds are found, along with gold, which is sometimes
crystallized. It is exactly similar to some of the samples of
the diamond deposits of Hindustan sent to the Royal So¬
ciety of Edinburgh by Mr Swinton, but differs considerably
from otheis, where a conglomerated sandstone of consider¬
able tenacity has in several instances been sent, as the ma- Diamond] i
trix of the diamond. ^ ^ ]
From anything that has hitherto been ascertained, it does v
not appear that the diamond has ever yet been seen in a ma¬
trix which could be esteemed its original position. Heyne
has given two coloured engravings of diamonds in the ma¬
trix, but they are in all probability only accidentally agglu¬
tinated in ferruginous matter, devoid of the character of
rock. The Musnuddy, which joins the Mahanuddy, is
mentioned as affording an indication which might lead*to a
favourable result in such an investigation. At its conflu¬
ence with the Maund River, near Chunderpoor, and not
farther down than Sonpoor, and only on the left bank of
the river are diamonds found. Hence the Maund is the
point at which the examination should commence ; and if
the country can be effectually penetrated, it would be well
worthy the attention of some enterprising mineralogist.
We have few satisfactory geological accounts of any of
the diamond countries ; a slight sketch by Voysey, in the
article above quoted, is the best that we can refer to. He
particularly alludes to a range of hills called the Nalla
Malla, or Blue Mountains, near Cummum, on the Gun-
lacummum river, which are composed of schistose rocks,
of all varieties, from clay-slate to pure limestone, accom¬
panied with quartz rock, sandstone, sandstone brescia, flinty
slate, hornstone slate, and a tuffaceous limestone, containing
imbedded, rounded, and angular masses of all these rocks.
These are bounded on all sides by granite, which appears
to pass under and form the base. The only rock of this
formation on which the diamond is found is the sandstone
brescia. “ I have as yet,” says he, “only visited the rich
mines of Banaganpilly (lying in Heyne’s map Long. 78. 4.,
Eat. 15.4.), where the brescia is found under a compact sand¬
stone rock, differing in no respect from that which is found
under other parts of the main range. It is composed of a
beautiful mixture of red and yellow jasper, quartz, calce-
dony, and hornstone, cemented together by a quartz paste.
It passes into puddingstone, composed of rounded pebbles
of quartz, &c., cemented by an argillo-calcareous earth, of
a loose friable nature, in which the diamonds are most fre¬
quently found.”
Heyne states, that in some of the mines in India the
diamonds are found entirely broken or crushed, and only
of value for pounding; but at the same time thinks it must
be owing to carelessness. He mentions also that the dia¬
monds of Cuddapah are carried to Madras to be used for
the same purpose, and the price he quotes for a carat of
stones fit for brilliants is only seven rupees.
In 1829, a number of small diamonds were discovered
in the gold sands of the Ural Mountains, in a deposit very
similar to that in Brazil, in a quartzose mica-slate, to which
some have given the name of Itacalumite; and more lately
a few have, it is said, been found in the gold washings of
Georgia and N. Carolina, as well as in the Sierra Madre,
S.W. of the city of Mexico.
The diamond, in its primitive form, is that of the equi¬
lateral octahedron. It passes into the dodecahedron and the
cube, presenting modifications in each. The colourless dia¬
mond of the first water is the most valuable ; but very fine
diamonds sometimes present a deep red tinge, also yellow,
orange, green, blue, and black. Those which have a slight
tint of yellow are often remarkably brilliant, and are said to
be of a superior hardness.
The value of diamonds is always calculated by the carat,
which consists of four grains ; but it must be remembered,
that the diamond grain differs from the Troy grain, as it
takes five of the former to weigh four of the latter, or more
exactly one carat = 3T74 gr. Troy.
In valuing diamonds, either rough or cut, the practice is
to take the weight in carats, to square that weight, and then
to multiply the product by such a rate of price as may cor-
DIAMOND.
respond to the state and quality of the stone ; thus, if a
natural crystal of diamond be clear, without flaws, and of a
favourable shape, the • price by which the square of its
weight should be multiplied is L.2; so that if the stone
weigh one carat, its value will be L.2, if two carats, 2x2 =
4, and 4 X 2 = 8, or a stone of two carats is worth L.8. A
stone of ten carats, in the same way, will give 10 x 10 =
100, and 100x2 = L.200, the value of a perfect rough
diamond of this weight.
If the diamond has been worked into a brilliant of just
proportions, the same rule is observed of squaring the
weight in carats; but a much higher price is used as the
multiplier of the product, as L.8 is considered to be the
proper multiplier when the stone is perfect in water and
shape. Thus a diamond of 5^ carats gives 30| as its
square, and this multiplied by 8 makes L.242 as its price.
If the stone has been worked into the form which is termed
a rose, L.6 is used as the multiplier; and if it be of the
form termed table-cut, it is still lower.
Considerable modifications, however, must be made in
these multipliers, according to the quality of the diamonds
and the state of the market. If a brilliant be what is
termed “ off colour,” that is, not absolutely colourless, or if
it be in any other way imperfect in shape or purity, a cor¬
responding diminution must be made in the multiplier.
Thus a brilliant with a yellow or milky hue, or with a small
speck or flaw, may not be multiplied by more than L.4,
L.5, or L.6, according to the nature or extent of the imper¬
fection. The state of the demand in the market must
likewise have great influence. At present the demand for
good brilliants of one carat and under is greater in propor¬
tion to the supply than for heavier stones, and such stones
will therefore sometimes cost L.10 the carat; whilst there
being fewer purchasers for the larger sizes, they may often
be had in commerce at a lower rate than has been men¬
tioned above.
The finest known diamonds are the following:—
That of the crown of France (Pitt diamond), weighing
136f carats, the value of which, taken according to the
above rule, would be L.141,058. The dimensions of
this fine stone are stated to be,
Length   L2437 inches.
Breadth  1'177
Depth  '859
Weight in Troy grains, 434.
That of the Grand Duke of Tuscany (now Austrian)
weighing 139|- carats, valued as above at L.153,682.
That of the Emperor of Russia, weighing 195 carats. This
diamond is rose cut.
The Koh-i-noor, weighing 186 carats, also rose cut.
That of the King of Portugal, weighing 1680 carats, being
rough, not less than L.5,644,800.
It is consequently quite evident that this rule can ob¬
tain only among diamonds of moderate size; and, if it
should establish something by which a price may be named,
all else must be left to subsequent arrangement.
Of the remarkable diamonds we have enumerated, the
first is that known by the name of the Regent or Pitt dia¬
mond. It was found at Pasteal, in the Golconda district.
It was imported into this country by Mr Pitt, governor of
Madras, who purchased it from a native for 48,000 pagodas,
about L.20,400 at the exchange of the day; and after being
offered to different crowned heads in Europe, was purchased
by the regent of France in 1717 as a jewel for the crown.
It was placed by Napoleon in the hilt of the sword of state,
and, according to Brard, the price paid for it was 2,250,000
francs; Jeffreys calls it L. 125,000, and other authors say
L. 130,000. Any of these, however, although by much the
largest price ever paid for any jewel, is not equal to the rule
of value. This is esteemed the finest and most perfect dia¬
mond known.
The second was purchased for a bit of rock-crystal, on a
stall in the market-place of Florence, at the cost of a few
penee: it is of a beautiful lemon-yellow colour, and is now
in possession of the house of Austria. The diamond men¬
tioned as the property of the Emperor of Russia ornaments
the top of his sceptre. It is of the size of a pigeon’s egg, and
is said to have been the eye of an Indian idol pillaged by a
deserter from the French service, who had the address to
get himself installed as a priest in the service of the Mala¬
bar deity at Seringham, as narrated by Dutens. The Em
press Catherine purchased it for L.90,000, together with an
annuity of L.40G0, and a title of Russian nobility.
The Koh-i-noor is described by Tavernier as an irregu¬
larly-shaped diamond, but cut and polished. It was found
in the district of Golconda previous to the Christian era,
and is said to have weighed 900 carats before cutting; but
this appears a most enormous sacrifice. Of the Brazilian
diamond some suspicions have been entertained. It has been
insinuated that it is only a mass of very fine colourless
topaz, and it is not likely that the king of Portugal will run
the hazard of ascertaining the fact.
The supply of diamonds from Brazil, according to Baron
d’Eschwege,duringtheeighty-fouryearsfrom 1730 to 1814,
was at the rate of 36,000 carats per annum : but the return
from the registers of the administration of the diamond
mines from 1800 to 1806 was only 19,000 carats. It is also
added, that the revenue derived by government during the
first period was only eighteen or nineteen francs the carat,
whilst from forty to fifty were obtained during the last; a
certain indication of a diminished supply. A singular cir¬
cumstance is noticed with respect to the uniformity of the
diamond ground of Do Frio. The same cubic mass of cas-
calho will yield, on washing, pretty nearly the same num¬
ber of carats, in large or small diamonds, so that the super¬
intendent can calculate on the probable produce of the
washing.
Large stones do not abound in Brazil, but there are some
of considerable dimensions. Mawe mentions one of 120
carats from the little rivulet D’Albaite; but they do not often
exceed from eighteen to twenty.
The prices of diamonds quoted by Heyne, who visited
with a scrutinizing eye the principal mines of Hindustan,
differ from those laid down by the rule of Tavernier and
Jeffreys. Without attempting to reconcile them, we shall
quote the value which the Hindus put upon what they con¬
sider as the best, and denominate the Brahma diamond :
it is sold by the manjalin, which is equal to two carats, and
each carat at the price of ten pagodas.
One manjalin  10 Madras pagodas.
Two  24
Three  40
Four  80
Five  100
Six  150
Seven  250
Eight  400
He adds that these are the prices of stones free from speck,
flaw, or crack. Cut stones are valued in a different way.
The most remarkable circumstance in the history of the
diamond is to be found in the nature of its composition. This
proud, this imperial ornament, which has ever occupied the
summit of the diadem, this most brilliant of gems, and hard¬
est of all known bodies, is, after all, but a morsel of char¬
coal, which has been made to yield to the rays of the sun,
and dissolve into a noxious vapour. As early as 1607,
Boetius de Boodt threw out the hint that diamond was in¬
flammable. In 1673 Boyle discovered that when it was
exposed to a great heat it was dissipated in acrid vapour.
In 1694, the experiments of Boyle were confirmed by those
of Cosmo III., Grand Duke of Tuscany, with his celebrated
burning glass. About the same time, but whether before
or not is uncertain, Sir Isaac Newton was led, from the great
3
Diamond.
DIAMOND.
4
Diamond, refractive power of the diamond, to pronounce it “ an unc-
^ tuous substance coagulated ” Lavoisier proved it to be com¬
posed of carbon, by throwing the sun’s rays concentrated
by a powerful lens upon a diamond inclosed in a vessel with
oxygen gas ; when the diamond and the oxygen disap¬
peared, and carbonic acid was generated. Sir George Mac¬
kenzie repeated the experiments of Boyle in 1800; and,
finally, when Sir Humphry Davy visited Florence in 1814,
the experiment of the grand duke was performed again with
the same lens ; and mineralogists no longer hesitated to
place the gem amongst inflammable bodies.
According to Ellicot, the specific gravity of Brazil dia¬
monds is 3'513, and of India diamonds 3'519. The former
is the mean of four, the latter of ten experiments.
Diamond cutting was little understood till 1476, when an
artist of the name of Berghem, residing at Bruges, intro¬
duced the practice of using diamond powder for forming and
polishing the facets. Holland, in consequence, long main¬
tained a monopoly of this trade ; and to this day the smaller
diamonds are almost entirely manufactured for the Euro¬
pean market at Amsterdam. The Pitt diamond was, how¬
ever, cut and polished in London, as most of the larger
sized stones continue to be. It is a very laborious and
tedious operation. The grinding into the required form is
entirely done by the hand. Two stones are cemented to
the ends of tool handles, and rubbed with a powerful pres¬
sure against each other, a leaden model being first taken
of the rough stone intended to be cut. The faces are thus
determined. The two stones are then rubbed together over
a little metal box having a double bottom, the upper one
being loose and perforated with small holes, through which
the diamond dust passes, and is-carefully preserved. The
desired form being thus obtained, the dust, mixed up w ith ve¬
getable oil, is afterwards used in polishing the faces of the dia¬
mond on a common lapidary’s wheel, and the brilliancy of the
gem brought out. The period of constant work required to
reduce a stone of between twenty-four and thirty carats to
a regular form will extend to at least seven or eight months’
constant work. The Pitt diamond was said to occupy
two years. Form the outline in Plate CCIIL, there was
a great deal of extraneous matter to reduce, and that space
of time may very likely have been required. When the
mass to be removed is of such a size as to render it of im¬
portance to keep it entire, the piece is cut off by means
of a steel wire, extended on a bow of cane or whalebone,
anointed with diamond powder. This process is very com¬
monly adopted in India. The diamond is sometimes also
split by means of a chisel under a sharp stroke of a hammer;
but this means requires great firmness of mind and dex¬
terity of hand, for a valuable stone is sometimes destroyed
by an unlucky blow.
The forms into which the diamond is cut are the bril¬
liant, the rose, and the table. The first is composed of a
principal face, which is called the table, surrounded by a
fringe composed of a number of facets, which is all that is
visible above the bezil when set. The proportion for the
depth should be half the breadth of the stone, terminated
with a small face, parallel to the table, and connected with the
surface by elongated facets. As the octahedron is the most
common natural form of the stone, and the brilliant cut is by
far the most advantageous in point of effect, and as this is also
generally the most economical form that can be adopted, it is
preferred. The others are suggested by the shape of the mass.
The rose is entirely covered with facets on the surface,
and is flat below. The table form is adopted in consequence
of the shape of the mass, whether crystal or fragment, and
produces the least effect. It is principally used in India,
where the native jewellers cleave stones into plates, having
often a large surface with little proportioned weight or bril¬
liancy, except at the edges, which are ornamented by being
cut into facets. The great diamond called the Koh-i-noor
is rose cut. This celebrated gem was found, according to Diamond.
Hindu legend, in Southern India, in one of the mines of
Golconda” situate near the left bank of the river Krishna.
It resembles in shape the half of an egg, and is acknow¬
ledged to be of the first water. Its weight is 186 carats ;
a gravity in reference to which, under the ordinary mode
of computation, a pecuniary value may be assigned to it of
L.276,768. The fortunes of this magnificent jewel have
been for the most part decided by the leading political^
events which have swayed the destinies of the country of
its origin ; its possessors having been almost without excep¬
tion either the rulers or the conquerors of India. At the
commencement of the Christian era, it appears to have been
the property of the powerful rajah of Oojein, from whom it
descended to his successors, the rajahs of Central India.
Upon the subversion of the principality of Malwa by the
Mohammedans in the early part of the fourteenth cen¬
tury, it became the prize of Ala-ud-din, the Patan sultan
of Delhi. Baber, the founder of the Mogul dynasty, ob¬
tained the gem with his empire in 1526; and from him it was
transmitted through a line of illustrious princes to Moham¬
med Shah, the great grandson of Aurungzebe. This prince
in 1739 surrendered it to Nadir Shah, the Persian invader
of India. According to popular tradition, Mohammed wore
the diamond in his turban at his interview with Nadir, who,
espying the jewel, proposed an exchange of turbans as a
token of mutual regard and confidence. Nadir bestowed
upon his prize the name of the Koh-i-noor or Mountain of
Light. Upon the assassination of this monarch the gem
fell into the hands of Ahmed Shah, the founder of the Ab-
dali dynasty of Caubul. From this prince it descended to
his successor Shah Shuja, who being expelled from his throne
became, in 1813, the nominal guest, but substantially the
prisoner of Runjeet Singh, the lion of the Punjaub. Runjeet
resolved to set a price upon the liberty of his captive, and
demanded from him the Koh-i-noor. After a considerable
interval, during which remonstrance and artifice were fruit¬
lessly employed, the Shah yielded a reluctant consent, and
a day was fixed for its delivery to a new master. Accord¬
ingly on the 1st June Runjeet waited on the Shah with a
few attendants, to receive the jewel. He was met by the
exiled prince with much dignity, and both being seated, a
pause and solemn silence ensued, which continued for nearly
an hour. Runjeet then getting impatient, whispered to one
of his attendants to remind the Shah of the object of the
interview. No answer was returned, but the Shah made a
signal to an eunuch who retired and brought in a small
packet which he set down on the carpet at equal distance
between the chiefs. Runjeet desired an attendant to open
the packet, when the diamond was exhibited, and the ruler
of the Punjaub retired with his prize. Runjeet was highly
elated by the acquisition, and wore it as an armlet at public
festivals. After his death it was preserved for a time to his
successors, and was occasionally worn by Khurruk Singh and
Sheer Singh ; but in 1849, upon the abdication of Dhulep
Singh, the Maharajah of the Punjaub, and the annexation of
his dominions to the British empire, it was stipulated that
the Koh-i-noor should be surrendered to the Queen of
England. It was accordingly brought to this country by
Lieutenant-Colonel Mackeson and Captain Ramsay, who
deposited their charge in the hands of the chairman and
deputy-chairman of the East India Company, by whom, in
company with the president of the India board, the Koh-i-
noor was presented to her Majesty on the 3d July 1850.
Thus the unrivalled gem for which kings and emperors have
contended, finds its resting-place with the sovereign of the
most widely extended empire that ever existed—an empire
stretching over countries in the east which the previous
possessors of the Koh-i-noor never subdued, while in the
west it embraces dominions to which, even in imagination,
their views never extended.
D I A
Diamond The Koh-i-noor formed part of the treasures displayed at
1| the Great Exhibition in London in 18o], since which time
Diamond jj- ]ias been recut with increased effect.
Harbour. Much 0f the value of diamonds depends on the cutting
v—0f the stone. A late celebrated philosopher, who required
a piece of diamond for philosophical purposes, found a large
mass in the hands of a jeweller. It was of an awkward
form, and presented a flaw which very greatly deteriorated
its value, as, in consequence of the refraction and reflec¬
tion which took place within the mass, the flaw seemed to
occupy nearly the whole of the interior. The gentleman,
however, was not afraid. He paid a large sum for the stone,
directed the workman in cutting it, amputated the piece he
wanted, separating the flaw, and sold the remainder back
to the jeweller, after it had been properly cut and polished,
for double the price he paid for it.
Hopes at one time were excited that a new diamond
district had been discovered in Siberia by Baron Von Hum¬
boldt. He thought he had met with appearances in a ter-^
ritory belonging to Count Demidoff, analogous to that of
Minas Geraes, and recommended a search for the gem.
This has more lately been successful; and about fifty small
diamonds have been obtained from the Ural district.
Explanation of the Plate, No. CCIIL—The three figures
at the top, Nos. 1, 2, 3, are representations of the Regent
or Pitt diamond, the Koh-i-noor, and the Grand Duke, of
the full size and form. No. 4 presents the brilliant cut,
looked at perpendicularly. No. 5, the same sidewise. Nos.
6 and 7 also represent the brilliant before it undergoes the
process of re-cutting. Nos. 8 and 9 are the vertical and
lateral appearances of the rose-cut diamond ; and Nos. 10
and 11, that of the table-cut. The scale No. 12 exhibits
the sizes of the set diamond within the bezil, together with
the depth of the stone, and the number of carats a diamond
of that size is likely to weigh. This estimate can only be
an approximation to the exact weight; but the weight of
a set stone may thus be very nearly ascertained. No. 13 is
the figure of the octahedral diamond seen perpendicularly,
with the table traced where the stone should be cut; and
No. 14 is the same crystal seen laterally, with the table and
the opposite face also traced. By these figures it will be
seen how much more advantageous it is to adopt the bril¬
liant form than any other.
Diamonds have been imitated with great success by the
French artists. To this composition, to which they give
the name of strass, they not only communicate the adaman¬
tine lustre of the zircon, but succeed in giving it such a
similitude to the real stone in all respects, hardness excepted,
that it is nearly impossible for unpractised eyes to detect
the difference. Recently quartz has been used with great
effect to form the faces of factitious stones.
Diamond, used by Glaziers, an instrument of steel or
iron, into the point of which a diamond is introduced and
fixed by solder. The diamond must be so adjusted, that by
applying the instrument in a particular position the angle of
the crystal will come in contact with the glass.
Diamond, in Heraldry, a term used for expressing the
black colour in the achievements of peerage.
Guillim does not approve of blazoning the coats of peers
by precious stones instead of metals and colours ; but the
English practice allows it. Morgan says the diamond is an
emblem of fortitude.
Diamond Harbour, a port so called, situate on the Hooghly
river, about 30 miles below Calcutta. Previous to the re¬
linquishment of commerce by the East India Company, this
was the spot where many of their ships unloaded and took
in great part of their homeward bound cargoes. There are
mooring chains for the accommodation of shipping and
storehouses on shore ; and in the adjacent villages, consist¬
ing of a few thatched houses with some petty shops, provi¬
sions may be purchased. But the place is very unhealthy,
D I A 5
especially during the periodical rains in July, August, and Diamond
September, owing to the exhalations from the swamps, and s
the heavy dews. A good road has been constructed be- j)iana.
tween the harbour and the metropolis ; and communication \ ^ j
is also maintained between the two places by means of an
electric telegraph. Lat. 22. 12.; Long. 88. 10.
Diamond Island is situated on the east side of the Bay
of Bengal, 12 miles S. of Cape Negrais. It is about a mile
and a half long, by one broad; low, covered with wood, and
surrounded by shoals, which render it dangerous for boats
to land. It has fresh water, and abounds with turtle. It
belongs to the British, but is uninhabited. E. Long. 94.
19. ; N. Lat. 15. 51.
DIAMPER, a town of Hindustan, province of Cochin,
said to be inhabited chiefly by Christians. Here in 1599 a
synod was held by the Portuguese archbishop and others,
in the hopes of converting the Nestorians to the faith of the
Roman Catholic Church, but without effect. N. Lat. 10. 2.;
E. Long. 76. 29.
DIANA, in the mythology of Rome, a Latin deity, whose
history and office bore so many points of resemblance to
those of the Grecian Artemis, that she was latterly identi¬
fied with that divinity. The worship of Diana, who seems
to have been at first rather a local Latin goddess than one
of the recognised deities of Rome, is first mentioned as
celebrated by the lower classes of citizens in the reign of
Servius Tullius. She was at that time regarded as the
tutelary goddess of the slaves and plebeians; and her rites
were yearly celebrated by these classes of the people on the
anniversary of the day on which her temple was consecrated
on the Aventine Hill. The name and attributes of Diana
were derived from the Sabines, and became known to the
Romans when that people was incorporated with the original
plebeians of the Roman state. From them the worship of
the goddess became gradually diffused among the knights and
patricians; and as soon as it was known that a divinity in all
respects corresponding to Diana had a high place in theGreek
mythology, she was ranked by the Romans among the dii
majorum gentium, and worshipped with the greatest honours.
As soon as the identity of Artemis and Diana was esta¬
blished, the Grecian myths regarding the birth, history, and
functions of the goddess were universally adopted. Ac¬
cording to these, Diana was the daughter of Jupiter and
Latona, and the twin-sister of Apollo. She was born along
with her brother on Mount Cynthus, in the isle of Delos,
which up till this time had been a floating island, but was
permanently fixed by Neptune in its present place in order
that Latona might there find refuge from the persecutions
of Juno, and give birth to her children in peace. By the
Greeks and Romans Diana was worshipped under a variety
of aspects. She was both a destroying and a preserving
goddess. In the former capacity she was represented as
a full-grown virgin, bearing, like Apollo, a bow and a quiver
full of arrows with which she darted death and pestilence
among those who offended her ; as a preserving deity she
watched over the sick, and assisted the unfortunate. Young
girls and child-bearing women were believed to be under
her especial protection. From this circumstance she was
called by the Greeks llithyia, and by the Latins Genitalis;
and as she herself was proof against the allurements of love,
the priests and priestesses consecrated to her service were
compelled to live in the strictest chastity. As Apollo was
the god of the sun, Diana was in like manner believed to
be the goddess of the moon, from which circumstance she
was called by the Greeks Selene, and by the Romans Lu-
cina. The last and most splendid of all the ceremonies in
honour of Diana was the national festival instituted at Rome
by Augustus, in compliance with the orders of the Sibyl¬
line books, in honour of which Horace composed his famous
Carmen Seeculare. In this hymn Apollo and Diana are
invoked together as the presiding deities of Rome ; and the
6
D I A
Dianse
Arbor
II
Diaper.
various offices and functions of both deities, as understood
at that time, are minutely described.
In her character as a huntress, Diana is most generally
represented in Greek works of art as a tall and handsome
virgin, with long hair floating down her neck—drawing an
arrow from her quiver with her right hand, and with her
left restraining a stag which is endeavouring to escape. As
the o-oddess of the moon she is represented with a long robe
reaching to her feet, while her forehead is adorned with the
crescent of the moon. . „
Besides the general homage paid at Greece and Home
to Diana, as one of the dii consentes, there were certain
places in which she was worshipped with peculiar rites, and
vested with special functions. Of these the most important
was Ephesus', where the temple of the goddess was so
splendid as to be reckoned one of the wonders of the world.
The Ephesian Diana differed considerably from the Greek
in the nature of her office. She seems to have typified the
reproductive and all-nourishing powers of nature. Hence
her image was the figure of a female with many breasts ; and
the officiating ministers of her temple were eunuchs. Her
head was adorned with a mural crown, and the lower part
of the figure was covered with hieroglyphic symbols, ihe
worship of Diana is said to have been instituted at Ephesus
bv the Amazons. Next in importance to the Ephesian was
the Taurian Diana. The worship of this goddess was be¬
lieved to have been at one time accompanied with bloody
rites, such as sacrifices of human victims, &c. Her statue
was brought from Tauris by Orestes, who on his way back
to Sparta landed at Brauron in Attica, from which circum¬
stance the goddess was called Braurontia. Ihe image was
thence removed to Sparta, where it was placed in an upright
position in a temple specially consecrated for its reception;
and the deity whom it symbolized was known as Artemis
Orthia. It was before this statue that the ceremony of the
public scourging of the Spartan youth was observed. (See
Diamastigosis.) Besides the Ephesian and the launan
Diana there only remains to be mentioned the Arcadian, who
was in an especial manner the patron of hunting and other
sylvan sports. She is usually described as frequenting the
glades of Taygetus, Mgenalus, and the other wild mountains
of Arcadia that abounded in game. Twenty nymphs ac¬
companied her in the chase, and with sixty more she cele¬
brated her nightly dances under the bright light of the
moon. Her bow and arrows were the workmanship ot Vul¬
can and her hounds were the gift of Pan. Four stags with
golden antlers drew her car. The name of Diana is asso¬
ciated with some of the most beautiful of the ancient myths.
See Artemis, Action, Enrymion, Niobe, Orion, &c.
DIANfE Arbor, or Arbor Lun;e, a name given by the
old chemists to the beautiful arborescent form of silver,
produced by dissolving it in nitric acid, and precipitating it
by another metal. . . T •
DIANDRIA, in Botany, the second class in the Linnsean
system, and comprehending, as its name impoits, all genera
with flowers possessing but two stamens. .
DIANO, a town of Naples, province of Prmcipato
Citeriore, situated in a fertile valley at the foot ot Mount
Motulo, 46 miles S.E. of Salerno. Pop. 4500.
DIAPASON, in Music, a name given by the Greeks to
the interval of the octave, and so called because the octave
embraces all the sounds of the perfect system. It means
also the compass of any voice or instrument. Makers ot
musical instruments have also a rule or scale called diapason,
by which they regulate the size and the different paits o
the instrument to be made. Diapason means also a paiti-
cular stop in the organ. .
DIAPENTE, the ancient Greek name for the musical
interval of a fifth. .
DIAPER, a kind of cloth on which are formed various
figures, and which is chiefly used for table-linen.
D I A
DIAPHANOUS (Sia<£atva), I shew through) an appel- Diaphan-
lation given to all transparent bodies, or such as transmit °us
the ravs of light; as glass, &c. . c Diarbekir.
DIAPHONICS (Sia and 4>wvr], the voice), the doctrine ot v ^ ^ ,
refracted sounds. . . .
DIAPHORESIS (Sta^op^cns), in Rhetoric, is used to
express hesitation or uncertainty in the speaker.
DIAPHORETICS (Sta<£opeo>, I carry through), such
medicines as promote perspiration. , -j
DIAPHRAGM {Diaphragma), in Anatomy, the mid¬
riff, called by anatomists septum transversum. It is a strong
muscular substance, separating the breast or thorax from
the abdomen or lower venter, and serving as a partition be¬
tween the abdominal and the thoracic viscera. (See Ana¬
tomy, vol. hi., p. 39.) Plato, as Galen informs us, first
called it diaphragm, from the verb Sia^parreiv, I separate.
Till his time it had been called <£pev€s, from a notion that
an inflammation of this part produced frenzy, which is not
more warranted by experience than another tradition, that
a transverse section of the diaphragm with a sword causes
the patient to die laughing. The term is used analogously
to denote something that divides or separates ; as, for in-
stance, the plate which divides the cavity of certain shells
into two parts, and so forth.
DIARBEKIR, a city of Asiatic Turkey, and capital of
the pashalic of Diarbekir, situated on a mass of basaltic
rock which rises in an eminence on the western bank of the
Tigris. N. Eat. 37. 55., E. Long. 39. 52. It is about three
miles in circumference, of a nearly circular form, and is en¬
compassed by a lofty thick wall of black stone. This wall,
which is supposed to be a work of the Romans, is fortified
by numerous round and square towers at irregular inter¬
vals. The whole is now in a ruinous condition. The town
is also environed by a ditch, and has four gates leading to
Mardin, to Asia Minor or Rumelia, to the mountains of Ar¬
menia and Kurdistan, and to the river. The citadel, stand¬
ing about midway between the two last-mentioned gates,
is thus in the north-east angle of the town, and commands
both the valley of the Tigris below, and the town. It is
surrounded by a wall, and is divided into many courts. It
contains also the palace of the pasha, which is a commodious
rather than a splendid building. In one ot the stables are
the remains of an old Christian building. The citadel is
now almost completely in ruins. There is a fine view of the
town from this height. The houses are built of black ba¬
salt in the lower stories, and of dark-coloured brick in the
upper ones. This, with a succession of flat terraces, gives
a sameness and gloominess of aspect to the town, which,
however, is somewhat relieved by the view of the mosques,
towers, and little garden-plots in different parts. Of the
mosques seen from the citadel, there are fifteen with
minarets, nine having circular shafts and galleries in the
Mohammedan style, and the remaining six with square
towers, after the manner of Christian churches. There are
five other mosques with domes or cupolas only, and several
smaller ones, making altogether twenty-five Mohammedan
places of worship. Among the minarets of the mosques,
some were observed by Mr Buckingham to be highly
sculptured; and in several of the square towers were inter¬
mixed layers of red burnt brick, mixed with masonry of
stone, after the manner of the Roman towers in the walls
of Antioch. Amidst the ruins of the castle some fine arches
of highly burnt bricks were also observed, which, from their
form” as well as material, looked more like Roman than
Saracenic work. The bazaars and baths contain brickwork
of a similar kind, which Mr Buckingham thinks is decidedly
Mohammedan. Broken columns of black marble are seen
scattered in different quarters of the town ; and among these
are several Ionic capitals of Greek origin. Of the Christian
churches, the Armenians have two, one of them large and
richly decorated, and the other smaller, but more tastefully
D I A
Diarthrosis adorned. The Catholics have one church, with a convent
|| attached to it; the Syrians and the Greeks have also each
Diasyrrnus. a piace 0f worship ; and the Jews have a small synagogue
for their service. There are upwards of twenty baths in
the town, and about fifteen khans or caravanserais. The
Khan Hassan Pasha is particularly fine; and in its lower
court the corn-market is usually held.
Diarbekir was one of the most flourishing and wealthy
cities of Asia, and formerly contained about 40,000 families.
It had very extensive manufactures, and an active trade
with Baghdad in Indian, and with Aleppo in European pro¬
duce. The plain was cultivated in every part, and covered
with villages; and within three miles of the gates were se¬
veral villages, each containing from 400 to 500 houses.
The number of houses or families in the city are now only
about 8000 (of which 1500 are Armenian, 85 Catholic, 70
Greek, 50 Jewish, and 6300 Turkish). The trade with
Baghdad is annihilated, and that with Aleppo is reduced to
insignificance. There are but few merchants, and those
not wealthy ; the people have few means of occupation;
and not a village remains in the plain. The climate, though
excessively hot in summer, cannot be said to be unhealthy ;
and in winter the temperature is delightful. The situation
of Diarbekir admirably adapts it for a great commercial city,
and nothing appears necessary to revive its ancient import¬
ance but a removal of the causes which have occasioned
its decline, namely insecurity to trade from the attacks ot
the Kurds. The Tigris is not used as a channel of trans¬
port so high up as Diarbekir; but rafts of timber are some¬
times floated down from the mountains above the town.
From the circumstance of the walls and buildings of this
city being constructed almost wholly of black stone, it is
called by the Turks Kara Amid, or the Black Amid. Its
ancient name was Amida; the name of Diarbekir is used
chiefly by the Arabs, as the name of Amid is still used
by the Turks in all their public writings. Amida was suc¬
cessively taken, retaken, and destroyed, in the ancient wars
between the Persians and Romans. It was pillaged by
Tamerlane in the year 1393 ; and was successively taken
and retaken by the Persian kings, until it was conquered
by Selim, the first sultan of the Osmanli Turks, in the year
1515. In 1605 it again fell under the power of Persia ; but
it was afterwards retaken by the Turks, under whose do¬
minion it has since continued.
DIARTHROSIS, in Anatomy, a kind of articulation or
juncture of the bones which affords room for a manifest
motion. The word comes from Sia, and apOpov, a joint.
It is opposed to synarthrosis, in which the articulation ad¬
mits of no sensible motion.
DIARY (Lat. diarium, from dies a day), a journal or
register of daily occurrences or observations.
DIASCHISMA, in Music, an interval equal to the half
of a minor semitone, according to Boethius.
DIASIA, in Antiquity, a great festival celebrated at
Athens, immediately beyond the walls, in honour of Zeus
(Jupiter). It took place towards the end of the month
Anthesterion (February), and was accompanied by a great
fair. All persons brought offerings, which consisted either
of victims or of incense, according to the means of each in¬
dividual.
DIASTASE. See Brewing, vol. v. p. 320 ; and Che¬
mistry.
DIASTEMA, the name given by the Greeks to a simple
musical interval, as distinguished from a compound one.
DIASTOLE, the dilatation of the heart, auricles, and
arteries: opposed to systole, or contraction. See Anatomy.
Diastole, in Grammar, the extension of a syllable ; or a
figure by which a syllable naturally short is made long.
DIASTYLE. See Glossary to Architecture.
DIASYRMUS, in Rhetoric, a kind of hyperbole, being
an exaggeration of something that is low and ridiculous.
D I A 7
DIATESSARON, the Greek name for the musical in- Diatessaron
terval of a fourth. Dicilar-
DIATHERMOUS, a term applied to such substances chus
as suffer radiant heat to pass through them ; such as trans- y j
parent pieces of rock-salt, &c.
DIATHESIS, in Medicine, any particular state of con¬
stitution which predisposes to disease. Hence the terms
inflammatory, putrid, gouty, diathesis, &c.
DIATONIC, in Music. See Music.
DIAZ, Bartolomeo, a Portuguese navigator, placed in
1486 at the head of a small squadron fitted out by John II.,
to make discoveries on the east coast of Africa. He sailed
round the south point of that continent, to which he gave
the name of Cabo Tormentoso, but was compelled to return
on account of a mutiny on board his ships. The king al¬
tered the name of the cape to its present appellation, viz.,
the Cape of Good Hope. In 1500 Diaz sailed with Cabral
to the West Indies.
DIBBLE, a pointed instrument used to make holes for
planting young trees, slips, and seeds.
DIBDIN, Charles, a well-known writer of songs and
musical composer, was born at Southampton in 1745, and
was the youngest of a family of eighteen. His parents de¬
signing him for the church, he was sent to Winchester;
but his love of music early diverted his thoughts from the
clerical profession. After receiving some instruction from
Kent, the organist of Winchester Cathedral, he went to
London. His first dramatic pieces appeared on the stage
of the Covent Garden Theatre, and in 1778 he became
musical manager in that establishment. At this period his
success on the stage was far from being commensurate with
his abilitv as a composer. A series of mono-dramatic en¬
tertainments which he gave at his Sans Souci, brought his
songs, music, and recitations more prominently into notice,
and permanently established his fame as a lyric poet. On
retiring from public life in 1805, he was rewarded by go¬
vernment with a pension of L.200 a-year, of which he wras
only for a time deprived under the administration of Lord
Grenville. Dibdin died of paralysis in 1814. Besides his
Musical Tour, his Professional Life, a History of the Stage,
and several smaller works, he wrote upwards of 1400 songs
and about 30 dramatical pieces.
Dibdin, Thomas Frognall, D.D., nephew of the pre¬
ceding, a celebrated philologer and antiquarian, was born at
Calcutta in 1775. He received his education at St John’s
College, Oxford, and afterwards entered on the study ot law
under Basil Montague. Abandoning the legal for the cleri¬
cal profession, he took orders in 1804 ; and while holding
various lectureships in the metropolis, he devoted himself
with great ardour to literary pursuits. In 1824 he was ap¬
pointed to the rectory of St Mary’s, Bryanstone Square, an
appointment which he held till his death in 184 <. Dibdin s
works are exceedingly voluminous. The most important
are the Bibliomania, the Biographical Decameron, the
Biographical Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour, Remi¬
niscences of a Literary Life, and Bibliotheca Spenseriana.
DICASTES, in Antiquity, a judge, or rather a juror, at
Athens.
DICE (plural of die), cubical pieces of bone or ivory,
marked with dots on each of their faces, from one to six.
They are used in various games of chance, by being thrown
from a box.
DIC7EARCHUS, a celebrated Peripatetic philosopher,
historian, and geographer, was a native of Messana in Sicily.
He was the contemporary of Theophrastus and Aristotle,
and flourished towards the close of the fourth century b. c.
The exact dates of his birth and death are unknown : the
time of the latter event is approximately fixed by good au¬
thorities as the year 285 b. c. Nothing is known with cer¬
tainty concerning the life of Dicaearchus except that he was
a disciple of Aristotle, and a friend of Theophrastus, to
8
DIC
DIC
Dictator.
Dictator.
Dichotomy ag^atvarietyofsubj^^j
at^jx%.sse»,a:
i -. Tjife in Greece, in which the moral, political, and
r„ciaf co^ion of the’ people was very fully discu^ed.
Amons the philosophical works ot Dicaearchus may be men
i“edgthe ^«« in three boohs, in which the author en¬
deavours to prove that the soul is mortal. This woik is
written in the form of a dialogue, and derived its name from
the fact that the scene of the dialogue was laid at Lesbos.
To it the author afterwards appended a supplement, hke-
wL in three books, which he called Corinthzaa 1 he only
complete edition of the fragments of Dicaearchus is that
published at Darmstadt in 1841 by MaJ-F«hra An eXCC '
lent dissertation on them will be found in ^ann
DICHOTOMY (SiKorojbua, a division into two parts), m
Astronomy, that phase of the moon in which it is bisected,
or shows only half its disk. In this situation the moon is
said to be in a quadrate aspect, or in its .
term is also used in botany to express a mode of bmnchmg
by repeated bifurcation, as exemplified in the leaves
^DICOTYLEDONOUS, in Botany, a term applied to
plants whose seeds have two lobes or cotyledons
P DICKER (probably from Sera, ten}, m our old write ,
used to denote the number or quantity of ten, particularly
ten hides or skins, of which twenty made a last, and
sometimes applied ’to other things as a dicker of gloves or
tpn nairs a dicker of iron or ten bars, &c.
DICKINSON, Edmund (1624-1707), an English piy-
sicianand chemist, was born at Appleby, Berkshire. He
took hi” degrees at Merton College, Oxford; and in 1655
miblished his Delphi Phcenicizantes, a learnedwork, in wh c
he attempted to prove that the Greeks borrowed the story
of the Pythian Apollo, and all the kg™ds
Delphic oracle was associated, Irom the H V }
After practising at Oxford, Dickinson removed in 1684 o
London where he was appointed physician in ordinary to
Charles’lL; an office which he also held under James II.
Dickinson was the author of a work entitled Physzca veins
et vera in which he endeavoured to construct a system o
philosophy on principles collected from the Mosaic history.
P DICTATOR, in Antiquity, the highest extraordinary
masistrate of the Roman republic. The original name o
Suffice was magister populi, by which appellation he was
called the sacred books down to the latest times of the
“ wTeTtbetpublicau form of government was established
at Rome, and the supreme exeeuttve vested in the tw^
rnnmils emergencies sometimes occurred in which it seemeu
that the6 safety of the state might advantageously be in-
lasted for tl,e time to some one man, whose past life had
• i c • iiirn the esteem and respect of the whole body
ofThe citizens The idea of this office was borrowed by
the Romans from the constitution of some of the Latin
towns which they had subdued. It lay with the senate to
deckle when thelervices of a dictator were necessary The
power of nominating a man to the o ce w deter'_
made over to one ot the consuls. It a ^dictator
mined to which of these offices the nominaUon °f a dmtato
properly appertained. Sometimes it was the consul who hap-
pened to hive the fasces at the time ; sometimes he
who happened to be nearest the city ; at other times tne
consuls themselves either drew lots or came to an agiee-
ment as to which of them should perform the duty, in any
“ate the nomination of the consul was indispensable; and
important was it considered, that on »ne occasion when
both She consuls refused to name a person for the dicMor
Ship the senate had. recourse to the tribunes of the people,
to whose influence the consuls were obliged to give way.
On w
Thrasymenusl the senate atitl people weie compelled to pro-
“^^=|as^^r,and
the duties of his office were defined by a /ex cunata.
• • nf his office were also immediately placed at h s
TS These were-Lt, the Hctors, twenty-four in num-
tTl'o w the fasces and secures; second, the curule
chair ; and third, the toga praetexta. o R r ,01 nine
The first dictator was appointed at Rome • • >
years after ex^on of <he Ta^uin, Who ie ^
dictator was, is dl^e,rfnt ^ f^Lardus was the man, and
that his^omlnation rendered^neces«iry^ b^y ^the prospect
°f Diclatos ap'pointeX as f. Yartius “b“Xfen rd
foreign relations of the state, were said t0 be “0^"
gerund* camA, or seditiones ca«<i, but >t “f
happened that in matters of less importance than a tore g
2e^"r@
to perform some small ceremonies, which m stnet propr e y
point holidays, to affix the clavus annahs in the temple
°fKinth“dSmr ^pointed, he was required
to select a master of the horse wb
roi° home r iSriSeTsix^fj. -
sion by a lex curiata. In the absence hl^sC1£
was entitled to act independently, 10US ■ ht occur
held responsible for any mismanagement that might occ
under his command. i . . ovafl go long as
The power of the dictator was absolute , §
he remained in office no appeal was open against ^
dates to any other authority in 'he state. H ^
altogether independent of the senate, n t bein
Se rth7LPoffic" tnhavh: his sentence reversed
by the ^^bly. P^^’gj^^b^FeTws^hailai^ap-
peal coulil'bVmade against the decrees of the d'ct»“-
Tht however, seems tS be a mistake on the part of tha
i Zian for! in the only case which ever occurred to test
that principle, the dictator (L. Papinus) denounced the ap
nea a, incompetent to his accusers, from the tenure by
which hi h“d his office. In token of the absolute power
nt’ the dictators over the lives of their fellow-citizens, their
lictors bore the axe in the midst of the fasces, even in their
">“ugh the city-a mark of
consuls had formerly enjoyed, but which had b
lished in their case by the Valerian law.
Though the power of the dictators was thus great, it ,
nevertheless, limited by certain indirect restrictions The
most important of these was, that the dictator had no
control whatever over the public money, a,\d to w-
tpnt himself with such sums as were allowed hi
enate He was not allowed to leave Italy ; and could not
^s a/y tacCS designs on the part f ‘".or
wY the shortness of the period during winch he renamed
D I C
Dictionary, in office. This was never permitted to exceed six months :
'wand if the crisis which had called for the election of a dic¬
tator passed over before the expiry of that period, it was
expected that he would immediately resign.
When a dictator was appointed, all the ordinary magis¬
trates ceased to be directly responsible to the governing au¬
thorities of the state, and took their orders directly from
him. The only magistrates exempt from this necessity
Avere the tribunes of the commons. The inferior officers,
however, did not, as has been supposed, retire from office
altogether. They merely obeyed the dictator so long as
he continued in power, and on his resignation entered once
more upon the untrammelled exercise of their authority.
It remains to be added that dictators were only appointed
at Rome so long as Italy remained unsubdued. The last
dictator appointed at Rome held office in b.c. 202: from
that time the constitutional dictatorship disappears from
Roman history.
DIC1IONARY, in its original acceptation, is the ar¬
ranging of all the words of a language according to the
order of the alphabet, and annexing a definition or expla¬
nation to each word. When arts and sciences began to
be improved and extended, the multiplicity of technical
terms rendered it necessary to compile dictionaries, either
of science in general, or of particular sciences, according
to the views of the compiler.
Dictionary of the English Language. The design of
every dictionary of language is to explain, in the most ac¬
curate manner, the meaning of every word ; and to show
the various ways in which it can be combined with others,
in as far as this tends to alter or modify its meaning. The
dictionary which does this in the most accurate manner is
the most complete work of the kind ; therefore the prin¬
cipal study of a lexicographer ought to be to discover the
method which may seem best adapted for that purpose.
Dr Johnson, with great labour, has collected the various
meanings of every word, and quoted the authorities ; but
it would have been an improvement if he had given an
accurate definition of the precise meaning of every word ;
pointed out the way in which it ought to be employed
with the greatest propriety ; showed the various deviations
from the original meaning, which custom had so far estab¬
lished as to render allowable ; and fixed the precise limits
beyond which it could not be employed without becoming
a vicious expression. .With this .view it would have been
necessary to exhibit the nice distinctions which take place
between words nearly synonymous, and without which
many words can only be defined in such a manner that
they must be considered as exactly synonymous. We omit
making any quotations from Johnson in order to point out
these defects; and shall content ourselves with giving a
few examples, to show in what manner, according to our
idea, a dictionary of the English language ought to be
compiled.
Immediately, adv. of time.
1. Instantly, without delay. Always employed to de¬
note futuie time, and never past. Thus we may say,
I will come immediately; but not I am immediately
come from such a place. See Presently.
2. Without the intervention of any cause or event; as
opposed to mediately.
Presently, adv. of time.
1. Instantly, without delay. Exactly synonymous with
immediately ; being never with propriety employed to
denote any thing but future time.
2. Formerly it was employed to express present time.
Thus, The house presently possessed by such a one,
was often used, but this has now become a vicious
expression ; and we ought to say, The house possessed
at present. It differs from immediately in this, that
VOL. VIII.
Die 9
even in the most corrupt phrases it never can denote Dictionary,
past time.
Form, subst. The external appearance of any object,
when considered only with reference to shape or
figure. This term, therefore, in the literal sense, can
only be applied to the objects of sight and touch, and
is therefore nearly synonymous with figure ; but these
terms differ in some respects. Form may be em¬
ployed to denote more rude and unfinished shapes;
figure, those which are more perfect and regular.
Form can never be employed without denoting mat¬
ter, whereas^/z^wre may be employed in the abstract:
thus we say a square or a triangular^^re, but not
a squaie or triangular yorwi. And in the same manner
we say the figure of a house; but we must denote
the substance which forms that figure if we use the
word form ; as, a cloud of the form of a house. See
Figure.
2. In conti ast to irregularity or confusion. As beauty
cannot exist without order, it is by a figure of speech
employed to denote beauty, order, and the like.
3. As form respects only the external appearance of
bodies, without regard to their internal qualities, it
is, by a figure of speech, employed in contrast to these
qualities to denote empty show, without essential
qualities. In this sense it is often taken when applied
to religious ceremonies, pageantry, and so forth.
4. As form is employed to denote the external appear¬
ance of bodies, so, in a figurative sense, it is ap¬
plied to reasoning, denoting the particular mode or
manner in which this is conducted; as, the form of a
syllogism, &c.
5. In the same manner it is employed to denote the par¬
ticular mode of procedure established in courts of
laiv; as, the forms of law, religion, and the like.
6. Form is sometimes, although improperly, used to de¬
note the different circumstances of the same body ;
as, water in a fluid or a solid form. But as this phrase
regards the internal qualities rather than the exter¬
nal figure, it is improper, and ought to be, water in a
fluid or a solid state.
7. But when bodies of different kinds are compared
Avith one another, this term may be employed to de¬
note other circumstances than shape or figure; for
we. may say, a juice exuding from a tree in the form
of wax or resin; although, in this case, the consist¬
ence, colour, &c. and not the external arrangement
of parts, constitutes the resemblance.
8. From the regular appearance of a number of persons
arranged in one long seat, such persons so arranged
are sometimes called a form ; as, a form of students,
&c. And,
9. By an easy transition the seat itself has also acquir¬
ed that name.
Great, aej?. A relative word, denoting largeness of
quantity, number, &c., serving to augment the value
of those terms with which it is combined, and op¬
posed to small or little. The principal circum¬
stances in which this word can be employed are the
following:
1. When merely inanimate objects are considered with
regard to quantity, great is with propriety employed
to denote that the quantity is considerable : as, a
great mountain, great house, and the like; and it
is here contrasted with small. When great is thus
employed, we have no other word which is exactly
synonymous.
2. When inanimate objects are considered with regard
to their extent, this term is sometimes employed, al¬
though with less propriety ; as, a great plain, a great
B
10
Dictionary.
DICTIONARY.
field, and the like. In this sense it is nearly synony¬
mous with large; and these terms were often used in¬
discriminately, but with some difference of meaning i
for, as large is a term chiefly employed to denote ex-
tent of superficies, and as great more particularly re¬
gards the quantity of matter, therefore, when large
is applied to any object which is not merely super¬
ficial, it denotes that it is the extent of surface which
is there meant to be considered, without regard to
the other dimensions ; whereas, when the term great
is employed, it has reference to the whole contents.
If therefore, we say a large house, or a large river,
we express that the house, or the river, has a surface
of great extent, without having any necessary con¬
nexion with the size in other respects. But it we
say a great house, or a great river, it at once denotes
that these objects have not only a large surface, but
are also of great size in every respect. _
3. Great, when applied to the human species, never de¬
notes the size or largeness of body, but is apphe
solely to the qualities of the mind. Thus when we
say that Socrates was a great mail, we do not mean
that he was a man of great size, but that he was a
man who excelled in the endowments of the mind.
The terms which denote largeness of size in the hu¬
man body are hig, bulky, huge. , .
4. Great is sometimes applied to the human species, a
denoting high rank. In this case it is oftener used
in the plural number than otherwise. Thus we say
simply the great, meaning the whole body of men in
high station, as opposed to the mean. It should sel¬
dom be employed in this sense, as it tends to confound
dignity of rank with elevation of mind.
5. As this is a general term of augmentation, it may be
* joined with all nouns which denote quantity, qua¬
lity, number, excellence, or defects; or such as imp y
praise, blame, anger, contempt, or any other affection
of the mind.
6. It is employed to denote every step of ascending
descending consanguinity, zs great-grandfather, great-
qrandson, and so on.
High, adj. Exalted in a perpendicular direction at a
distance from the surface of the earth, and opposed
1 Offiah is a term altogether indefinite, and is employed
to express the degree of elevation of any inanimate
body. Thus we say a high mountain, a high house,
steeple, tower, pillar, and the like. Nor is there any
other word which can here be considered as synony¬
mous ; lofty being employed only to denote a very
eminent degree of elevation. ,,
2. To express the perpendicular elevation of vegetables
either high or tall may be employed, as being in this
case nearly synonymous. We may tlieref^e say
high or tall tree, a high or tall mast, and so forth, but
with this difference between these two expressions,
that to//can be more properly applied to those which
are much elevated and of small dimensions ; and high,
to such as are more bulky and of greater size.
3. The perpendicular height of man can never be ex¬
pressed by the word high, tall being here tie pi ope
expression. And although %/i is sometimes used to
express the height of other animals, yet it seems o
be an improper expression. See Tall.
4. High, when applied to the human species, always re¬
fers to the mind, and denotes haughtiness, stateliness,
pride, and when combined with expressions indicating
energy of mind, it denotes that in a higher degiee.
In this sense it is opposed to meanness, abjectness, and
humility.
o. As this is an indefinite term, tending to denote any Dictionary,
thing which is elevated above us, it maybe combined —
with almost every noun which admits of this eleva¬
tion. Hence, as objects high above us are always out of
our reach, it is in a metaphorical sense used to denote
any thing which seems to be above the ordinary con¬
dition of mankind, or those qualities or endowments
of mind which are not easily acquired; as, dignity or
elevation of sentiment, dignity of rank, acuteness in rea¬
soning on difficult subjects, pride, haughtiness, or any
other quality which seems beyond the ordinary level
of mankind; dearness of price. > .
6. In the same manner we apply this term to time, whicn
having a metaphorical resemblance to a river flowing
on with an unceasing current through all successive
ages, any thing of remote antiquity is denoted by the
7. Likewise to those degrees of latitude far removed from
' the line, where the pole becomes more elevated.
8. And also to some particular crimes, as being attended
with peculiar degrees of guilt, as high treason.
Tall, adj., signifies elevated to a considerable degree in
a perpendicular direction : opposed to low. . ,
1. This term is chiefly employed to express the height
of man and other animals; and is applied to denote
the height of the body only, without having any re¬
ference to the mind. When applied to man, no other
word can be substituted in its stead; when applied to
other animals, high is sometimes considered as nearly
2. YAThkeTse emplo^edYo denote the perpendicular
height of vegetables, and in this case it is nearly sy¬
nonymous with high. See High.
3. It can in no case be employed to express the heig
of merely inanimate objects, as we can never say a
tall steeple, tower, or pillar, but a high steeple, &c.
the distinctions in these cases, see High.
Long, adi. A relative term, denoting the distance be¬
tween the extremes of any body which is extended
more in one of its geometrical dimensions than in
another. It is opposed to short. _ , . . «
1. This term maybe applied to all inanimate objects, o
whatever kind, whose dimensions in one way exceed
their dimensions in the other, and when not in an erect
posture, whatever be the other circumstances attend¬
ing them, whether it relates to superficies alone or to
solidbodies, whether these be bounded or open, straight
or crooked, flexible or rigid, or in any other circum¬
stances whatever: thus we say a long or short Ime, a
long or short ridge, street, ditch, rope, chain, staff, and
the like. But it is to be observed, that although long
is in the strict sense only opposed to short, yet as it
expresses the extension of matter in one of its geo¬
metrical proportions, it is often contrasted by those
words which express the other proportions when we
mean only to describe the several proportions; as, a
table long and broad. And as these several dimensions
are expressed by different words, according to the
various forms, modifications, and circumstances m
which bodies are found, therefore it is in this sense
contrasted by a great diversity of terms; as, a Long
and broad or wide, narrow or strait, street or lane; a
long and thick or small rope, chain, staff, for the dis¬
tinctions in these cases see Broad, W ide, &c.
2. Objects necessarily fixed in an erect position can
never have this term applied to them, and therefore
we cannot say a long, but a high tower or steeple. An
for the same reason, while trees are growing and fix¬
ed in an erect position, we cannot apply this term
to them; but when they are felled and laid upon the
DICTIONARY.
ground, it is quite proper and necessary. Thus we
do not say a long, but a tall or high tree, while it is
growing; but we say a long, not a tall log of wood;
and in the same manner we say a tall mast when it
is fixed in the ship, but a long mast v/hWe it lies upon
the beach. See Tall and High.
3. Those vegetables which are of a tender, pliant nature,
or so weak as not to be able to retain a fixed position,
being considered as of a middle nature between erect
and prostrate bodies, admit of either the terms long,
tall, or high ; as, a long or tall rush or willow wand, or
a long, tall, or high stalk of corn. See High and
Tall.
4. The parts of vegetables, when considered as distinct
from the whole, even when growing and erect, assume
the term long ; for we do not say a tall, but a long
shoot of a tree, and a tree with a long stem, in prefe¬
rence to a tree with a high stem.
5. For the same reason, a staff and pole, even when
fixed in a perpendicular direction, assume the word
long, in preference to tall or high.
6. With regard to animals, the general rule is applied,
without any exceptions; tall, and not long, being em¬
ployed to denote the height of the human body when
in an erect posture; and long, and not tall, to denote
its length when in an incumbent situation. Long ap¬
plied to all other animals which do not walk erect,
always denotes their greatest length in a horizontal
position from head to tail.
7. In a figurative sense, it denotes, with regard to time,
any thing at a great distance from us.
8. As also, any thing that takes up much time before it
is finished, as, a long discourse, a protracted note in
music, and the like.
Broad, adj-, denotes distance between the two nearest
sides of a body whose geometrical dimensions are laro-er
in one diiection than in another. It has a reference to
superficies only, and never to the solid contents, and is
opposed to narrow.
1. Broad, in the strictest acceptation, is applied to de¬
note those bodies only whose sides are altogether
open and unconfined ; as, a broad table, a broad wheel,
&c. and in these cases it is invariably contrasted with
narrow; nor is there any other word which in these
cases can be considered as synonymous with it, or be
used in its stead.
2. When any object is in some sort bounded on the sides,
although not quite closed up, as a road, street, ditch,
and the like, either broad or wide may be employed,
but with some difference of signification ; broad beino-
most properly used for those which are more opeiR
and wide for those which are more confined; nor can
this term be ever applied to such objects as are closely
bounded all around, as a house, a church, and the
like, wide being here employed. For the more accu-
rate distinctions in these cases see the article Wide.
WTde, adj. A term employed to denote relative extent
in cei tain circumstances, and opposed to narrow and
strait.
1. Ihis term is in its proper sense applied only to de¬
note the space contained within any body closed all
i ound and on every side; as, a house, gate, or the
like; and it differs from broad in this, that it never
relates to the superficies of solid objects, but is em¬
ployed to express the capaciousness of any body which
contains vacant space ; nor can capaciousness in this
sense be expressed by any other word but wide.
2. As many bodies may be considered either with re¬
spect to their capaciousness or superficial extent, in all
these cases either the term broad or wide may be used;
11
as,a broad or wide street or ditch, &c.; but with a greater Dictionarv.
or less degree of propriety, according to the circum- vO
stances of the object, or the idea which we wish to con¬
vey. In a street where the houses are low and the
boundaries open, or in a ditch of small depth and large
superficies, as this largeness of superficies bears the
principal proportion, broad would be more proper;
but if the houses are of great height, or the ditch of
great depth, and capaciousness is the principal pro¬
perty which affects the mind, we would naturally say a
wide street or ditch ; and the same may be said of all
similar cases. But there are some cases in which
both these terms are applied, with a greater differ¬
ence of meaning; thus we say a broad or a wide gate.
As the gate, however, is employed to denote either the
aperture in the wall, or the matter which closes that
aperture, these terms are each of them used to denote
that particular quality to which they are tjenerallv
applied; and as the opening itself can never be con¬
sidered as a superficies, the term ivide, in this case,
denotes the distance between the sides of the aper¬
ture ; whilst, on the contrary, broad denotes the ex¬
tent of matter fitted to close that aperture; nor can
these two terms be in any case substituted for one
another.
3. As a figurative expression, it is used as a cant phrase
for a mistake ; as, you are wide of the mark ; that is,
not near the truth.
Narrow, adj. A relative term, denoting a propor¬
tional smallness of distance between tbe sides of the
superficies of plain bodies, and opposed to broad.
1. As this is only applied to superficies, it is exactly
contrasted by broad, and is applied in all cases where
the term broad can be used (see Broad); and in
no other case but as a contrast to it, excepting tbe fol¬
lowing.
2. It sometimes is employed to describe the smallness
of space circumscribed between certain boundaries,
as opposed to ivide, and nearly synonymous with
straight; thus we say a wide or a narrow house, church,
and the like. For the necessary distinctions here,
see the article Strait.
3. In a figurative sense it denotes poverty,
confined sentiments, and so forth.
Strait, a^'. A relative term, denoting the extent of
space in certain circumstances, and opposed to wide.
See Wide.
1. This term is employed, in its proper sense, to denote
only space, as contained between surrounding bodies
in such circumstances as to denote some degree (if
confinement, and is exactly opposed to wide; as, a
wick or a strait gate, &c. See Wide.
2. So necessary is it that the idea of confinement should
be connected with this word, that in all those cases
where the space contained is large, as in a church oi
house, we cannot express a smaller proportional
width by this term. And as we have no other word
to express space in these circumstances, we are ob¬
liged to force the word narrow from its natural signi¬
fication, and make it express this. See Narrow.
3. In some particular cases, narrow or strait may be ap¬
plied to the same object; as, a narrow or a strait line ;
but here strait is never employed except where an
idea of confinement is suggested, and where it is ex¬
actly conti asted to wide ; nor can be employ¬
ed except in such circumstances where broad would
be a pei feet contrast to it. Iherefore these two terms
may be always used in the same circumstances as
those which contrast with them. For an account of
these see Wide.
12
Dictionary,
dictionary.
The term strait is likewise in a peculiar manner used
t , denote the smallness of the internal diameter of
those bodies which are fitted to rece.ve or contom
others as any kind of bag, tube, body clothes, mor¬
tises, and others of the same kind ^andm all jhese
to be clearly and distinctly pointed out under each pard-Dictionary,
cular article. This is the more necessary, as some of these
words have others formed from them which might be rea¬
dily mistaken for their plurals, although they have a very
different signification; as clothes, which does not denote
diiterent s g „P,i;fWnt kinds of cloth, but wear-
tises^and others of the s&ame kind ; and in all these ofc/o^but wear-
?P:l T',e tollo"in8 example wi“
their lesser uidinetci, auvi
row. But in certain circumstances the word tight hea .
/ tjtAJ• v.i ».•■*•**•*' ^
may be substituted for it. See Iight.
5. Strait, in a figurative sense, denotes any sort of con¬
finement of sentiment or disposition.
TIGHT, adj. A term employed in certain circumstances
to denote the internal capacity of particular bo les,
Tb^t cSr^ftofe the —ue.
bodies, and can be employed in no other case An
although it agrees with strait, in always denoting con
finement, and by being applicable to the same species
of obiects, yet it differs in the following respects:
1. If there be any difference of the diameter of t ie
obiects to which the term strait can be applied, has
always reference to the smaller; yet tight may be
applied to any sort of confinement, whether it regards
the length or breadth. 2. Strait can be applied to al
bodies of capacity when of small diameter, wi hout
any sort of reference to the nature of the substance
which it may be capable of containing. For vve can
say a strait bag, a strait sleeve, a strait mortise, a st™lt
ante, and so on, whereas tight can only be applied to
?ny body when it is considered as having reference to
any uu .y tn he contained in it,
WOOD, subst. A solid substance of which the trunks
and branches of trees consist.
1 This term is employed to denote the solid pai
' vegetables of all kinds, in whatever form or circum¬
stances they are found. Nor does it admit or a plural
with propriety, unless in the circumstances after men¬
tioned ; for we say, many different kinds oj wood, in
preference to many kinds of woods; or we say, oak,
ash, or elm wood, not woods.
2 But where we want to contrast wood of one quality
' or country with that of another, it admits of a plural;
for we say, white woods are in general softer than red;
or West Indian woods are in general of greater spe¬
cific qravity than the European woods. But unless
wBere the colour, or some quality which distinguishes
it from growing wood, is mentioned, this plural ought
as much as possible to be avoided, as it always sug¬
gests an idea of growing wood. .
3 ^Wood likewise denotes a number of trees growing
‘ near one another, being nearly synonymous wUh >
rest See Forest. In this sense it always admits of
a plural ; as, Ye woods and wilds whose melancholy
ASnt; cannot be reckoned complete wltboot ex-
C’body when it is considered as having reference to words - and if the teris of the several
another body which U intended to be contained i , P dia,ects were likewise given, it would be °f
and is pinched from want of room. I hus we y I t Yt Nor would this occupy much space, became
sleeve of a coat is too tight for the arm, the mortise is too f of these words need no other explanation than
thyhtfor the tenon, and so forth ; but we cannot say ^ them the words which had come in
bag or the gate is too tight, because they a } ; ] ce when there happened to be one perfect y y
receive any sort of objects. And hence it happens ^ ^ in those ses where the same idea could
that in many cases the dimensions of the same bo y J } jn modern language without a penphra-
ly be expressed by tight or strait, when considered not b^ressed m . n ^ distincl,y; so that,
in different circumstances. Thus rnay say, 7^ found himself at a loss for a term and was
x: iXcridXt;;: XoX x i^ .n rXXrrXiX^hff a u ex.
we have tried it upon the ;arm whmh it ,s mte nded gt^e^in P^ to
fXel:?;oiL;Xdrrat:rrfrdgpuXs:,“,ia„Xbf-
rtwinglrom foreign languages The Allowing examp e
may serve to give some idea ot the manner of ti eating this
PaMOE, or mo, adj. An obsolete term still enT^ed^n
tQCcover,"that ^we* call h tight And we may^a
date is too strait or too tight; but in t
consider it as being too confined for admitting objects
S n^s through it; and in the next, as being too con¬
fined with respect to the “ leaves” which are to shut
the aperture not allowing them space to mov
Thes^ examples may serve to give some idea of the
nlan of an EngHsh dictionary composed upon philosoph -
cal principles^ But, besides the circumstances above enu-
mer ited, fhere are many others which would require pa -
ticular attention in the execution ot a worit »f‘his kmd.
In the English language a great variety c;r_
which denote matter under certain gener
cumstances, without regarding the minute diveisiUes that
may take place; as the word « which denotes maUe^
as manufactured into a particular form, .inc Particular
all the variety of stuffs manufactured in that particula
way, of whatever materials, colour, textme,
they may be. The same may be said of wood, iron, ya ,
and a gTeat variety of terms of the same nature some of
which cannot assume any plural; whilst otheis a m
in all cases, and others, again, admit or ,refuse f aCC^.
ing to the different circumstances in which they are con
sidered.
(JE, or mo, aaj.   
the Scotch dialect, and by them pronounced de¬
noting a greater number, and nearly synonymous wit
Zre ; but it differs in this respect, that in the Scotch
dialect, mae and mair (English more) are each em¬
ployed in their distinct sphere, without encroaching
upon one another, mae being employed to denote
number, but never quantity or quality, and
denote quantity and quality, but never number; thus
they say mae, not mair, apples, men, &c. ant j
mae, cloth, earth, courage, &c. See Mair. Both the e
terms are supplied by the word winch in the
English language is applied mchscnminately
note quantity, quality, and number. See More. _
As the English anguage is so exceedingly irregular in
the pronunciation, the same letter in the same situation
often assuming sounds totally different in ‘
u is tapojsible to “
g to tne uineieub t 1S impossiDle to esiauusn auy ^
fered. . . f m„bt iec which do not admit of many exceptions; therefore a
In a dictionary, therefore, all this variety of cases ought ject wn.cn
I
Dictionary.
DICTIONARY.
13
dictionary is the best means of ascertaining and pointing
out the proper pronunciations of words. For. it the
writer first pointed out all the different sounds which the
same letter could ever be made to express, and assigned
to every particular sound which each letter could be made
to assume, a particular mark, appropriated to denote that
particular sound of the letter whenever it occurred, by
placing these particular marks above the letters in the
dictionary, the sound of each letter would be pointed out
in all cases with the utmost certainty. It is impossible
to illustrate this by examples, without first ascertaining
all the sounds of each letter, which would lead into a dis¬
cussion too long for this place.
We shall only further observe, that besides having the
accented syllable of every word properly distinguished in
a dictionary to assist in the pronunciation, the English
language requires another essential improvement, namely,
the use of accents to distinguish the meaning of words
and phrases, which, although it is not so properly confined
to a lexicographer, yet it is not quite without his sphere.
Thus, the word as admits of two very different sounds,
as well as different significations ; for example, “ Cicero
wras nearly as eloquent as Demosthenes in which the
first as is pronounced ass, and the last is pronounced az.
Now it often happens that, in reading, the particular way
in which it ought to be understood is not pointed out by
the context till after the word itself is pronounced, which
has an equal chance at least of being pronounced wrong;
whereas, if it were always accented when employed in the
one sense, and not in the other, it would free the reader
from this perplexity. There are other cases in which the
proper use of accents in writing would be of great conse¬
quence ; as at the beginning of a sentence when it is put
as a question, or used ironically. But this does not so
properly belong to the lexicographer as the grammarian.
The above examples, we hope, will be sufficient to give
the reader some idea of the plan which we would propose,
and will enable him to determine whether or not a dic¬
tionary, executed in this way, would convey to his mind a
more perfect knowledge of the English language than those
dictionaries which have hitherto been published. These
examples are given rather with a view to show the man¬
ner in which a work of this kind may be conducted, than
as perfect and unexceptionable explanations of the several
articles there enumerated ; and therefore we have not
thought it necessary to produce any authorities, although
we are sensible that they would be requisite in such a
work.
The following is a list of the principal dictionaries in the
various ancient and modern languages:—
Aegyptian.—Sharpe (Lend. 1837); Birch (Lend. 1838); J. F. R.
Champollion (Paris 1841); Tattam (Lond.)
Aethiopian.—Wemmers (Rome 1638) ; Ludolf (Frankf. 1699).
Afghan.—Dorm (St Petersburg 1845).
Albanian.—Blanchus (Rome 1635); Kaballioti (Venice 1770);
Xylander (Frankf. 1835).
Amharic.—Ludolf (Frankf. 1698) ; Bruce (Lond. 1805); C. W.
Isenberg (Lond. 1841).
Anglo-Saxon.—Somner (Oxon. 1659); Benson (Oxon. 1701); Lye
(Lond. 1772); Bosworth (Lond. 1838).
Angola.—De Cannecattim (Lisb. 1804).
Arabic.—Gieuharrius (Scutari 1802); Richardson and Johnson
(Lond. 1829) ; Baretti (Calc. 1806) ; Freytag (Halae 1837) ;
Ciadyrgy (Milan 1832); De Biberstein Kazimirski (Paris
1846).
Vulgar Arabic.—Germanus de Silesia (Rome 1639); Canes (Ma¬
drid 1787).
Aramaic.—Buxtorf fil. (Basil 1648).
Armenian.—Aucher (Venise 1817); translated into English by
Brand (Venice 1825).
Bengalee—Forster (Calc. 1802); W. Carey (Seramp. 1826); J. C.
Marshman (Seramp. 1827); Ch. Haughton (Lond. 1833);
Ram Comul Sen (Lond. 1835).
Biscayan.—Anonymous (Bayonne 1706) ; De Larrimandi (St Sebas¬
tian 1745).
Bohemian.—Tomsa (Prag. 1791); Jungman (Praze 1839). Dictionary.
Burman.—Hough (Seramp. 1825); Judson (Calc. 1826). ^ J
Chaldee.—Elias Levita (Col. Agr. 1560); Buxtorf (Argenton
1639); Landau (Prag. 1820).
Chinese.—Morrison (Macao 1823) ; Medhurst (Batav. 1842) ; Biot
(Paris 1842); Gallery (Macao 1845).
Cinghalese.—Clough (Colombo 1830) ; Callaway (Colombo 1821).
Cochin Chinese.—De Rhodes (Rome 1651); Taberd (Serampore
1838); Du Ponceau (Philad. 1838).
Coptic.— Kircher (Rom. 1644); Lacroze (Oxon. 1775); Parthey
(Berlin 1844).
Danish.—Anonymous (Leipzig 1844).
Dutch.—Hexham & Manley (Rotterd. 1675) ; Werninck (Lond.)
English.—Phillips (Lond. 1678); Bailey (Lond. 1764); Johnson
(Lond. 1755); Sheridan (Lond. 1789); Ash (Lond. 1795);
Booth (Lond. 1835); Webster (Lond. 1842); Richardson
(Lond. 1836).
Esquimaux.—Egede (Hafn. 1750); Fabricius (Copen. 1804).
Finnish.—Renvall (Aboae 1826).
French.—Dictionnaire de 1’Academie Franfoise ; Boyer ; Cham-
baud; Fleming and Tibbins; Spiers; Tarver.
Gaelic.—Macfarlane(Lond. 1815); Armstrong (Lond. 1825); High¬
land Society (Edin. 1828); M'Leod and Dewar (Glasgow
1831) ; M‘Alpine (Edin. 1845).
Georgian.—Klaproth (Paris 1827).
German—Bailey (Jena 1823); Hilpert (Karlsr. 1839); Fliigel
(Leipzig 1838) ; Grieb (Lond. 1847).
Gothic.—Lye (Lond. 1772); Ulfilas (Leipzig 1843).
Greek.—Hesychius (Lug. Bat. 1746); Suidas ; Hederich ; Passow ;
Pape; Dunbar; Liddell and Scott.
Hawaii.—Andrews (Cahainaluna 1836).
Hebrew.—Buxtorf (Basil 1735) ; Cocceius by Schulz (Leip. 1777-
95); Gesenius (Leip. 1846), Edited by Tregelles (Lond.
1846); Parkhurst (Lond. 1823); Robinson (Boston 1844) ;
Lee (Lond. 1840); Fiirst (Leip. 1842).
Hindee.—Rousseau (Lond. 1812); Adam (Calc. 1833).
Hindustanee.—Roberts (Lond. 1800); Taylor (Calc. 1808); Gil¬
christ by Roebuck (Lond. 1825); Shakspeare (Lond. 1834).
Irish.—Maccurtin (Paris 1732); Shaw (Lond. 1780); O’Reilly (Dub¬
lin 1822) ; O’Brien (Dublin 1832).
Icelandic.—Haldorsonius (Copen. 1814).
Italian.—Venerani; De la Crusca; Baretti; Graglia ; Meadows.
Japanese.—Medhurst (Batav. 1830) ; De Sibold (Lugd. Bat. 1835);
Medhurst (Lond.)
Latin.—Forcellini and Facciolati; Schiller (Leip. 1805); Freund
(Berlin 1845); Georges (Leip. 1843); Riddle (Lond. 1851);
Andrews (Lond. 1852).
Lettish.—Stcuder (Riga 1791).
Malay.—Anonymous (Amster. 1802); (Arnheim 1803).
New Holland.—Meyer (Adelaide 1843); Schiirmann (Adelaide
1844).
New Zealand.—Kendal (Lond. 1820).
Norwegian.—Hallager (Copen. 1802); Hanson (Copen. 1840).
Oordoo.—Thompson (Lond. 1842.)
Persian.—Richardson and Johnson (Lond. 1829); Burhani Kati
(Calc. 1818); Rousseau (Lond. 1802) ; Baretto (Calc. 1806);
Ciadyrgy (Milan 1802); Samachscharius by Wetzstein
(Leip. 1845).
Polish.—Schmidt (Breslau 1834); Troyanski (Berlin 1838); Czar-
necki (Krotoshin 1843).
Portuguese.—Vieyra, ed. by Cunda (Lond. 1840); Wagener (Leip.
1812).
Provengal.—Raynouard (Paris 1843).
Rabbinic.—Buxtorf (Basil 1735) ; Otho (Altona 1757) ; Hornheim
(Halle 1807); Landau (Prag. 1819-24).
Russian.—Schmidt (Breslau 1836) ; Reiflf (St Petersburg 1836) ^
Constantinon (Lond.)
Samaritan.—Castelli; Cellarius (Frankf. 1705) ; Otho (Frankf.
1735); Uhleman (Leipzig 1837).
Sanscrit.—Wilson (Calc. 1832); Yates (Calc. 1820); Haughton
(Lond. 1833); Johnson (Lond.)
Scotch.—Brown (Edin. 1845); Jamieson (Edin. 1846).
Swedish.—Granberg (Orebro 1832).
Semitic.—Hottinger (Frankf. 1661); Castelli (Lond. 1669); Otho
(Frankf. 1702).
Spanish.—Real Academia Espanola (Madrid 1844) ; Neumann and
Baretti (Lond. 1823) ; Meadows (Lond. 1843).
Syriac. —Schaaf and Leusden (Lugd. Bat. 1717) ; Castelli by
Michaelis (Gottingen 1788); Kirschius (Lipsiae 1836-41);
Roediger (Hal. Sax. 1838).
Tamil.— Rottler (Lond.)
Telugu.—Campbell (Madras 1821); Morris (Madras 1835).
Tibetan.—Schroeter by Carey (Serampore 1826); Croma de Kbrbs
(Calc. 1834); Schmidt (St Petersburg 1841).
■
i
14
DID
Kieffer (Paris 1837); De Haud-
Dictynnia Turkish.—Ciadyrgy (Milan 1834)
II ieri (Moscow 1842). „ ,
TvJ' + Welsh —Owen (Lond. 1803) ; Lewis (Caermarthen 1805) ; Roberts
VD d ro ^ ’(Lond. 1827); Pughe (Lond. 1832) ; Richards (Lond. 1839);
Jones'(Lond. 1840); Walter (Lond.)
See J S Vater’s Litteratur der Grammatiken, Lexica und H or-
tersammlungen aller Sprachen der Erde; zweite ausgabe von B.
Jiilg. Berlin 1847.
DICTYNNIA, in a festival with sacrifices ce¬
lebrated at Cydonia in Crete and also at Sparta, in honour
of Diana, surnaraed Dictynnia; or, according to others, in
honour of a nymph taken for her, who, having plunged into
the sea to escape the passion of Minos, was caught in a fish¬
erman’s net (StKTuov) ; whence the name.
DICTYS Cretensis, one of the early historians from
whom the later Roman grammarians imagined that Homer
derived materials for the Iliad and Odyssey. He is said to
have followed Idomeneus, king of Crete, in the Trojan war ;
and the MS. of his work, written in Phoenician characters,
was found in his tomb at Gnossus in the reign of Nero, and
translated into Greek by order of that prince. A Latin
version of the first five books has alone come down to us;
but this work is generally regarded as a forgery. The best
editions are those of Perizonius and Dederich.
DIDACTIC (SiSacmu, to teach), signifies the manner of
speaking or writing adapted to teach or explain the nature
of things. , ,
There are many words which are only used in the didac¬
tic and dogmatic way; and there are also many works, an¬
cient and modern, both in prose and verse, written after this
method ; such as the Georgies of Virgil, Lucretius’s poem
JJe Rerum Natura, Pope’s Essays on Criticism and on
Man, &c.
DIDEROT, Denis, a French writer and philosopher,
was the son of a cutler, and born at Langres in Champagne,
in 1713. He received his early education among the Je¬
suits at the college of that order in his native towu, and
afterwards at the college D’Harcourt at Paris. At first he
was destined for the church, one of his relatives having a
canonry to bestow upon him. But he discovered little in¬
clination for the ecclesiastical profession, and his father
placed him with an attorney. It soon appeared, however,
that he was more attached to a general and desultory pur¬
suit of literature and science than disposed to submit to the
drudgeries of the profession to which his father had des¬
tined him ; and having neglected its duties, his allowance
was withheld, and he was obliged to shift for himself. It is
said he gave lessons in order to procure a subsistence; and
also became a bookseller’s hack, in which capacity, we are
told nothing came amiss to him, from an advertisement or
a catalogue to a sermon. Certain it is, that the studies to
which Diderot devoted his attention were extremely various.
Physics, geometry,metaphysics, moral philosophy,andbelles-
lettres, were at different times the objects of his pursuit;
and he even indulged in poetry and works of fiction. But
he attached himself chiefly to the graver studies. He pos¬
sessed great fluency and animation of language in conver¬
sation \ and this accomplishment, with a decisive tone and
manner, procured him both partizans and protectors. I he
species of reading to which he addicted himself, mote various
than profound, probably suggested to him those encyclopae¬
dic projects and labours which principally occupied his life,
and by which he is chiefly remembered.
In the year 1745 he published UEssai sur le Merite et la
Vertu, 12mo, a work by which he obtained some reputation.
The year following he published a piece entitled Pensces Phi-
losophiques, and immediately acquired considerable celebrity.
This work, though intrinsically of little merit, was highly
commended by the partizans of the new philosophy, amongst
whom he had enlisted himself. The same work was after¬
wards reprinted under the title of Etrennes aux Esprits
ports; it was very much read, and is supposed to have
D I D
contributed greatly to the diffusion of those free-thinking Diderot,
opinions which had now become so prevalent in h ranee.
Soon after this period, Diderot, in conjunction vyith D’Alem¬
bert, concerted the plan of that vast undertaking, the Dic-
tionnaire Encyclopedique. The professed object of this work
was to form a magazine of every branch of human knowr-
ledge; it has been also alleged that it was intended by the
authors and editors as an engine by means of which those
established opinions, whether of a religious or political na¬
ture, which they were pleased to suppose had their origin
in fraud and superstition, were to"be subverted. The de¬
partment of this work which was intrusted to Diderot was
the description of arts and trades (arts et metiers). In fact,
he was the principal architect of the edifice ; and, besides the
Prospectus, and the Systeme des Connaissances Humaines,
which has been much commended for its classification, he
contributed many articles in various departments of science.
But his articles have been considered extremely verbose
and diffuse; in many of them he is pedantically prodigal of
metaphysical subtil ties, and indulges in a pompous paiade
of scientific language. The first two volumes of the Dic¬
tionary appeared in the year 1751, and the first edition was
completed and published in 1765, in 17 vols. fob and 11
vols. of plates ; but although Diderot was occupied in this
laborious undertaking for a period of nearly twenty years,
the recompense which he obtained for his labours is said to
have been extremely small. He himself acknowledged the
many defects of the work, not a few of which he attributed
to the publisher Le Breton, who, he declared, often played
editor himself, scratched out anything which he thought
might compromise him, and filled up the chasms as he best
could. Diderot’s literary labours, however, were not con¬
fined to the Dictionary. Just before he commenced, and
while engaged upon it, he composed numerous woiks,
amongst which may be mentioned—(1.) Lettres sur les
Aveugles (1749), “ for the use of those who see.” This work
made a good deal of noise, and, in consequence of some ol
the sentiments it contained, gave offence to the govern-
ment, for which reason the author was detained in confine-
ment during several months at Vincennes. (2.) Lettres
sur les Sourds et Muets, 2 vols. 12mo, 1 <51. (3.) The
Sixth Sense, which was published in 1752. (4.) Pensecs
sur Vinterpretation de la Nature, which appeared in 1754.
These, which by no means exhaust the list, are similar
works, and may be ranked in the same class. Like all his
philosophic writings, they are (besides graver defects) often
chargeable with the double fault of obscure thoughts ex¬
pressed in a declamatory style.—His moral character was
considerably affected by the publication of Bijoux Indis-
crets, in two vols. 12mo, w'hich is a collection of licentious
tales; and it was little compensation that his two prose
comedies, entitled Le Fils Naturel, 17o7, and Le Peie
de Famille, 1758, comparatively uninteresting as dramatic
pieces, exhibit a more correct morality. He also published
a pamphlet on Public Education, which contains some useful
hints, but at the same time proposes many things utterly
absurd and impracticable. To the works now mentioned we
may add an eulogy on Richardson, which is full of admiring
enthusiasm. An Essay on the Life and Writings of Seneca
the Philosopher was his last production, and was published
in 1779. For a fuller and tolerably impartial account of
these and his other writings, we must refer the reader to
the Biographic Universelle.
The character of Diderot suffered considerably from some
defamatory attacks which he had made on his former friend
Rousseau, who had quarrelled with the French philoso¬
phers, and had separated himself from their school. From
the Confessions of the philosopher of Geneva, it would ap¬
pear that they expected of him some anecdotes which would
not have redounded much to their honour. In one of his
letters Rousseau, speaking of Diderot, says, Although
DIDEROT. 15
Diderot, born with a good heart and an open disposition, he had an
^ unfortunate propensity to misinterpret the words and ac¬
tions of his friends, and the most ingenuous explanations
only supplied his subtle imagination with new interpreta¬
tions against them.” Rousseau might here be supposed
drawing his own portrait yet more truly than that of his
quondam friend.
Diderot was married and had one daughter; and although
he possessed considerable irritability of temper, he was, it
is said, a kind husband and a tender parent. His conjugal
virtues are not, however, supposed to include fidelity. His
sentiments on marriage sufficiently appear in the article on
that subject in the Encyclopaedia; and his numerous infi¬
delities to his wife, who is said to have been virtuous and
affectionate, show how consistently he exemplified them !
At the conclusion of the Dictionary, the state of his af¬
fairs having rendered it necessary for him to dispose of his
library, it was purchased by the empress of Russia, who,
with the king of Prussia, was at that time much given to
patronize literature and literary men. These sovereigns
were also considered as disciples of the French school. The
price which Diderot received for his library was fifteen thou¬
sand livres, and he was to have the use of it during his life;
or rather Catherine paid him many years’ pension in advance,
as librarian of his own library. “ File acheta,” says the
Biographic Universelle, “ en 1765, la bibliotheque de Di¬
derot, pour 15,000 livres, a condition qu’il continuerait d’en
jouir. File y ajouta une pension annuelle pour 1’entretien
et la garde de la bibliotheque ; et ayant appris, 1’annee sui-
vante, que le paiement de cette pension avail ete retarde,
elle lui en fit compter, cinquante annees.” Diderot was so
charmed with Catherine’s liberality, that he repaired to
St Petersburg to express his gratitude; and then, dazzled
with his reception, expressed it in terms which sound odd
enough in a philosopher of his professed principles. “ In
a country,” he declared, “ called a country of slaves, he
felt like a freeman.” On his return he lodged in state
in the Rue Richelieu at Catherine’s charge. Diderot had
been admitted a member of the Academy of Sciences at
Berlin; but the doors of the French Academy remained
closed against him to the last. He died suddenly, as he
rose from table, on the 30th July 1784. According to his
daughter, who left a memoir of him, he conversed on the
evening preceding his death on philosophy, and the means
of attaining it. She says the last remark she heard him
make was, “ The first step towards philosophy is incredu¬
lity.” If so, he had certainly taken that step. Whether
he had taken any other may be doubted. His literary and
philosophical works were collected and published by his
friend and disciple Naigeon, in 15 vols. 8vo, at Paris, in
1798. This collection has been enlarged, in subsequent
republications, to 22 vols. 8vo, Paris, 1821 ; it contains a
memoir of Diderot, or rather a critique on his writings.
Diderot, it would seem, had a hand in several of the most
remarkable works of his time, published under the names
of others. “ Who does not know,” says Grimm, in his
Correspondance, “ that nearly a third of the Histoire Philo-
sophique of Raynal belongs to him ? He laboured on it
during two years, and a considerable part of it was even
composed under my own eyes. Diderot himself was often
startled at the boldness with which he had made his friend
the abbe speak. ‘ Who,’ asked he, ‘ who will venture to
subscribe this ?’ ‘ I,’ replied the abbe, ‘ I will subscribe
it; proceed, I tell you.’ What man of letters is there who
may not easily recognise in the book Be VEsprit (of Hel-
vetius), and in the Systeme de la Nature, all those fine pas¬
sages which are, and could only be, from the pen of Di-
derot ? If we undertook to make a more complete enu-
meiation, we should run the risk of naming many ungrate¬
ful individuals.” (CorrespondanceLitteraire, Philosophique,
et Critique, tom. iv. p. 85.) Grimm further states that
Diderot furnished a considerable number of pages to the Diderot.
Systeme de la Nature ; and that he laboured, though to a
less extent, on the Systeme Social and the Morale Uni¬
verselle, also published by Baron d’Holbach. Such were
some of the indirect literary efforts of Diderot. But neither
as a writer nor as a philosopher did he make for himself any
very enviable reputation. As a writer he was decidedly a
vicious model; he had neither plan nor connection, and
knew not howproprie communia dicere, whilst his style was
deformed by obscurity, neologisms, and a tone of insuffera¬
ble dogmatism ; nevertheless it must be conceded that he
was often vigorous, sometimes eloquent, and now and then
stumbled on happy traits of expression; as well as striking
truths, which, however, would have gained much by being
more simply stated. In fact, he had frequently the air of
speaking ex cathedrd; his ambitious diction, his strained
style, his eccentric sallies, and an enthusiasm which seldom
appeared natural, fatigue the reader. As a philosopher he
wrote under the influence of a heated imagination rather
than under that of cool reason. He was almost always ex¬
travagant ; seldom or never simple and natural. Admirers,
however, have not been wanting who have celebrated his
bonte, his frankness, his easy and obliging character, and
the vigour and entrainement of his conversation. Grimm,
who has praised him warmly in his Correspondance, regards
Diderot as having had the most naturally encyclopaediacal
head of all men that ever lived. He admires his energy,
the variety of his ideas, the multiplicity of his acquirements,
the impetuous tumult of his imagination, and the charm and
irregularity of his conversation : but he adds, “ However
willingly I may pardon all men for believing nothing, I
think that it would have been very desirable for the repu¬
tation of Diderot, perhaps even for the honour of his age,
if he had not been an atheist. The determined war which
he thought himself obliged to carry on against God, caused
him to lose the most precious moments of his life.” {Cor¬
respondance, 3me partie, tom. iv. p. 87.) But Naigeon,
who is less scrupulous than Grimm, praises his friend with¬
out qualification, adding, besides, that “ his age has not
done him justice.” It would have been difficult.
The general opinion in regard to him seems now to be
pretty well fixed, and posterity has at length put him in his
right place. He had talent; but he wanted sagacity, mo¬
deration, and taste. “ He has written fine pages,” says
Marmontel in his Memoires, “ but he never knew how to
make a book.” His desolating atheism and licentious prin¬
ciples explain the reason why he never entered the Aca¬
demy, whose doors, as we have already stated, were con¬
stantly shut against him, notwithstanding the anxious de¬
sire of his friends to procure him admission. Voltaire, who
had himself solicited his election, appears latterly to have
become less enamoured of the merit of Diderot, and even
to have formally censured some of his works. D’Alembert
also cooled towards him, and at last they did not even see
each other. His rupture with Rousseau, however, was the
work of the latter, who began the war which was after¬
wards waged between them. But Diderot maintained his
connection with Baron d’Holbach, whose sentiments ap¬
proached the nearest to his own. In the society of the ba¬
ron he was relished and admired for his facility in general
conversation, but especially, no doubt, on account of his
antipathy to that creed and to those institutions which that
coterie so cordially hated. On these topics he never tired,
and his friends often amused themselves with giving him
opportunities of abandoning himself to his imagination, or,
in other words, blaspheming for their diversion. In an un¬
excited state he exhibited constraint, awkwardness, timidity,
and even a kind of affectation. He was never truly Dide¬
rot except when his fancy had transported him as it were
beyond himself. Enthusiasm had become the condition
most natural to his mind, nay, even to his voice and fea-
16
DID
Didier turn ; and he was himself only when m a state of intellec-
II tual inebriety. Grimm has reproached him with having
Didymus. consumed in fugitive conversations the time which he might
v v / have devoted to more enduring achievements ; but Dide¬
rot loved to talk, especially when he could indulge his vehe¬
ment volubility without interruption. As Voltaire once re¬
marked on leaving a company where Diderot had engrossed
the whole talk, “ Get homme-Ux riest pas propre pour te
dialoque.” The correspondence recently published has
thrown but little new light on the character of this remark¬
able man, nor has it tended in any degree to increase the
estimation in which his talents and character were pi e-
viously held by tbe world. He will retain an unenviable
notoriety as one of the principal figures in that group of so-
called philosophers of the last century who, unable to dis¬
tinguish between superstition and religion, vainly strove to
extinguish religion itself, and entered into an unhallowed
conspiracy against the best interests of humanity. 1 heir fan¬
tastical theories, licentious maxims, and, too generally, im¬
moral characters, constitute the best antidote to their absm-
dities, and the best comment on their systems.
DIDIER, St, a city of the department of the kPPeir
Loire, in France, with 3203 inhabitants, who are employed
chiefly in the silk manufacture. ^ 7 7 , . ,
DIDO, or Elisa, in Ancient Mythology, the repute
founder of Carthage, was the daughter of Mutgo (or as he
is called by others Belus or Agenor) king of Tyre. On
the death of this prince Dido married his brother, her own
uncle, Acerbas, or as he is called by Virgil Sichaeus, kgh-
priest of Hercules, and a man of immense wealth, tin the
death of Mutgo, Pygmalion succeeded to the Tyrian throne.
Envying the great possessions of his uncle Sichaeus, he is
said to have put him to death, and Dido immediately made
preparations for leaving the country In company with a
few of the Tvrian nobles, who were discontented with the
rule of Pygmalion, she left her native country, taking with
her the treasures of her murdered husband. 1 he fugitives
first landed at the island of Cyprus, whence they carried oft
eighty virgins to furnish wives for the settlers in the new
colony which they intended to found. Pursuing her voy¬
age Dido landed on the northern coast of Africa, where
she purchased from the natives as much soil as she could
cover with the hide of a bull. She cut the hide however
into such thin stripes that she inclosed a large tract of
country, on which she immediately began to build a city.
As the city, which was named Carthage, rose from its founda¬
tions, the neighbouring chiefs viewed it with jealousy ; and
one of their number, Hiarbas, at length sent to demand the
hand of Dido in marriage, threatening to make war on the
infant state in the event of a refusal. Dido at first declined,
and ultimately demanded three months to make the nee -
ful preparations. At the end of that period she caused a
splendid funeral pyre to be erected in the city. Ascending
this with a drawn sword in her hand, she stabbed herself in
presence of all the people. The story of Dido as narrated
by Virgil differs considerably from that which we have
given. In the Mne\d, Dido is represented as falling in love
with the hero of that epic, and killing herself when she dis¬
covers that her passion is not reciprocated. 1 he ganng
anachronism involved in this version of the stoiy ias een
frequently remarked. . ,
DIDRACHMA, in Antiquity, a silver coin, equal to
two Attic drachmae, and also to the Jewish half shekel. It
was equivalent to about Is. 4d. of our money.
DIDYMUS, a celebrated grammarian of the Augustan
ao-e. He was the son of a seller of fish at Alexandria, and w as
born about n.C. 64. He was a disciple of Aristarchus, and in
his literary labours he followed strictly the critical principles
of his master. Athenaeus computes the works of Didymus
at 3500, and Seneca at 4000. The names of xctA/cevrepos
fbrazen-bowelled), and /ih/3AioAd0a9 (fbrgetter of his own
DIE
books), by which he was distinguished amongst his contem- Didymus
poraries, sufficiently indicate his perseverance, and the volu- «
minous character of his writings. His principal works seem
to have been his scholia on Homer, Aristophanes, 1 indar,
Sophocles, Euripides, and several of the Greek orators, it
is probable that many of the comments of the later scholiasts
were borrowed from him. He is said also to have written
ao-ainst Cicero’s Republic. The collection of Greek pro¬
verbs, and the fragments of the books on agriculture, which
bear his name, are at least only in part genuine.
DIDYMUS, of Alexandria, an ecclesiastical writer who
flourished in the fourth century. Notwithstanding his blind¬
ness, which took place before he had learned to read, he suc¬
ceeded in mastering the whole circle of the sciences then
known ; and on entering the service of the church he was
placed at the head of the Alexandrian theological school.
Most of his theological works are lost. W e possess however
a Latin translation by Jerome of his Treatise on the Holy
Ghost, and a similar translation by Epiphamus of his HneJ
Comments on the Canonical Epistles. A Treatise against
the Manichceans is extant in the original Greek, and . was
first published at Bologna in 1 796. . ,
DIDYNAMIA, in Botany, the fourteenth class in me
Linmean system, comprehending such plants as have four
S ^lE,' a small cube used in gaming, as described under
Dice. It is also used generally for any cubic body.
Die also denotes a stamp used in coining, in foundries,
&c. Its plural form is dies. See Coinage.
Die [Dea Vocontiorum), a town of France, capital of an
arrondissement of the same name, in the department of
Drome, and situated in a fertile valley on the right bank of
the Drome, 36 miles E.S.E. of Valence. It is surrounded
by old walls flanked by towers, and was formerly the seat
of a bishop and of a Calvinistic university. Manufactures
silks, paper, and leather. Pop. (1851) 3858.
Die St, a town of France, department of Vosges, and
capital’ of a cognominal arrondissement. It is situated on
the Meurthe, 24 miles E.N.E. of Epinal, and is surrounded
bv an old wall. It is the seat of a bishop, and has a com
munal college and public library. _ Manufactures—cottons,
hosiery, and ironware. Pop. (1851) 8692. .
There is also a small town of this name in the depart¬
ment of Loire-et-Cher on the left bank of the Loire, ar¬
rondissement, and eight miles N.E. of the town of Llois.
Pop. about 1300. . Q ^
DIEBURG, a town of Hesse-Darmstadt, province of
Starkenburg, and capital of a bailiwick of the same name,
is situated on the right bank of the Gersprenz, seven mi es
E.N.E. of Darmstadt. It is defended by a strong castle
(formerly the residence of the Counts of Lerchenfeld), an
has about 3200 inhabitants. ,
DIEMERBROEK, Isbrand van(1609-1674), alearned
professor of physic and anatomy at Utrecht, was born at
Montfort. He wrote a well-known treatise on tire plague,
and several works on subjects connected with anatomy an
nipdicinc.
DIEPPE, a seaport town of France, capital of an arron¬
dissement of the same name, in the department of »eine-
Inferieure, situated at the mouth of the Arques on the Eng
lish Channel, 32 miles N. of llouen, and 9* miles fio
Paris; in N. Lat. 49. 56. 34., E. Long. 1. 4. 44. Pop.
(1851) 16,216. The town proper is separated from its
suburb of Pollet by the port, but communicates with it by
means of a flying bridge. It extends about a mile^ong
the coast; and to the westward on a chalk cliff stan
castle, an edifice of the fifteenth century, commanding both
the town and harbour. The port, '"^4 1 y t» o jetties
is large and secure, and admits vessels of 600 tons; ^ 7
however dry at low water, and the entrance i^ na
rather dangerous. The town is well built, the streets aie
DIE
Dies wide and regular, and the houses mostly of brick, orna-
II mented with balconies. It is well supplied with water by
Dietetics. means 0f an aqueduct 3 miles in length; and has 68 public
fountains, besides numerous private ones. The principal
street runs parallel to the sea, from the harbour to the castle,
and contains some fine shops and hotels. Dieppe is the seat
of a court of original jurisdiction, and has a communal col¬
lege, public library, navigation school, theatre, assembly
rooms, and hospital. It is much x-esorted to in summer as a
watering-place, and has a handsome bathing establishment.
It is a place of a very extensive general trade, which has
been much increased since the completion of the line of
railway connecting it with Paris. Ship-building, and the
herring and other fisheries are carried on; and there are
manufactures of leather, lace, ivory articles, paper, &c.
Dieppe has regular communication by steam-vessels be¬
tween Brighton and Dieppe.
DIES Marchive was the day of congress or meeting of
the English and Scotch, annually appointed to be held on
the marches or borders, in order to adjust all differences
between them.
DIE 17
DIESIS, in Ancient Music, the difference between a Diesis
major and a minor semitone. In modern music it means II
the sign otherwise called a sharp, which, prefixed to a
note, indicates that the note is to be raised a semitone.
DIESPITER, in Antiquity, a name given to Jupiter, as
the father or lord of heaven. It is a contraction of Diovis-
pater; or perhaps a protraction of Dis, an old Umbrian
name for that god.
DIEST, a town of Belgium, province of South Brabant,
and capital of a cognominal canton, is situated on the
Demer, 28 miles E. by N. of Brussels. Pop. (1851) 8335.
It has manufactures of woollens, hosiery, &c., and some ex¬
tensive breweries. It was taken from the French by Marl¬
borough in 1705, and retaken the same year.
DIET (Lat. dies, day), the name given to the principal
national assembly in various countries of modern Europe.
In Dutch it is called ryksdag; in German reichstag; in
Swedish riksdag, and in Danish rigsdag; all which words
prove the above mentioned derivation.
Diet, in Law, the day or time fixed for compearance in
court.
DIETETICS.
The necessity of aliment is explained by a knowledge
of the functions of the body, and its selection depends
upon the same principles. The living machine, as well as
those that are inanimate, wastes in proportion as it is used,
and this waste must be supplied. To learn the kind of
supply required, the kind of waste and its mode must be
ascertained.
General The human body is of a very compound nature; indeed
view of the it is the most compound of all bodies, as well as the most
subject. complicated of all machines. It is composed of solids and
fluids, and these again consist of various chemical elements
in different states of combination. A great part of the
mass of our bodies consists of water, and certain animal
substances, to which chemists have given the name of
fibrin, albumen, gelatin, mucus, and osmazone. Our bones
consist principally of phosphate of lime. Besides these,
some other principles enter into the composition of our
bodies, though in comparatively small proportion. All the
elementary matters of which these principles consist are
continually discharged by the various excretions, but ge¬
nerally in states of combination different from those in
which they existed as a part of our body. By the lungs
a great deal of carbon and hydrogen is exhaled in the
form of carbonic acid gas and vapour; by the skin carbon
and hydrogen are also thrown off in considerable quanti¬
ty ; by urine, in addition to carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen,
much azote, phosphorus, and lime, ai'e discharged in the
form of urea and the phosphate of lime ; and by the alvine
evacuation, not only the indigestible parts of our aliment
are expelled, but also carbon, hydrogen, and azote, which
forrned integrant parts of our bodies, and have fulfilled
their functions in the form of bile, mucus, and intestinal
flatus. We therefore see that there is a constant waste
of carbon, azote, hydrogen, oxygen, phosphorus, and lime,
going on, which must be replaced. But there are only
two sources from which this waste can be repaired, the
atmosphere in which we live, and the aliment which we
introduce into our stomach. The atmosphere consists of
oxygen an^ azotic gases, and it is very doubtful whether
any part of either be absorbed or converted into a part of
our bodies. At least we may assume, that from the air
no part of the materials to supply the waste of the body
is derived. These must, therefore, be furnished entirely
trom the matters introduced into the stomach, and those
winch are calculated to restore any of the deficient ele¬
ments or principles alone are alimentary. It is not at all
VOL. vm.
necessary that these elements should be in the same state
of combination with the principles whose loss they are to
supply. It is sufficient that the elements be there, for it
is the very essence of the function of digestion to analyse
the alimentary matters, and reunite their elements into
other combinations assimilated to our nature. From this
view of the subject, it would however seem, that the more
nearly the alimentary substances approach to the nature
of the substances whose waste they are to supply, the less
change upon them is necessary, and their digestion and
assimilation will be more easy. Upon these principles,
animal substances should be more easily digested than
vegetable, and a larger proportion of their elements should
be assimilated, while a smaller proportion should be sepa¬
rated to form excrementitious or indigestible compounds.
In the same manner, vegetable substances are more di¬
gestible, and generate less excrementitious matter, than
inorganic substances, which furnish only a small propor¬
tion of assimilable matter, and which must be separated
from combinations totally foreign to our nature.
Besides alimentary substances properly so called, there
is another class of substances which do not contribute
much to repair the waste of our bodies, and yet perform
an essential part in the function of digestion. These are
called condiments, and their use is to stimulate the organs
of digestion to greater activity; and, in fact, they are all
much more sapid than the proper alimentary substances,
which are in themselves generally insipid or mawkish.
From the view we have taken of aliments, it will appear
that they are furnished by all the kingdoms of nature;
the mineral kingdom supplying chiefly water and lime,
while the vegetable, in addition to these in smaller quan¬
tity, yields much carbon and hydrogen; and the animal
kingdom, in addition to a proportion of all the preceding
elements, furnishes almost all the azote which enters into
our composition. Although this statement be generally
true, there are facts which at first do not seem to accord
with it; and there are some grounds for believing that
living bodies have either the power of changing the ele¬
mentary nature of bodies, or of analysing these bodies we
at present consider as simple, so that one is apparently
changed into another. Thus some animals, in the state
of nature, live only upon animal substances, and it is easy
to conceive how, by a very simple process, the blood and
flesh of their prey should become a part of their proper
blood and flesh. Their elements, and even the combina-
c
18
DIETETICS.
Dietetics, tics of them, ate alike. Bot there are other aotaals very little if -y azote The ^
wwhose flesh and blood do not differ mater,ally from tho e upon nee the peasant ot J P West,Indies
of carnivorous animals, and which hve almost entirely X negroes ol Senegal
upon vegetable substances far removed from amma na harvest, and herbivorous animals are nou-
ture, and containing little if any azote. r;ciip,f all times upon grass. M. Magendie is not ig-
This subject has lately engaged the attention of Ma- rished at ^ times upo^n grass. S ^ ^ ^
gendie,1 the most distinguished Parisian physiologis o "o ^ accuracy 0f some 0f the relations, and alleg-
the present day; and his views are the most impor an thatgfew vegetables are altogether destitute of azote,
lately promulgated upon this point, and throw very g ^ ^ CQ gfirmat.ion 0f his observations, the experi-
light upon the subject of dietetics. To ascertain t e of Dr Starkj who injured himself by trying to live
sources from which animals derive the azote whic Urcori and water • and of M Clouet, who grew
ters into their bodies, he performed, some expenmen,^ instates
which appear to prove that azote is an indispensable , i f|ci ot"sugar and a little rum to support the
constituent in the food of animals. For he subjects of of a shipwyrecked Hamburg vessel. The legitimate
his experiments he chose dogs, because, like man, tney v
can be supported by vegetable as well as animal food, and
he confined them to the use of pure water, and substances
totally devoid of azote. Sugar, perfectly pure, was first
tried. Of this, and of distilled water, he allowed an un¬
limited quantity to a small dog, three years old. For the
first seven or eight days it seemed to agree very well with
this diet. It was lively, active, and eat and drank as
usual. In the second week it began to fall off, although its
. *  J  rf oaf Crnm CIV to Plant
conclusions from all the facts relating to this subject seem
to be, .
1. That animals derive the azote which enters into
their composition entirely from their food, and hence that
no animal can live for a considerable time upon food to¬
tally destitute of azote.
2. That animals, even those naturally carnivorous, can
live a certain time upon food entirely destitute of azote,
usual. In the second week it began to tall ott, altnoug ^ consequence of which the excretions of the naturally
appetite continued very good, and rt eat from six to ght become altered; and throw off less a?ote than
ounces of sugar in the course of twenty-four hours. Its
alvine excretions were scarce and scanty, while that by
urine was abundant. In the third week it became more
emaciated, it lost its liveliness, and its appetite began to
fail. During this period also its eyes became affected in
a singular and very distressing manner. The emaciation
carnivorous become altered, and throw off less azote
when fed on animal food, acquiring the properties which
these excretions have in animals whose food contains a
very small proportion of azote. .
3 That vegetable and animal substances destitute ot
azote are highly nutritious, provided, at the same time.
a singular and very distressing ma>™er. ine emac supplied from the admixture of some other ali
increased every day, its ^^"8* “Jed though , azote be s pj, in small proporti0„.
llll^lCaOVVA Vy V J J 5 ~   o ' 1 *1
continued to eat from three or four ounces of sugar daily,
it became so weak that it could neither chew nor swallow,
and of course could not move. It died on the thirty-second
day of the experiment; and, on opening its body, theie
was a total absence of fat; the muscles were reduced to
one sixth of their bulk, and the stomach and intestines
were much contracted. The gall and urinary bladder
were both filled with fluid; but on analysis, the bile and
urine resembled those of herbivorous animals. The urine,
instead of being acid, as in those which eat flesh, was
like that of herbivorous animals, sensibly alkaline, and did
not contain a trace of uric acid or the phosphates, while
the bile contained the picromel so remarkable in ox gall
ment containing it, though in small proportion.
Upon these principles, alimentary substances may na¬
turally and philosophically be divided into three great
cl&SSGS.
I. Those which contain azote, carbon, hydrogen, and
oxygen.
II. Those which contain carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen.
III. Those which contain neither azote nor carbon.
I. Alimentary Principles which contain Azote, Carbon, Hy¬
drogen, and Oxygen.
The aliments which contain azote correspond with the
animal substances in general, and are calculated to repair
the bile contained the picromel so remarkaoie ^ ox gai. solid® and flu}ds without great alteration
The excrements also contained much less azotethan usu. h dlvPSt.inir organs. All the immediate prin-
This experiment was twice repeated, with nearly the same
result.
Olive-oil was next tried with two healthy young dogs,
which seemed to agree with them for the first fifteen days,
but then produced the same bad effects, and both died on
the thirty-first day.
Gum was given to several dogs, and always with the
same result. , . , ,
Butter, an animal substance, but which does not contain
azote, was also tried; and although, after the thirty-second
or effort in the digesting organs. All the immediate prin¬
ciples of this class are not, however, equally digestible, or
possessed of the same properties. We shall say a few
words of each.
Fibrin constitutes the great mass of the solid matter
of the muscles of animals, especially of those which are
old and have dark-coloured dry flesh. It is also a prin¬
cipal constituent of the blood of all animals. There can
be no doubt, therefore, that it is pre-eminently nutritious
in these its natural forms of combination, but we know of
azote, was also tried; and although, after tnet y- ^ experiments to ascertain its nourishing powers when
day, the dog was allowed as much could ea ’ n„pd ^lonei The pUrest form of fibrin which occurs in
died on the thirty-sixth day, similarly affected
M. Magendie also killed several dogs at a proper period,
after they had got a full meal of oil, sugar, or gum, ia °^"
der to observe the nature of the chyle thus furnished.
The chyle of the oil was of a decided milky white, whilst
those of the gum and sugar were transparent, opaline, and
more watery. These experiments, in M. Magendie s opi¬
nion, render it doubtful whether the oils, fats, gum, and
especially sugar, are so nutritive as is generally suppos¬
ed. But before we adopt his conclusion, we must remem¬
ber that whole nations subsist upon food which contains
used alone. The purest form of fibrin which occurs in
common circumstances is the fibre of flesh which has been
long boiled in a great quantity of water, as in the remains
of the meat from which beef-tea is made, or of that boiled
down for soup. This is generally considered, and is often
thrown away, as totally indigestible, and deprived of all
its nourishing principles; but this is probably a vulgar
error, for animal fibre in this state still contains, as much
as ever, all the elementary substances which are neces-
sarv for animal food; and the only circumstance which
can account for their indigestibility, is their great aggre-
Memoire sur let propriket nutritives des substances qui ne conticnnent pas d'azote, 8vo, Paris, 1816.
DIETETICS.
19
Dietetics, gation, which it is the business of cookery to overcome.
^ Fibrin also forms a large proportion of the substance of
some of the internal organs of animals, all of which are
nutritious. Pure fibrin is white and opaque when moist,
but acquires a dark colour on being dried. It does not
become putrid when kept in the air, nor even when im¬
mersed in water for a considerable length of time. It
contracts and shrinks on the application of heat, and gives
out, on being burnt, the smell of burning horn or feathers.
It is insoluble in cold water; is corrugated by boiling in
water; is insoluble in alcohol; but strong acetic acid swells
it considerably, and renders it transparent like cartilage,
in which state it may be dissolved, or, at least, diffused
through water by long boiling.
Fibrin varies in every species of animal, and in the same
animal at different ages, either from a difference in its
nature, or from a difference in the matter with which it
is combined. In many fishes, and the lower classes of
animals in general, it is semitransparent and colourless.
In veal, pork, salmon, chicken, and some other kinds of
poultry, it has a pink colour; in beef and mutton it is of
a fuller red; and in pigeon and game, both birds and
quadrupeds, it is dark coloured. In general it is more
tender in the female than in the male, and in the young
animal than in the old.
Albumen is also a principal constituent of animal sub¬
stances, in which it exists in two states, one uncoagulated
and the other coagulated. Of the former, the purest
example occurs in the raw white of eggs. Cartilage, horn,
hair, nails, consist chiefly of the latter. It is also a prin¬
cipal constituent of blood and brain ; and it seems to be
the chief substance of oysters, mussels, and snails. Un¬
coagulated albumen is sometimes solid, often glairy, al¬
ways transparent, and, when fluid, is soluble in water,
and its taste is bland or almost insipid. At 165° Fahren¬
heit it is converted into a white solid mass, of which we
have a familiar example in the white of a hard-boiled egg.
There can be no doubt that albumen, especially in its un¬
coagulated state, is highly nutritious and easily digestible.
The curd of milk may be considered as a variety of
albumen, although it possesses some peculiar properties,
especially that of being converted into cheese by a parti¬
cular mode of management.
Gelatin is a third very principal constituent of animal
solids, as bones, ligaments, tendons, membranes, skin,
muscles, &c. and exists in much larger proportions in the
flesh of young than of adult animals. Thus we see the
gravy of veal and lamb always gelatinize, while that of
beef and mutton does not. The swimming bladder of the
several species of sturgeon is gelatin in a state of very
great purity, and by boiling it may be extracted pure
from the shavings of hartshorn. Its taste is bland and
nearly insipid. It is characterized by its solubility in
water, being much increased by a boiling temperature,
and by the solution, when of a certain strength, gelatiniz¬
ing or cooling. It is highly nutritious, and supposed to be
the most easily digestible of animal matters.
Mucus differs from albumen chiefly in not being coagu¬
lated by heat or corrosive sublimate, and from gelatin in
not being precipitated by vegetable astringents, nor gela¬
tinizing when its solution is concentrated. It exists nearly
pure in saliva, and is a constituent of most of the secre¬
tions. There can be no doubt of its easy digestion and
nutritious quality.
Of these four principal constituents of animal matter
we may remark, that in themselves they are almost insi¬
pid ; that gelatin exists almost entirely in a solid form,
more or less dense; that mucus and albumen exist in
living blood, but in every other instance is a tough solid: Dietetics,
and that gelatin is very soluble in boiling water, and gela-
tinizes on cooling; that albumen in soluble in cold water,
and coagulates at 165° ; and that fibrin is not soluble either
in cold or hot water. We may also remark that, although
chemists have given very definite characters of each, as
if they constituted absolutely distinct species of matter,
these characters are taken from certain selected kinds of
each, and that, in reality, we find that there is a regular
and insensible gradation from mucus, through gelatin and
albumen, to fibrin; and that, as in the process of animali-
zation, as well as in the progress of life, they pass into
each other, and many intermediate states are found which
cannot be distinctly referred to any of them.
Osmazome, or animal extractive, differs very much from
the preceding principles; chemically, in being soluble in
alcohol, and to the senses, in being very savoury or sapid.
It is upon this, which seems to admit of considerable va¬
rieties, that the flavour of animal food, and of each of its
kinds, depends. It exists chiefly in the fibrous organs,
or combined wdth fibrin in the muscles, while the tendons
and other gelatinous organs seem to be destitute of it.
The flesh of game and old animals also probably contain
it in greater quantity than that of young animals abound¬
ing in gelatin.
Gluten is the only vegetable substance which contains
a notable proportion of azote in its composition. When
separated from other principles, it forms a tough, ductile,
elastic, and tenacious mass of a gray colour, resembling,
when drawn out, thin animal membrane; when dried it
is brittle, hard, and slightly transparent, like glue. When
kept moist it ferments and acquires some of the pro¬
perties of cheese. Immersed in water it at last putre¬
fies. WThen burnt or distilled it resembles in its proper¬
ties horn or feathers. It is soluble in concentrated acetic
acid, and, by the assistance of heat, in muriatic acid and
in the alkalies. It then bears a strong analogy to the ani¬
mal substances in general, resembling, by different pro¬
perties, fibrin, albumen, and gelatin. It is very generally
found, though only in a small proportion, in the vegetable
kingdom, in all the farinaceous seeds, in the leaves of cab¬
bages, cresses, &c.; in some fruits, flowers, and roots, and
in the green feculum of vegetables in general; but it is
particularly abundant in wheat, and imparts to wheat-
flour the property of fermenting and making bread. On
the nutritious powers of gluten separated from other prin¬
ciples nothing certain is known; but the superior nutri¬
tious powers of wheat-flour over that of all other farinace¬
ous substances sufficiently proves that, in combination with
starch, it is highly nutritive; and in all probability it is
the gluten of the green feculum which supplies the azote
necessary for the support of the herbivorous animals.
II. Alimentary Principles which contain Carbon., Hydrogen,
and Oxygen.
Starch is very abundantly diffused through the vege¬
table kingdom. It exists in great purity in various fari¬
naceous grains, such as rice, barley, maize, and millet; it
is combined with gluten in wheat; with saccharine mat¬
ter in some grains, as oats, and in many leguminous seeds,
such as haricot-beans, lentils, vetches, and peas; with
viscous mucilage, in rye, potatoes, and Windsor beans;
with fixed oil and mucilage in the emulsive seeds, such
as nuts, almonds, cocoa, tamarinds, in linseed, rapeseed,
hempseed, poppyseed, and, in general, all those from which
an oil can be obtained by expression. Lastly, starch ia
sometimes united to a poisonous substance.
pvp™ fr.,.™ r.c • „ —'   *'u “ puiouuuua Buusuuiue. Of this sin-
dpn Jfv nf 0 .aSgregation, fi’om perfect fluidity to the gular union of a nutritious with an injurious principle the
) cai tilage; and that fibrin is only fluid in the most remarkable instance occurs in the roots of the Ja-
20
DIETETICS.
• r fEo fnr cnmp analoffv with sugar exists in the bile, and it is a Dietetics.
Dietetics, tropha manihot, and of many species of arum, - nrnduct of niorbid action in the disease called diabetes.
—V- mer of which the negro slaves of the West Ind.es are product of morbid They dlffer most ob.
indebted for their cassada bread, and fi om the latte fluidity, and they coincide in being insoluble in
prepared the best arrow-root starch. Only one species of ^ter a larger proportion of hydrogen
arain the Lolium temulentum, is hurtful; but many legu- water, and in coniam ^ g ^ ^ ^ nils
grain, uie juuuuw ^ ^
minous seeds are poisonous, of which the most familiar
example occurs in the laburnum peas.
Starch is artificially prepared in great purity from va¬
rious substances. Starch is got from wheat and potatoes,
arrow-root from various species of arum, cassada-jiour trom
the manioc root, salep from the orchidese in general, sago
from the pith of various species of palm-trees, tapioca irom
the bitter and sweet cassava root. In all of these varieties of
form, starch furnishes a bland and wholesome nutriment.
Gum or Mucilage is also a principal ingredient m the
composition of our alimentary vegetables. The distinc¬
tive character of gum is its solubility in cold as well as
hot water, and its insolubility in alcohol. It is devoid of
than the alimentary matters already spoken of. The oils
may be divided into the fluid and concrete, and both are
furnished by the vegetable and animal kingdoms. Tluid
oil exists in quantity in the emulsive seeds ; in some ot
them combined with prussic acid, as in the bitter almond,
and in others with an acrid matter, as in the seeds of the
ricinus; but it is obtained in greatest quantity and purity
from the olive. The animal fluid oils are all more or less
nauseous, as spermaceti oil, seal oil, whale oil, and cod
liver oil. The concrete oils are generally furnished by
the animal kingdom, and these are often bland and agree¬
able when fresh, but are apt to become rancid in propor¬
tion as they are less solid. Butter is the least consistent,
evoiQ or non as uiev aic ~ , . ,
uui. wai-ci, —  —- -j . Tr. if we pxceot the fat of some birds; then hogs lard, the
smell, and to the taste it is bland and agreeable. In - P f f b f anc[ tbe kidney fat of beef and
”i;?,3^;U‘:.s:“r7£r,:rs; irrisii v-» —
bark of which it exudes in great purity; and in hot cli¬
mates in general it is furnished by many trees, especia y
those which have an astringent bark. In our own country
mutton in successiuu. x.ic   • —
from the vegetable kingdom is the butter o. cocoa.
III. Alimentary Principles which do not contain Carbon.
an example of its production is seen on the bark of the nerhans the only real alimentary substance
plum and cherry trees. Where it is P^ucfe^^ ^be whidi belongs to tins class, butfit is one of the most essential,
quantity it constitutes a principal article of diet, b necessary to replace the constant waste ot
Africans of Senegal are said to live entirely upon it dur- from our bodies, by the secre-
ing the gum harvest. Eight ounces of gum are the da y cuticular discharge, and the vapour of the breath,
allowance, and furnish sufficient nourishment, for eac^ . itself strictly digestible, and capable of supplying
Mucilage is the alimentary principle of many of our t0 tbe system, as may be re¬
esculent vegetables. In some it is united only to green either hydrog tbye8nature of olr other food When
colouring nfatter, as in the leaves of beet and spinach ; , proportion of the whole weight of
with bitter matter, which may be prevented by p , ronsists 0f water only, and that the fluids re¬
cess of blanching, as in endive, lettuce, succory, and car- our bodies consists ot water o y, ^ ^ _ca;tv
Leas ul ***   7  ' . ^
doon, or by using the plant very young, as in asparagus,
[t exists also in every part of the mallow tribe; in many
roots, as scorzonera, salsafy, and Jerusalem artichokes, in
the receptacle of the flower of the artichoke. It is com¬
bined with an acid in sorrel leaves; with saccharine mat¬
ter in many fruits, as the fig and date; in roots, as the
carrot, parsnip, and beet; and with slight acrimony in the
turnip, cabbage leaves, cauliflower, and broccoli, and with
considerable acrimony in the radish, cress, and mustaid.
OUT UOUiCfc CUiiaioto v/x 7 1
quire more frequent renewal than the solids, the necessity
of water as an aliment cannot be disputed. Some animals,
as the rabbit, are supposed to be capable of living a long
time or altogether without water ; but this is a mere de¬
ception, for their vegetable food consists almost entirely
of water. On the other hand, Dr Fordyce kept gold fishes
six months in distilled water, and thought himself warrant¬
ed in concluding that animals could live in water and air
alone. Pouteau allowed some of his patients nothing but
considerable acrimony in the radish, cress, am mus ai . * ^ severai weeks, without their falling off; and the
It exists in great quantity, combined wi h a pecuha ^ h[st0Jes 0f shipwrecked mariners prove with how small a
seous principle, in onions, garlic, shalot, lee , ‘ ’ . f ao]:(i f00fl man can subsist, provided he has suf-
lastly, in small quantity, with much aroma, in thos^ veg^' Pcient allowance 0f water, whilst without water, or a sub-
Sl”SritU ist^generaT/fo^d8 .CugLJ the stitute no quantity of solid food can support tuan for even
vegetable kingdom, and in every mode of un.on with other a perhapS; not altogether unalimentary. Not
Pri^'the common properties of which in a state ap- - Tn “
preaching to purity, are familiar, is also h,«1 ^ ""“‘““f - ' .‘'m fci„de,ds, and such substances, earth is sought alter
i^rt^r^rrSn^ a^d devoured by whole nation,  - —
. . _ _ • Tiprmpn-
UlCUIlUl clIlU LUC vvccirv * j - o ^ r
solved in sufficient water, the vinous and acetous fermen¬
tation, but, on the other hand, when concentrated, pre¬
serving vegetable substances. Chemically considered, it
presents many varieties. It exists in greatest quantity,
combined with mucilage, in the juice of the sugar cane,
of the maple tree, the manna ash tree, and of beet-root.
It seems to be a constant attendant upon the inflorescence
of vegetables, for almost every flower furnishes honey to
ana uevuuicu uy — — luxurious Capuans
paid a considerable tribute to the Neapolitans for an earth
called Leucogceum, which they considered necessary for
the preparation of a favourite dish, Alica. rl he fungusses,
according to Laxmann, eat a fine clay with rem-deer s
milk. Chandler saw the women and children in bamos
chewing pieces of steatite as a luxury. La Billardiere saw
the same practised in New Caledonia, and found edible
earth sold in the market in several villages in Java.
of vegetables, for almost every flower furnishes honey o hout aU India lime is used along with the betel
the bee, and is a chief constituent of all the acerb, sut nartook of the butter earth, which is eaten
acid, and sweet fruits, in combination with vegetable jelly, e • P spread upon bread, by the millstone
Sugar is produced, or at least collected, by several in- with great! ejish, SP^ d dP^ t, HUmboldt has made
sects. To the bee we are indebted for honey ; and a spe- quarne s of Thur ngia, ^ & whole nation of
cies of locust in New Holland covers the trees and ground us accl . Qttomacs on the Orinoco.1 We may
with a kind of sugar. In all animals a principle havmg earth-eaters, the Ottomacs^n_tne  £
“ • Tableaux de la Nature. Par A. Humboldt, 2 tomes 12mo, Pans, 1803.
DIETETICS.
21
tary sub¬
stances.
Dietetics, also mention that bird-fanciers find it necessary to supply
birds shut up in cages with sand and earth. All these
facts, we are aware, might be explained upon principles
different from the digestibility of the earthy substances
taken into the stomach; and we have no idea that any
earthy substances can supply carbon or azote to the sys¬
tem ; but we have absolute proof that earthy matter may
enter into the circulation, in the growth and absorption
of the bony frame of our body, for which phosphate of
lime is as necessary as carbon or azote for our soft solids.
Sea Salt is more obviously necessary than earth. Even
in insular and maritime situations it is voluntarily used as
a condiment by all; but it is only in inland countries, at a
distance from the sea, that its necessity is duly appreciat¬
ed. Muriate of soda enters into the composition of all
our fluids, and is thrown off by many of our secretions ;
hence its waste must be supplied, and where the vegetables
are not naturally impregnated with it, it becomes one of
the most indispensable articles of our food.
Alimentary substances, as presented to us by nature or
prepared by art, maybe considered in various points of view.
Digestibi- They differ in regard to digestibility, or the facility with
lityofvari-which they are decomposed by the powers of the stomach,
ousa.imen- ^ enjer into new combinations fitted to repair the waste of
the blood. In this particular, also, they may differ in respect
to the length of time, or in regard to the digestive power
of the stomach, required for their digestion. Thus the
digestion of one substance may be slow, though ultimate¬
ly complete, even in a weak stomach, and that of another
quick enough in a strong stomach, although imperfectly
digested by one that is weak. In reference to their di¬
gestibility, aliments are commonly described as being
light or heavy ; but in this respect there is very great dif¬
ference in regard to different individuals, the same sub¬
stances being light to one and heavy to another, and vice
versa.
Sir Astley Cooper made some experiments to ascertain
the comparative digestibility of different kinds of raw meat
without fat; and the following table exhibits the loss 100
parts of each sustained in the stomach of dogs, which were
killed, one, two, three, and four hours after being fed.
Pork 10 20  98 100
Mutton... 9 46 87  94
Beef.  0 34 37  75
Veal  4 31 46  69
In another experiment, after four hours, the digestibili¬
ty appeared in the following order,—cheese, mutton, pork,
veal, beef, hat appeared to be also much more digestible
than cheese; beef than potato, and codfish than beef.
Boiled veal was much more digestible than roast; and of
different parts of the same kind of food, the digestibility
was in the following order,—fat, muscles, skin, cartilage,
tendon, and bone.1 From the experiments detailed in
the inaugural dissertation of Dr Macdonald, De Ciborum
Concoctione, Edinburgh, 1818, which were made in com¬
pany with the late Dr Gordon, there appears to be great
irregularity in the time necessary for the completion of
digestion, so that they scarcely furnish any conclusion as
to the comparative digestibility of different substances.
Dr Macdonald infers that, of those he tried, butter was
the most, and rice the least, digestible in the stomach of
t ie dog. In the experiments which Dr Stark made upon
himself, to ascertain the nutritious properties of oily sub- Dietetics,
stances, he found that, with a daily allowance of thirty
ounces of bread and three pounds of water, two ounces of
olive oil taken at one meal was so large a quantity as to
be disagreeable; three ounces in the day caused some un¬
easiness in his bowels; and four ounces griped him very
much, although he gained weight; but this experiment
was not conclusive, as at that time he was suffering under
sloughing gums, the effects of a protracted diet of sugar.
A diet of four ounces of pure fat, obtained from the sub¬
cutaneous fat of beef, made into a pudding, with twenty
ounces of flour, and twelve or twenty ounces of water,
with the remainder of three pounds of water in drink, was
both nourishing and agreeable ; but when the fat was in¬
creased to six ounces, great part of it passed unassimilat¬
ed, and his bowels were affected. The same pudding
without the suet was not sufficiently nutritious, and did
not satisfy his appetite in the same manner. When the
pudding was made with butter, although only four ounces
were used, he was made very ill by it. Oil of butter
agreed very well; and oil of marrow, of all the fats Dr
Stark tried, he found to be the mildest in the bowels.
His gums having again become purple and swelled, with
petechial appearances on his body, while making these ex¬
periments, suggested to him the following queries, which
seem important to the science of dietetics. “ Although
at present I take more food than what is absolutely neces¬
sary for the support of the body, I remain perfectly well,
whereas I have several times suffered considerable incon¬
venience from committing any excess in the quantity of oils.
Is it not evident that excess in the quantity of oils is more
hurtful to the body than excess in any other article of
food ? and that, of course, we ought to be particularly
careful in regulating the quantity and quality of the oils we
may employ in diet ? Is it not probable, then, that animal
oils, though they nourish and increase the weight of the
body, are not of themselves sufficient to prevent a morbid
alteration from taking place in the blood and fluids ? whilst,
on the other hand, the lean of meat, though less nutri¬
tious, is of more efficacy in preserving the fluids of the
body in a sound state.”2
Aliments also differ in regard to the proportional quan- Difference
tity of nourishment they furnish, and, in this point of view, of aliments
they are said to be strong and weak, or rich and poor. Thisin, respect
difference may arise either from the proportional quantity^*/ Ilulli-
of digestible and indigestible parts in the various kinds of^°n’
aliment, or from the digestible parts being different in
kind, and furnishing a supply of a different kind to the
blood. There is even in this respect some opposition be¬
tween light food and strong food, and it maybe generally
observed, that food which is most quickly digested, re¬
quires the soonest to be repeated, while digestible food,
that is only slowly digested, supports the body for a greater
length of time.
Aliments also differ in the impression they make on our
palate ; and it is chiefly in this respect that they are con¬
sidered by the epicure. This impression proceeds from
two distinct qualities in the aliment; the one depending
upon their grosser physical properties, and the other upon
their finer, recognizable only by the senses of taste and
smell. To the former class belong the sensations of solid
and fluid, hard and soft, tough and tender, crisp and
stringy, hot and cold, greasy, glutinous, gritty, smooth,
&c. These are judged of by the tongue and palate, rather
five n3feat'Se °n '‘if ^Sat1ure anTc] ^ure °f Gout and Rheumatism, including General Considerations on Morbid States of the Diffes
* Thfw hr™? *e“arks K'gimen and Practical Observations on Gravel. By Charles Scudamore, M. D.Tvo L^don 181?;
and Statistic] 8 0 . ^ la^e Stark, M. D. consisting of Clinical and Anatomical Observations, with Experiments Dietetical
and Statistical, revised and published from his original Manuscripts. By James Carmichael Smyth, M. D. 4to, Con 1788?
i
22
Dietetics.
DIETETICS.
General
observa¬
tions on
diet.
as organs of touch than of taste, and are altogether inde¬
pendent of flavour, as capable of affecting the organs of
taste and smell. The latter class consists of all the variety
of tastes properly so called, namely, sweet, bitter, sour, salt,
alkaline, astringent, aromatic, nauseous, pungent, acrid,
spirituous, cooling, &c., and also the want of taste, the vapid
or mawkish. Of these, some are almost universally agree¬
able, and others generally disliked, but much depends upon
idiosyncracy, state of health, education, habit of the indi¬
vidual, and upon the degree or quantity of flavour.
Aliments also differ in the impression made upon the
stomach ; but the sensations arising from this source are
more obscure and less varied. Except the sensation of
heat, which may arise from caloric, and is transient, or
from acrimony or spirit, which is more durable, most of
the sensations experienced in the stomach are indications
of its mechanical state, or of affections of the appetite.
Hence we have the feeling of gratification, from removal
of a sense of emptiness, of repletion, distension, cessation
of hunger or thirst, satiety, and sickness.
We should also consider the effect of different kinds of
diet, when the body is in a state of health, and different
states of disease; but accurate experiments are still want¬
ing to enable us to give any thing more than fragments
of this interesting subject. It is extremely difficult to in¬
stitute these experiments satisfactorily. They are irksome
to the person on whom they are tried ; and so many causes
tend to interfere with the results, that it is only by fre¬
quent repetition that the real effects can be fairly deduced.
Our diet may be either proper, or it may err,, and this
either in quantity or quality. When the quantity is too
small, the body is not nourished; it becomes lean, the fat
disappears, and the muscles either get soft and flabby, or
shrivelled and dried up, accompanied by loss of strength
or stiffness, with predisposition to an actual disease. .Errors
in regard to the quantity of food are merely relative ; so
much depends upon circumstances, as individuality of con¬
stitution, period of life, state of health, degree of mental
and corporeal exertion, habit and temperature. Each per¬
son may be said to have a different standard quantity, de¬
viations from which are to be accounted errors. In our
army, the rations allowed for each soldier at home are,
three quarters of a pound of meat, boiled so as to afford
broth, with l|d. worth of potatoes and other vegetables,
one pound of bread, or one and one eighth pound of oat¬
meal ; and in most cases one pound of milk or coffee is
purchased for his breakfast. On service the rations are,
one pound of meat, one and a half pound of bread, and
one pint of wine or one sixth of a pint of spirits.
Mr Buxton states that the diet allowed to the prisoners
in the jails in London varies from fourteen ounces of bread
per day, and two pounds of meat per week, which, he says,
is not enough to support life, up to one pound and a ha f
of bread, one pound of potatoes, two pints of hot gruel,
and either six ounces of boiled meat, without bone, an
after boiling, or a quart of strong broth, mixed with vege¬
tables, per day, which is as much more than enough; and
Mr Buxton thinks that the meat should be discontinued.
A fit prison diet, in his opinion, should consist of one pound
and a half of bread, at least one day old, to each prisoner,
daily, and one pint of good gruel for breakfast; and, upon
good behaviour, half a pound of meat on Sundays.
Some experiments have been made in order to ascertain Dietetics,
the quantity of different kinds of food necessary for the sus-
tenance of individuals. Dr Franklin, when a journeyman
printer, lived a fortnight on bread and water, at the rate
of ten pounds of bread a week. Dr Stark, whose weight
was 171 pounds avoirdupois, found that thirty-eight ounces
of bread daily were not more than sufficient to satisfy his
appetite; forty-eight ounces were the utmost he could con¬
sume in one day, and the greatest quantity he could take
at one meal, without uneasiness, was thirty ounces; and,
with this diet, he required necessarily three pounds of
water for drink, for with only two pounds he was not sa¬
tisfied. In another experiment, thirty ounces of bread and
three pounds of water, with six ounces of boiled beef, suf¬
ficed : with four ounces of the beef his appetite was not
satisfied; with two pounds of bread and three pounds of
infusion of tea, he found that one pound of cold stewed
beef was not more than sufficient: he was not satisfied
with four ounces of beef to breakfast; but eight ounces at
dinner, and four ounces at supper, were rather too much.
Absolute starvation produces diminished excretions,
fetid breath, foul skin, and death. The most distressing
histories of this dreadful end are recorded in the account
of shipwrecks, and of those unfortunate persons who fall
into the hands of the Arabs of the desert. Man can sus¬
tain the absolute want of food for several days, more or
fewer in number according to circumstances; the old bet¬
ter than the young, and the fat, probably, better than the
lean. The total want of drink can be borne only a very
short time, and its effects are even more distressing than
those of want of food. They have been strikingly described
by Mungo Park and by Ali Bey, as experienced in then-
own persons. The narratives of shipwrecked mariners also
prove with how very little food life may be supported for
a considerable length of time; and the history of those
impostors who pretend to live altogether without food or
drink display this adaptation of the wants of the body to
its means of supply in a still more striking manner; for,
even after the deception in such cases as that of Ann Moore
is exposed, it will be found that the quantity of aliment
actually taken was incredibly small.2
Captain Woodard has added to his interesting narrative
many instances of the power of the human body to resist
the effects of severe abstinence.3 He himself and his five
companions rowed their boat for seven days without any
sustenance but a bottle of brandy, and then wandered
about the shores of Celebes six more without any other
food than a little water and a few berries. Robert Scot-
ney lived seventy-five days alone in a boat, with three
pounds and a half of meat, three pounds of flour, two
hoo-sheads of water, some whale oil, and a small quantity
of^salt. He also used an amazing quantity of tobacco.
Six soldiers deserted from St Helena in a boat on the
10th of June 1799, with twenty-five pounds of bread and
about thirteen gallons of water. On the 18th they redu¬
ced their allowance to one ounce of bread and two mouth¬
fuls of water, on which they subsisted till the 26th, when
their store was expended. Captain Inglefield and eleven
others, after five days of scanty diet, were obliged to re¬
strict it to a biscuit divided into twelve morsels for break¬
fast, and the same for dinner, with an ounce or two of
water daily. In ten days, a very stout man died, having
* An Inquir, whether Crime or Misery are produced or prevented by our present System of Prison Discipline. By Thomas Fowell
Buxton, M. P. 12mo, Edinb. 1818. -pveHntr Woman of Tutburv, illustrated bv Remarks on other Cases
* The Narrative of Captain David Woodard and Four Seamen. 2d edit. 8vo, London, I8U0.
DIETETICS.
Dietetics, become unable to swallow, and delirious. Lieutenant Bligh
'■'’’Y''-' and his crew lived forty-two days upon five days’ provisions.
In the tenth volume of ttufeXand's Journal, M. Gerlach,
a surgeon-major of the Prussian army, has related a very
remarkable and well authenticated case of voluntary star¬
vation. A recruit, to avoid serving, had cut off the fore¬
finger of his right hand. When in hospital for the cure of
the wound, dreading the punishment which awaited him,
he resolved to starve himself, and on the 2d of August
began obstinately to refuse all food or drink, and persist¬
ed in this resolution till the 24th August. During these
twenty-two days he had absolutely taken neither food,
drink, nor medicine, and had no evacuation from his
bowels. He had now become very much emaciated, his
belly was somewhat distended, he had violent pain in his
loins, his thirst was excessive, and his febrile heat burning.
His behaviour had also become timid. Having been pro¬
mised his discharge unpunished, he was now prevailed
upon to take some sustenance, but could not at first bear
r even weak soup and lukewarm drinks. Under proper
treatment he continued to mend for eight days, and his
strength was returning, when, on the 1st of September, he
again refused food, and assumed a wild look. He took a
little barley water every four or five days to the 8th ; from
that day to the 11th he took a little biscuit with wine ; but
again, from the 11th September to the 9th October, a
period of twenty-eight days, he neither took food, drink,
nor had any natural evacuation. From the 9th to the 11th
he again took a little nourishment, and began to recruit;
but, on the 11th, he finally renewed his resolution to starve
himself, and persevered until his death, which took place
on the 21st November, after a total abstinence of forty-
two days.
On the other hand, the quantity of nourishment which
can be devoured with impunity is often very great. Al¬
most every person in good circumstances eats more than
is necessary for supporting his body in a state of health,
and many bring their stomachs to require a very exces¬
sive allowance as almost necessary. In some individuals
an inordinate appetite seems constitutional. Charles Do-
mery, aged twenty-one, six feet three inches high, and
well made, but thin, when a prisoner of war at Liver¬
pool, consumed in one day four pounds of cow’s udder
and ten pounds of beef, both raw, together with two
pounds of tallow candles and five bottles of porter, and,
although allowed the daily rations of ten men, he was not
satisfied.1 Baron Percy has recorded a still more extra-
oi dinary instance in a soldier of the name of Tarare, who,
at the age of seventeen, being of moderate size, rather thin,
and weighing only a hundred and seventy pounds, could
devour, in the course of twenty-four hours, a leg of beef
twenty-four pounds in weight, and thought nothing of
swallowing the dinner prepared for fifteen German boors.2
But these men were remarkable, not only for the quantity
t ley consumed, but also for its quality, giving a prefe¬
rence to raw meat, and even living flesh and blood. Do-
mery in one year eat 174 cats, dead and alive; and Ta¬
rare was strongly suspected of having devoured an infant,
which disappeared mysteriously. Many other histories of
the same kind are preserved; and although some of the
individuals were men of large stature and great strength,
others were of ordinary size. The excess of food may be
taken either m the form of too much at one meal or of too
many meals. It is either digested and furnishes an excess
23
of nourishment, or it passes through the canal simply in- Dietetics,
digested, or it undergoes the fermentation natural to it. '—'-y'*-'
An excess of nourishment either produces a great or ra¬
pid increase of the size of body generally, or of the fat
and abdominal viscera in particular, or, by inducing great
fulness of blood, produces diseases which sometimes coun-
teract the effects of the plethora. When the excess passes
smiply indigested, it only occasionally proves hurtful as
a mechanical irritation in the bowels, especially when it is
of a hard substance, and has sharp angles. When it un¬
dergoes its natural fermentation this is either acid or pu¬
trid, as the substance is vegetable or animal, or rather as
it is destitute of or contains a notable proportion of azote.
. When diet errs in quality, it gives rise to a greater va¬
riety of cases. It may either produce a directly hurtful
effect upon the constitution, in the manner of a poison or
medicine, in its natural state, or after fermenting in the
stomach; or it may prove injurious more indirectly by not
supplying an element necessary for its healthy condition,
or by supplying one in excessive proportion. The poison¬
ous effects of alimentary substances are always occasional,
and arise from a peculiarity in the aliment itself, as in the
case of poisonous fishes, or in the individual, as in those
persons who cannot eat particular kinds of food, which are
to others wholesome and nutritious. The unpleasant ef¬
fects of substances undergoing their natural fermentation
in the stomach are much more frequently observed. They
occur either from a very strong disposition in the food to
ferment, so that the action of a healthy stomach is not
able to restrain it, or from excess of the food, so that part
of it is left to its natural changes, or from weakness of the
stomach, which exerts little action upon it. Fermenting
substances are hurtful, by acting as direct poisons, and by
distending the stomach; in the non-azotized substances
becoming acid and producing flatulencies, in the azotized
substances becoming putrid and producing fetid eructa¬
tions and flatus. Diet, which errs by supplying one of the
elementary constituents of our body in excess, or in not
supplying another, does not produce its full effects at
once, but gradually changes the condition of the body.
When an elementary principle is furnished in excess, it is
thrown off by the various excretions, and hence we find
that the urine of omnivorous animals, when confined to
animal food, contains more urea, and their perspirations
and stools are more fetid; while the urea disappears, and
the stools and perspirations lose their fetor, when they are
lestricted to vegetables. The same observations have been
made in regard to man. Also, when the supply of an ele¬
mentary principle is deficient, it ceases to be thrown off
by excretion, even after it has performed its functions in
the body, but is re-absorbed, and thus the body, for a time,
lives as it were upon itself.
The chief varieties of diet, in regard to quality, depend
upon their immediate effects, and in this respect they may
be divided into the simply nutritious and the stimulant.
All animal flesh seems to be more or less stimulant, and,
in general, the more so the darker its colour is; and upon
this principle chiefly has Dr Darwin founded his classifi¬
cation of aliments, but he has erred in considering them
as also more nutritious. Moor-game, pigeon, hare, and
venison, are more stimulating, but perhaps not more nu¬
tritious, than the turkey or barn-door fowl, veal, or lamb.
The effect upon the composition of our bodies is the se¬
condary but most important effect. In this respect, food
|p”y?EeaUy“„TlhNihdeen"?d. uST Fle,h’ ^ ^ Jol‘nsto"! “ lhe Medical “d Journal, by
ix. live, Paris, An.1iiij!,l’T1,l“Bie' Jo“mal ds 1'K:d*u'v, Chinirgie, et Pharmacia, par MM. Corvisart, Leroux, at Boyer, tome
24
DIETETICS.
Dietetics, might be divided into the azotized, hydrogenous, caibona-
' ceous, and oxygenous, or rather into those which supply
abundantly azote, hydrogen, carbon, and oxygen. This
view is, however, chiefly theoretical, as we are very tcir
from possessing facts enough to establish it completely, or
to overturn it; but yet there are some which favour it. We
have already noticed Magendie’s experiments on substan¬
ces which do not contain azote, from which he inferred
that a certain supply of it was absolutely necessary to the
support of animal life. Other facts lead to the same con¬
clusion, especially the effect of restriction to one kind of
aliment in the generation and cure of disease.
It is many years since Dr Iloilo1 was led, by the singu¬
lar sweetness of diabetic urine, to conclude that, if he de¬
prived the patient of all food which contained sugar, or the
principles of sugar, he should be able to cure this hither¬
to untractable disease. He accordingly restricted his pa¬
tients to the use of animal food, especially fat, and abso¬
lutely prohibited all vegetables, even bread, and all fer¬
mented liquors. The effects were very striking, and some
patients were believed to be cured; at least the nature
of their urine was completely altered from a morbid to a
healthy state. As conducted by others, the same regimen
has produced the same effects ; but it is so disagreeable to
the patients that they can seldom be prevailed upon to
adhere to it, and unfortunately, notwithstanding the tem¬
porary removal of this prominent symptom, the disease
generally continues its fatal course. We may, however,
notice, that Rollo and others were guided in their choice
of regimen by the principle of withholding the elements
of sugar, and hence fat formed a chief part of it, and was
a principal cause of the disgust it excited; but perhaps it
would be better to select a highly azotized diet, in which
point of view the muscular parts of dark-fleshed animals,
such as game and old mutton, and those kinds offish, such
as skate, which contain much azote in a loose state 01 co™'
bination, should be selected; while wheaten bread, the
want of which is so distressing to many, might be allowed,
and fat, which contains no azote, should not be prescribed.
Magendie2 ascribes the gravel to the superabundance of
azote in our food, as the uric acid of which gravel consists
is a highly azotized substance, and seems to be produced
as a means of throwing off the excessive azote ; and among
the various causes with which gravel is connected, the
most active in its agency is high living, or the use of ani¬
mal food in excess. A Hanseatic citizen, who kept a good
table previous to 1814, was afflicted with the grav<fl. He
emigrated and lived very miserably in England, but his
gravel completely left him. He re-established his affairs,
and with his fortune his gravel returned. Again he was
ruined, and went to France almost destitute, and his gravel
disappeared. By industry he finally f fluirf-V ,c°Xn
tency, and with it his old complaint, for which he then
consulted Magendie. A Parisian lady of sixty, subject to
gravel, read in a journal a short notice of Magendie s ex¬
periments, in which it was said that he had discovered in
sugar a cure for the gravel. Without more advice she set
about eating sugar, often to the extent of a pound daily,
and in effect she removed the gravel, but disordered her
stomach so much that she was obliged to resume her usua
food, and with it the gravel returned.
The chemical theory of the scurvy is, that it is owing Dietetics
to the want of ^xygenous food; and it cannot be denied —
that this theory has been very ingeniously supported by
Dr Trotter, Dr Beddoes, and others. The rapidity with
which those afflicted with it recover by the use of recent
vegetables, especially the fresh citric acid, shows that it
proceeds from an error in diet, but whether from a deh-
ciencv of nourishment in general, or from a deficiency of
oxygenous aliment, is not quite so clear. When we com¬
pare the accounts of the ravages formerly committed by
this dreadful disease, even during short voyages, with the
almost total immunity which the British fleet has enjoyed
since the time of Captain Cook, we have the strongest
possible proof of the influence of diet upon the human
frame, either as inducing or preventing disease.3
Hydrogenous food, such as the excessive indulgence m
fat meat, butter, and oil, and still more especially in spi¬
rituous liquors, produces a change in the chemical consti¬
tution of our bodies, independently of the exhaustion of
excitability by excess of stimulus. Bilious diseases, and
a tendency to unwholesome fatness, are its most common
effects; and it is only in the excessive hydrogenation of
the system that we can find a rational explanation of that
very singular phenomenon called the spontaneous combus¬
tion of the body; for even admitting that the clothes are
accidentally set on fire in these cases, there appears no
reason to doubt that the combustion is continued by the
burning of the body itself. Now the greatest number o
instances have occurred in old women addicted to the
abuse of ardent spirits.4
The effects of oxygenous food, in imparting oxygen to
the body, are not so well ascertained. Acids, and the
subacid fruits, quench thirst, and are supposed to reduce
animal heat; but their more obvious action is to attect the
bowels and induce diarrhoea, and ultimately to render the
body spare and thin. The new chemical pathology led to
the exhibition of nitric acid for the cure of syphilis, as
mercury was supposed to act by oxygenizing the system;
and this acid has since been much employed also, from
analogy, in the liver complaint. That the acid has excel¬
lent effects as a tonic, seems to be perfectly ascertained.
It does not act upon the bowels like the vegetable acids,
but there is no proof of its decomposition in the stomach,
or of its imparting oxygen to the body. The oxygenizing
of the system by means of the nitro-muriatic or oxymu-
riatic bath, now so fashionable in London, is a mere chi¬
mera. Pulmonary consumption was also, at one time, con¬
sidered as a disease proceeding from superabundant oxy¬
gen, and the florid colour of the cheeks was adduced in
^ No observations have yet been made on the effects of
aliments containing an unusually large proportion of car¬
bon, nor has any disease been ascribed to the carboniza¬
tion of the system. , ,
It would extend this article much beyond the space we peculiar
can allot to it, if we were even hastily to sketch the va-specie^
rieties of diet recommended in disease, and to explain g
. Ml *1   n itt
rieties or diet recommenaea in uised&e, auv* ^ - r caiied
their action ; but it will not be superfluous to enter a little Training
into the detail of that kind of regimen which has been
found by experience to bring animals and man to the
highest possible state of health, at least as measured by
« An Account of two Cases of Diabetes Mellitus. By ^Ue^TmAemen^de lYGravelle, 8vo, Paris, 1818.
2 Itecherches Physiologiques et Me'dicales surles Causes, y p ’ observations on the Nature and Cure of Calculus,
» Observations on the Scurvy. By Thomas Trott^ D. ^ several other subjects of Physiology and Pathology.
Sea Scurvy, Consumption, Catarrh, and Fever; together with conjectures i
By Thomas Beddoes, M. D. 8vo, London, 1793. _ Drunkenness and its Effects on the Human Body. By T. Trotter, M- D.
- An Essay, Medical, Philosophical, and Chemical, on D k ’ long abus des liqueurs spiritueuses. Par Pierre-Aimd
8vo, London, 1804. Essai sur les Combustions Humames proauus par u n ^
Lair, 12mo, ^’aris, 1801.
DIETETICS. 25
Dietetics, the an’ount of their physical force, and their power of con-
tinning its exertions. It is to bring animals to this state
that constitutes the business of trainers, as they are called.
Cocks, greyhounds, race-horses, and men, are much more
active and vigorous after being trained than in their ordi¬
nary condition. They are, in fact, in a higher state of
health ; and we are fully convinced that, by training,
many diseases might be removed, and by living according
to the same principles, general ill health might be com¬
monly prevented. The public is very much indebted to
Sir John Sinclair for having taken the pains to collect the
fullest information on this subject.1 He was assisted in his
inquiries, we have reason to believe, by Mr John Bell, whose
attention was directed to the subject by having the pro¬
fessional care of Captain Barclay during his great walking-
match. From the answers procured to Mr Bell’s inquiries,
it appears that the whole secrets of training reduce them¬
selves to principles which every man may practise, and
ought to practise, as far as is consistent with his business
and other duties; and, in particular, we think that they
ought to be studied, thoroughly understood, and enforced,
by all those to whom, in consequence of accidental cir¬
cumstances, the care of the health and lives of many in¬
dividuals are intrusted. We allude chiefly to military
and naval officers, and the proprietors of large manufac¬
tories. In the British navy the importance of this sub¬
ject has been long appreciated ; and the comparative state
of health of our fleets, in recent times, is as honourable
to our naval commanders as the laurels of victory which
encircle their brows. Soldiers are left more to themselves,
and their officers have neither the same control nor respon-
Isibility ; but we think that more might be done in keeping
the troops, as well as the military horses, when at home
or in garrison, always in a state fit for active service. The
evil of not attending to this was very severely experienced
during the Spanish campaigns. The artillery horses sent
from Chatham were found to be unfit for the fatigues of
service, and good cart-horses were at last substituted with
great advantage. In garrison both men and horses are
over-fed and under-worked. In manufactories the oppo¬
site evils sometimes occur ; the workmen, and especially
the children, are over-worked and under-fed. This sub-
!ject has lately occupied the attention of parliament; and
it is connected with some interesting inquiries, which be¬
long properly to the science of political economy. In a
medical point of view, the principle to be followed is, that
the food and labour bear a just proportion to each other.
When the quantity and quality of the food is not limited
by its expense, the best possible condition of the indivi¬
dual is attainable, by attending to the principles upon
which training is conducted, and which resolve themselves
into temperance without abstemiousness, and regular ex¬
ercise in the open air. Mr Jackson says, that a man pro¬
perly trained feels himself light and corky, as the techni¬
cal phrase is ; and that, during a course of training, the
skin always becomes clear, smooth, well coloured, and elas¬
tic; or that cleanness of skin is the best proof of a man
being in good condition. Another very striking effect
of training is upon the lungs. Trained men can draw a
much fuller inspiration, and retain their breath longer, than
others. But it is not only on the state of bodily health
that the good effects of training are conspicuous ; for Mr
Jackson distinctly, and we believe correctly, states, that
the mental faculties are always improved, the attention is
more ready, and the perceptions are more acute. From
these observations some valuable hints may be derived
by physicians, for the cure of many cutaneous and pul¬
monary affections, which obstinately resist the power of Dietetics,
medicines.
Cookery is strictly a branch of dietetics, and one of Cookery,
the most important. Only a small part of our food is
consumed as it is furnished by nature. Many alimentary
substances are disagreeable, and some even poisonous,
until they have undergone certain preparations. Few of
them are to be had at all seasons of the year, although
produced at others in greater quantity than can be con¬
sumed ; and all of them occur of very different qualities.
Hence the selection, preservation, and preparation of ali¬
mentary substances, are arts of primary importance in life.
We hold the contempt with which cookery is very
generally spoken of to be downright affectation, we had
almost said hypocrisy; for, in the practice of life, every
individual who is not perfectly imbecile and devoid of un¬
derstanding is an epicure in his own way. The epicures
in the boiling of potatoes even are innumerable; and
every school-boy in Scotland passes a judgment on the
culinary skill of the servant who makes his porridge.
Cookery only becomes truly degrading when it occupies
an undue proportion of attention ; and that epicurism is
to be utterly condemned which produces more pain than
pleasure. Boswell, the biographer of Johnson, has defined
man to be a cooking animal; and, in fact, man is the only
animal which does not consume his food as presented to
him by nature. We are not from this to conclude that
man in cooking deviates from the ordinary course of na¬
ture ; but that the appetite for cooked food is given to
him for wise and useful ends. Count Rumford has not
considered the pleasure of eating, and the means that may
be employed for increasing it, as unworthy the attention
of a philosopher.
“ The enjoyments which fall to the lot of the bulk of
mankind are not so numerous as to render an attempt to
increase them superfluous. And even in regard to those
who have it in their power to gratify their appetites to
the utmost extent of their wishes, it is surely rendering
them a very important service to show them how they
may increase their pleasures without destroying their
health.
“ If a glutton can be made to gormandize two hours
upon two ounces of meat, it is certainly much better for
him, than to give himself an indigestion by eating two
pounds in the same time.
“ The pleasure enjoyed in eating depends first upon
the agreeableness of the taste of the food ; and, secondly,
upon its powers to affect the palate. Now there are many
substances extremely cheap, by which very agreeable
tastes may be given to food, particularly when the basis
or nutritive substance of the food is tasteless; and the
effect of any kind of palatable solid food (of meat, for in¬
stance) upon the organs of taste, may be increased almost
indefinitely, by reducing the size of the particles of such
food, and causing it to act upon the palate by a larger
surface. And if means be used to prevent its being swal¬
lowed too soon, which may be easily done by mixing with
it some hard and tasteless substance, such as crumbs of
bread rendered hard by toasting, or any thing else of that
kind, by which a long mastication is rendered necessary,
the enjoyment of eating may be greatly increased and
prolonged.
“ The idea of occupying a person a great while, and
affording him much pleasure at the same time, in eating a
small quantity of food, may perhaps appear ridiculous to
some ; but those who consider the matter attentively will
perceive that it is very important. It is, perhaps, as
VOL. VIII.
1 The Code of Health and Longevity, vol. ii. Appendix, No. IV. 8vo, Edinburgh, 1807.
1>
26
Dieu
II
Differen¬
tial.
DIF
much so as any thing that can employ the attention of the
BuTwefshall consider cookery in another point of view
and that one, the importance of which will not be denied
by the most austere philosopher. The political econo¬
mists have extolled agriculture above all other arts, and
have obtained the assent of mankind to their dogma, that
he who makes two blades of grass grow where only one
grew before, is a benefactor to his race. And why ? I ruly
because he thus increases the quantity of food, and ena¬
bles the world to support a larger population. And is not
he who by his skill enables the raw material, whether
corn or flesh, furnished to him by the agriculturist, to feed
a larger population, or who renders articles alimentary
which were formerly rejected, equally a benefactor ot his
race ? Again, every country has its own favourite ai ti¬
des of food, and modes of preparing them; and there is
perhaps no subject in regard to which local prejudices are
so strong. Now, by bringing these to the test ot compa¬
rison upon scientific principles, much good would ulti¬
mately arise by the gradual introduction into each coun¬
try of whatever was worthy of imitation in the practice ot
other nations. , . ^
The learned Krunitz, in his voluminous hconomwo-
Technologic Encyclopedia, has anticipated many of our
views of the subject. “ The preparation of good food,
and the directions for this purpose contained in cookery
books, are commonly very much despised, or rather alto¬
gether neglected, by literary men. But in itself cookery
does not deserve this contempt, for it is an important part
of domestic economy. Upon its due practice depend t ic
health and comfort of families, which must inevitably sut-
D I G
fer from errors committed in it. The reason of this con- Differen-
tempt is to be found in the manner in which it has hither- ^
to been treated in cookery books, which have been pre-p. m i
pared by common cooks, as they are accustomed to dress ^ .
a ragout. Since the economical arts in general have been
discussed scientifically, it is now time that the same at¬
tention should be paid to cookery, which is so generally
useful, and which is capable of being considered in so
many points of view. But then a totally different course
from that commonly followed must be pursued.. A man
of much knowledge, especially physical, chemical, and
dietetical, must condescend to apply to the making ex¬
periments on vulgar and refined cookery, and collect the
whole into a system, as has been done long since in re¬
gard to the knowledge and preparation of medicines.
What has been written upon dietetics by Ziickert, Ber-
gius, Lorry, Plenk, and others, must be compared with
the practices in different countries, and a general view of
the whole must be drawn up and arranged in systematic
order. In regard to the preparations themselves, certain
fixed processes and principles are to be determined, ge¬
neral operations to be accurately described, and new im¬
provements to be brought forward. After this the sub-
ect might be treated in detail, and a variety, first of sim¬
ple, then of more compound articles, with the best modes
of preparing each as to palatableness, and in relation to
effect upon the health, should be perspicuously and tho¬
roughly described. Lastly, their combination into bills
of fare, adapted to different ranks in society, modes of
life, various tastes, the season of the year, &c. should be
pointed out particularly, and with a due regard to good
economical arrangements.” (a. d.)
DIEU et mon Droit, i.e., God and my Right, \\\e motto
of the royal arms of England, first assumed by Richard .
to intimate that he did not hold his empire in vysalage of
any mortal. It was afterwards assumed by Edward IIL, and
was continued without interruption to the time of William,
who used the motto Je maintiendray, though the former
was still retained upon the great seal. After him Anne
used the motto Semper eadem, which had been before used
by Elizabeth; but ever since the time of Anne, Dieu e
mon Droit has continued to be the royal motto.
DIET or Douff, an Arabian musical instrument of the
same kind as the tambour de Basque or tambourine.
DIFFARREATIO, in Roman Antiquity,*, ceremony by
which a marriage which had been contracted by the solemn
form of confarreatio was dissolved. I he word comes from
the preposition dis, which is used, in composition, for din-
sion or ^separation, and farreatio, a ceremony with wheat,
from far, wheat or corn. See Confarreatio.
DIFFERENCE, in Mathematics, the remainder of
sum or quantity after a lesser number or quantity has been
subtracted from it. . .
Difference, in Logic, an essential attribute, belong g
to some species, and not found in the genus ; being the idea
that defines the species. Thus body and spint aie
species of substance, which in their ideas include somethin
more than is included in the idea of substance. n o y,
for instance, are found impenetrability and extension ; an
in spirit, a power of thinking and reasoning; 80 ^ a ie
difference of body is impenetrable extension, and the chlter-
ence of spirit is cogitation. .
Difference, in Heraldry, a term given to a certain hgure
added to coats of arms, serving to distinguish one family
from another, or to show how distant a younger branch is
from the elder or principal branch. . .
DIFFERENTIAL, in the higher geometry, an infinitely
small quantity, so small as to be less than any assignable
quantity. It is called a differential, or differential quantity,
because frequently considered as the difference of two quan¬
tities ; and, as such, it is the foundation of differential cal¬
culus. Sir Isaac Newton and the English call it a moment,
from its being considered as the momentary increase ot
quantity. See Fluxions. ....
Differential Equation is an equation involving or con¬
taining differential quantities, as the equation Z x dx
2 axdx + aydx + axdy = 0. Some mathematicians have
also applied the term differential equation in another sense,
to certain equations defining the nature of facts.
Differential Calculus, or Method, a method of find¬
ing quantities by means of their successive differences. See
Fluxions. . , c
Differential Thermometer, an instrument tor mea¬
suring differences of temperature. See Meteorology.
DIFFORM (dfformis, from dis, asunder, and forma,
shape), is a word used in opposition to uniform ; irregu¬
larity in form or appearance ; as a difform flower or corolla,
the parts of which do not correspond in size or proportion.
DIFFUSION (Lat. diffundo, to pour out), * spreading
or flowing of a liquid or a fluid, as of water, air, light: a scat¬
tering or dispersing. _ , . ,,
Diffusion of Gases, a term in chemistry, denoting the
mixing, in any relative proportions, of two gaseous bodies
which do not act chemically on each other ; so that what¬
ever be their relative densities they remain permanently
blended. Hence Dalton has represented gaseous bodies
as acting as vacua to each other. . , ,
DIGAMMA, an obsolete letter of the Greek alphabet,
equivalent in sound to the English ^. In the ^Eohc, and
sometimes in the Ionic dialect, the old Greek y v\ as a k
of aspirate called from the manner of writing it Digamma
(p). This aspirate was carried by the Pelasgic race into
DIG
D I G
27
Digby Italy, and remained in Latin as a real consonant, V, as may
be seen from many words originally Greek, such as Focvos,
Digestion.
vinum, vicus. It disappeared from the Greek tongue
so early that it ceased to be written in the Homeric poems ;
and many even deny its influence in softening the hiatus,
while others allow this effect even in Pindar.
DIGBY, Sir Kenelme, an eminent English philosopher,
was born at Gothurst, Buckinghamshire, in 1603. He was
descended from an ancient and illustrious family. His great¬
grandfather had distinguished himself at Bosworth on the
side of Henry VIE; and his father, Sir Everard Digby, was
one of the leading Roman Catholic gentry at the time of
the Gunpowder Plot. Having risen in arms on that occa¬
sion, Sir Everard was apprehended, tried, and executed at
London, Jan. 27, 1606. The young philosopher was thus
three years old at his father’s death, and was educated by
his guardians in the Protestant faith. Having finished his
education at Oxford, he went abroad in 1621; and on his
return he received from Charles I. the appointments of gen¬
tleman of the bed-chamber, commissioner of the navy, and
governor of Trinity House. At the head of a small squa¬
dron he sailed in 1628 against the Algerines, and after¬
wards defeated the Venetians near the port of Scanderoon.
During a brief stay in Paris, he joined the Church of Rome.
Having returned to England in 1638, he espoused the cause
of the king, and was imprisoned in Winchester House by
order of the parliament. He was, however, liberated in
1643, and retired to France, where he was taken into the
confidence of the court, and enjoyed the friendship of Des¬
cartes and other learned men. Here he wrote his Treatise on
the Nature of Bodies, his Treatise on the Soul, Peripatetick
Institutions, send other works. He visited England during the
Protectorate of Cromwell, and seemed to be more zealous for
the advancement of the interests of the Commonwealth than
befitted a staunch royalist. At the Restoration he returned
finally to London, where he died in 1663. He married
Venetia Anastasia, the daughter of Sir Edward Stanley of
Shropshire, “ a lady of an extraordinary beauty and of as
extraordinary a fame.” His whimsical experiments to pre¬
serve her beauty procured him as much notoriety as his
sympathetic powder for the cure of wounds at a distance.
Besides the works already mentioned, Digby wrote A Con¬
ference about a Choice of Religion, Paris, 1638 ; Letters
on the same subject, Lond. 1651 ; Observations on Religio
Medici, Lond. 1643 ; A Treatise of Adhering to God,
Lond. 1654; On the Cure of Wounds by the Powder of
Sympathy, Lond. 1658; and a Discourse on Vegetation.
DIGENTIA, now the Licenza, a small river of Italy,
flowing into the Anio about nine miles from Tivoli. In a
historical point of view, the Digentia is quite unimportant,
but it is highly interesting as the stream on whose banks
Horace’s Sabine farm was situated. Numerous allusions
to the Digentia and the surrounding scenery occur in the
works of that poet. The whole topography of this inte¬
resting district will be found fully discussed in Champy’s
Maison d'Horace, and in Milman’s Life of Horace.
DIGESI {Digesturri), a collection of the Roman laws,
arranged and digested under proper titles, by order of the
Emperor Justinian. See Civil Law.
DIGES I ER, a strong metal vessel with an air-tight lid
furnished with a safety valve, in which substances may be
subjected to a very much higher temperature than in the
ordinary method of boiling. This apparatus is figured and
described under the head Steam.
DIGESTION, in the animal economy, is the dissolu¬
tion of the aliments into such a state as renders them fit to
pass into the lacteal vessels, and thence into the blood. See
Anatomy.
Digestion, in Chemistry, the operation of exposing bodies
to a gentle heat in order to assist their action upon each
other; or the slow action of a solvent on any substance.
DIGGES, Leonard, an able mathematician in the six¬
teenth century, was born at Digges Court, in the parish of
Barham, Kent, and was educated at Oxford. He was the
author of the following works: viz., Tectonicum, briefly show¬
ing the exact Measuring and speedy Reckoning of all man¬
ner of Lands, Squares, Timber, Stones, Steeples, &c., 1556,
4to; a geometrical practical treatise, named Pantometria,
in three books, published posthumously by his son in 1591 ;
and Prognostication Everlasting of right good effect, or
Choice Rules to judge the Weather by the Sun, Moon, and
Stars, &c., 4to, 1555, 1556, and 1564; afterwards corrected
and augmented by his son, 4to, 1592. Digges died about
1574.
Digges
j[
Dignity.
Digges, Thomas, only son of tbe preceding, and one of
the ablest mathematicians of his age. He was sent by
Queen Elizabeth as muster-master-general of the British
forces in the Netherlands, and thus acquired an extensive
and accurate knowledge of military affairs. He died in 1595.
Besides revising, correcting, and enlarging some of his father’s
works, he wrote Aloz sive Scales Mathematicce, or Mathematical
Wings or Ladders, 1573, 4to; An Arithmetical Military Treatise,
containing so much of Arithmetic as is necessary towards mili¬
tary discipline, 1579, 4to; A Geometrical Treatise, named Stratio-
ticos, requisite for the perfection of Soldiers, 1579, 4to; A per¬
fect Description of the Celestial Orbs, according to the most ancient
doctrine of the Pythagoreans, &c., placed at the end of his father’s
Prognostication Everlasting, printed in 1592, 4to ; A humble motive
for association to maintain the Religion established, 1601, 8vo—to
which is added, his Letter to the same purpose to the Archbishops and
Bishops of England ; England’s Defence, or, a Treatise concerning In¬
vasion, a tract of the same nature with that printed at the end of
his Stratioticos, and called a Briefe Discourse, &c., hut not published
till 1686 ; A letter printed before Dr John Dee’s Parallaticce Com-
mentationis praxeosque nucleus quidam, 1573, 4to. Besides these
and his Nova Corpora, he left several mathematical treatises ready
for the press, which, by reason of law-suits and other engagements,
he was prevented from publishing.
DIGGING, among miners, tbe operation of freeing ore
from the bed or stratum in which it lies, where every stroke
of their tools turns to account; in contradistinction to the
openings made in search of ore, which are called hatches,
or essay-hatches, and the operation itself named tracing of
mines, or hatching.
DIGIT (Lat. digitus, a finger), the measure of a finger’s
breadth, or three-fourths of an inch.
Digit, or Monade, in Arithmetic, any integer under ten,
as, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and by means of which all num¬
bers are expressed.
Digit, in Astronomy, the twelfth part of the diameter
of the sun or moon; a term used to express the quantity
of an eclipse. Thus an eclipse is said to be of six digits
when one-half of the disk is hid.
DIGITALIS, a genus of scrophulariaceous plants. See
Botany.
DIGLYPH, in Architecture, a kind of imperfect tri¬
glyph, console, or the like, with two channels or engravings,
either circular or angular.
DIGNE (the ancient Dina or Dinid), a town of France,
capital of the department of Basses-Alpes, and of a cogno-
minal arrondissement, is situated at the foot of the Alps, on
the left bank of the Bleone, 55 miles N.E. of Aix. Pop.
(1851)4119. The streets are generally narrow, crooked,
and filthy, and the houses mean. The principal buildings
are the cathedral and bishop’s palace. Digne is the seat of
courts of primary instance, assize, and commerce, a com¬
munal college, agricultural society ; and has a public library,
tanneries, and some trade in cattle and agricultural and
garden produce. In the vicinity are saline springs in some
repute.
DIGNITARY, a person who holds an ecclesiastical
benefice or dignity which gives him some pre-eminence
over mere priests; as a bishop, dean, archdeacon, preben¬
dary, &c.
DIGNITY, as applied to the titles of noblemen, signifies
28
D I I
D I J
Dignity honour and authority. Dignity may be divided into supe-
II rior and inferior; as the titles of duke, marquis, earl baron,
DiL &c., which are the highest of dignities, and those of baro¬
net, knight, serjeant-at-law, &c., which are the lowest. No¬
bility only can give so high a name of dignity as to supply
the want of a surname in legal proceedings; and as the
omission of a name of dignity may be pleaded in abate¬
ment of a writ, so it may also be where a peer who has
more than one name of dignity is not named by the most
noble. No temporal dignity of any foreign nation can give
a man a higher title in this country than that of esquire.
Dignity, in the human character, the opposite of mean-
nLDII,the divinities worshipiied by the ancient inhabitants of
the earth, were very numerous. Every object which caused
terror, inspired gratitude, or bestowed affluence, receive
the tribute of veneration. Man saw a superior agent in t le
stars, the elements, or the trees ; and supposed that the
waters which communicated fertility to his fields an pos¬
sessions were under the influence and direction of some in¬
visible power inclined to favour and to benefit mankind.
Thus arose a train of divinities, which imagination arrayed
in different forms, and armed with different powers. I hey
were endowed with understanding, and actuated by the same
passions as men; and these creations of superstition were
appeased or provoked in the same manner as the imperfect
being who gave them birth. Their wrath was mitigated
by sacrifices and incense, and sometimes human victims
bled to expiate a crime which superstition alone supposed
to exist. The sun, from its powerful influence and ani¬
mating nature, first attracted the notice and claimed the
adoration of the uncivilized inhabitants of the earth. 1 he
moon also was honoured with sacrifices and addressed in
prayers; and after immortality had been liberally bestowed
on all the heavenly bodies, mankind classed amongst their
deities the brute creation, and the cat and the sow shared
equally with Jupiter himself, the father of gods and men,
the devout veneration of their votaries. 1 his immense
number of deities has been divided into different classes, ac¬
cording to the will and pleasure of the mytliologists. 1 he
Romans, generally speaking, reckoned two classes of the
gods, the dii majorum gentium or dii consentes, ax\a the n
minorum gentium. The former were twelve in number,
namely, six males and six females. (See Consentes.) In
the class of the latter were ranked all the gods who were
worshipped in different parts of the earth. Besides tlx^e,
there were divinities called dii selecti, sometimes classed
with the twelve greater gods; these were Janus, Saturn,
the Genius, the Moon, Pluto, and Bacchus. I here were
also some called demigods, that is, persons who were con¬
sidered deserving of immortality by the greatness of their ex¬
ploits, or for their uncommon services to mankind. Amongst
these were Priapus, Vertumnus, Hercules, and those whose
parents were some of the immortal gods. Besides these,
all the passions and the moral virtues were reckoned as
powerful deities; and temples were raised to a goddess of
concord, of peace, and the like. Accoi ding to esioc,
there were no less than thirty thousand gods that inhabited
the earth, and were guardians of men, all subservient to the
power of Jupiter. To these deities succeeding ages at ec
an almost incredible number; and indeed they weie so
numerous, and their functions so various, that we till em-
ples erected, and sacrifices offered, to unknown go s.
is observable that all the gods of the ancients had live upon
earth as mere mortals; nay even Jupiter, who was the iu er
of heaven, is represented by the mythologists as a helpless
child ; and we are acquainted with all the particulars wine i
attended the birth and education of Juno. In process
of time not only good and virtuous men, who had been
the patrons of learning and the supporters of liberty, but
also thieves and pirates, were admitted amongst the gods ;
Dijon.
and the Roman senate courteously granted the honour of Dmtribi
apotheosis to the most cruel and profligate of their em-
PeDIIAMBUS, in the Ancient Poetry, a double iambus,
as severUds.
DIJON (the ancient Dibio, Divio, Divionense tastrum),
a town of France, formerly the capital of the duchy of Bur¬
gundy, now of the department of Cote d’Or, and of an
arrondissement of its ow n name. This town is of consider¬
able antiquity, and is said by some to have been in existence
previous to the Roman Conquest; but if so, it must have
been a place of small importance. The more common
opinion is, that it was founded by Marcus Aurelius, by whom
it was also surrounded with walls, flanked with towers. It
was considerably enlarged and improved by Aurelian about
274. It seems to have been, probably about this time,
important for its manufactures of iron, from an inscription
found here which speaks of the inhabitants as, tabri
Ferrarii Dibionenses ” Dijon, if not the capital, was at
least one of the principal towns of the first kingdom of
Burgundy. It was destroyed by fire in 1137, but rebuilt
twenty years afterwards; and from 11/9 to the death of
Charles the Rash it was the ordinary residence of the
dukes of Burgundy.
Dijon is situated in a pleasant and fertile plain at the
foot of the Cote d’Or mountains, 105 miles N. of Lyons,
and 160 S.E. of Paris; in 47. 19. 25. N. Eat., and 6. 2. 5.
E. Long. It is surrounded by ramparts planted with trees,
and has five gates. Outside the w'alls are avenues, paiks,
and other agreeable promenades. Its southern walls are
washed by the Ouche; and the small stream of Suzon tra¬
verses it from N. to S. by a channel under the streets, and
contributes greatly to the cleanliness for which this town is
remarkable. Dijon is generally well built, the streets are
wide and well paved, and the houses neat and built ot free¬
stone. It contains many remarkable buildings, some of them
of great antiquity. The present cathedral, dedicated to St
Benigne, was rebuilt in 1271, the previous edifice having
been founded in the fifth century. It is a fine specimen o
the Gothic style, contains some handsome monuments, and
is surmounted by a light and elegant wooden spire 330 feet
in height. The church of Notre Dame is a singularly fine
specimen of the purest Gothic, and is remarkable for the
boldness of its construction. The portal of the church ot
St Michael is composed of three circular arches, with a very
fine frieze above. Many of the ancient churches have been
converted into stables, warehouses, &c. That of St Etienne
is now used as a covered market, and St Philibert as cavalry
barracks ; some of these, however, are still worthy of notice
for their architecture, as St Jean, which is remarkable
for the span of its roof. The palace of the dukes of Bur¬
gundy has had its principal front modernized, but other¬
wise it still retains most of its ancient features. It is now
used as public offices, and a portion of it is allotted to an
extensive museum. It is surmounted by lofty towers, now
used as an observatory. The castle, commenced by Louis
XL, and finished by Louis XII. in 1513, became in the
eighteenth century a state prison, in which the duchess of
Maine, Mirabeau, and others were confined ; and now serves
as a barracks for the gens-dHarmes. Dijon is the seat of a
bishop, a royal court, tribunals of primary instance and
commerce, and of a university and academy, having facul¬
ties of law, science, and literature ; and has a special school
of the fine arts, a royal college, a primary normal school,
a seminary, a royal academy of sciences and belles-lettres, a
botanic garden, agricultural society, and a public library of
upwards of 40,000 vols. It has manufactures of woollen,
linen, and cotton goods, hats, leather, soap, vinegar, mus¬
tard, starch, and brandy ; but its principal dependence is on
the wine trade, being the chief depot and market for toe
sale of Burgundy. Dijon has produced a number of cele-
D I L
Diipoleia brated men, of whom may be mentioned Bossuet, Crebillon,
II Longepierre, and Daubenton. Pop. (1851) 28,998.
Dillsnius. DIIPOLEIA, in Grecian Antiquity, the name of a fes-
tival. See Buphonia.
DIKE (kiK-rj), the goddess of justice, was, according to
Hesiod, the daughter of Jupiter and Themis. The special
office of Dike was to punish injustice and to reward virtue.
She regarded with particular abhorrence all unjust judges,
whose misdemeanours she instantly reported to Jupiter. In
the oldest works of art, as for instance the chest of Cypse-
lus, Dike is represented as a young and handsome female,
dragging with one hand an old and ugly hag, Adikia (In¬
justice), wffiile in the other she holds a staff with which to
beat her. In the dramas of the three great tragedians of
ancient Greece, the idea of Dike or retribution is wrought
out with great care, and sometimes, as by Aeschylus, with
very great success.
Dike, or Dyke, in its primary sense, denotes a ditch or
drain. The word seems to have been formed from the
verb to dig; though others derive it from the Dutch dyk,
a dam, sea-bank, or wall. It is generally used to signify a
work of stone, timber, or fascines, raised to oppose the en¬
trance or passage of the waters of the sea, a river, lake, or
the like. Junius and Menage conceive the Flemish to have
borrow'ed their word from the Greek relyo?, trail; but
Guichard derives it from the Hebrew daghah.
Dyke is also a geological term denoting a mass of unstra¬
tified" or igneous rock, such as trap, granite, or lava, which
appears as if injected into rents and fissures in the stratified
rocks. Veins of basalt, greenstone, &c., sometimes present
the appearance of walls, standing detached on the surface
of a country.
DILAPIDATION, in Law, signifies both a wasteful
destroying, and the suffering buildings to fall to decay for
want of necessary repairs. If a clergyman neglect to re¬
pair any house or building belonging to his benefice, the
bishop may sequester the profits thereof for that purpose;
and in such a case a prosecution may be brought, either in
the spiritual court or at common law, against the incum¬
bent himself, or against his executor or administrator. Di¬
lapidation extends also to the waste or destruction of wood,
&c.
DILATATION, the act of expanding; a spreading or
enlarging in every direction. It is opposed to contraction;
and differs from extension, as the latter is applied to lines
and surfaces. A line is extended ; a balloon or an artery is
dilated.
DILEMMA, in Logic, an argument equally conclusive
by contrary suppositions. Hence, used to signify any dif¬
ficult or doubtful state of things, which renders one uncer¬
tain what course to pursue.
DILETTANTE (Italian), an admirer of the fine arts;
or one who delights in promoting the fine arts.
DILIGENCE, in Scots Laic, a general term for the
process by which persons, lands, or effects are attached on
execution, or in security for debt.
DILL, an annual plant, Anetkumgraveolens. It is culti¬
vated for its aromatic seeds, which are used medicinally as
a carminative.
DILLENBURG, a town in the duchy of Nassau, capi-
pital of a bailiwick of the same name, situated on the Dill,
an affluent of the Lahn, 16 miles N.W. of Wetzlar. It is
the seat of a court of appeal; and has manufactures of to¬
bacco and potash. In the vicinity is an extensive copper
foundry. Pop. 2600.
DILLENIUS, John James, a distinguished botanist of
the eighteenth century, who may be called the father of
cryptogamic botany, was born at Darmstadt in 1687. He
was educated as a physician in the university of Giessen ;
but his attention was very early diverted from medical studies
to the observation and discrimination of plants; nor does
D I L 29
he appear to have ever followed any branch of the practice Dillenius.
of physic. In botany he was strictly a practical observer, v—
having addicted himself but little to the principles of classi¬
fication, and not at all to the physiology of vegetables.
Some branches of zoology occasionally engaged him, which
in their native situations can hardly escape an assiduous
collector of plants, so closely are these studies, especially
that of insects and the lower tribes of animated beings,
connected with botany. Dillenius, whilst at Giessen, wrote
several papers for the Ephemerides Natures Curiosorum,
on American plants naturalized in Europe, on coffee, on
opium obtained from poppies in Germany, with some mi¬
nute critical remarks on Spergula pentandra, as well as on
various cryptogamous plants. He published also a paper on
leeches, and on two species ok'papilio. He printed at Giessen
in 1719 his Catalogus Plantarum sponte circa Gissamnas-
centium, a valuable little octavo volume, with figures drawn
and engraved by his own hand, of the parts of fructification,
particularly designed to illustrate the generic characters of
plants previously not well arranged or understood. In this
work he established many new genera, which have for the
most part kept their ground. His great merit as a general
botanist consisted in a constant attention to the only sound
principle of scientific botany, the discrimination of genera
by the parts of the flower and fruit. This principle, first
proposed by the great Conrad Gesner, Dillenius applied to
practice, with a severer judgment and closer attention than
perhaps any other person from Gesner to Linnaeus. The
little book in question is arranged most inconveniently ac¬
cording to the times of the plants flowering. In the pre¬
face, however, he enters into the subject of classification, a
subject to which young botanists are generally prone, but
of which they as generally, after having embroiled it, take
their leave, in proportion as they acquire more practical
knowledge. Dillenius so far displayed his judgment, that
he rather showed the faults of the systems of Tournefort,
Knaut, and Rivinus, than offered anything of his own. This
led him into some controversies, from which he soon disen¬
gaged himself, and never subsequently took up the question
at all.
The great William Sherard, while returning in 1718
from Smyrna through Germany, met with Dillenius, whose
scientific merit could not have escaped so eminent a bo¬
tanist. He brought him to England in 1721, and excited
him to publish, in 1724, that valuable enlarged edition of
Ray’s Synopsis of British plants, which has ever since been
in general use, and which the editor enriched with engrav¬
ings of his own. In this publication, compared with the
Catalogus of the plants of Giessen above mentioned, we
cannot but perceive the difference between an author work¬
ing upon his own original materials, and the commentator
or illustrator of the labours of another. Though Dillenius
made numerous and correct additions to Ray’s work, in the
cryptogamic tribes at least, he rather confused than im¬
proved the other parts of the book, especially with regard
to synonyms, in which department he was never supremely
accurate.
In 1732, Dillenius published his magnificent Hortus El-
tkamensis, in two volumes folio, containing 324 plates, en¬
graved on pewter, with his own hand. Their merit con¬
sists in their very great precision and fidelity. The de¬
scriptions, and historical as well as botanical remarks, render
this a classical book in botany. Its style is good, and the
whole performance is worthy of the author, and of his emi¬
nent patron, whose brother, Dr James Sherard, was the
owner of the garden at Eltham, which furnished the rich
materials of this publication. Before this book appeared,
its author was established at Oxford, in the new professor¬
ship founded there by the will of William Sherard, who died
in August 1728, and who left L.3000 for the purpose, be¬
sides his own library, manuscripts, and ample herbarium.
30
D I M
D I N
Dillingen Dillenius took the degree of M.D. in this university in 1 < 35,
II though he had previously obtained the same rank at Gies-
Diminu- '**' 1 1 - J i.^^1 f/^ +V»o r'nmniptinn of* tl'lP
tion.
sen ; and he now devoted himself to the completion of the
Pinax, or universal collection of synonyms, which was She-
rard’s chief object in this foundation. The work was never
finished; for indeed neither Dillenius nor any one else could
even at that time be competent to it: still less, as botanists
and botanical works multiplied excessively, was this under¬
taking practicable. The publications of Linnaeus soon ren¬
dered it unnecessary. That illustrious foreigner in 1736
visited Dillenius, who was desirous of fixing him here as his
coadjutor; but to this scheme there were several impedi¬
ments. Nevertheless these distinguished men continued
ever after in correspondence, certainly to the advantage of
their common study, except in one but too important in¬
stance. We allude to the theory of the fructification of
mosses, in which Linnaeus implicitly adopted the faulty opi¬
nion of the Oxford professor, contrary to his own better ob¬
servation and judgment, taking the capsule for the anther.
This leads us to mention the immortal work on which the
fame of Dillenius rests, and which, in its way, will never be
excelled, the Ilistoria Muscorum, published in 1741, in
one quarto volume, with eighty-five plates, drawn and en¬
graved by the author. In this performance, laborious in¬
vestigation, acute discrimination, supreme accuracy, and
profound learning, are displayed beyond all example or com¬
parison. Following inquirers, like the celebrated Hedwig,
may, with better helps, have examined the same objects
more deeply; but none has taken so complete a view o
the subject, nor made so very few mistakes. ^ No botanical
book perhaps is so perfect in synonyms. Whether the la¬
bour of this undertaking was too much for the health of its
author, or whether his sedentary mode of lire was, on the
whole, injurious, we have no particular information; but he
began, soon after the publication of the Historia Muscorum,
to complain of ill health and advancing age. He was of a
short stature and corpulent habit, and died of an apoplexy
April 2, 1747, in his sixtieth year. A picture of this dis¬
tinguished botanist is preserved in the picture-gallery at
Oxford, from which a print has been published in Sim s and
Konig's Annals of Botany, vol. ii. Dillenius is said to have
been amiable and respectable in his private character. He
never married. His books and collection of mosses inferring
to his great work, with many drawings, especially of Fungi,
were bought by his successor Dr Humphrey Sibthorp,
and added to the Sherardian Museum, where they still re-
main. . . t
DILLINGEN, a town of Bavaria, in the circle of Sua-
bia, on the left bank of the Danube, 24 miles N.W. of
Augsburg. Pop. 3500. It was formerly the ordinary resi¬
dence of the bishops of Augsburg, and the seat of a uni¬
versity founded in 1552, but abolished in 1804. t las a
lyceum, gymnasium, and other schools, 4 churches, 2 cha¬
pels, 2 monasteries, an orphan asylum, ship-buildmg docks,
paper mills, and some trade. There is also a small town ot
this name in Rhenish Prussia, 26 miles south of icvts.
DILUTE, to render liquid, or more liquid, or to weaken
the strength by the addition of a fluid that is thinner or
weaker. The fluids thus added are called diluents.
DILUVIAL, pertaining to, or effected by, a flood or
deluge ; a term used more especially with reference to the
great deluge in the days of Noah.
" DIMACHdE (Sis, double, and gdXogaL, I fght), in An¬
tiquity, Macedonian horsemen, who sometimes fought also
on foot, like our dragoons. This species of troops was first
introduced by Alexander the Great.
DIMENSION, in Geometry, denotes either length,
breadth, or thickness. A line has one dimension, or length ;
a superficies two, length and breadth ; and a solid has three,
length, breadth, and thickness.
DIMINUTION, in Architecture, the gradual decrease
pore.
in the diameter of the shaft of a column from the base to Diminutioi
tl1 Diminution, in Music, is the abating something of the Dinag
full value or quantity of any note. ^
DIMINUTIVE, in Grammar, a word formed from some
other, either to diminish its force or to signify that a thing
is little in its kind. Thus, cellule is a diminutive of cell,
globule of globe, hillock of h ill. _ . .
DIMISSORY Letter{LiterceDimissontx), m the canon
law, a letter given by a bishop to a candidate for holy orders
having a title in his diocese, directed to some other bishop,
and giving permission for the ordination of the bearer.
When a person produces letters of ordination or tonsure
conferred by any other than his own diocesan, he must, at
the same time, on pain of nullity, produce the letter di-
missory given by his own bishop. Letters dimissory can¬
not be given by the chapter, sede vacante; this being deemed
an act of voluntary jurisdiction, which ought to be reserve
to the successor. .
DIMITY, a kind of cotton cloth similar in fabric to tus-
tian, but less stout, and frequently ornamented with cross¬
bars or stripes. It was originally imported from India, but
is now extensively manufactured in Britain, especially in
Lan 03,§kir0*
DIMSDALE, Thomas, Baron, an English physician,
greatly distinguished by his practice of inoculation for the
smallpox, was the son of a surgeon and apothecary at I hey-
don-Gernon, in Essex, and was born in 1/12. His fami y
belonged to the society of Quakers; and his grandfather,
after having accompanied William Penn to America, had
returned and settled in his native village. 1 homas was
educated for the medical profession, and commenced his
practice at Hertford about 1734. Here he married the only
daughter of Nathaniel Brassey, an eminent London bankei ;
and at her death in 1744 he became assistant physician to
the forces under the Duke of Cumberland, and continued
with the army till the surrender of Carlisle. Having re¬
turned to Hertford, he married, in 1746, Anne lies, and by
her fortune he was enabled to retire from practice. He
afterwards resumed it, and took the degree of doctor ct
medicine in 1761. His reputation procured him an invi¬
tation to inoculate the Empress Catherine of Russia and her
son in 1768; and for his services he was rewarded with the
appointments of counsellor of state and physician to lei
Majesty, with an annuity of L.500. He was also raised to
the rank of a Russian baron, and received a present ot
L.10,000, besides miniature pictures of the empress and her
After having inoculated great numbers ot the inhabi-
P i ~C 17,,^/-I/~\v*itAr TT L'irTr
tants of Moscow, he went to tlie court ot Frederick II. king
of Prussia, at Sans Souci, and thence returned to England.
In 1776 he published his treatise on inoculation,a work which
was translated into all the modern languages, not except¬
ing the Russian, and widely circulated over the Continent.
In 1779 he lost his second wife ; but afterwards married
Elizabeth, daughter of William Dimsdale of Bishops-Stort-
ford who survived him. He was elected representative ot
the borough of Hertford in 1780, and went again to Russia
in 1781, to inoculate some of the imperial family. On re¬
turning to England, he again fixed his residence at Hert¬
ford, where he died, Dec. 30, 1800, after an illness of about
three weeks. • • i
DINAGEPORE, a town in Hindustan, the principal
place of the British district of the same name within the
jurisdiction of the lieutenant-governorship of Bengal, is
situate on the left bank of the Pernabubah river, 260 mi es
north of Calcutta. The town has no public buildings de¬
serving particular notice ; but it is clean and well watched,
and contains a population of 30,000. The district of w lie i
this place is the capital is bounded on the N .E. by the na¬
tive state of Bhutan ; E. by that of Cooch Behar and the
British district of Rungpore; S. by Bograh, Rajeshaye,
DIN
Pinan and Malda; W. by Purneah ; and N. by the British terri-
|i tory of Darjeeling. It extends from Lat. 24.53. to 26. 38.,
Dinant. an[j from Long. 88. 2. to 89. 16. Area 3820 square miles.
This district possesses a soil much diversified; and the face
of the country has a waving appearance, being divided into
small valleys, each about two or three miles broad. Besides
the Pernabubah already mentioned, the principal rivers are
the Teesta, Attree, Jabuna, and Curateea. The district is
moreover intersected by numerous smaller streams, which
in the rainy season overflow the low lands, and swell into
large lakes fifty or sixty miles in length, which, while the
Ganges is in flood, have no outlet; and thus are so much
increased as to be navigable for vessels of considerable bur¬
den. After the inundation these low lands become covered
with a luxuriant pasture, on which are fed numerous buf¬
faloes, and large herds of other cattle ; or with rich crops of
rice, which is the great staple of agriculture; besides to¬
bacco, indigo, and hemp. The land does not answer for
wheat or barley. The soil of the elevated portions of the
country is in general a stiff clay, in some places black and
porous, in others stiff and tenacious. Many sorts of fibrous
plants for cordage and sackcloth are sown in April, May,
and June. Several sorts of pulse are also sown at the com¬
mencement of the cold season ; and, where the soil is good,
the sugar cane is planted in February and March. The in¬
habitants are in general extremely poor, and their farming
utensils are proportionally rude. They are in the proportion
of seven Mussulmans to three Hindus. Among both mar¬
riages take place at a premature age ; the effects of which are
stated to be manifested in the deterioration of the inhabi¬
tants, who are described as a weak and puny race. The
population has been estimated at 1,200,000. Dinagepore
constituted one of the provinces of the empire of Delhi, and
was transferred with the remainder of Bengal to the East
India Company in 1765, by the grant of the emperor Shah
Alum. The town of Dinagepore is in Lat. 25. 34., Long.
88. 38. (e. t.)
DINAN, a town of France, capital of an arrondissement
of the same name, in the department of C6tes-du-Nord,
pleasantly situated on an eminence near the left bank of
the Ranee, 32 miles E. of St Brieuc. It is surrounded by
walls of great thickness, and is defended by an old castle.
The town is ill-built, and the streets are generally narrow
and dirty,, though some of them have lately been much im¬
proved. Dinan is the seat of a court of primary instance ;
and has a communal college, hospital, concert-hall, public
library, and manufactures of sailcloth, cottons, hats, shoes,
leather, &c. Vessels of from 70 to 90 tons come up to the
town, and a considerable trade in butter, hemp, thread, &c.,
is carried on. Dinan is connected with Rennes by means of
the canal of Ille-et-Rance. Pop. (1851) 7732.
DINANT, a town of Belgium, province of Namur, and
capital of a cognominal arrondissement, on the Meuse, 12
miles S. of Namur. It occupies the declivity of a rocky
hill, the summit of which is crowned by a castle ; and has a
Gothic cathedral richly decorated in the interior, two hos¬
pitals, and a Latin school; besides salt refineries, tanneries,
breweries ; and oil, flour, hemp, and paper mills, and mills for
cutting and polishing marble. Pop. (1851) 6867. Dinant
is a place of great antiquity, for we find that a church was
consecrated here in 558, and a second in 604. It did not,
however, rise to any great importance till the eleventh cen¬
tury. In the twelfth century it was fortified, and was con¬
sidered a place of great strength. In 1466 Philip the Good,
duke of Burgundy, took and destroyed the town and its for¬
tifications ; but, three years later, his successor, Charles, al¬
lowed it to be rebuilt. It was taken and pillaged by the
French in 1554, and again in 1675. By the treaty of Rys-
wick in 1697 it was restored to the Bishop of Liege, but was
again taken by the French in 1794, and became the capital
of an arrondissement in the department of Sambre-et-Meuse.
DIN 31
DINAPOOR, in Hindustan, a town in the British dis- Dinapoor
trict of Patna, within the jurisdiction of the Lieutenant- . I!
Governor of Bengal, and situate on the right or south back ^S'
of the Ganges. It has a military cantonment belonging to  t
the British, consisting of two handsome squares, built of *~v-"~
brick, and capable of containing 1200 European soldiers,
and the European officers of tlie native corps. There is
also a capacious and handsome church. Pop. exclusive of
the military, estimated at about 16,000. Distant W. of
Patna 10 miles. Lat. 25. 37.; Long. 85. 7. (e. t.)
DINARIC Alps. See Alps.
DINDIGUL, a district in the south of India, situated be¬
tween the 10th and 11 th degrees of N. Lat. To the N. it has
Coimbetoor and Kistnagherry; to the S. Travancore and Ma¬
dura; on theE.thePolygar territory and Madura; and on the
W. Travancore, Cochin, and Malabar. The principal rivers
are the Noil and the Amravati; and the chief towns Dindi-
gul, Balny, and Palapetty. This district was conquered by the
Mysore government in 1757. Itwas taken possession of by the
British in 1783, and subsequently restored to Tippoo Sultan.
In 1792 it was again ceded to the British, and is now included
in the collectorship of Madura. The capital is of the same
name. It is a place of considerable consequence, and pos¬
sesses a strong fortress situated on a rock. Its population,
exclusive of the military, has been returned at 6550. Ele¬
vation above the sea, 700 feet. E. Long. 78. 5.; N. Lat.
10. 22. (E. t.)
DINDING, a small island in the Straits of Malacca, at
the entrance of the river Pera, about twenty miles in circum¬
ference. E. Long. 100. 36; N. Lat. 4. 15.
DINDYMENE, a surname of Cybele ; probably derived
from Mount Dindymus in Phrygia.
DINGLE, a market-town of Ireland, country of Kerry,
on the N. side of Dingle Bay, 8 miles E. of Dunmore
Head. It carries on some trade in corn and butter with
Liverpool, but the harbour is only fit for small vessels. In
the seventeenth century Dingle carried on a considerable
trade with Spain, and many of the houses are built in the
Spanish fashion. The linen manufacture, formerly exten¬
sively carried on here, is now all but extinct. Pop. (1851)
3261.
DINGWALL, a royal burgh of Scotland, and capital
of the county of Ross ; 15 miles N.W. from Inverness, and
182 from Edinburgh. It lies in a low situation at the mouth
of a glen opening into the north side of the Cromarty Frith,
near the western extremity of that estuary. The town is
rather neatly built, and consists of one main street, from
which several smaller ones branch off. The town-house is
a curious old building, with a spire and clock. The Esta¬
blished church is a plain edifice, on the north side of the
town; and near it stands an obelisk, 57 feet in height,
erected to the memory of the first Earl of Cromarty, who
was buried here. The harbour was formerly some distance
from the town; but in 1815-17 a canal was formed, by
means of which vessels of considerable burden are brought
to the immediate vicinity of the town. It is, however, a
place of little or no trade. Near the harbour formerly stood
the mansion of the powerful family of Ross; but of this
princely structure only a few fragments remain. Dingwall
was created a royal burgh by Alexander II.; and its charter
was renewed by James IV. It is governed by a provost,
two bailies, a dean of guild, treasurer, and ten councillors;
and unites with Tain, Dornoch, Wick, Kirkwall, and Cro¬
marty, in returning one member to the imperial parliament.
Market-day, Friday. Pop. (1851) 1990.
DINKELSBUHL, a fortified town of Bavaria, and the
capital of a bailiwick in the circle of Middle Franconia, on
the Wernitz, 20 miles S.W. of Anspach. It was formerly
a free imperial city, and now contains about 5500 inhabi¬
tants, engaged chiefly in the manufacture of woollen cloths,
hats, stockings, and leather.
32
DIO
DIO
Dinner
Diodati.
DINNER, the principal meal of the day. The word is
derived from the French disner, which Du Cange derives
from the barbarous Latin disnare; but Henry Stephens
derives it from the Greek Senrvdv, and contends that it
should be written dipner. Menage deduces it from the
Italian desinare, to dine; and that from the Latin desinere,
to leave off work.
DINOTHERIUM (Setvos, terrible; Orjpiov, a wdd beast;)
a genus of extinct herbivorous animals of gigantic size. See
Geology. r
DIOCESE, the circuit or extent of the jurisdiction ot a
bishop. The word is formed from the Greek Sionojcm,
government, administration, derived from SioiKew, which the
ancient glossaries render administro, moderor, ordino; and
hence Siot/ojcris Try? TroAews the administration 01 govern
merit of a city.
Diocese is also used in ancient authors for the province
of a metropolitan.
Dioccesis was originally a civil government, or prefecture,
composed of different provinces. .
The first division of the empire into dioceses is ordinarily
ascribed to Constantine, who distributed the whole Roman
world into four, namely, the diocese of Italy, the diocese of
Illyria, that of the East, and that of Africa. And yet long
before the time of Constantine, Strabo, who wrote under
Tiberius, takes notice (lib. xiii. p. 432) that the Romans
had divided Asia into dioceses; and he complains of the
confusion which such a division occasioned in geography,
Asia being no longer divided by people, but by dioceses,
each of which had a tribunal or court, where justice was
administered. Constantine, therefore, was only the insti-
tutor of those large dioceses, which comprehended several
metropolises and governments; the former dioceses only
comprehending one jurisdiction or district, or the countiy
which had resort to one judge, as appears from the above
passage in Strabo, and also from two in Cicero (lib.in. epist.
ad Famil. 9, and lib. xiii. ep. 67). _
Thus at first a province included different dioceses, and
afterwards a diocese came to comprehend different provinces.
In after times the Roman empire became divided^ into
thirteen dioceses or prefectures; though, including Lome
and the suburban regions, there were fourteen. These
fourteen dioceses comprehended a hundred and twenty pro¬
vinces ; each province had a proconsul, who resided in the
capital or metropolis; and each diocese of the empire had
a consul, who presided in the principal city of the district.
On this civil constitution the ecclesiastical one was after¬
wards regulated; and each diocese had an ecclesiastical
vicar or primate, who judged finally of all the concerns o
the church within his territory. At present, however, dio¬
cese does not signify an assemblage of different provinces,
but is limited to a single province under a metropolitan,
or more commonly to the single jurisdiction of a bishop.
Brito observes that diocese is properly the territory anti
extent of a baptismal or parochial church; and hence va¬
rious authors use the word to signify merely a parish, bee
Parish*
DIOCLEIA, in Antiquity, a festival with gymnastic
and other contests, celebrated during spring at Megaia, in
memory of an ancient Athenian hero Diodes, who died in
battle in defence of a youth he loved.
DIOCLETIANUS, Caius Valerius Joyius (a.d.
245—313), Roman emperor, was born of obscure parents in
Dalmatia. His reign lasted from a.d. 284 to 305. Ihe
rest of his life was spent in retirement at Salona. 1 he era
of Diocletian, or era of the martyrs, began August 29, 284.
See Roman History.
DIODATI, Giovanni (1576-1649), a celebrated Pro¬
testant divine and biblical annotator, was born at Geneva,
of an Italian family which had fled from Lucca to escape
religious persecution. At the recommendation of Beza he
was appointed professor of Hebrew when only twenty-one Diode™
years of age. In 1608 he was appointed parish minister of ^culus
Geneva, and in 1609 professor of theology. Along with D "
Theodore Tronchin, he was deputed to attend the synod of v _
Dort, and concurred in the condemnation of the Armimans.
Besides numerous theological treatises on quesUons con¬
nected with the reformation, Diodati translated the Bible
into Italian (1607); and afterwards into French (1644).
He also wrote Annotationes in Biblia, which was translated
into English in 1648; and translated Paul Sarpi’s History
of the Council of Trent, and Sir Edwin Sandys’ Account
of the State of Religion in the West.
DIODORUS SICULUS, a Greek historian, born at
Aovrium in Sicily. Of his life we know nothing except
what he himself has narrated, that, in prosecution of his his¬
torical researches, he undertook frequent and dangerous
journeys, and studied Latin at Rome. His history occupied
thirty years in writing, and was at last completed in foi ty.
From internal evidence it is certain that it was written after
the death of Julius Caesar ; but the passages which show him
to have survived the alteration of the calendar by Augustus
are generally regarded as spurious. His history, to which
from its comprehensive plan he has given the title ot Biblio¬
theca, is divided into three parts. The first treats ot the
mythic history of the Non-Hellenic, and afterwards of tie
Hellenic tribes; the second section ends with Alexander s
death; and the third continues the history as far as the be-
ginning of Caesar’s Gallic war. Of this extensive work there
are still extant only the first five books, treating of the mythic
history of the Egyptians, Assyrians, ^Ethiopians, and Greeks;
and also from the 11th to the 20th book inclusive, begin¬
ning with the second Persian war, and ending with the his¬
tory of the successors of Alexander, previously to the par¬
tition of the Macedonian empire. The rest exists only m
fragments which have been collected by Photius. I ie
faults of Diodorus arise principally from the gigantic nature
of the undertaking, the cumbrous nature of the materia s,
and the awkward form of annals into which he has thrown
his narrative. He has been at little pains to sift his ma-
terials, and hence frequent repetitions and contradictions
may be found in the body of the work. As a ciitic, he
seems to have been altogether ignorant of the ethical ad¬
vantages of history, and shrinks from administering piaise
or blame to the persons whose history he writes. In the
chronology of the strictly historical period he is occasionally^
inaccurate; and the poetical myths which take the place of
the early history are related with all the gravity of histoi ical
detail. His narrative is without colouring, and monotonous;
and his simple and clear diction, which stands intermediate
between pure Attic and the colloquial Greek of his time,
enables us to detect in the narrative the undigested frag¬
ments of the materials which he employed. The particulars,
however, which he has handed down are valuable as en¬
abling us in several points to rectify the errors of Livy.
The best editions of Diodorus are Wesseling’s, 2 vols., Am-
stel. 1745; that printed at Deux-Ponts, 11 vols., 1795—
1801 ; Eichstadt’s (to book xiv.) 2 vols.; Halle, 1802-4;
and Dindorf’s, 5 vols., Leipz. 1828-31.
DIOGENES, of Apollonia in Crete, a celebrated natural
philosopher who flourished at Athens about 460 b.c. As
the pupil of Anaximenes, and contemporary and friend of
Anaxagoras, his speculations stand midway between the
systems of these philosophers. With Anaximenes he re¬
garded air as the single element of the world, and in this
respect he fell short of the dualism of Anaxagoras ; but ac¬
cording to him this primal principle existed in various
modes, it was especially endowed with intelligence, and in
this respect he advanced beyond the pure materialism of
Anaximenes. From the identification of intelligence and
air, of mind and nature, the next step was obvious, viz.,
their recognition as distinct independent principles. Of his
DIO
Diogenes, treatise on Cosmology, some fragments remain, which have
been collected and edited by Panzerbeiter.
Diogenes,-the famous Cynic philosopher, was the son
of Icesias, a money-changer of Sinope in Pontus. Having
been detected in adulterating coin, his father and he were
compelled to leave their native city. According to another
account however, Icesias died in prison, and Diogenes fled
to Athens with a single attendant. On his arrival in that
city he dismissed his attendant with the piquant question,
“ If Manes could live without Diogenes, why not Diogenes
without him ?” and on the same principle he denuded him¬
self of all superfluous dress, furniture, and even ideas. A
wooden bowl, which, with his cloak and wallet, formed his
only moveables, is said to have been immediately discarded
when he saw a boy drinking water from the hollow of his
hand. The fame of Antisthenes soon attracted him to Cyno-
sarges, and the pertinacity with which, for the sake of wisdom,
he not only endured the scoffs but volunteered to submit to
the blows of the great teacher, soon procured him a favour¬
able reception from the whole Cynical school. The favourite
pupil, however, soon outstripped his master in the extrava¬
gancies of his life, and the pungent keenness of his sar¬
casms. I hat he took up his abode in a cask belonging to
the temple of Cybele, is a circumstance liable to suspicion,
from being more frequently alluded to by the satirists than
by the biographers of Diogenes. That he used to inure him¬
self to the vicissitudes of the weather by rolling himself in
hot sand in summer, and in winter by embracihg statues
covered with snow, are facts resting on the authority of all
the ancient historians. His numerous witty apothegms are
preserved by Diogenes Laertius. After his voyage to /Egina,
during which he fell into the hands of pirates, who sold
him as a slave in Crete, the conduct of Diogenes appears in
a much less ridiculous light. With characteristic boldness he
proclaimed to his captors that he knew no trade except “ to
govern men,” and wished to be sold “ to a man that wanted
a master.” Such a purchaser he seems to have found in
Xeniades, who took him to Corinth to superintend the edu¬
cation of his children. Here he spent the rest of his life, and
is said to have reached an extreme old age. Here at the
Isthmian games he taught the assembled concourse in the
Kraneion ; and hither he attracted a crowd of disciples when
Antisthenes had ceased to tickle their ears in Cynosarges.
Here, too, in all probability, his famous interview with Alex¬
ander took place, in which the only favour he had to beg of
the prince was that he would not stand between him and the
sun ; when Alexander is said to have exclaimed, “ If I were
not Alexander I would be Diogenes.” To Athens Diogenes
seems never to have returned. Of his death, which is said
to have taken place on the same day with that of Alexander
the Great, there are various conflicting accounts. That he
perished by the bite of a dog, or from the immoderate use of
raw-flesh, or by his own hands, are all generally disbelieved.
It is more probable that his death was calm and peaceful;
and in spite of his desire to be thrown to the beasts of the
field, he received from Xeniades ctn honourable interment.
In the days of Pausanias the Corinthians pointed with pride
to his grave ; and on the isthmus there was a pillar erected
to his memory, on which, as the self-chosen symbol of his
life, there rested a dog of Parian marble. His connection
with Lais, and the open indecencies of which he is said to
have been guilty, have thrown a shade upon his character.
The former incident is, however, it must be confessed, ex¬
ceedingly improbable ; and the latter charge was undoubt¬
edly exaggerated, if it was not originated by the shameless
excesses of the later Cynics.
It is difficult to give any systematic account of the phi¬
losophical opinions of Diogenes. His highest ethical prin¬
ciple was the exercise, or as he usually styled it the gym-
nastics of the soul, and in carrying out this idea in the family
of Xeniades the most honourable part of his life was spent.
VOL. vni.
DIO 33
With him virtue was merely negative, and its most promi- Diogenes
nent features were resolution and impassibility. With Plato Laertius
his model state was based on a community of goods and . H
wives. Even in antiquity his opinions seem to have been I)iome(ies•
confounded with those of Diogenes of Apollonia, and
works which were undoubtedly spurious were confidently
attributed to him. For his relation to Socrates and to the
later schools of philosophy, see Cynicism.
Diogenes Laertius, the biographer of the Greek philo¬
sophers, is supposed by some to have received his surname
from the town of Laerte in Cilicia, and by others from the
Homan family of the Laertii. Of the circumstances of his
life we know nothing. The date at which he wrote—pro¬
bably the reign of Septimius Severus—-is known only from
conjecture. His own opinions are equally uncertain. By
some he was regarded as a Christian ; but it seems more
probable that he was an Epicurean. The work by which
he is known professes to give an account of the lives and
sayings of the Greek philosophers. Although it is at best
an uncritical and unphilosophical compilation, its value, as
giving us an insight into the private life of the Greek sages,
justly led Montaigne to exclaim that he wished that instead
of one Laertius there had been a dozen. In the commence¬
ment of the work he divides philosophers into the Ionic and
Italic schools. The biographies of the former begin with
Anaximander, and end with Clitomachus, Theophrastus, and
Chrysippus ; the latter begins with Pythagoras, and ends
with Epicurus. The Socratic school, with its various
branches, is classed with the Ionic ; while the Eleatics and
sceptics are treated under the Italic. The whole of the last
book is devoted to Epicurus. From the statements of Bur-
laeus, the text of Laertius seems to have been much fuller
than that which we now possess ; and hopes have been en¬
tertained of obtaining a more complete copy. The best
modern edition is that of Hiibner, Leipzig,' 2 vols. 8vo,
1828-31. 8 ’
DIOMEDES, the most valiant, after Achilles, of all the
Greeks who took part in the Trojan war. He was the son
of Tydeus (from whom he inherited his patronymic of Ty-
dides) and Deipyle, and succeeded Adrastus on the throne
of Argos. According to the old traditions, Tydeus perished
in the famous expedition of the Seven against Thebes, leav¬
ing his son an infant. Diomedes’ first act on attaining the
years of manhood, was to lead another expedition against
that city, which he took, and amply avenged his father’s
death. When war was declared against Troy, Diomede, in
company with Sthenelus and Euryalus, set sail with eighty
ships to avenge the injuries of Menelaus. The numerous
exploits of Diomede in the Trojan war are all recorded in
the glowing verse of Homer in the Iliad. He fought with
the bravest heroes of the Trojan army, Hector and /Enaeas,
both of whom he put to flight. Even the gods who did
battle on the side of Troy were encountered by him with
the same reckless boldness which marked his engagements
with ordinary mortals. Mars himself retired wounded
before him from the field of battle; and even Venus did
not escape the resistless impetuosity of his attack, when she
ventured to mingle in the fight in defence of her favourite
Trojans. In the games instituted by Achilles to comme¬
morate the death of Patroclus, he gained the prize in the
horse-race, and defeated the mighty Ajax in single combat.
In the hands of later writers the valour and warlike ex¬
ploits of Diomede received various embellishments. He
was the companion of Ulysses in persuading Philoctetes to
join the camp; and, along with him, carried off the palla¬
dium. In returning home he was stranded off the coast of
Lycia; and on his arrival at Argos he was either too indig¬
nant at the faithlessness of his wife to remain, or was expelled
by the adulterers. According to one account, he retired
for a while to vEtolia, where he died ; according to another,
he returned to Argos ; and a third tradition represents that
E
[
lie went to Corinth, and in attempting to return to his na¬
tive city was wrecked on the coast of Italy, where he es-
poused the cause of the Trojans against Turnus. _ Hence
several towns in the eastern part of Italy trace their origin
to Diomede.
DION Cassius Cocceianus, the celebrated historian
of Rome', was born at Nicaea in Bithynia, a.d. 155. His
father’s name was Cassius Apronianus, and by his mother’s
side he was the grandson of Dion Chrysostom, who also ob¬
tained the surname of Cocceianus. When a young man he
accompanied his father to Cilicia, of which he had the ad¬
ministration ; and on his father’s death he went to Rome,
where in the last year of the reign of Marcus Aurelius, or
immediately after the death of that emperor, he was received
into the senate. During the reign of Commodus, Dion
continued to practise as an advocate at the Roman bar, and
held the offices of sedile and quaestor. He was raised to
the praetorship by Pertinax; but did not assume office till
the reign of Septimius Severus, with whom he was for a
long time on the most intimate footing. By Macrinus he
was1 intrusted with the administration of Pergamus and
Smyrna; and on his return to Rome he was raised to the
consulship about a.d. 220. After this he obtained the pro¬
consulship of Africa, and again on his return was sent as
legate successively to Dalmatia and I annonia. He vas
raised a second time to the consulship by Alexander Seveius
a.d. 229; but under pretext of suffering from a diseased
foot, he soon after retired to Niceea, where he died. The
date of his death is unknown. Previous to writing his history
Dion Cassius had inscribed to the emperor Severus an ac¬
count of various dreams and prodigies which had presaged
his elevation to the throne, and had also written a biography
of the emperor Commodus, which was afterwards incor¬
porated into his larger work. The History ol Rome, which
consisted of 80 books, and after the example of Livy was
divided into decades, began with the landing of Tineas in
Italy, and was continued as far as the opening of the reign
of Alexander Severus. The first 24 books exist only in
fragments; from the 36th to the 54th, the work is extant
complete; from the 55th to the 60th, it is probably an
abridgment; and besides these, parts of the 71st and 75th
books have also been recovered. As a historian the dili¬
gence of Dion is undoubted, and the various important of¬
fices which he held under the emperors gave him valuable
opportunities for historical investigation. Although more
philosophical than the compilations of the mere annalist,
his work is not remarkable for vigour of judgment or criti¬
cal acumen. His style is far clearer than that of 4 liucy -
dides, whom he took as his model; but his diction is full of
Latinisms. His history was first published in a Latin trans¬
lation by N. Leonicenus, Venice, 1526: the best modern
edition is that of Sturz, Leipzig, 1824-43, which contains the
Excerpta Vaticana. Varies other works, such as a History
of Persia, Enodia or Itineraries, a Life of Arrian, Getica,
and a Work on the Emperor Trajan, are attributed to Dion
Cassius, but in all probability without foundation. The
substance of his history is reproduced in tbe annals of Zo-
naras.
Dion Chrysostom (i.e., Golden-mouthed), was boin at
Prusa, in Bithynia, about the middle of the first century.
He visited Egypt with his father at an early period of
his life ; and went to Rome during the reign of Domi-
tian. Being implicated in a plot against the tyrant, Dion
fled from the capital, and wandered about in Thrace, My-
sia, Scythia, and the other countries of the Getse, with only
Plato’s Phaedon and Demosthenes On the Embassy in his
possession, till the accession of Nerva, when he was allowed
to return. With Nerva and Trajan he continued on the
most friendly footing. He retired to Prusa for a short time ;
but having been accused of peculation and treason, he re¬
turned to Rome, where he remained till his death. Eighty
orations of his are extant entire, and there are fragments of
about fifteen others. They are written in a lucid and ele- .
gant style, and treat mostly of political, ethical, and mytho¬
logical subjects.
" Dion, of Syracuse, w-asthe son of Hipparinus, and bro¬
ther-in-law of Dionysius the Elder. In his youth he w'as an
ardent admirer and diligent pupil of Plato, whom Diony¬
sius had invited to Syracuse ; and he used every effort
to promote the ascendency of his master’s maxims in the
administration of the kingdom. His near relationship to
the despot gave him great influence at court; and also
enabled him to amass considerable wealth. Accordingly,
on the accession of the younger Dionysius, the stern mo¬
rality of the philosopher stood in marked contrast to the
dissolute character of the prince. An antagonism thus si¬
lently sprung up between the two ; and the proposal of Dion
to invite Plato again to Syracuse was made the occasion of
an open rupture. To counteract the influence of that dis¬
tinguished philosopher, the enemies of Dion obtained the
recal of the historian Philistus, who had already signalized
himself as a faithful supporter of despotic power. '1 his art¬
ful courtier quickly regained his ascendency over the mind
of Dionysius, and was at length successful in procuring the
banishment of Dion. The exiled philosopher retired to
Athens, where he was at first permitted to enjoy his reve¬
nues in peace ; but the intercessions of Plato served to ex¬
asperate the tyrant, and at length inflamed him to confiscate
the property of Dion, and give his wife to another, This
last outrage roused Dion to seek the liberation of his coun¬
try by force of arms. Assembling a small force at Zacyn-
thus, he sailed to Sicily, and, in the absence of Dionysius,
was received with demonstrations of joy. He succeeded in
defeating the forces of the tyrant, but was himself soon after
supplanted by the intrigues of Heraclides. Again he was
banished; but the incompetency of the new leader soon led
to his recal. He had, however, scarcely made himself master
of Sicily when the people began to express their discontent
with his tyrannical conduct, and he was assassinated by Ca-
liphus, an Athenian who had accompanied him in his expe¬
dition.
DIONIS, Pierre, one of the greatest surgeons of the
eighteenth century, was born at Paris. During the reign
of Louis XVI., he was appointed anatomical demonstrator
in the Jardin des Plantes. His earliest publication is en¬
titled Anatomic de VHomme, suivant la circulation du
sang, et les nouvelles decouvertes, 8vo, 1690, and has been
frequently reprinted. It was translated into the Tartar
dialect by a Jesuit, for the use of Kang-hi, emperor of
China. In another work, published in 1698, entitled Dis¬
sertation Historique et Physique sur la Generation de
VHomme, he supports the ovarian hypothesis. In 1707 he
published a work on surgery, entitled Cours d'Opera¬
tions de Chirurgerie, 8vo, which was several times re¬
printed ; and was afterwards edited with notes by Lafaye,
in two vols. This treatise was long received as a standard
book on the subject. He also wrote Dissertation sur la
Mort Subite, 12mo, published in 1709, and a Traite Gene-
rale des Accouchements, 1718, 8vo. The last is little more
than an abridgment of Mauriceau’s work on the same sub¬
ject. Dionis died at Paris Dec. 11, 1718.
DIONYSIA, in Grecian Antiquity, festivals in honour
of Dionysus (Bacchus), sometimes called by the general
name of Orgia, and by the Romans Bacchanalia and Li-
beralia. See Bacchanalia, and Bacchus.
DIONYSIUS, the Elder, tyrant of Syracuse, was born
about b.c. 430. He began life as a clerk in a public office,
and first took part in political affairs during the dissensions
that followed the destruction of the Athenian expedition.
He was wounded in the attempt of Hermocrates to seize up¬
on Syracuse ; and during the disasters inflicted by the Car¬
thaginians who had invaded the island, he succeeded, along
DIO
Dionysius, with Philistus and Hipparinus, in procuring the deposition
of the Sicilian generals, and was himself included in the
number appointed in their stead. By intriguing with the
inhabitants of Gela, which he had been sent to relieve, and
spreading insinuations of treachery in regard to his col¬
leagues, he was ultimately invested with the supreme com¬
mand ; and by the help of a large body-guard he soon made
himself independent of the popular opinion. Pestilence
having thinned the Carthaginian army, Dionysius, in spite
of his ill success, found no difficulty in procuring peace (b.c.
605). In the stronghold of Ortygia he defied the machina¬
tions of his enemies, until, partly from defeats and partly
from dissensions, the opposition died away. After a suc¬
cessful expedition against Naxos, Catana, and Leontini,
his next efforts were directed against Carthage. (See Car¬
thage.) He also carried an expedition against Rhegium
and its allied cities in Magna Greecia. In one campaign, in
which he was joined by the Lucanians, he devastated the
territories of Thurii, Croton, and Locri. After a protracted
siege he took Rhegium b.c. 387, and sold the inhabitants as
slaves. He joined the Illyrians in an unsuccessful attempt to
plunder the temple of Delphi, and also pillaged the temple
of Care on the Etruscan coast. In the Peloponnesian war
he espoused the side of the Spartans. Not content with
his military renown, Dionysius aspired also to poetical glory.
His poems were hissed at the Olympic games ; but having
gained a prize for tragic poetry at Athens, he was so elated
that he engaged in a debauch which proved fatal, b.c. 367.
His life was written by Philistus, but the work has unfor¬
tunately perished. See Syracuse.
Dionysius, the Younger, ascended the throne of Syra¬
cuse at his father’s death. He was driven from the kingdom
by Dion, and fled to Locri; but during the commotions
which followed the assassination of that leader, he managed
to make himself master of Syracuse. On the arrival of
Timoleon he was compelled to surrender and retire to Co¬
rinth, b.c. 343, where he spent the rest of his days in poverty.
Dionysius, of Halicarnassus, was born about the middle
of the first century b.c. His father’s name was Alexander.
From the introduction to his great work we learn that he
went to Italy after the termination of the civil wars, and
spent twenty-two years in preparing materials for his history,
which is entitled Ai-chceologia, and embraced the history of
Rome from the mythical period to the beginning of the
first Punic war. It was divided into twenty books ; of which
the first nine remain entire, the tenth and eleventh are nearly
complete, and the remaining books only exist in fragments.
In the first three books of Appian, and in the Camillus of
Plutarch, much of Dionysius has undoubtedly been embo¬
died. As a historian he is minute and painstaking; but
his attempts to Grecianize the early history of Rome, that the
Greeks might in some measure be reconciled to a foreign
yoke, renders his accuracy more than suspicious. Dionysius
was also the author of a treatise on rhetoric, which, with his
criticisms on Thucydides, Lysias, Isocrates, Isgeus, Dinar-
chus, Plato, and Demosthenes, have been preserved. The
best editions of his works are those of Hudson and Reiske.
The rhetorical works have been edited separately, by Gros
and by Westermann.
Dionysius, surnamed Periegetes, from his being the
author of a Trepi^y^cris rijs yijs, containing a description of
the whole earth in hexameter verse, and written in a terse,
and elegant style. This work enjoyed a high degree of
popularity in ancient times, and two translations or para¬
phrases of it were made by the Romans, one by Rufus
Festus Avienus, and the other by the grammarian Priscian.
The best edition of the original is that by Bernhardy, Leip.
1828. Great differences of opinion have been entertained
as to the age and country of this Dionysius. All however
are agreed in placing him in the time of the Roman empe¬
rors, and it seems highly probable that he flourished in the
DIO 35
latter part of the third, or the beginning of the fourth cen- Dionysius
tury. Eustathius says that he was by descent a Libyan. _ II
Dionysius the Areopagite^ according to Suidas, was ^ioi,tase-
an Athenian by birth, and eminent for his literary attain-
ments. He studied first at Athens, and afterwards at He¬
liopolis in Egypt. While in the latter city, he beheld that
remarkable eclipse of the sun, as he terms it, which took
place at the death of Christ, and exclaimed to his friend
Apollophanes, rj to Ozlov Trarryei, rj toj Tracr^dvri crv/iTracr^et,
“ Either the Divinity suffers, or sympathises with some
sufferer.” He further details, that after Dionysius returned
to Athens, he was admitted into the Areopagus ; and, hav¬
ing embraced Christianity about a.d. 50, was constituted
Bishop of Athens by the apostle Paul (Acts xvii. 34).
Aristides, an Athenian philosopher, asserts that he suffered
martyrdom—a fact generally admitted by historians; but
the precise period of his death, whether under Domitian,
Trajan, or Adrian, is not certain. A writer in later times
attempted to personate the Areopagite, and contrived
to pass his productions on the Christian world as of the
apostolic age, thereby greatly influencing the spirit both
of the Eastern and Western Churches. These writings
consist of a book called The Celestial Hierarchy; another
Of the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy; A Treatise on the Divine
Names; another Of Mystical Divinity; and Ten Epistles.
Different opinions have been held as to the real author of
these productions. They were ascribed, at an early period,
to Apollinaris, Bishop of Laodicea, in the fourth century—
an opinion to which the learned Cave inclines, though he
thinks that Apollinaris the son may have been the author.
There have not been wanting instances in which suppositi¬
tious works were fathered upon great names by disciples of
the Apollinarian school. The resemblance between the
Areopagitica and the writings of Proclus and Plotinus is
so obvious as to afford great probability that the Pseudo-
Dionysius did not write much earlier than the fifth century.
The first uncontroverted occasion on which these supposi¬
titious writings are referred to, is in the conference between
the Severians (a sect of Eutychians) and the Catholics, held
in the Emperor Justinian’s palace, a.d. 532, in which they
are quoted by the heretical party. Maximus, and other
writers in the following ages, refer to them frequently.
DIONYSUS. See Bacchus.
DIOPHANTINE Problems, in Mathematics, certain
questions relating to square and cube numbers, and right-
angled triangles, the nature of which was determined by
Diophantus, a mathematician of Alexandria, who is believed
to have lived about the third century. The works of Dio¬
phantus were published with notes at Paris in 1621, by
Bachet de Meziriac ; and another edition appeared at Tou¬
louse in 1670, with observations on every question by M.
Fermat.
DIOPHANTUS, a celebrated mathematician of Alex¬
andria, the reputed inventor of algebra. His era is uncer¬
tain. Some have placed him before Christ, and some after,
in the reigns of Nero and the Antonines, but all with equal
uncertainty. It is doubtful whether or not he be the same
Diophantus who wrote the Canon Astronomicus, which
Suidas says was commented on by the celebrated Hypatia,
daughter of Theon of Alexandria. By the ancients, he was
ranked with Pythagoras and Euclid in mathematical learn¬
ing. From his epitaph in the Anthologia, Bachet has
gleaned the following particulars concerning him, namely,
that he was married when he was thirty-three years old,
and had a son born five years thereafter ; that this son died
at the age of forty-two, and that his father did not survive
him above four years. From this it appears that Diophan¬
tus lived to the age of eighty-four. See Algebra.
DIOP I ASE of Haiiy ; the rhombohedral emerald ma¬
lachite of Mohs. 1 his is a very rare mineral. It occurs in
crystals of small dimensions, of a brilliant emerald-green
36
DIO
Dioscuri.
Diopter colour, disposed in limestone, and is only found in the Kii-
II ghese steppes, Siberia. See index to Mineralogy.
^ DIOPTER, or Dioptra, the same with the index or
alhidade of an astrolabe, or other similar instrument.
Dioptra was an instrument invented by Hipparchus,
which served several purposes, as to level water courses,
to take the height of towers or places at a distance, to de¬
termine the places, magnitudes, and distances of the planets,
and the like.
DIOPTRICS, that part of optics which treats ot the
laws of refraction, and the effects which the refraction of
light has in vision. See Optics.
DIORAMA (Sia and opa/ia, view), a mode of painting
and of scenic exhibition, by which landscapes, and archi¬
tectural and other objects are represented with the most
perfect degree of optical illusion. I he diorama is an imi¬
tation of the panorama, which was invented by Barker, an
English artist, about 1796, and afterwards greatly improved
in France. The first diorama was exhibited by MM. Da¬
guerre and Bouton at Paris in 1822. 1 he painting, which
in the panorama is cylindrical, in the diorama is prepared on
a plane surface. The management of the lights is a most
important part of the exhibition. Various means are em¬
ployed to enhance the illusion by optical combinations, such
as transparencies, coloured glass, the light ot torches,
screens, &c.; and the differences of reflected and transmitted
light afford an almost infinite variety of effects. By such
means the transitions from day to night, and all the varied
tints of sunshine and shadow, are imitated with a degree of
illusion that is almost magical. The spectator is introduced
into a chamber from which light is excluded, and sees
through a large aperture or proscenium a view that is some¬
times of great extent, and which is illuminated with all the
effect of reality. The illusion is sometimes enhanced by
several adjuncts, such as music, the singing of birds, the
sound of rushing water, &c.
DIOSCORIDES, Pedacius or Pedanius, a celebrated
physician, born in Cilicia, who flourished probably in the
first centurv. He was author of a treatise on Matei ia
Medica; and some smaller works on Toxicology are also
attributed to him.
DIOSCURI (from Zevs, Aios Jupiter,andKofpoichildren),
or sons of Jupiter, the common designation of the brothers
Castor and Pollux. According to the myths, which how¬
ever are very variously narrated by different authors, these
twins were the children of Tyndareus, king of Sparta, and
Leda. According to other accounts they were the children
of Jupiter and Leda. In other versions of the same myth
Leda is mentioned as having produced two eggs, from one
of which sprang Castor and Clytemnestra, and from the
other Pollux and Helen. The place is as variously given
as the manner of their birth. Some authors give Amyclae
on the Eurotas, others Mount Paygetus in Laconia, others
Thalamse in Elis, others various islands ot the TEgean. As
soon as they grew up, they became distinguished for their
skill in all athletic sports. Castor took under his especial
patronage all equestrian exercises; while Pollux became
equally renowned for his skill in boxing, of which he be¬
came, in after times, the tutelary god. It is in allusion to
this fact that Horace (lib. i., ode 12) talks of the
pueros Ledss
Hunc equis, ilium superare pugnis
Nobilem.
The leading events in the lives of the Dioscuri are three in
number. The first of these is their invasion of Attica, in
which they rescued their sister Helen, who had been carried
off by Theseus: the second, their share in the Argonautic
expedition ; and the third, their battle with the sons of
Aphareus, in which Castor was killed. Pollux, finding his
brother dead on the battle-field, implored Jupiter to be al¬
lowed to die along with him. Jupiter gave him his choice
DIP
either to live as an immortal with the other gods, or to spend Dioscuria
his time alternately, day by day, in Hades and in the upper II
world. According to other accounts the brothers were trans- ( P non^
lated to heaven together after death, and ranked among the
stars under the name of Gemini. rI he worship of the Dios¬
curi was very widely diffused throughout the ancient world ;
but especial honours were paid to them in Sparta and the
Dorian colonies of Magna Grsecia. It is in allusion to this
fact that Mr Macaulay in his Lay of the battle of the Lake
Regillus, in which they fought on the side of Rome, de¬
scribes them as accounting for their appearance on that oc¬
casion—
By many names men call us,
In many homes we dwell;
Well Samothracia knows us,
Gyrene knows us well:
Our house in gay Tarentum
Is hung each morn with flowers ;
High o’er the masts of Syracuse
Our marble portal towers ;
But by the proud Eurotas
Is our dear native home,
And for the right we come to fight
Before the ranks of Rome.
They generally appear in the ancient classics as kindly,
and disposed to help and protect all such as do them due
honour. On this account their worship was carefully ob¬
served by travellers, whether on land or sea. Sailors were
consequently very scrupulous in paying their homage to these
deities both before and after a voyage ; and even in the
midst of a storm their prayers were believed to be not un¬
heard by the Tyndaridse. Hence Horace describes them
as divinities—
 quorum simul alba nautis
Stella refulsit,
Decidit saxis agitatus humor ;
Concidunt venti fugiuntque nubes
Et simul quod sic voluere Ponto
Unda recumbit.
Though their worship was perhaps most carefully observed
among people of Dorian origin, they were held in no small
veneration at Rome. It was the popular belief in that city
from an early period, that the great day of the Regillus had
been decided by their interposition. They had fought, it
was said, armed and mounted, at the head of the legions of
the commonwealth, and had afterwards carried the news
of the victory with incredible speed to the city, ihe well
in the forum at which they alighted was pointed out. Near
the well rose their ancient temple. A great festival was
kept in their honour on the Ides of Quintilis, believed to
be the anniversary of that battle, and sumptuous sacrifices
were offered to them at the public charge. It was further
ordained that a grand muster and inspection of the eques¬
trian body should be part of the ceremonial performed. All
the knights, clad in purple, and crowned with olive, were to
meet at a temple of Mars in the suburbs. Thence they
were to ride in state to the forum, where the temple of the
twins stood. This pageant was during several centuries
considered as one of the most splendid sights of Rome. In
the time of Dionysius the cavalcade consisted of 5000 horse¬
men, all persons of fair repute and independent fortune.
DIOSCURIA, in Antiquity, festivals in honour ot the
Dioscuri (Castor and Pollux), which were observed with
great solemnity by the Cyreneans, and very generally
throughout Greece, but especially by the Spartans, whose
country was believed to have been honoured by the birth ot
these heroes. At Athens the Dioscuri were called Anak-
tes, and their festival Anakeia. Little is known regarding
the ceremonies observed on these occasions.
DIOTA, an ancient Greek vessel for holding wine; so
called because it had two ears or handles. See Amphora.
DIPHTHONG, in Grammar, a double vowel, or the
mixture of two vowels pronounced together so as to make
one syllable.
DIP
DIP
37
Dipleido- The Latins pronounced the two vowels in their diph-
scope. thong ae or and oe or o?, much as we do, only that the
V-*'' one was heard much weaker than the other, though the
division was made with all the delicacy imaginable. Diph¬
thongs witli reference to sight, are distinguished from those
with reference to sound. In the former, either the parti¬
cular sound of each vowel is heard in the pronunciation ;
or the sound of one of them is drowned; or, lastly, a new
sound, different from either, results from both; but the
first of these only are real diphthongs, as being such both
to the eye and ear. Diphthongs with regard to the ear are
either formed of two vowels meeting in the same syllable,
or of two vowels whose sounds are severally heard; or of
three vowels in the same syllable, which only afford two
sounds in the pronunciation.
English diphthongs, with regard to the eye and ear, are
ai, au, ea, ee, ei, oo, ou. Improper English diphthongs,
with regard to the eye only, are act, ae, co, eu, ie, ei, oe,
ue, ui.
DIPLEIDOSCOPE, an instrument invented by Mr
Bloxam, whose name has already been mentioned in the arti¬
cle on Clock and Watch Wokk, for ascertaining the time
of solar noon more exactly than can be done by a common
sun-dial. It can also be used when the sun is covered with
thin clouds, not thick enough to hide it, though sufficient
to prevent it casting a distinct shadow. The name is
compounded of SlttXoos double, ItSo? an image, and o-kottcco
I see, because in all positions except one it presents a
double image of the sun. The instrument is to be fixed
by a chronometer so that it may be in the position of show¬
ing the single image of the sun exactly at noon; and then
at about a minute before noon the two images make their
first contact, and at the same time after noon they com¬
pletely separate, and the times of these contacts and also
of the complete coincidence can be observed within two or
three seconds. The following is the principle of the con¬
struction.
Let A B C be the rectangular section of a prism set
so that a ray of the sun S I, and its reflected ray I R15
lie in the plane perpendicular to the axis of the prism. It
is not solid, but composed of three small glasses of which
AB, AC, are mirrors, but B C is only a plain glass not
silvered. Consequently, the ray SI will be partly reflected
from B C in the
direction I Rp but
part of it will pass
through the glass and
be reflected by the
mirror AC on to
AB, and there re¬
flected again and sent
through B C in the
direction «R2, mak¬
ing some angle a
with B C. Suppose
the angle of inci¬
dence, and there¬
fore of first reflec¬
tion to Rj, to be
A — 8 (A being the
opposite angle of the
prism), and the other
angles as marked in
the figure; and let
us see what a the
angle of the twice
reflected ray will be.
Now ^ = tt — (C-f A—8), in the small triangle near C;
therefore, in the one near A, y = tt - (A +/3) = C - 8; and
n the triangle near B, a = tt - (B + C - S) = A + S. And,
meretore, the difference between the directions of the once
reflected and the twice reflected rays is 2 8; and if the
prism is so placed that the angle of incidence = the opposite
angle of the prism at noon, the rays will then emerge paral¬
lel at noon, and the twn images of the sun will be seen as
one; as noon approaches, the images converge, and after
noon diverge, with a velocity double that of the sun itself.
But the plane of incidence and reflection can only be per¬
pendicular to the axis of the prism twice a-year. Still the
same result will take place if it is once set properly. For
suppose it to be set perpendicular to that plane at the equi¬
nox : then at midsummer the incident and reflected ray
I Rj will lie in planes making the angle w (the obliquity of
the ecliptic) with the equinoctial plane; but SI and I Rj
will be sections of two other planes parallel to the axis of
the prism, in which the incident and reflected rays also lie.
And, in like manner, the ray reflected from A C will lie in a
plane at the angle w below the equinoctial plane ; and that
reflected from A B to R2 also ; and the projections of these
rays on the equinoctial plane will lie in the same direction
as before; and, therefore, the twice reflected and the once
reflected rays will emerge parallel, as before, when SI is in
the plane of the meridian.
I he prism is inclosed in a small solid brass box in the
shape of an irregular pyramid about two inches high ; and
it is made so that it only requires fixing on a horizontal bed.
1 hey are only made by Mr Dent, as he is the proprietor of
Mr Bloxam’s patent. Instead of fixing them and so leaving
them exposed to the air, he has lately adopted the plan of
fixing a brass plate on the window-sill where the instru¬
ment is to stand, with a raised edge against which one side
of the dipleidoscope is laid when it is first set by the chrono¬
meter, and afterwards whenever it is used. It is generally
necessary either to smoke the front glass, or to look at it
through a piece of smoked or coloured glass, which is sup¬
plied with it, as well as the necessary table of the times of
first and last contact for every day in the year. Mr Dent
has also lately made them to revolve upon an axis parallel
to the earth’s axis, and with a graduated hour circle, so that
they may be used for any other hour as well as noon. But
in this case the instrument can only be used (except at
noon) for the latitude for which it is constructed, like a
sun-dial, unless it has an adjustment for latitude also, as
some of them have.
Some instrument of this kind ought to be kept by every¬
body who thinks it worth while to have a good clock, and
yet has no other means of occasionally obtaining the real
time, more accurately than from railway clocks, or public
clocks of ordinary quality. For those who feel any diffi¬
culty about using the dipleidoscope, or who wish to be quite
independent of the setting by a chronometer in the first
instance, Mr Denison recommends, in his Treatise on
Clocks, the following simple and independent construction
of a sun-dial on a larger scale for noon only, which is quite
sufficient for the occasional correction of a tolerably good
clock:—Fix a thin plate of metal (protected against rust
in any way you please) with a small hole in it, facing the
south as nearly as you can, and inclined to the horizon at
about 50° (not that the inclination is material), with the
hole about nine inches above a stone slab set quite firm and
level. Mark the point on the slab exactly under the hole
by means of a pointed plumb-bob, and call it C. About 11
o’clock see where the bright spot falls on the slab, and call
that A, and with radius C A draw as much of a circle as is
likely to be wanted for the bright spot again to reach it
about 1 o’clock. Mark the place where it does reach it a,
and bisect the arc Aa in M suppose, and draw a straight
line CM, as long as the slab will hold, from C through M.
That line is the meridian, and the spot will always fall upon
it at solar noon. Before you mark the line strongly, it will
be as well to take several observations of this kind at dif¬
ferent times, before and after noon, and on different days;
Dipleido¬
scope.
38 DIP
Diplomacy, and if their bisections agree in falling on the line CM you
W ^ may be sure it is right. We have seen one of these dials
with the gnomon only six inches high, and the time can be
taken from it perhaps as accurately as from a dipleido-
scope, and certainly with far less trouble.
In order that the bright spot may fall on the slab in winter,
the distance of its northern edge from C must be rather more
than four times the height of the hole above the slab. If tins
size is inconvenient, there may be a second hole made at
half the height, the plate or gnomon not being finally fixed;
then on any fine day in the summer half of the year, mo\e
the gnomon until the spot from this second hole also falls
on the line C M at noon (it can be done in a moment), and
there fix the gnomon. The lower spot will then always
D I P L 0
Is the art of conducting the intercourse of nations with
each other. The word obviously owes its origin to the
source subsequently explained in the article Diplomatics.
It is singular that a term of so much practical importance
in politics and history should be so recent in its adoption,
that it is not to be found in Johnson’s dictionary. 1 here
has indeed ever been a reluctance in the English nature
to acknowledge the art of transacting international busi¬
ness, as a pursuit worthy of a British statesman, or as one
entitling its adepts to honourable fame. It is popularly
looked on as the art of carrying into the business of na¬
tions a morality condemned in the intercourse of men with
each other, and as a means of employing subtlety where for ce
is insufficient to accomplish some statesman’s object. Hence
the term has been colloquially used to express a modified
degree of cunning; and conduct which is wily and subtle,
without being directly false or fraudulent, is styled “ diplo¬
matic.” The subject has been usually treated under the head
of the Law of nations, or as it is now more properly termed
International law. But a little examination will show that di¬
plomacy, though closely associated with international law, is
a separate sphere of intellectual exertion. I he diplomatist
undoubtedly requires to be acquainted with international
law, and to observe its general injunctions. He often finds
it necessary to appeal to the rules, or supposed rules, of that
code; but it would be a confusion of terms to count him
an officer engaged in the execution of international law. He
has to accomplish objects which are not achievable through
any law real or fictitious, but are achieved solely through
the art of diplomacy. The close connection of the two
systems with each other, and at the same time the distinction
of the sphere occupied by each, may be illustrated by an ex¬
ample. In the year 1841, some slaves, the property of ci¬
tizens of the United States, seized the vessel in which they
were embarked, and proceeded w'ith it to a British settle¬
ment, where on landing they asserted their freedom accord¬
ing to British law. A question thence arose, in that depart¬
ment of international law which is sometimes called the con¬
flict of laws. On the American side it was maintained,
that all civilized nations admit the sacredness of private
property ; and that when courts of law7 have to deal with the
citizensof another state, they enforce among them that state’s
adjustment of the laws of property. Hence the slaves, being,
it was said, property by American law, must be held so by
the judges in the English colony when American citizens
were the parties. On the other hand it was maintained,
that the civilized states, while they uphold property, should
not enforce the political laws of their neighbours, by perse¬
cuting refugees fleeing before a dominant influence; and
it was observed that British political offenders have always
been hospitably received in America. This view was
adopted, and the British courts holding the question to
D I P
fall on the slab if it is made only half the size above men- Diploma
tioned, though in winter the upper one will fall beyond it. II
It is best to make the slab a light colour, and an equation-
table may as well be cut upon it. (e. b. d.)
DIPLOMA (Greek, from SittAoos, double), originally de¬
noted any charter, letter, or other composition written on pa¬
per or parchment, and folded. In its modern acceptation it
denotes an instrument or letter, duly signed, which confers
some privilege, honour, or authority. Such are the diplo¬
mas given to graduates of colleges; to clergymen who are
licensed to exercise the ministerial function ; to physicians
and surgeons who are licensed to practise their professions ;
to agents authorized to transact business for their princi¬
pals,&&c. See Diplomatics.
M A C Y
be political, or between man and man, not a mere affair
of property, refused to ratify the demands of the slave¬
owners. The case of the Creole, as this affair was called,
was a question of international law, in which British judges
had to decide how far their own law permitted them to give
effect lo a foreign law. Had the American government,
from a preponderance of power in the southern states, or
from any other cause, thought fit to demand that Britain
should make reparation for the effect of this decision, or
should adjust her laws so as to decide otherwise in future—
then the question would have become one of diplomacy.
Questions in which private rights and obligations are con¬
cerned, are a perpetual source of diplomatic exertion. In
this country, and to some extent in the other states called
the great powers, the administration of justice is pursued on
rules so absolute, that there is no chance of their being re¬
linquished to favour a friendly or to injure a hostile nation.
Of this there was a remarkable instance in the late war, w hen
British judges would not admit the orders in council of 1809
to be an effectual blockade, so as to justify a forfeiture of neu¬
tral vessels for their infringement. Undoubtedly, however,
in those states where the power of the law is not so inde¬
pendent and supreme, the decisions of the courts in ques¬
tions with foreigners’will often be swrayed by the strength
or feebleness of the nation to which these belong, or by the
question, whether its representatives will or will not give
them support. In this manner diplomacy and international
law are often mixed up with each other; and so lately as
the year 1850 it became a question whether or not a Eu¬
ropean war should arise out of the circumstance, that the
petty kingdom of Greece refused to make good some pecu¬
niary claims by British subjects, the chief of whom, though
he was legally entitled to that designation, was by birth and
origin an Italian Jew. It was well known that Greece, in
refusing these demands, was instigated by Russia. It was.
important to the maintenance of British diplomatic influence
in Europe, that the petty states should be taught the fallacy
of such a dependence, and the claims were enforced by the
presence of a fleet, and a threat of bombardment, not so
much to terrify Greece, as to show her that Britain would
not permit encroachments by Russia on the rights of her
subjects. From such instances it will be seen that diplo¬
macy, besides the larger operations connected with great
treaties or alliances, keeps a vigilant eye on the ordinary
details of international law, for the purpose of seeing that it
is equitably administered. In this sense the diplomatist is
like a law-agent, whose duty it is to see that his client re¬
ceives justice at the hands of other nations under this code.
Diplomacy, as a science, has arisen out of the development
of the European powders, and their rise on the ruins of the
Roman empire. Asa uniform system, following principles
nearly as well established as those of many codes of law, it
D I P I, O
Diplomacy, exists solely among the European powers, partly embra-
^ cing those nations, such as Turkey and Persia, which have
been brought into close association with them. Ihe diffi¬
culty, however, of getting these Eastern states to understand
and obey the laws of diplomacy, and submit to its restraints,
has ever been an object of anxious comment to Wicke-
fort and the other systematic writers on diplomacy, i o
submit to be bound in the moment of power by a theo¬
retical system not enforced by the strong hand of any judge,
spiritual or temporal, is not consistent with the Oriental
mind; and the great civilized powers, in dealing with the
Eastern states, as in their intercourse with barbarous tribes,
have relied on their own strength, exercised with cruelty or
with mildness as the case might be. Alliances and leagues,
declarations of war and treaties of peace, have taken place, it
is true, among those states, but it would be a historical ab¬
surdity to suppose diplomatic relations connecting together
China, Burmah, and Japan, as they connect Britain, France,
Holland, and Prussia.
In the same manner the ancient world had its treaties
and leagues, but no systematic diplomatic relations. The
pretensions of Rome during the empire, indeed, superseded
every kind of international engagement, since she would
permit of no relation between the empire and any other
state, save that of predominance on her part and subjection
on the other. Yet it is evidently from this system of cen¬
tralization that the diplomatic relations of the European
states arose. Freed from the temporal jurisdiction of the em¬
pire, and no longer mere dependencies, the European states
were still subject in a modified shape to an influence radi¬
ating from the old centre of imperial authority. The Bishop
of Rome, in claiming a spiritual authority at least co-ex-
tensive with the geographical area of the temporal autho¬
rity of the departed emperors of Rome, created a sanction,
though an imperfect one, for the execution of justice among
nations, and acted in some measure as a controlling influ¬
ence over their diplomatic operations. A memorable in¬
stance of the influence of the Pope is found in the relations
between King John of England and Philip of France. The
semi-judicial authority of the court of Rome was cited in
support of the English conquest of Ireland, and was ap¬
pealed to by both parties in the Scottish war of indepen¬
dence. Little as the papal authority was respected by even
the most Catholic monarchs when they were at the head of
large and well-found armies, yet in matters of dubious
equilibrium the authority of the Pope had some weight;
and as his was a power not limited to any particular state
or cluster of states, but ever present throughout all the
transactions of Christian realms with each other, it had, be¬
yond doubt, an influence gradual and continuous, in giving
modern diplomacy the amount of specific character which
it had obtained at the period of the Reformation. Thus a
kind of traditional uniformity of practice has provided a par¬
tial substitute for that supreme power always necessary for
the enforcement of what are termed laws. Under the heads
Balance of Power, and the Law of Nations, the evils
arising from the absence of a supreme power to judge be¬
tween states, as the courts of law decide questions between
individual citizens, will be found amply discussed. It suf¬
fices here to say, that much of the deficiency is filled up
by the fortunate train of events which have created, through¬
out the civilized world, a traditional system of diplomatic
practice. On great occasions, when sovereigns have made
up their minds to the commission of high national crimes,
as for instance, the partition of Poland, the violation of the
Baden territory for the capture of the Duke of Enghien, or
the project in which Russia so fallaciously expected the
countenance of the British ambassador for a partition of
Turkey, the rules of diplomacy have been violated. But
there is always a certain shame attached to such violations
—a certain coercive influence in the uniform practice of
M A C Y. 39
diplomatic officers, which serves to bind powers the most Diplomacy,
tyrannical and fraudulent, unless when they are influenced -n/-*-''
by strong temptations; and the system altogether is thus a
powerful protection to the smaller states, and an instrument
for the conservation of peace and justice throughout the world.
It is hence generally in weak states that the science of
diplomacy has flourished. The politicians of the Italian
republics, among whom the name of Machiavelli stands su¬
preme, have been counted the earliest adepts in the science ;
and it was the practice of the greater states to choose their
diplomatists from Italy on account of the peculiar aptitude
of the educated Italians for the subtleties of the profession,
just as private employers selected clerks in Geneva and
valets from the Swiss. The nature of the skill thus
supposed to be acquired will readily be understood by re¬
flecting, that a small state standing alone against a great
power, and bluntly putting it at defiance so as to bring on
an immediate trial of strength, would be speedily lost; and
that it has been held the special and peculiar function of
the diplomatic representatives of such feeble governments,
to act on skilful calculations of the influence of the com¬
bined interests of nations great and small—as the chess¬
player, when making a move, calculates on its influence over
the relation towards each other of the symbols of various
degrees with which he plays his game.
The representatives of great nations, following up the
traditions of the science of diplomacy, have often sought by
similar acts to do what they considered their duty to their
country by taking advantage of every opportunity of aggran¬
dizing it. But modern political philosophy and morality
teach us that this is not the manner in which great nations
are to be supported or aggrandized, and that for their diplo¬
matic servants there is spread out a far nobler field of exer¬
tion. It is founded on the consciousness that the real power
of states must come from within—from the sound condition
of the people, physically, industrially, and morally—from
well-poised political institutions and good government. If
these are absent no diplomatic skill can make up for them ;
if they be present it cannot enhance the real power of the
state which possesses them. But to the diplomatic repre¬
sentatives of states both powerful and honest a function of
a higher character still than mere national aggrandizement
belongs, in the capacity, by able, temperate, and honour¬
able negotiation to keep feeble states from being crushed
by their potent neighbours, to preserve peace in the world
so long as it can honourably be preserved, and to see gene¬
rally that international justice is observed among mankind.
The true functions of the great powers are in some measure
embodied in the renowned lines in which Virgil told Rome
the duties she was not to fulfil :
“ Tu regere imperio populos, F.omane, memento ;
Hae tibi erunt artes; pacisque imponere morem,
Parcere subjectis et debellare superbos.”
The historical events, and the industrial and commercial
progress which have during the past hundred years so
aggrandized the power of Britain among European nations,
have, in this view of the uses of our diplomacy, become a
great boon to the smaller states, and even to the citizens of
the greater. The parliamentary responsibility, and the
perpetual public scrutiny and discussion to which the acts
of our statesmen are subjected, are not only checks on our
own diplomatic acts, but on those of every other civilized
state. It was a boast attributed to one of the great fabri¬
cators of British diplomacy, the elder Pitt, that not a gun
should be fired throughout the world without Britain know¬
ing why. If Britain could make good this boast, it would
extend in some measure to mankind at large the blessings
enjoyed at home from living under a responsible govern¬
ment. As it is even at present, the continuous liability
of having whatever he does called before parliament and
the public, must be an ever present and influencing motive
40
DIPLOMACY.
Diplomacy, with every British diplomatist. Hence he not only dare
not countenance any act of national rapacity, tyranny, or
fraud, but he is, as the representative of a nation which has
great power and no secrets, a check upon the diplomatic
honesty of all the world.
Of the advantages afforded to mankind at large by the
public responsibility of British diplomatists, a memorable
instance is afforded by the renowned Holy Alliance. It
was contracted on the 26th of September 1815 by three
monarchs who personally signed the document—the em¬
perors of Russia and Austria and the king of Prussia. This
treaty, announcing the determination of those who acceded
to it to act as Christian princes on the precepts of the Gos¬
pel, and to follow the rules of justice, charity, and peace, is
known to have been a combination among the despotic
monarchs to aid each other in the maintenance of arbitrary
power, and the suppression by them collectively of any
efforts in favour of constitutional principles occurring in
the dominions of any member of the league. Every
considerable European monarchy finally joined the com¬
bination with the signal exception of Great Britain. The
crown was then represented by the Prince Regent, after¬
wards George IV. Though it was known that few monarchs
had more sympathy with the objects of the league, he was
obliged to state that “ The forms of the British constitution
which he was called upon to maintain, in the name and in
the place of the king his father, prevented him from acced¬
ing to it in the form in which it was laid before him.”
Governed as Britain for some subsequent years was by
members of the political party whose sympathies with the
Holy Allies were the strongest, yet their efforts were, by
the necessity of their position as British ministers, directed
to the effective counteraction of the great plot of the des¬
potic powers. More lately, in connection with the source of
the war which Britain and France are now (1854) pursuing
against Russia, there was an instance of the effects of British
responsibility and publicity which will teach the rapacious
governments in future not to include in their projects the
chance of securing British co-operation. When the czar
of Russia was maturing his projects for the seizure of Con¬
stantinople and European Turkey—as his predecessors had
seized on Poland, Finland, and the Crimea—he tried to gain
the co-operation of the British ambassador, Sir Hamilton
Seymour, by seductive offers of British aggrandizement in
the East. Sir Hamilton, feeling the importance of the prof¬
fers so made to him, and his high responsibility to the Bri¬
tish parliament, communicated to his own government all
the details; which, being then at the command of parliament,
were published to the world, and were received as a signal
instance of imperial treachery.
The aggressive projects to which these revelations re¬
ferred have produced a revolution in European diplomatic
relations calculated to influence the condition of the world
for ages to come. It had become a sort of political super¬
stition that France and Britain are natural enemies. This
arose pretty obviously out of those claims which the pecu¬
liar rules of succession attributed to the Salic law had given
to English monarchs, on the throne of France. A conti¬
nuous succession of untoward events widened the hostile
schism thus created; and although on several occasions there
has been a popular sympathy between the two countries, it
can hardly be said that France and England have had an
opportunity of showing sincere and cordial co-operation in
the pursuit of a common policy from the period of the Cru¬
sades down to the spring of 1854, when in the Baltic
and the Euxine they united their forces against Russia.
With Scotland France had much diplomatic intercourse
down to the union of the crowns, and she occasionally made
tempting offers to Scotland as well as to Ireland while they
had separate legislatures. These were efforts directed to the
creation of a diversion against England, and they pointed to
diplomatic relations entirely the reverse of the present con- Diplomacy,
nection between Britain and France. If that connection -z
should prove permanent, it cannot fail, as has been here
before indicated, to create a signal revolution in European
diplomacy; and, onerous as its inauguration has been in a
hard contest with Russia, there can only be anticipated from
the cordial co-operation of the two most powerful states of
Europe the most benign influence over the destinies of the
world.
In contrast to the old opinions which attributed the power
and prosperity of nations to diplomatic ability, overlooking
the substantial sources of material progress, a political sect
has lately appeared who denounce the diplomatic system as
foolish or wicked, and proclaim the doctrine of non-inter¬
vention in the affairs of other nations. It is practically clear,
however, that whatever degree of perfection the world may
reach in time, the first great power which avows this opinion
will become the immediate victim of its rivals; and thus,
should Britain withdraw herself from the diplomacy of Eu¬
rope, the despotic states would soon become strong enough
to shut up the commerce of the world, and cast the world
two centuries back in civilization. There is reason, indeed, to
believe that the late aggressions of Russia were founded on
a supposition that the doctrines of this kind so often pro¬
claimed by enthusiasts, had really taken such deep root in the
public mind, that Britain would never go to war unless for
her own defence—a supposition which turned out to be sig¬
nally erroneous.
There is indeed a species of intervention from which
British diplomacy has been generally but not always free,
which cannot be sufficiently condemned. It is that which
endeavours to dispose of a resisting people, by compelling
them to belong to this or that state, to adopt some particular
form of government, or to accept some dynasty as its rulers.
For nearly a century after the revolution of 1688, the
existence of the direct descendants of the exiled house of
Stewart enabled France and the other European powers to
menace Britain from time to time with the prospect of a
civil war, creating within the country a diversion in favour
of hostile efforts from without. On the outbreak of the
French revolution, the despotic European states, exulting in
the success of the partition of Poland, combined for the
purpose of forcing back the Bourbons on their old throne,
or partitioning France ; and in this project they were joined,
to her shame and loss, by Britain. The result was a mise¬
rable chastisement of national presumption, since the new
republic, its spirit rising to the emergency, drove its ene¬
mies away on every side, and entering the despotic states,
propagated and enforced republicanism with reactionary fa¬
naticism. In the revolutions which have overtaken France
in later times, the British government has acknowledged
whatever power the French have chosen to submit to for
the time being ; but it is probable that the despotic powers
of the Continent are awaiting the moment to strike a blow
for that legitimacy which it is so much their personal inte¬
rest to preserve.
The free-trade policy lately adopted by Britain, will not
only remove many causes for interference with other na¬
tions, but must have the effect of generally simplifying our
diplomacy by the removal of one of its most troublesome
departments. Among the many advantages which it was
deemed within the power of able diplomacy to achieve, suc¬
cessful trade was one of the most important; and a multi¬
tude of treaties for accomplishing reciprocity of trading pri ¬
vileges remain to attest the earnest labour with which such
projects were carried out, and to perplex the historical in¬
quirer. Every advantage on one side was supposed to be
acquired by a loss on the other; and, as it is the duty of a
diplomatist as of a soldier to make the enemy suffer, it may
easily be imagined how much diplomatic exertion these il¬
lusory trading negotiations have caused. The belief of
\
DIP
Diploma- the free trader is, that for whatever a nation sells it must
tics. buy; for whatever it exports it must import. This is the
reciprocity of the natural laws of trade, which requires nei¬
ther treaties nor battles to enforce it. Few nations in pos¬
session of anything worth acquiring refuse to sell; and if
diplomatic skill shall ever be called on to help our trade, it
will not be in the arrangement of reciprocity treaties, but
in preventing the interference of arbitrary powers with the
freedom of trading populations.
It is perhaps scarcely necessary to mention that the source
of the diplomatic organization in any nation is its supreme
power; but it is useful to keep in view, that, for the rapid
movements of this department of politics, nations the most
jealous of their constitutional rights have been obliged to
place at least provisional power in the hands of individual
rulers. Thus in Britain the Sovereign, independently of
parliament, has technically the power to make treaties and
to declare peace and war; and an authority not much less
extensive is committed to the President of the United
States. The guidance of a great state’s relations with foreign
countries is generally committed to one department of the
government—with us it is the function of the foreign secre¬
tary. How far he is bound to consult his colleagues of the
cabinet in his intercourse with foreign states, has, even
within the last few years, been matter of acrimonious dis¬
cussion. The various representatives of the government
at foreign courts, though the dignified character of their
missions sometimes gives them a rank much higher than
that of their instructor, must obey the directions of the
foreign minister. In the negotiation of treaties there is
an old-standing dispute among publicists, how far nations
can be bound if their ambassadors exceed the instructions
given to them, which are generally kept secret. When,
therefore, an important international act, such as a treaty,
is undertaken, there are many sanctions and ceremonials to
be accomplished before it is held to be completed. While
matters are in a vague condition, many briefly expressed
fundamental suggestions will have passed among the nego¬
tiators in the form of notes. When the matter becomes
more ripe for adjustment, it assumes the shape of a protocol,
or draft of the conditions. The ambassadors, when all is
adjusted, sign the articles of the treaty ; but still it is gene¬
rally deemed essential that the several governments should
ratify it, or, admitting that their representatives have not
exceeded their instructions, engage to fulfil the bargain they
have made. In this country, whenever treaties aftect the
private rights of the citizen, they must be ratified by act of
parliament. The trade-reciprocity treaties were generally
of this class. Of late, arrangements with France and the
United States for the mutual apprehension of fugitive of¬
fenders have been so ratified by parliament; and in 1852
an act was passed for carrying into effect arrangements with
foreign powers for the mutual apprehension of deserters from
merchant ships. In addition to notes and substantive trea¬
ties, the most important documents in diplomacy may be
considered the manifestos, in which, paying homage to public
opinion and the established rules of diplomacy, governments
profess to justify their conduct. When any vile act of op-
D I P 41
pression or injustice is perpetrated, it is generally followed Diplomacy,
by an able manifesto, and the ingenuity of the accomplished
diplomatist is taxed to make the deed appear just, rational,
and necessary.
To know what nations ought to be admitted to co-operate
in negotiations, and which should be excluded, is one of the
most important objects of diplomatic skill. Thus, when in
1840 the treaty of London united the four powers, Britain,
Austria, Prussia, and Russia, in a union to compel the Pasha
of Egypt to submit to the Sultan, the absence of France
as a party to the treaty nearly caused a European war.
While in secondary questions there is generally a mere
correspondence between the representatives of two or more
powers, on great occasions, when an opportunity has arisen
for settling the organization of the civilized world, large
congresses or conferences have been held like international
parliaments. The latest and the most solemn of these was
the renowned congress of Vienna, interrupted by the Hun¬
dred Days’ reign of Napoleon. Much as the diplomacy of
this assemblage has been criticised, yet no one can fail to
remark, as a testimony to the general success of its adjust¬
ments, that while there have been revolutions and separate
contests among European nations—accompanied by severe
wars connected with our own Indian empire, and the colo¬
nial efforts of France—yet nothing has occurred seriously to
affect the general relation to each other of the European
powers, between the treaty of Vienna and the Russian war.
The nature and functions of the large body of officers
who chiefly conduct the diplomacy of the world having been
described under the word Ambassador, it only remains to
notice the incidental circumstance, that custom has for
some time established the French language as the language
of diplomacy. In the sixteenth, and during a great part of
the seventeenth century, the Latin was employed. In
Ludlow’s Memoirs there is, under the year 1656, a curious
notice to the effect that the Swedish ambassador “ com¬
plained of the delays in his business, and that when he de¬
sired to have the articles of this treaty put into Latin ac¬
cording to the custom of treaties, that it was fourteen days
they made him stay for that translation ; and sent it to one
Mr Milton, a blind man, to put them into Latin, who,
he said, must use an amanuensis to read it to him, and
that amanuensis might publish the matter of the articles
as he pleased, and that it seemed strange to him there
should be none but a blind man capable of putting a few
articles into Latin.” In turning over the pages of the
great collection of Treaties by Dumont and Rousset, one
may observe how gradually, during the ascendency of Riche¬
lieu, and the subsequent reign of Louis XIV., the use of
the French language radiates from the immediate diploma¬
tic transactions of France over those of Europe at large.
Probably its propagation was originally connected with the
visions of that universal French empire to which Louis
XIV. seemed to be marching before he encountered the
combinations of William of Orange. At the present day
it can only be pronounced a fortunate thing that diploma¬
tists have agreed to use one language, and that the best
adapted for their peculiar functions. (j. n. B.)
DIPLOMATICS, the science of diplomas, or of ancient
literary monuments, public documents, and the like. It
does not, however, nor can it absolutely extend its re¬
searches to antiquity, but is chiefly confined to the middle
ages and subsequent times. For although the ancients
were accustomed to reduce their contracts and treaties into
writing, yet they engraved them on tablets of brass, copper,
stone, or wood; and all that in the earlier ages were not
traced on metal or stone have perished.
The word diploma signifies properly a letter or epistle
which is folded in the middle, and which consequently is not
VOL. VIII.
open. But in more modern times the title has been given
to all ancient epistles, letters, literary monuments, and pub¬
lic documents, and to all those pieces of writing which the
ancients called Syngrapha, Cldrographa, Codicilli, and the
like. In the middle ages, and in the diplomas themselves,
these writings are called Litterce, Prcecepta, Placita, Charts
indiculce, Sigilla, and Bullae ; as also Panehartce, Panto-
chartce, Tractorice, Descriptiones, and so forth. The origi¬
nals of these pieces are named Exemplaria or Autographa,
Chartce authenticce, Originalia, &c.; and the copies, Apo-
grapha, Copice, Particulce, and so on. The collections
F
42 DIP
Diploma- vvhicli have been made of them are called Chartaria and
tics- Chartulia. The place where these papers and documents
^ ^ v ^ were kept the ancients named Scri/iict^ TctbulciviuiTi^ or
/Erarium, words which were derived from the tablets of
wood and brass; and, according to the Greek idiom,
Archeium or Archivum.
The time is not precisely known when our modern paper
was invented, and when people began to make use of quills
in writing instead of reeds. The ink of the ancients was
made of soot; and sometimes also they wrote with red ink
made of vermilion, or in letters of gold on purple or violet
parchment. It is not difficult for those who apply themselves
to this study, to distinguish the parchment as well as the ink
of the ancients from that of the moderns; but that which best
distinguishes the original from the counterfeit is the writing
or character itself, which is so different in different centuries,
that we may tell with certainty, within about forty or fifty
years, w'hen any diploma was wrritten. There are two w'orks
which furnish the clearest lights on this matter, and which
may serve as sure guides in the judgments we may have oc¬
casion to form as to what are called ancient diplomas. The
one is the celebrated treatise on Diplomatics by Mabillon,
with a supplement by Maffei; and the other the first volume
of the Chronicon Gotuicense. We there find specimens of
all the characters, the flourishes, and different methods of
writing, of every age. Besides several other works on di¬
plomatics, Gatterer and Schoneman, in more recent times,
have treated the science in the most systematic manner.
All the diplomas are written in Latin, and consequently
the letters and characters have a resemblance to each other ;
but there are certain strokes of the pen which distinguish
not only the ages, but also the different nations, as the writ¬
ings of the Lombards, French, Saxons, and so on. The
letters in the diplomas also are usually longer and less de¬
cided than those of manuscripts. There has also been in¬
troduced a kind of court hand, of a very disproportionate
length, and the letters of which are called exiles litterce
crispce, ac protractiores. The first line of the diploma, the
signature of the sovereign, that of the chancellor, notary,
&c., are usually written in this character.
The signature of a diploma consists either of the sign of
the cross, or of a monogram or cipher composed of the
letters of the names of the persons who subscribed it. The
initial letters of the name, and sometimes also the titles,
were placed about this cross. By degrees the custom changed,
and other marks were invented, as, for example, the sign of
Charlemagne, which was thus written :—
R
K—^—S
L
Sometimes also were added the dates and epoch of the
signature, the feasts of the church, the days of the calendar,
&c. The gradual corruption of the Latin language ; the
style and orthography of each age, as well as their different
titles and forms; the abbreviations, accentuation, and punc¬
tuation, and the various methods of writing the diphthongs;
all these matters united form so many characters by which
the authenticity of an ancient diploma may be knowrn.
The seal annexed to a diploma was anciently of white
wax, and was skilfully imprinted on the parchment itself. It
was afterwards pendant from the paper, and inclosed in a
box or case, which was called bulla. There are also some
which have been stamped on metal, and even on pure gold.
When a diploma bears all the characters which are requisite
to the time and place where it is supposed to have been writ¬
ten, its authenticity is not to be doubted: but at the same time
we cannot examine these too scrupulously, since the monks
and priests were very expert in making counterfeits, and the
more so as they enjoyed the confidence of princes and states-
D I P
men, and were even sometimes in possession of their rings Dippel’s
i Oil
or seals. . ..
With regard to manuscripts which were written before ^ H
the invention of printing, it is necessary to know their nature, v ^^
their essential qualities, and matter ; to be able to read them
freely, and without error; to judge of their antiquity by
those characters which we have just mentioned with refer¬
ence to the diplomas ; and to render them of use in the
sciences. As there are scarcely any of the ancient codes
now remaining written on the Egyptian paper, or on wood,
ivorv, &c., wt1 have only to consider those which are written
on parchment or vellum {membraneos), and such as are
written on our paper {chartaceos). The former of these are
in most esteem. With regard to the character, these codices
are written either in square and capital letters, or in half
square or round and small letters. Those of the first kind
are the most ancient. There are no intervals between the
words, no letters different from the others at the beginning
of any word, no points, nor any other distinction. The
codices which are wTitten in half square letters resemble
those we have in Gothic characters, as well for the age as
the form of the letters. Such as are written in round let¬
ters are not so ancient as the former, and do not go higher
than the ninth or tenth century. These have spaces be¬
tween the words, and some punctuation; but they are not
so well written as the preceding, and are frequently dis¬
figured with comments. The codices are divided, accord¬
ing to the country, into Lombard, Italian, Gaelic, Franco-
Gaelic, Saxon, Anglo-Saxon, and so forth.
In the ancient Greek books the periods of a discourse
are frequently terminated, instead of all other divisions, by
lines, and these divisions were called, in Latin, versus, a
vertendo ; for which reason these lines are still more pro¬
perly named versus than linece. At the end ot a wrork the
number of verses of which it consisted was put down, in
order that the copies might be more easily collated; and it
is in this sense that we are to understand Tribonius when
he says that the Pandects contain 150,000 pa-ne versuum.
These codices were likewise vel probee vel detemoris notaz,
more or less perfect, not only with regard to the calligraphy
or beauty of the character, but also with reference to the
correctness of the text.
It is likewise necessary to observe, in ancient codices, the
abbreviations used in different centuries. Thus, for example,
A. C. D. signifies Aulus Caius Decimus; Ap. Cn. Appius
Cneius ; Aug. Imp. Augustus Imperator. The charac¬
ters which are called yiotce are such as are not to be found
in the alphabet; but which, notwithstanding, signify certain
words. Lastly, the learned divide all the ancient codices
into codices minus raros, rariores, editos, et anecdotes.
The critical art is here indispensably necessary ; its re¬
searches, moreover, have no bounds, and the more as the
use of it augments every day, by the discoveries which are
made in languages, and by the increase of erudition. Much
learned and valuable information on all these matters is to
be found in the work entitled Nouveau Traite de Diploma¬
tique, par deux Religieux de la Congregation de Saint
Maur, 6 tom. 4to, Paris, 1750-1765.
DIPPEL’S OIL, a highly empyreumatic oil obtained by
the destructive distillation of bone.
DIPPING, among miners, the interruption of a vein of
ore or stratum. See Mining.
Dipping Needle, a magnetic needle that dips or inclines
to the earth ; an instrument for ascertaining the amount of
the magnetic inclination at the different points of the earth’s
surface. This fact was first observed by one Robert Nor¬
man, an Englishman, and a maker of compasses for mariners,
about the year 1576, who finding that he was always obliged
to counterbalance that end w'hich turns to the north by a
bit of wax or such other substance, though the balance had
been ever so exact before, published an account of his dis-
D I P
Dipsas covery as a matter of importance. The subject was instantly
II attended to; and instruments were not only contrived for as-
Diptycha. certaining the quantity of the dip, but various speculations
w ere formed concerning the cause of so surprising a pheno¬
menon
The general phenomena of the dipping needle are, that
in the equatorial regions it remains in a horizontal position,
but as we recede from the equator towards either pole it
dips ; the north end if we go northwards, and the south end
if we proceed southwards ; and the further north or south
we go, the greater is the inclination. Its inclination is like¬
wise found to vary very considerably at different times in
different places of the earth. See Magnetism.
DIPSAS, a serpent whose bite produces a mortal thirst;
and hence its name dipsas, which signifies thirsty. See
Deuteronomy, viii. 15. Cuvier has given this name to a
genus of serpents. See index to Serpents.
DIPTERA (from Sis, and Trrepov, wing), an order of in¬
sects which have only two wings, and under each wing a
style, or oblong body, terminated by a protuberance or head,
and called a balancer. See index to Entomology.
DIPTEROS. See index to Architecture.
DIP TO TE, in Grammar, a noun that has only two
cases ; as suppetue, suppetias, &c.
DIPTYCH A, in Antiquity, a public register containing
the names of the consuls and other magistrates among the
pagans ; and of bishops, martyrs, and others among the
Christians.
The word is formed from the Greek Sitttv^, which is com¬
pounded of Sis, twice, and ir-vcra-w, I fold or plait ; though
there were some in three, and others in four or five leaves.
There were secular diptycha in the Greek empire, as
well as sacred ones in the Greek Church. rIhe former
were the matricula or registers wherein the names of the
magistrates w'ere entered ; in which sense diptycha is a
term in the Greek chancery.
The Sacred Diptycha consisted of a double catalogue,
one part of which contained the names of the living, and
the other those of the dead, which were to be rehearsed
during the office. We meet with something not unlike the
sacred diptycha of the Greeks in the canon of the mass
according to the Latin usage, where the people are enjoined
to pray once for the living and once for the dead. In such
diptycha were entered the names of bishops who had go¬
verned their flock aright; and also the names of such as
had done any signal service to the church, whether they
were living or dead ; and mention was made of them in the
celebration of the liturgy.
Casaubon, in his observations on Athenaeus (lib. vi. cap.
14), supposes the Christians to have borrowed the custom
of writing names in a book, and rehearsing them at mass,
from the heathens, who entered the names of persons to
whom they wished to do any signal honour in the verses
of the Salii, as was done in the case of Germanicus and
Verus, sons of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, and a long
time before, during the ages of the republic ; in that of Ma-
mercus Veturius and Lucia Volumnia, as we are told by
Tacitus, Spartian, Ovid, Festus, Plutarch, and others. But
Rosweyd does not approve of this notion of Casaubon ; and
the pretended St Dionysius, a very ancient author, asserts
that this usage was originally founded on Scripture (2 Tim.
ii. 19; Psal. cxvi. 15). Rosweyd adds Ecclesiasticus (xliv.
1), and maintains these to have been the passages which the
ancient church had in view, rather than the Salian verses.
The secular diptycha were frequently sent as presents to
princes and others, on which occasions they were finely
gilded and embellished ; as appears from Symmachus (lib.
ii. ep. 81). Those presented were usually of ivory. The first
aw, De Expens. Ludor. in C. Theod. forbids all magistrates
below the rank of consuls to make presents of diptycha of
ivory in the public ceremonies.
D I S 43
DIRiE, a name of the three Furies. See Eumenides. Dirse
DIRECT, in Arithmetic, is when the proportion of any ||
terms or quantities is in the natural or direct order in which Discipline^
they stand. It is the opposite of inverse, which considers
the proportion in the inverted order of the terms. Thus,
3 : 4 :: 6 : 8 directly ; or inversely 4 : 3 :: 8 : 6,
DIRECTION, in Mechanics, the line or path in which
a body moves or endeavours to proceed according to the
force impressed upon it.
Direction, in Astrology, a kind of calculus by which it
is pretended to find the time in which any notable accident
shall befall the person whose horoscope is drawn.
DIRGE, a song or hymn expressive of grief and mourn¬
ing, as for the dead. It is a contraction of the Latin dirige,
the first word in the old formula of the Catholic service for
the dead.
DIRIBITORES, in Roman Anliquity, officers appointed
to distribute the tablets used by the people when they voted
in the ccmitia. Wunder, however, in the preface to his
Codex Erfurtensis, is of opinion that their office was to di¬
vide the votes afterwards, in order to determine the result;
and this opinion he founds partly on the etymology of the
word diribere, from dis and habere. See Comitia, vol. vii.,
p. 183.
DIRIGENT, or Directrix, in Geometry, the line of
motion along which the describing line or surface is car¬
ried in the genesis of any plane or solid figure.
DIS, a god of the Gauls, the same as Pluto the god of
hell. The inhabitants of Gaul supposed themselves de¬
scended from that deity ; and from that circumstance they
reckoned their time by nights instead of by days.
Dis, a prefix or inseparable preposition in various words,
the effect of which is either to give them a signification con¬
trary to what the simple words have, as disoblige, disobey ;
©r to signify a separation or detachment, as distributing.
DISAFFORESTING, the depriving of forest laws and
their oppressive privileges, or the act of reducing from the
privileges of a forest to the state of common ground.
DISC or Disk (Lat. discus, a quoit), the face of the sun
or any planet as it appears to the eye. In optics it denotes
the width of the aperture of telescope glasses. In botany
it is applied to the central part of a radiate compound flower.
It is also used generally for any circular plane surface.
DISCIPLE (from disco, 1 learn), a scholar or follower
of any teacher or philosopher. The followers of Jesus
Christ in general were so called : but in a more restricted
sense, the term was used to denote those alone who were
the immediate followers and attendants on his person, of
which there were seventy or seventy-two. The terms dis¬
ciple and apostle are often used synonymously in the Gospel
history ; but the apostles, as distinguished from disciples,
were the twelve selected to be the principal ministers of the
Christian religion. The Latins kept the festival of the
seventy or seventy-two disciples on the 15th July, and the
Greeks on the 4th January.
DISCIPLINE, in a general sense, denotes instruction
and government; as military or ecclesiastical discipline.
Book of Discipline, in the Church of Scotland, is a com¬
mon order, drawn up by the assembly of ministers in 1650,
for the reformation and uniformity to be observed in the
discipline and policy of the church. In this book episcopal
government is set aside ; kirk-sessions are established ; the
observance of saints’ and other holy days is condemned;
and other regulations for the government of the church are
prescribed. This book was approved by the privy-council,
and is called the First Book of Discipline. A Second
Book of Discipline, containing a fuller account of the polity
of the Church of Scotland, especially in reference to the
civil pow'ers, was drawn up by the Assembly of 1578, and
was frequently discussed by the King and Parliament, but
did not receive their sanction.
44 D I S
Discord DISCORD, disagreement among persons or things.
II Discokd, in Music, disagreement of sounds heard simul-
Disguise. tane0Ug]y . dissonance. See Music, § Harmony.
Discord, the goddess of, in Pagan theology, is represent¬
ed by Aristides with fiery eyes, a pale countenance, livid lips,
and wearing a dagger in her bosom. It was she who, at the
marriage of Peleus and Thetis, threw in the golden apple,
on which was written “ To the fairest,” and which occasioned
a contention between the goddesses Juno, Minerva, and
Venus, each pretending a title to the apple. She was like¬
wise called Ate and Eris.
DISCOUNT, in Commerce, is commonly applied to the
sum allowed by the seller to the buyer for ready money
payment, and is generally a deduction of a certain percent¬
age on the principal for the usual term of credit. It is cus¬
tomary for persons in business to take bills or promissory
notes for monies due, payable to them or their order at a
certain date ; and if they have occasion for money before
the time is elapsed, they get these bills or notes discounted
or cashed by a banker before the time of payment. Bills
of exchange are also discounted by bankers; and in this
consists one article of the profits of banking.
DISCRETE or Disjunct Proportion is when the
ratio of two or more pairs of numbers or quantities is the
same, but there is not the same proportion between all the
four numbers. Thus, if the numbers 3 : 6 :: 8 : 16 be con¬
sidered, the ratio between 3 : 6 is the same as that between
8 : 16, and therefore the numbers are proportional; but it
is only discretely or disjunctly, for 3 is not to 6 as 6 to 8;
that is, the proportion is broken oft" between 8 and 3, and
is not continued as in the following continual proportionals,
3 : 6 :: 12 : 24.
Discrete Quantity is such as is not continued and
joined together in its parts. Such, for instance, is any num¬
ber ; for its parts, being distinct units, cannot be united
into one continuous or continued quantity ; for in a con¬
tinuum there are no actual determinate parts before divi¬
sion, but they are potentially infinite.
DISCRETION (Eat. discretio, a separating ; discretus
from discerno ;) that kind of prudence for discernment
which enables a person to judge critically of what is cor¬
rect and proper, particularly as regards his own conduct in
any matter.
DISCUS, in Antiquity, a quoit, or circular plate of stone
or metal, ten or twelve inches in diameter, which was used
by the ancients for throwing to a distance as a gymnastic
exercise. Sometimes a kind of quoit of a spherical form
wtis used for the same purpose ; and through a hole in its
centre a thong was passed, to assist the player in throwing
it. (See Iliad ii., xxiii. Od. viii., xvii.) In the British
Museum there is a famous statue of a discobolus in the act
of throwing the discus.
DISCUTIENTS (Eat. discutiens, dispersing'), medi¬
cines or applications which disperse tumours, or any stag¬
nating or coagulated fluid in the body.
DISDIACLASTIC Crystal, a name given by Bartho-
line and others to the mineral more usually called Iceland
crystal. See Mineralogy.
DISDIAPASON, in Music, the interval of two octaves,
or a fifteenth.
DISEASE. See Pathology, Medicine, &c.
DISEMBOGUE (Fr. emboucher), to flow out at the
mouth, as a river discharges its waters into the ocean. As
applied to a ship, it signifies to pass out of a gulf or bay.
DISFRANCHISEMENT (dis, and Teutonic frank,
free), the act of disfranchising or depriving of the rights
and privileges or a free citizen, or of some particular im¬
munity.
DISGUISE, a counterfeit habit. Persons doing unlaw¬
ful acts in disguise are by our statutes subjected to heavy
penalties, and in some cases declared felons. By an old
DIS
statute, commonly called the black act, persons appearing Dish
disguised and armed in a forest or grounds inclosed, or ||
hunting deer, or robbing a warren or a fish-pond, are de-DlsPersion'
dared felons.
DISH, among miners, a trough in which ore is measured,
about 28 inches long, 4 deep, and 6 wide.
DISK. See Disc.
DISJUNCTIVE, separating, disjoining. In Grammar,
a disjunctive conjunction is a word that connects sentences
or words in construction, but disjoins the sense; as, I love
him, or I fear him ; I neither love nor fear him.
DISLOCATION, the act of moving something from
its proper place; applied more particularly to the act of
forcing a bone from its socket. This is otherwise termed
luxation.
DISPART, in Gunnery, to set a mark on the muzzle
ring of a piece of ordnance, so that a sight-line from the
top of the base-ring to the mark on or near the muzzle may
be parallel to the axis of the bore.
DISPATCH or Despatch (Fr. depecker, Span, despa-
char, to hasten, to expedite), speedy performance; execu¬
tion or transaction of business with due diligence, &c. It
is hence used to denote a letter on some affair of state or
other business of importance, sent or to be sent with care
and expedition by a courier express. The word is also ap¬
plied to the packet or mail that carries such letters.
DISPAUPERED is used of a person suing in forma
pauperis, if, before the suit be ended, he have any lands or
other estate fallen to him, or if he become otherwise dis¬
qualified.
DISPENSARY, a house, place, or store, in which me¬
dicines are dispensed to the poor, and where they may ob¬
tain medical advice gratis. A shop in which medicines are
prepared is sometimes called a dispensary or dispensatory.
DISPENSATORY, a book containing the method of
preparing the various kinds of medicines used in pharmacy.
Such are those of Bauderon, Quercetan, Zwelfer, Charas,
Bate, Mesue, Salmon, Lemery, Quincy, and Lewis ; but
the latest and most esteemed, besides the London and Edin¬
burgh pharmacopoeias, is the Edinburgh New Dispensa¬
tory, first edited by Dr Duncan, and afterwards by Dr
Christison.
DISPERSION (Lat. dispergo), the act of scattering,
the state of being scattered.
In Optics, it denotes the divergency of the rays of light,
or rather the separation of the different coloured rays in re¬
fraction. The point of dispersion is the point from which
the reflected rays begin to diverge. See Optics.
Dispersion of Mankind, in the history of the world, was
occasioned by the confusion of tongues, and took place in
consequence of the overthrow of Babel at the birth of Pe-
leg (whence he derived his name) ; and by the account
given of his ancestors (Gen. chap. xi. 10-16), this appears
to have happened in the 101st year after the Flood, accord¬
ing to the Hebrew chronology, and by the Samaritan com¬
putation in the 401st. However, various difficulties have
been suggested by the older ehronologists concerning the
true era of this event. Sir John Marsham and others, in or¬
der to reconcile the Hebrew and Egyptian chronologies,
maintain a dispersion of mankind before the birth of Pe-
leg; whilst others, unable to find numbers sufficient for the
plantation of colonies in the space of 101 years, according
to the .Hebrew computation, fix the dispersion towards the
end of Peleg’s life, thus following the computation of the
Jews. Petavius assigns the 153d year after the Flood;
Cumberland the 180th ; and Usher, though he generally
refers it to the time of Peleg’s birth, in one place assigns
the 131st after the Flood for this event. Mr Shuckford
supposes the dispersion to have been gradual, and to have
commenced with the separation of some companies at the
birth of Peleg, and to have been completed thirty-one
DISPERSION OF MANKIND.
45
irsion
Jan-
nd.
years afterwards. According to the calculation of Petavius,
the number of inhabitants on the earth at the birth of
Peleg amounted to 32,768; but Cumberland makes them
30,000; Mede estimates them at only 7000 men, besides
women and children ; and Whiston, who supposes that
mankind now double themselves in about 400 years, and
that they doubled themselves between the deluge and the
time of David in sixty years at a medium, when their lives
were six or seven times as long as they have been since, by
his computation produces about 2389 ; a number much too
inconsiderable for the purposes of separating and forming
distinct nations. This difficulty induced Whiston to re¬
ject the Hebrew and to adopt the Samaritan chronology,
as many others have done ; which, by allowing an inter¬
val of 401 years between the Flood and the birth of Peleg,
furnishes, by the last-mentioned mode of computation, more
than 240,000 persons.
The hypothesis of Dr Bryant on this subject is charac¬
terized by his usual acuteness and learning. He recog¬
nizes two distinct dispersions,—the one universal, regulated
and progressive ; the other local, sudden, turbulent, and at¬
tended with marks of the Divine displeasure. He main¬
tains that the dispersion, as well as the confusion of tongues,
was local, and limited to the inhabitants of the province of
Babel; that the separation and distribution recorded to have
taken place in the days of Peleg (Gen. x. 2o, 31, 32), which
was the result of Divine appointment, occasioned a general
migration ; and that all the families amongst the sons of
men were concerned in it. The house of Shem, from
which the Messiah was to spring, was particularly regarded
in this distribution. The portion of his children was near
the place of separation : they in general had Asia to their
share, as Japheth had Europe, and Ham the large continent
of Africa. But the sons of Cush would not submit to the
Divine dispensation. They went off under the conduct of
Nimrod, and seem to have been for a long time in a roving
state. However, at last they arrived at the plain of Shinar ;
and, having ejected Ashur and his sons, who were placed
there by Divine appointment, seized his dominions, and there
laid the foundation of a great monarchy. But afterwards
fearing lest they should be divided and scattered abroad,
they built the tower of Babel as a land-mark to which they
might repair, and probably to answer the purposes of an
idolatrous temple, or high altar dedicated to the host of
heaven, from which they were never long to be absent.
They only, viz. the sons of Cush, or the Cushites, and their
associates from other families, who had been guilty of re¬
bellion against Divine authority, and of wicked ambition and
tyranny, were punished with the judgment of confounded
speech through a failure in labial utterance, and by the dis-
persion recorded in Genesis ; in consequence of which they
were scattered abroad from this city and tower, without
any certain place of destination. The Cushites invaded
Egypt, or the land of Mizraim, in its infant state, seized the
whole country, and held it for some ages in subjection ; and
they extended likewise to the Indies and Ganges, and still
farther, to China and Japan. From them the province of
Cushan or Goshen in Egypt derived its name.
The following enumeration of nations as constituted by the dis¬
persion, is drawn up by Dr Pye Smith, availing himself of the la¬
bours of Bochart, J. D. Michaelis, the younger Bosenmiiller, Gese-
nius, Robinson, and Baumgarten.
I. Sons of Japheth, the lajietus of the Greeks.
1. Corner. This name is traced in the Kimmerii of Homer and
Herodotus ; the Gomares (Josephus, Antiq. i. 6), whence Kelts,
Gauls, Galatians; the Kymry; all the Celtic and Iberian tribes,
Welsh, Gaelic, Irish, Breton; the Cimmerian Bosporus, Crimea.
£ons of Gomer:—(1.) Ashkenaz. Axeni, inhabitants of the
southern coasts of the Euxine Sea, where we find a country Askania
and a river Askanius, and a large part of Armenia; the Basques
in the north of Spain ; the Saxons, as the Jews interpret Ashkenaz,
in Jer. li. 27, to be Germany. (2.) Riphath. Rhibii, east of the
Euxine; Tobata and other parts of Paphlagonia; Croatia; the
Riphasan mountains, a very obscure name in ancient geography Dispersion
(Strabo, Virgil, Pliny, Mela), referring probably to the great chains 0f Man-
of mountains from the north of Asia westwards (Hyperboreans, kind.
Steph. Byzant.), and therefore including vague knowledge of the
Uralian, Hartz, and Alpine regions. (3.) Togarmah. Peoples of
Armenia and other parts of the Caucasian region. The Armenian
traditions assign as their ancestor Haik, the son of Torgom and
grandson of Noah.
2. Magog. In Ezekiel this seems to be used as the name of a
country, and Gog that of its chieftain. The Mongoles, Moguls; the
great Tartar nation.
3. Madai. The Medes; people of Iran, to whom the Sanscrit
language belonged ; primeval inhabitants of Hindustan.
4. Javan. The Greeks, Asiatic and European. laones (Horn.
II. xiii. 685).
Sons of Javan :—(1.) Elisha. Greeks especially of the Pelopon¬
nesus ; Hellas; Elis, in which is Alisium (11. ii. 617). (2.) Tar-
shish. The east coast of Spain, where the Phoenician Canaanites
afterwards planted their colony. (3.) Kittim. Inhabitants of the
isles and many of the coasts of the Mediterranean, particularly the
Macedonians and the Romans, and those farther to the west. (4.)
Dodanim (Rhodanim, 1 Chron. i. 7). Dodona, a colony from which
probably settled at the mouths of the Rhone, Rhodanus. To this
Javanian (Ionian) branch is attributed the peopling of the “ isles
of the nations” (ver. 5), a frequent Hebrew denomination of the
western countries to which the Israelites, Tyrians, Egyptians, &c.,
had access by sea.
II. Sons of Ham. The word signifies heat or hot, alluding to the
climes which the most of his posterity were to occupy: it was also
an indigenous name of Egypt.
1. Cush. The Ethiopians, first on the Arabian side of the Red
Sea, then colonizing the African side, and subsequently extending
indefinitely to the west, so that Cushite (Jer. xiii. 23) became the
appellative of a negro.
Sons of Cush:—(1.) Seba. Joined with Mizraim and Cush (Isa.
xliii. 3), evidently denoting contiguity and affinity. This tribe or
class is probably referred to Suba, a native name of Meroe upon
the Nile, in the farthest south of Egypt, or the beginning of Ethiopia.
(2.) Havilah. Of this word vestiges are found in various names of
jdaces in Western Arabia, and the adjacent parts of Africa. It is
quite distinct from the Havilah (Gen. ii. 11) in or near Armenia, and
probably from another (x. 29) in Arabia, unless we suppose a
union of tribes, or one succeeded by the other. (3.) Sabtah. Sa-
bota or Sabbatha is the name of an ancient trading town of Arabia.
(4.) Raamah, Sept. Rhegma (Alex. Rhegehma), which changing t into
jj, is the name of a port which the iEgypto-Greek geographer Clau¬
dius Ptolemy places on the Arabian coast of the Persian Gulf. To
this place Dr Baumgarten (Kiel, 1843) refers the name—others take
it to be Reama, a town of considerable importance in the south¬
western part of Arabia the Happy, whose inhabitants are remark¬
ably black ; mentioned along with Sheba in Ezek. xxvii. 22, as a
place of rich Oriental traffic. Two sons of this Raamah are men¬
tioned, Sheba and Dedan. We find these in the subsequent Scrip¬
tures distinguished for trade and opulence. They both lie in the
western part of Arabia. The queen of Sheba came to the court of
Solomon. Dedan is not improbably considered as the origin of
Aden, that ancient seaport and island at the mouth of the Red Sea.
(5.) Nimrod, who built, besides Babel, his metropolis, three cities
or towns in the great plain of Shinar—Erech, Accad, and Calneh.
These were probably Aracca or Arecha on the Tigris (some think
Edessa) ; Sacada, near the confluence of the Lycus and the Tigris;
and the third (Calno, Isa. x.9) Chalonitis of the Greeks, afterwards
called Ctesiphon; but much obscurity lies upon these conjec¬
tures.
2. Mizraim, literally the two Egypts, the upper and the lower ;
each was called Misr, a word even now vernacular in that country.
Of his descendants seven are specified under plural national names,
some of which are well ascertained. (1.) Ludim. Ludites, cele¬
brated as soldiers and archers, and in those passages connected with
other peoples known to be African. The Ludim probably lay to¬
wards Ethiopia. They must not be confounded with the Lydians
of Asia Minor (Gen. x. 22). (2.) Ananim. Very uncertain. Bochart
supposes them to have been wandering tribes about the temple of
Jupiter Ammon, where was an ancient people called Nasamones.
(3.) Lehabim. Perhaps inhabitants of a coast-district immediately
west of Egypt. Probably the Lubim. (4.) Pathrusim. The people
of the Thebaid (Pathros) in Upper Egypt. (5.) “ Casluhim, out of
whom came Philistim.” A people on the north-east coast of Egypt,
of whom the Philistines were a colony, probably combined with
some of the Caphtorim. (6.) Caphtorim. Inhabitants of the island
Cyprus.
3. Phut. This word occurs in two or three passages besides, al¬
ways in connection with Africa. Josephus and Pliny mention an
African river, Phutes. The great modern arclneologist and geogra-
46
D I S
kind.
Dispersion pher, Ritter, says that hordes of peoples have been poured out of
of Man- Futa, in the interior of Africa. „ , ,. ... ,
4. Canaan. His descendants came out of Arabia, planted colo¬
nies' in Palestine, and gradually possessed themselves of the whole
country.
His children or posterity (1.) Sidon, his first-born,founded the
city of that name. (2.) Heth, the ancestor of the Hittites. The
remaining nine are well known, and are here laid down in the sin¬
gular of°the patronymic, or patrial adjective—the Jebusite, the
Emorite (Amorite), the Girgashite, the Hivite, the Arkite, the
Sinite the Arvadite, the Zemarite, and the Hamathite. All are as¬
signed to Palestine, and the boundaries of the country are precisely
laid down.
III. Shem, though here introduced last, is declared to be the
eldest of the three brothers. The reason of this order evidently is
the design of the historian to pursue the line of the favoured people
which the Divine Sovereign would raise up in the posterity of
Shem, and in which, “ when the fulness of the time should come, ’
“ all the families of the earth should be blessed.”
Children of Shem:—1. Elam. The ancestor of the Elamites or
Elymaeans, who possessed Elymais, a region between Susiana and
Media, now called Khusistan. The Japhetian Persians afterwards
entered that region and gained the ascendency, and subsequently
they were comprehended under the name of Elam.
2. Ashur, the ancestor of the Assyrians.
3. Arphaxad, a personal name in the Abrahamic line. The word,
a remarkable compound, probably Aznotes .Neighbouring to the Chas-
dim, i.e. Chaldeeans. The name appears in Arrhapachitis, a pro¬
vince in Northern Assyria, the primitive seat of the Chasdim, and
near to which, or in it, Abraham was born.
Children of Arphaxad:—These are chiefly personal, and contri¬
bute to form the sacred pedigree which leads to the Messiah. In
this line are mentioned two grandsons, Peleg, and Eber, from whom
is derived the name Hebrew. Joktan is universally acknowledged
to be the father of the numerous tribes of Arabs in Yeman, or Ara¬
bia the Happy. Of the founders of those tribes thirteen are speci¬
fied. The first is evidently Modad, with the Arabic article : the
second is Shaleph; and Ptolemy mentions a people of interior Ara¬
bia, the Salapeni. Hatzarmaveth is a fruitful district on the south
coast, which still bears exactly the same name. That name signi¬
fies the Enclosure, Gate, or Court of Death, on account of its insalu¬
brity, arising from the great abundance and mixture of powerful
odours. Jerach signifies the moon ; and on the west of this region
is a gold-producing tract, in which are the Mountains of the Moon,
which yet must be distinguished from a group in East Africa, very
imperfectly known, and called also by Orientals the Backbone of
the World. Hadoram., the Adramitesof Ptolemy and Pliny, on the
south coast. Uzal, mentioned in Ezek. xxvii. 19, which should be
translated “ Vedan and Javan [perhaps Yemen ?] from Uzal.” The
ancient name of a principal city of Yemen, now Sanaha. Obal
(Ebal in 1 Chron. i. 22), unknown. Abimael, unknown ; the mean¬
ing is, my father Mael, and Bochart adduces the Mali of Theophras¬
tus and the Minaei of Strabo, a tribe or tribes in Arabia, as possibly
intended. Sheba, probably indicating an invasion of this tribe upon
the Cushite Sheba and Dedan. (Gen. x. 7, and xxv. 3.) From such
mixtures much embarrassment often arises in ethnography. Sheba
and Seba (x. 7), are often mentioned in the Old Testament as seats of
great riches and traffic. Ophir, undoubtedly referring to the sea¬
port in South Arabia, so celebrated for its traffic in gold, jewellery,
and fine woods. The same name was probably given to places in
India and East Africa, to which the mercantile ships of this Ara¬
bian Ophir resorted. A part of the south coast of Arabia is called
Oman, and in it is a town called El- Ophir, with the article. Havilah;
perhaps the Cushite settlers were invaded by this Joktanite tribe.
Jobab: Ptolemy mentions a people, lobaritce, on the east coast of
Arabia. The r may be a mistake, or a dialectic variety, for b.
These thirteen tribes seem to have formed the confederacy of the
independent and unconquerable Arabs, whose peninsular, desert,
and mountainous country defended them from invasion: Ishmael
and his descendants were united with them.
Our text concludes with describing a boundary line for the coun¬
try of these tribes “ from Mesha to Sephar.” The former is pro¬
bably the country Maishon or Mesene, at the north-west head of the
Persian Gulf; and the latter, on the south-west coast of Arabia,
where is found a Mount Sabber.
4. Lud. From him the Lydians in Asia Minor derived their
name.
5. Aram. From him the inhabitants of Syria, Chalonitis, and a
considerable part of Mesopotamia.
Children or posterity of Aram:—(1.) Uz. In the northern part
of Arabia, bordering upon Chaldaea : the land of Job. (2.) Hul.
The large flat district in the north of Palestine, through which
lies the initial course of the Jordan, even now called the Land
of Huleh, and in which is the Lake Huleh, anciently Merom,
D I S
amply illustrated by Dr Robinson {Researches, iii. 339-357). Displayed
(3.) Gether. East of Armenia; Carthara was a city on the Ti- ||
gris. (4.) Mash. A mountain region branching eastwards from Distemper,
the great Taurus ridge; the Masian mountains of the Greeks and \
Romans.
DISPLAYED, in Heraldry a term used to express the
position of an eagle, or other bird, when it is erect, with its
wings expanded or spread forth.
DISPONDEE, in the Greek and Latin poetry, a double
spondee or foot; as concludentes.
DISPONE, in Scots Laic, to make over or convey to
another in a legal form.
DISQUISITION (from dis and queero, I seek), a for¬
mal or systematic inquiry into the nature, kinds, and circum¬
stances of any problem, question, or topic, by arguments, or
by discussion of the facts and circumstances that may serve
to elucidate truth. It is chiefly applied to a written trea¬
tise, and is synonymous with dissertation.
DISS, a market-town in the county of Norfolk, on the
Waveney, 20 miles S.S.W. of Norwich, and 84 miles from
London. It consists chiefly of three wide and well-paved
streets. The parish church is an elegant edifice of the
early English style. Its chief manufacture is that of coarse
hempen doth. 'Market-day, Friday. Population (1851)
2419.
DISSECTION. See Anatomy.
DISSEISIN, in Laic, an unlawful dispossessing a per¬
son of his lands or tenements.
DISSENTER, one who dissents or differs from another
in opinion. In matters of religion, it denotes one who sepa¬
rates from, or does not unite with, any established church. In
this sense all seceders are dissenters, though a distinction, ra¬
ther verbal than real, is sometimes drawn between the two.
The word dissident is sometimes used in a similar sense.
DISSIMULATION, the act of dissembling, by means
of false appearances or pretensions.
DISSIPATION, in Physics, the insensible lessor waste
of the minute parts of any body, which fly off, and thus cause
its diminution or consumption.
Circle of Dissipation, in Optics, the circular space upon
the retina which is taken up by one of the extreme pencils
of rays issuing from an object.
DISSOLU TION, in Physics, a discontinuation or ana¬
lysis of the structure of a mixed body, by which wrhat was
one and contiguous is divided into parts, either homogene¬
ous or heterogeneous. It is a general name for all reduc¬
tions of concrete bodies into their smallest parts, without any
regard either to solidity or fluidity.
DISSOLVENT, anything that has the power of melt¬
ing or converting a solid into a fluid ; or that reduces a so¬
lid body into such minute parts as to be sustained in a
fluid. The fluid in which anything is dissolved is com¬
monly termed a menstruum.
DISSONANCE, in Music. See Music, § Harmony.
DISSYLLABLE, a word of two syllables.
DISTAFF, an instrument about which flax or wool is
tied and from which the thread is drawn in order to be spun.
DISTANCE (Lat. disto, I stand apart), an interval
between two things, with regard either to time or place.
Accessible Distances, in Geometry, such as may be mea¬
sured by the chain. Inaccessible Distances, such as can¬
not be measured by the chain, on account of a river or
other obstruction between one object and another.
Distance, in Astronomy. The distance of the sun,
planets, and comets, is found only from their parallax, as it
cannot be found either by eclipses or their different phases ;
for, from the theory of the motions of the earth and planets,
we know at any time the proportion of the distances of the
sun and planets from us ; and the horizontal parallaxes are
in a reciprocal proportion to these distances. See Astro-
momy.
DISTEMPER, a morbid condition of an animal body; dis-
D I S
D I S
47
; Distemper ease. It is particularly applied to the diseases cf the brute
II creation. The disease known as the distemper in dogs is
DistiHa,- notjce[} under the head Veterinary Science, § Influ-
tion.
enza.
Distemper, or Destemper, in Painting, a prepara¬
tion of opaque colour, ground, and mixed with water and
size, or with gluten, albumen, or other glutinous matter.
It is much employed in decoration and scene-painting.
When used on a small scale it is commonly termed body-
colour.
DISTENSION, the act of stretching in length or
breadth, or in every direction ; the state of being stretched
out or distended; &c.
DISTICH, a couplet; a couple of verses making com¬
plete sense ; an epigram of two lines.
DISTICH IASIS, in Surgery, a disease of the eyelids,
when under the ordinary eye-lashes there grows another
extraordinary row of hairs, which frequently eradicates the
former, and, pricking the membrane of the eye, excites
pain, and causes a defluxion. It is cured by pulling out the
second row of hairs with nippers, and cauterizing the pores
out of which they have been extracted.
Distich
DISTILLATION.
This term is applied to the manufacture of ardent spirits,
through the agency of heat applied to a vessel called a still,
which contains the fermented liquor from which the spirit
is to be extracted ; and the spirit as it is vaporized is con¬
densed in tubes from which it distils, or falls in drops, into
the vessel placed to receive it. Hence the application of
the term distillation. We know little relative to the anti¬
quity of this manufacture. To the nations of antiquity it
seems to have been unknown, at least we have no distinct
accounts of its preparation. It is commonly supposed to
have been invented by the barbarians of the north of Eu¬
rope as a solace to their cold and humid climate, and to
have been made known to the more southern nations by
Arnoldus de Villa Nova and his pupil Raymond Lully of
Majorca. At the present day there are few nations above
the staste of savages who do not manufacture an ardent spi¬
rit by a process of distillation. Whether these ardent spirits
are prepared from the expressed juices of fruits, from the
natural or expressed juices of trees and plants, or from in¬
fusions of grains or of roots, chemistry has made known to
us that they can alone be prepared from sugar, or from prin¬
ciples which, during the process of infusion and fermenta¬
tion, are converted into sugar. In this country the great pro¬
portion of the ardent spirit is prepared from barley, which in
its natural state contains no sugar ; but, by the process fol¬
lowed, the large quantity of starch which it contains is con¬
verted into sugar; and the saccharine infusion being fer¬
mented the sugar becomes converted into alcohol, which is
obtained from it by distillation.
Only two of the five species of sugars are of interest to
the distiller in this country, viz., cane sugar and grape su¬
gar ; the other three, milk sugar, liquorice sugar, and manna
sugar, are to the distiller mere curiosities, inasmuch as manna
sugar is unfermentable, liquorice sugar is only used in co¬
louring and flavouring porter, and milk sugar, though cap¬
able of fermentation and furnishing an ardent spirit on distil¬
lation, is not met with in sufficient quantity to be of any
value to him.
Cane sugar embraces many varieties, which, though fur¬
nished by different plants, are identical in properties and
composition. Of these the chief are sugars from the sugar
cane, from the palm trees and date (called jaggei'y) from the
maple, maize, and millet. The juices of the plants yield¬
ing these sugars are distinguished from those yielding grape
sugar by containing very little acid. All these sugars as¬
sume regular crystalline forms when fermented; they as¬
sume the form of the grape sugars before changing to car¬
bonic acid and alcohol ; and the fermented infusions or
juices yield on distillation ardent spirits known by the
names of rum, arrack, &c.
It is from the grape sugars, however, that the great pro¬
portion of the ardent spirit used in this country is pro¬
duced. The grape sugars embrace many varieties pro¬
cured from different sources, yet having all the same che¬
mical composition. These embrace the sugar of the grape,
honey, the sugar of most of our fruits, and the sugar made
from starch. All the juices containing naturally grape sugar
are more or less acid, and the chemical reason for this is,
that acid possesses the property of converting cane sugar
into grape sugar, in like manner as it converts starch into
grape sugar. These sugars do not crystallize so readily as
cane sugar, but they ferment with extreme facility, and
furnish on distillation the spirits known by the names of
brandy, whisky, gin, &c.
Milk sugar exists in milk, to which it imparts its sweet¬
ness. It is readily fermentable, and when distilled furnishes
the ardent spirit called arraca, in use among the Tartars;
while the fermented milk itself is largely used by various
nations, and is styled koumiss by the Tartars, leban by the
Arabs, and yaourt by the Turks.
When these sugars are dissolved in water, and fermented,
as was explained under the article Brewing, they become
resolved into carbonic acid gas, which escapes, and alcohol,
which remains in the fluid. It is this alcohol (spirit, or spirit
of wine) which is the substance producing the stimulant and
intoxicating property in all the forms of ardent spirit; and
it is the separation of this from the large quantity of water
and impurities with which it is mixed in the fermented liquid
which constitutes the art of distillation.
The several flavours pecidiar to each separate kind of
ardent spirit, and which serve to distinguish them from
each other, are supposed to be owing to the presence ot an
essential oil, derived from the ingredients employed in the
manufacture ; but as yet chemists have only discovered the
presence of cenanthic acid, cenanthic ether, and oxyhydrate
of amyle, substances which are sufficient of themselves to
impart the peculiar odour, without supposing it to be owing
to an essential oil whose presence has escaped detection.
It is a singular fact, however, that these peculiarities of
flavour or of odour are only imparted to the spirit when it
is distilled from the fermented juice or sap itself; but
when fermented infusions of the sugars prepared from these
juices are subjected to distillation, no peculiarity of odour is
manifested. Thus the fresh cane juice, when fermented
and distilled, yields the high-flavoured spirit called rum ;
but sugar and molasses fermented and distilled in this coun¬
try yield only plain spirits—whisky.
From whatever ingredient the ardent spirit is to be de¬
rived, the processes through which it must pass before being
distilled are virtually the same. The saccharine juices
or infusions, whether derived from the grape, sugar-cane,
date, barley, or other grains, or potato, beet, or other roots,
must first be fermented to change sugar into alcohol. The
fermented liquor must then be put into a close covered ves¬
sel or still, which terminates in a conical head, to which is
attached a convoluted tube, or worm as it is called, the end
of which terminates in a vessel called a safe. This worm
runs through or is placed in a large vessel called the worm-
tub, or refrigerator, which receives a constant and plentiful
supply of cold water. Fire or steam is then applied to the
DISTILLATION.
Distilla* still, when the spirit, being more volatile than water, rises as
tion- vapour, passes through the worm where it is condensed,
* — y ^^ and runs in a fluid state through the safe into the receiver.
This is the method adopted by distillers who use the flat-
bottomed old stills, and is the mode chiefly used on the Con¬
tinent. Before a pure spirit of the requisite strength can be
got by this plan, the product of the first distillation has to be^
redistilled once, twice, or even three times; and the use ot
the safe is to enable the man who works the still to test the
quality of the running liquor, the pure being put into a re¬
ceiver by itself, and the impure by itself to be redistilled.
The other stills in use are termed patent stills, and make
the spirit of the proper strength and purity at one distillation.
The operation of this kind of still will be explained afterwards.
As in this country the attention of the distiller is almost en¬
tirely limited to the manufacture of one kind of spirit, we
shall first notice—
Whisky, a corruption of the Irish word usquebaugh.
This ardent spirit may be manufactured from barley malt
alone, from the raw or unmalted barley mixed with from a
third to a ninth of malt, from a mixture of raw barley,
wheat, rye, or oats, with from a sixth to a tenth of barley
malt, or from a mixture of raw barley, or big, with sugar, or
from sugar or molasses alone. When barley malt is alone
used, the processes are simple, and the spirit produced has
a more agreeable flavour, and is more esteemed ; but, in
consequence of the heavy duty on malt, distillers have been
induced to employ large quantities of unmalted grain, and
of late years no small proportion of sugar and molasses, add¬
ing merely enough of malt to induce the chemical conver¬
sion of the starch in the unmalted grain into grape sugar.
To save reference to what was stated under the article
Brewing, it may be recapitulated here, that, during the ger¬
mination of barley (as in its conversion into malt) a peculiar
substance is generated in the grain called diastase, which
acts chemically on the starch of the grain, converting it
first into a kind of gum called dextrine, and then into a
sweet substance identical in composition with grape sugar.
It has been found that this diastase can convert 2000 parts
of starch into grape sugar; and it is of this valuable pro¬
perty that the distiller avails himself when he adds malt to
liis raw grain. To save the more expensive article malt, he
uses only so much as experiment has proved will suffice to
change the starch of the raw grain into sugar when mixed
with it in his mash tun. The distiller, therefore, to prepare
the saccharine fluid for his operations, has to go through all
the processes of brewing before he gets it ready for the still.
The processes followed by him will therefore be shortly de¬
scribed under the heads of mashing, cooling, fermenting,
and distilling.
Mashing.—The barley, big, rye, oats, or other grains to
be used are reduced to a fine meal, and mixed with the pro¬
per proportion of malt which has been previously merely
bruised. In some Scottish distilleries the following mixture
of grains is used, but the proportions and kind of grains
vary in each separate distillery:—malt, 42 bushels; oats,
25 bushels ; rye, 25 bushels ; and barley, 158 bushels. If
40 bushels of barley, and 20 of malt, are the proportions to
be used in one process, then 600 or 700 gallons of water, at
the temperature of 150° Fahrenheit, are mixed with these
in the mash tun, care being taken to break all the masses
either by means of hand oars and rakes, or by those worked
by machinery. This agitation and mixing is continued for
an hour and half or longer ; and to keep up the heat of the
mass and furnish enough of fluid, additional 500 gallons of
water are let in at intervals at a temperature of about 190°.
A very superior machine has quite recently been patented,
and is now being introduced into breweries and distilleries
for the purpose of mashing the grain or malt. It consists of
a cylindrical box about a foot in diameter, and six feet in
length. Through this passes a strong wooden rod or axle
fitted with wooden teeth set on at right angles, and so long Distilla-
as nearly to touch the sides of the cylinder. The bruised tion-
grains and hot water are then admitted at one extremity, '
and the toothed axle being caused to revolve rapidly mixes
the grain and water more thoroughly than could be done
by manual labour. The machine lies at a gentle slope, so
that the mixed mass pours from its other extremity in a
continuous stream into the mash tun. The mash is then
covered up and allowed to rest for an hour or two. If the
mash be tasted when first made, it is found to have little or
no taste, but as it stands it becomes sweeter and sweeter, in
consequence of the conversion of the starch into the grape
sugar under the action of the diastase in the malt. If more
care were taken to regulate the temperature of the mash,
and keep it at that point which experiment has proved is
most favourable to the action of the diastase on the starch
(viz. 158° to 167°), and also allow the mash to infuse for a
longer time, it cannot be doubted that the yield of saccha¬
rine matter would be greater, seeing that at present much
of the starch escapes decomposition altogether. The dis¬
tiller should also consider whether it would not be advan¬
tageous for him to expose his raw grain to the heat of 300°
on the kiln before mashing it, seeing this heating process
would convert the whole starch of the grain into dextrine,
and thus facilitate after-operations. When the proportion
of raw grain is greater than that indicated above, it is usual
to add a quantity of the husks of the oat to the barley meal,
in order to prevent it forming hard lumps, and to allow the
water to percolate more freely through the mass.
When the mashing is thus finished, it is found that, in
consequence of the thickness and adhesiveness of the bar¬
ley meal, it is impossible to draw off the infusion or wort
from below, as is done in brewing. It is therefore drawn
off from the top, after the grains have subsided, by means
of a perforated tube which rises above the grains in the
mash tun.
A second, a third, and sometimes even a fourth infusion
or mashing is made on the same grains, in order to obtain
all the soluble matters from them. The first mash, with the
above quantities, rarely yields more than 400 gallons of
wort. The second mash, made with 500 gallons of water
at the temperature of 190°, after standing an hour and half
or two hours, will yield fully that quantity, as the grains, now
deprived of much of their starch, part more freely with the
water. The third mash is generally made with 800 gallons
of boiling water, and when drawn off, is either added to the
other to reduce them to the required strength, or is reserved
for making the first infusion at a subsequent mashing.
In former days, in consequence of the restrictions im¬
posed by the excise laws, the distiller was obliged to make his
wort of great strength ; and in those days the third mash was
very generally boiled down, and often had various prohibited
articles (as sugar and molasses) added to it in order to raise
the wort to its required strength ; but as these restrictions
are now very much removed, and sugar and molasses are
allowed to be used, it is found profitable to wrork with a
much weaker wort. By the present excise laws, the dis¬
tiller in England is bound to run hisw'orts into the ferment¬
ing tun not weaker than 1050 of specific gravity, nor stronger
than 1090. In Scotland and Ireland the distiller’s wort
when let into the fermenting tun must not be of lower spe¬
cific gravity than 1030, nor higher than 1080. At this
strength the fermentation is more complete, and the yield
of spirit is greater than when the wort is of a higher specific
gravity.
Cooling is the next process to which the wort is subjected.
In small distilleries it is still customary to cool the wort in
wide shallow coolers of wood or of iron, placed in an ex¬
posed part of the brewery. But as wort from grain has a
much greater tendency to run to acidity than that from malt,
it is of great advantage to get the temperature reduced as
DISTILLATION.
Distilla- rapidly as possible. This is effected either by fitting up
tion. blowers or fanners, which throw a brisk current of air over
theflatcoolers, or, better still, by the employmentof refrigera¬
tors in which the hot wort is run through tin or copper tubes
which pass through cold water. Wherever a full supply of
cold water can be obtained, this plan possesses advantages
over that of exposing the wort to the open air in the shallow
open coolers. As the wort cools, a quantity of starchy mat¬
ter is precipitated; but all is carefully transferred to the
fermenting tun along with the wort, and undoubtedly con¬
tributes to increase the production of spirit. During the
winter and temperate months the wort is cooled down to a
temperature varying from 52° to 65°.
Fermentation of the wort is the most important of all the
processes, as on its perfection depends the quantity of spirit
which can be extracted from the wort. In former days the
slow plan of fermentation used to be very generally fol¬
lowed. In this case it was customary to cool down the wort
to 52°, and excite the fermentation by adding yeast, which
distillers used formerly to procure from the London porter
breweries under the idea it was the strongest and best. The
whole yeast was not added at once, but a certain portion
used to be added daily for the first three or four days, and
the whole process of fermentation was protracted from seven
to ten or even twelve days. By this plan of fermentation
the wort was rarely reduced below 1002 or 1004 of specific
gravity; in fact a very large proportion of the saccharine
matter escaped fermentation. This old and slow process
of fermentation is therefore now very generally exploded,
and the quick process adopted. The wort is by this pro¬
cess poured into the fermenting tun at the temperature of
65° to 76°. Good yeast from any brewery is added, in the
proportion of one or one and a half gallons for every 100
gallons of wort, according to the season ; and a little more is
often added next day if the fermentation does not seem to
be going on with sufficient vigour. Active fermentation is
thus excited in six or seven hours, and the whole process
is finished by the second, and never later than the third day
thereafter. By the excise laws relative to distillation, mash¬
ing or fermenting, and distillation of the wort, are not al¬
lowed to be carried on in the same building during the same
days. To show the regularity then with which the modern
distillers work, and the advantages of the quick plan of fer¬
mentation, it may be stated that in the course of writing this
article we visited a distillery and found that for several years
they have had, with one exception, 52 mashing periods, and
52 distilling periods annually ; the mashes being made, and
the fermentation carried through and completed every
Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, while the fermented wash
was distilled on every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.
The first the distillers name their mashing period—the second
their distilling period—and in most well -regul ated distilleries
the above order is observed, so that they have 52 mashing and
52 distilling periods during the year. The fermentation
should always be carried so far as to reduce the wort to the
specific gravity of water, that is, 1000. When the wort is
made from molasses or sugar, it is often reduced below this
gravity, but rarely when the wort is made from a mixture
of raw grains. Even by this great attenuation the whole
saccharine matter is not thereby converted into alcohol; for
the alcohol, as it increases in the wort, gradually arrests the
decomposition of the sugar, and at length stops it altogether.
Even, therefore, though the specific gravity of the wort be
many degrees below that of water it does not indicate that
the whole sugar has been converted into alcohol, seeing
that the specific gravity of alcohol is so much lighter than
that of water, that its presence in the wort reduces the spe¬
cific gravity below that of water, even though a considerable
amount of sugar remains undecomposed. It is the presence
of this large quantity of undecomposed sugar in the spent
vmsh (wort from which the spirit has been distilled) which
VOL. VIII.
49
gives it its sweet taste, and makes it valuable to the dairy- Distilla-
man as an article for feeding his cows. The whole quantity, tioD-
however, which escapes decomposition (or conversion into
alcohol), is a loss to the distiller; but by refermenting the
spent wash, or by using it for mashing a fresh quantity of
grain, as is done in the manufacture of Hollands and of
Rum, a considerable saving would be effected. When the
wort is thus fermented, it is styled in the distiller’s language
the wash. If the fermentation flags, or is too long con¬
tinued, or the temperature rises too high, a considerable loss
of spirit is apt to occur in consequence of the alcohol be¬
coming converted into acetic acid (vinegar). This change
is known to occur by the wort increasing in density, the
specific gravity of acetic acid being so much heavier than
that of alcohol; and by the peculiar odour and taste of
acetic acid becoming developed.
Distilling the wash is the next process; and the apparatus
employed for this purpose is termed the still, of which there
are many forms. The still is a chemical apparatus for se¬
parating the more volatile from the less volatile fluids, and
it is connected with a part termed the refrigerator, in which
the volatile vapour raised from the fluid in the still is con¬
densed, and drops or distils into a vessel termed the re¬
ceiver. The common still is a flat bottomed close vessel
with a high head to prevent the fluid within boiling over.
To the top of this head a tube is connected, which is car¬
ried in a spiral form round the inside of tubs or barrels
filled with cold water, and from its twisted form this tube
receives the name of the worm. The tube terminates at
the bottom of the barrel, passing through it to the outside,
and is conducted into the vessel termed the receiver, a
stop-cock, or more commonly a vessel termed a safe, being
usually placed on the tube where it leaves the refrigerator.
When the old excise laws, during the last century, charged
the duty of spirit on the probable quantity which a still of
a certain size would produce during the year, acting on the
supposition that the still could only be emptied once a-week,
the distillers, stimulated by the desire to evade a large por¬
tion of the duty, improved the forms of their stills, so that
they emptied their stills in a few hours, instead of only
once a-week. The evasion of duty thereby became at last
so notorious, that a committee of the House of Commons
was appointed in 1799 to investigate the matter; and the
result was, that in Scotland the duty was laid on the dis¬
tiller on the supposition that he could discharge an 80 gal¬
lon still every eight minutes during the whole working sea¬
son. Stimulated, however, to escape the heavy duties, the
distillers, by still further improvements in the form of the
still, by lessening its depth, increasing its surface, and
heightening its head, so improved it that stills capable of
holding 80 gallons could be discharged every 3g minutes,
and those capable of holding 40 gallons in minutes. In
the year 1815 this absurd law, which encouraged fraud, was
repealed; and since then the duties have been levied on
the quantity of spirit produced, irrespective of the time em¬
ployed in its manufacture.
By all the old stills such a quantity of watery vapour was
carried over along with the alcohol, that the distilled spirit
(termed low wines and feints), had to be subjected to a se¬
cond process of distillation (termed doubling), before it
could be sent out of the proper legal strength. One of the
greatest modern improvements, therefore, in this art, was
the invention of a still which accomplished this end at one
operation. This desirable improvementwas first effected by
a Frenchman, named Edouard Adam, an illiterate workman
in a distillery, who, after hearing a chemical lecture on the
contrivance known to chemists as the apparatus of Woulfe,
applied the principle to the condensation of the vapour of
alcohol. The Woulfian condenser was originally intended
to impregnate water with gaseous vapours, and consisted
of a range of beaked reservoirs or chambers, the beak of
G
50
DISTILLATION.
each of which dipped under the fluid contained m the re¬
servoir placed after it. Adam applied this to the conden¬
sation of the vapour of alcohol; and by causing the hot
vapours to chase the alcohol from chamber to chamber, he
obtained in the successive chambers alcohol of any strength
and purity. He took out a patent for his invention in 1801,
but it was not till after the alteration of the excise laws here
in 1815 that any attention could be paid to this form of
still in this country. Since that period this form of still has
received various important improvements in this country so
as to adapt it to the more rapid and larger operations of the
British distiller, and Mr Stein’s still and Mr Coffey’s still
are among the most perfect of these. Coffey’s still, indeed,
is now recognised as the best, and the most economical for
preparing ardent spirit of a high per centum above P1®^
at one operation. It may also be called a continuous still,
seeing that new wash is continuously supplied as long as
the still is kept in operation.
The principle which has guided the improvements in the
modern stills is founded on the fact that the boiling point
of alcohol varies with its density or strength; the puiei it
is, it requires the less heat to raise it into the state of va¬
pour, and the more it is diluted with water the greatei is
the heat required to distil it. dhus alcohol of the specific
gravity of-793 boils at 168°-5 Fahr.; that of strength -851
at 179° ; and that of -912 specific gravity at 197°. Hence,
if we wish alcohol of any specific strength we have merely
to keep up the heat to the point at which that spirit boils,
and the spirit evaporated will have the desired strength.
Such spirit will also be much purer and freer from peculiar
odours, seeing that the offensive volatile oils which taint
spirits are less volatile than alcohol, and only exist in quan¬
tity when the spirit has been subjected to considerable
heat and has much watery vapour carried over along with it.
Coffey’s still brings these principles into play in full per¬
fection. In it the wash is never exposed to the direct heat
of the fire, but is exposed in a series of shallow chambers,
placed one over the other to the vapour of steam, which
rises through the perforated bottoms of each chamber, and
carries off the alcoholic vapours into the condenser. This
condenser also consists of a series of chambers separated
from each other by perforated plates, and is so contrived
that the cold wash passing in pipes through these chambers,
in its way to feed the other series of chambers, acts as the
condenser to the vapour of the alcohol, the wash being
gradually heated thereby, as it passes through the succes¬
sive chambers. The still, therefore, consists essentially of
three separate but connected parts, viz., 1st, of a large
square receiver at the base, which receives the spent wash
after it has been deprived of its alcohol by passing through
the series of evaporating chambers ; 2d, of a large square
upright box, termed “ analyzer,” containing the series of
evaporating chambers, each communicating with the one
below by means of a valved tube, which only allows fluid
to escape from the upper to the lower chamber, and hav¬
ing the dividing partition of each chamber perforated with
fine apertures, to allowr the steam which is admitted from
below to pass from chamber to chamber through the shallow
layer of wash in each. A safety or escape valve is also
fitted to each chamber. The already heated wash enters
the uppermost of these chambers in a continuous regulated
stream, is gradually deprived of its alcohol by the steam as
it passes from chamber to chamber, and at last escapes into
the lower large receiver, from which it flows off after attain¬
ing a certain depth. The third part of the apparatus also
consists of a square upright box, termed “ condenser,” di¬
vided into compartments by means of finely-perforated plates,
and in each chamber is a link of the tube which carries the
cold wash onwards to supply the evaporating chambers just
described. The alcoholic vapours escaping from the upper¬
most of the evaporating chambers are carried by pipes to
the lowermost of these chambers, and are partly condensed
by each successive chamber being colder than the one be¬
low it, in consequence of the wash entering the pipes from
above, and only getting gradually heated by contact with
the alcoholic vapour as it advances from chamber to cham¬
ber. As in the lowest of these chambers the heat is great¬
est the alcoholic vapour or the condensed spirit contains a
large amount of water; but as the chambers are successively
cooler, the alcoholic vapour and condensed spirit at last ar¬
rive at a temperature only sufficient to convert spirit of the
strength wished into vapour, and by an adaptation of valves,
and substituting an impervious partition for the perforated
plate, and admitting the alcoholic vapour into the chambers
cooled by the passage of the cold wash in its contained pipes,
that spirituous vapour is condensed, and the spirit is drawn
off at one operation, of the very strength which it ought to
have, and of the utmost purity.
The flat-bottomed stills are considered the best for the
distillation of malt spirit, as by them the flavour is preserved.
Coffey’s still, on the other hand, is the best for the distilla¬
tion of grain spirit, as by it a spirit is obtained almost en¬
tirely destitute of flavour, and of a strength varying from
55 to 70 per cent, overproof. Spirit produced of this high
strength evaporates at such a low temperature that scarcely
any of the volatile oils on which the peculiar flavour of spirits
depends are evaporated with it, hence the reason wdiy it is
not adapted for the distillation of malt whisky, which requires
a certain amount of these oils to give it its requisite flavour.
The spirit produced by Coffey’s still, is, therefore, chiefly
used for making gin and brandy by the rectifiers, or for be¬
ing mixed with malt whiskies by the wholesale dealers. The
old or flat-bottomed stills produce pure spirit at strengths
varying from 11 to 45 per cent, overproof.
The distiller from malt should obtain at least two gallons
of proof spirit from every bushel of malt used; and wdiether
he procures this quantity or not, the present excise law
makes him pay the duty on this quantity. If the yield be
higher than this, he pays duty on the quantity produced.^
On the large scale the highest yield is 20 gallons of proof
spirit for every quarter of malt; but 18 or 19 gallons is
reckoned a fair average yield. When the yield is so low
as 16 gallons per quarter of malt, it shows that the malt has
been bad or that the fermentation has been badly conducted.
The maximum quantity of proof spirit obtained on the
large scale from raw grain, mixed with from a fourth to an
eighth of malt, is 22 gallons from every quarter of grain.
From 20 to 21 gallons, however, is reckoned a good ave¬
rage yield in a well-regulated distillery. Mr Sheridan, how¬
ever, by a particular and expensive process, obtained so high
a yield as 28 gallons of proof spirits per quarter of grain.
This he effected by getting the whole saccharine matter in
the wort thoroughly fermented and converted into alcohol,
instead of losing nearly a fifth, as is done by the plans pur¬
sued at present. For this purpose he fermented the wash
in close tuns, and by attaching to them a powerful air-pump
he caused the alcohol to evaporate from the wort nearly as
rapidly as it formed. No alcohol being, therefore, left in
the wort to arrest the decomposition of the saccharine matter,
the fermentation continued until the last particle of sugar was
converted into alcohol. His plans, however, were not al¬
lowed to come into general use in consequence of the med¬
dling interference of the excise, who do not allow the pro¬
cesses of fermentation and of distillation to be carried on in
the same premises during the same day.
In consequence of the alteration in the excise laws, sugar
and molasses ai-e now largely used in the distilleries for the
manufacture of whisky. They are either used alone, or
along with raw grain. From carefully conducted experi¬
ments the excise officers estimate that every hundredweight
or 112 lbs. of sugar ought to yield 11^ gallons of proof-
spirit, and they charge the duty on this supposition. It re-
DISTILLATION.
51
Distilla- quires 150 lbs. of molasses to yield the same amount of
tion. proof spirit.
The peculiar flavours met with in ardent spirits from dif¬
ferent distilleries are given chiefly by the different modes of
drying the malt, or rather by the substances used for drying^
the malt. Thus the peculiar peat smoke flavour of much ot
the Highland whisky is imparted to it by drying the malt
with peats; and the birch oil, or russia leather flavour, by
drying the malt with birch wood.
At the end of this article we have appended three instruc¬
tive tables, which exhibit several important points relative
to the manufacture of ardent spirit in this country : the
quantities manufactured each year during the last ten years ;
and the quantities manufactured from malt, from malt and
raw grains, from sugar, molasses, &c.
It will render this account more complete if we very shortly
notice the other distilled spirits—brandy, gin, rum, &c.
Brandy.—In the wine countries the inferior wines, or
those which have been damaged by keeping, as well as the
fermented mash of the pressed grapes, are subjected to dis¬
tillation, and yield an ardent spirit. This spirit is known by
the names of Brandy, Eau-de-vie, Aguardiente, &c. As
a general rule, brandies are weaker in alcohol than the ar¬
dent spirit used in this country. They contain, in fact, more
than the half of their weight of water ; and, as a necessary
consequence, have more flavour from having been subjected
to a greater heat, and having more of the flavouring essen¬
tial oil derived from the husk of the grape carried over with
the watery vapour. It is the presence of this essential oil
which gives the peculiar flavour to brandies; and the flavour
is so different for each kind of brandy, that an experienced^
dealer can from the flavour alone distinguish the brandies of
Cognac, Bordeaux, Armagnac, Naples, &c., from each other.
French brandy contains a little acetic acid, acetic ether, and
often some astringent matter. Some chemists think that the
flavouring matter of the brandies chiefly resides in the ex¬
tremely small proportions of oenanthic ether and oxyhydrate
of amyle, which are met with in all spirits, but seem to have
peculiar odours in each. The colour is imparted to brandy
by burnt sugar.
Gin.—The Dutch have been long famous for their manu¬
facture of an ardent spirit flavoured with juniper, and known
in this country by the names of Hollands, Scheidam, Gin,
and Geneva; the last being derived from the word “ ge-
nievre,” the juniper berry, and the word gin being a con¬
traction thereof. The distillers at Scheidam seem for the
last sixty years at least to have followed very much the same
practice in the manufacture of this spirit, most of the ac¬
counts published during that period by individuals who have
gone over to study the manufacture agreeing in the details.
Generally 1121bs. of malt of big, weighing about 37 lbs. per
bushel, and 228 lbs. of best unmalted rye from Biga, weighing^
about 54 lbs. per bushel, are mashed in about 100 gallons of
water of the temperature of 162°. The tun is then carefully
covered and left undisturbed for about two hours. The con¬
tents are then well stirred up, when the clearest part of the
spent wash of a previous distillation, and as much cold water as
will reduce the strength of the wort to about 33 of Dicas’s hy¬
drometer, and lower the temperature to about 80° are added.
About half a gallon of good yeast is then added; active fermen¬
tation is thus excited, the temperature rises to 90°, and the
whole is over in two days. The whole wort (grains and all)
is then transferred to the still, and the distillation is con¬
tinued till spirit ceases to come over. A very weak spirit
is thus obtained, as used to be the case in this country with the
old form of still. This, or the low wines as it is termed, is sub¬
jected to a second distillation after having mixed with it some
juniper berries and hops. Old juniper berries are preferred
ibr this purpose, and they are added in the proportion of
2 lbs. of berries to the 100 gallons of low wines; a quarter
pound of salt, and a handful of hops, are often also added.
These ingredients give the spirit that peculiar flavour which Distilla-
has led it to be styled genievre—geneva—gin. The quan- ^ tlon~ ;
tity of spirit obtained varies from 18 to 21 gallons per quar-
ter of grain, a quantity fully as great as is yielded by the
best conducted distilleries in this country.
Bum is the name given to a spirit manufactured in the
West Indian Islands from molasses and the skimmings of
the sugar boilers diluted with water, then fermented, and
distilled. We know nothing about the origin ot the word
rum, or the time at which the manufacture of the spirit com¬
menced. At present the manufacture is chiefly carried on
in the islands belonging to Great Britain. Dr Ure states
that in Jamaica the wort is made by adding together 120
gallons of molasses, 1000 gallons of the spent wash of a
former distillation, 720 gallons of the skimmings of the su¬
gar boilers, and 160 gallons of water ; so that there is in the
wort nearly 12 per cent, of solid saccharine matter. Other
proportions, however, are used, bringing the proportion of
saccharine matter up to nearly 15 per cent.; as, for in¬
stance, 100 gallons of molasses, 300 gallons of skimmings,
200 gallons of spent wash, and 400 gallons of water. The
proportions vary in almost every estate, so that no certain
rule can be laid down. The fermentation is in general
conducted very slowly (apparenth very unnecessarily so),
occupying from 9 to 14 days. The saccharine matter is
therefore very imperfectly converted into alcohol, and the
yield of spirit is usually so low as 115 gallons of proof spirit
for every 1200 gallons of wash. On some estates, and de¬
pending on the price of sugar in the market, the greater
proportion of the sugar is converted into rum; and the same
imperfect fermentation being followed, the average yield is
said to be only 200 gallons of rum for every 3 hogsheads
of sugar, whereas the proportion ought to be very nearly
double.
It is from the skimmings, which are rich in aroma, that
the peculiar flavour of rum is derived; for it is a curious
fact, that sugar and molasses distilled in this country yield
a spirit entirely destitute of all rum flavour, and in nothing
distinguishable from the ordinary spirit derived from grain.
Any depth of colour may be given to the rum by the addi¬
tion of molasses or caromel, though it is commonly but er¬
roneously stated that the colour of the rum is derived from
the oak casks.
A spirit not to be distinguished from the ardent spirit,
or whisky, manufactured in this country, is largely prepared
on the Continent from the potato, but is purest and freest
from peculiar flavour when manufactured from the pure
potato starch. In the latter case the starch is previously
converted into soluble grape sugar by subjecting it to the
action of sulphuric acid, the sulphuric acid being afterwards
removed as an insoluble sulphate by the addition ot chalk.
It is found that 1 lb. of commercial sulphuric acid (vitriol)
mixed with 600 lbs. of water will convert 100 lbs. of starch
into grape sugar in three hours, if the temperature be raised
by pressure to 250°. After the removal of the insoluble
sulphate the infusion is fermented and distilled, and yields
a spirit of great purity.
Table showing the Total Number of Gallons of Proof
Spirit distilled in England, Scotland, and Ireland re¬
spectively, during the year ending 5th January 1854.
England..
Scotland.
Ireland....
From Malt
only.
United Kingdom
5,330,714
9,726
5,340,440
From a Mixture of
Malt with
unmalted
Grain.
6,319,660
4,113,581
8,759,230
19,192,471
Sugar or
Molasses
with
unmalted
Grain.
989,010
915,631
4,005
1,998,646
From
Sugar.
Total Num¬
ber of Gal¬
lons.
7,308,670
10,359,926
8,772,961
26,441,557
52
DISTILLATION.
Distinction Table showing the number of Gallons of Proof Spirit on whieh Duty was paid for Home Consumption, in eaehof Dittrib.
.. x ..7 .r ^ r'r.n   ounh Jlirti/ -fnr tltr. Year endina om 1854.
Distress.
TeZZ'VgLZTZhihe rate Ver Gallon, and the Amount of such Duty, for the Year ending 5th JanA^A.
England
Scotland
Ireland .
United Kingdom..
Gallons made from
Malt only.
A Mixture of
Malt with
unmalted grain.
878,370
1,102,955
2,558,659
6,780
13,574
4,560,338
Sugar or
Molasses with
unmalted grain
8,452,105
627,382
1,772,604
2,471,778
5,621,636
18,945,505
1,019,811
96,684
376,364
8,694
13,876
1,515,429
Sugar.
21
24
45
Mo¬
lasses.
Total
Gallons.
10,350,307
1,827,021
4,707,627
2,487,252
5,649,110
25,021,317
Rate per
Gallon.
s. d.
7 10
3 8
4 8
2 8
3 4
Amount of
Duty.
£ s. d.
4,053,870 4 10
J 1,433,400 3 0
J 1,273,151 18 8
£6,760,422 6 6
Table showing the Total Number of Gallons of Proof Spirit distilled in England, Scotland, and Ireland
respectively, during certain years, from 1831 to 1854.
YEARS ended
5tli January.
1831.,
1835.
1840.
1845.
1846.
1847.
1848.
1849.
1850.
1851.
1852.
1853.
1854.
ENGLAND.
SCOTLAND.
Number of Gallons
of Proof Spirits Dis¬
tilled from
Grain, or
Grain and
Malt Mixed,
or other In¬
gredients.
4,656,443
4,652,838
5,685,698
5,433,843
5,866,593
5,624,868
5,356,794
5,503,238
5,573,411
5,913,424
6,127.181
6,363,276
7,308,670
Malt
only.
4,656,443
4,652,838
5,685,698
5,433,843
5,866,593
5,624,868
5,356,794
5,503,238
5,573,411
5,913,424
6,127,181
6,363,276
7,308,670
N umber of Gallons
of Proof Spirits Distilled
from
Grain, or
Grain and
Malt Mixed,
or other In¬
gredients.
3,861,829
3,198,468
3,208,453
2,232,908
2,741,784
2,857,163
2,916,430
3,589,047
4,788,548
5,048,226
4,656,814
4,665,952
5,029,212
Malt only.
Total.
6,021,584
5,994,623
6,663,200
6,088,398
6,676,879
6,878,140
5,625,789
6,011,274
6,058,086
6,590,203
5,724,158
5,276,266
5,330,714
9,883,413
9,193,091
9,871,653
8,321,306
9,418,663
9,735,303
8,542,219
9,600,321
10,846,634
11,638,429
10,380,972
9,942,218
10,359,926
IRELAND.
Number of Gallons
of Proof Spirits Distilled
from
Grain, or
Grain and
Malt Mixed,
or other In¬
gredients.
Malt only.
8,542,807
9,307,448
10,156,906
6,813,016
8,292,992
8,619,213
5,713,142
8,091,610
8,269,327
8,181,173
7,891,621
8,107,652
8,763,235
151,935
62,895
97,685
65,227
104,467
39,666
24,545
34,897
85,756
111,861
143,883
10,056
9,726
8,694,742
9,370,343
10,254,591
6,878,243
8,397,459
8,658,879
5,737,687
8,126,507
8,355,083
8,293,034
8,035,504
8.117,708
8,772,961
1831
1835
1840
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
(j. S—K.)
DISTINCTION, in Logic, an assemblage of two or
more words, by means of which disparate things or their
conceptions are denoted.
DISTRAIN, to make seizure of goods for debt. See
Distress.
DISTRESS, in its ordinary acceptation, denotes cala¬
mity, misery, or suffering.
Distress, in English Law, the seizing or distraining of
the cattle or goods of an alleged defaulter or wrong-doer,
for the purpose of compelling him (through the incon¬
venience or loss resulting from such procedure) to perform
the act in which he is a defaulter, or to make compensation
for the wrong which he has committed.
The most usual injury for which a distress is resorted to
is the non-payment of rent, including rents-seck, rents of
assize, and chief rents, as well as rents reserved upon lease.
Distress is also resorted to for damage done {damage fea¬
sant), as when injury is sustained from cattle or goods be¬
ing wrongfully upon property, and causing damage there,
either by treading down grass or the like, or by merely in-
cumbering such property. It may also be taken for neglect¬
ing to do suit to the lord’s court, or other certain personal
service, for amercements in a court leet, and also for the
several duties and penalties imposed by special acts of par¬
liament, for the relief of the poor, &c.
All chattels personal, as a general rule, are liable to be
distrained, with the following exceptions: animals ferce
naturce; whatever for the time is in the personal use or
occupation of a man; things delivered to a person exer¬
cising a public trade, to be carried, wrought, or managed
for his customer ; things in the custody of the law ; what¬
ever cannot be returned in as good condition as when dis¬
trained ; fixtures ; growing corn ; beasts used at the plough ;
the instruments of a man’s trade or profession, provided a
sufficient distress can be found otherwise.
The effect of this distress is to compel the party either
to institute an action against the distrainer, or to oblige him
to make satisfaction for the debt or duty for which the dis¬
tress was made ; and in statute distresses, and under various
acts of parliament, in distresses for rent, a power of sale is
given, after notice, to effectuate the remedy, (r. m—M.)
In Scotch law the term equivalent to distress is poind¬
ing. I he word distress is, however, colloquially used in
Scotland in the same sense as in England, and it is fre¬
quently the term made use of in revenue and other statutes
for the seizure of a defaulter’s goods.
DIS I RIBU ITON, the act of dividing among numbers:
a dealing into parts or portions : the division and disposition
of the parts of anything ; as the parts of a building, accord¬
ing to a plan or the rules of art.
In Rhetoric, it denotes a kind of description by which a
division and enumeration are made of the several qualities
D I T
[Distringas of a subject;—as “ Their throat is an open sepulchre ; they
II flatter with their tongues ; the poison of asps is under their
Ditteah. ]ipS . their mouth is full of cursing and lies; and their feet
are swift to shed blood.”
In Printing, it signifies the taking a form asunder, sepa¬
rating the letters, and disposing each in its proper compart¬
ment in the cases.
DISTRINGAS, in Law, was a writ commanding the
sheriff or other officer to distrain a person for debt to the
king, &c., or for his appearance at a certain day ; and it was
necessary, in order to enable a plaintiff to enter an appear¬
ance for the defendant in an action, whereon to proceed to
judgment and execution. This proceeding is now abolished
by sect. 24th of the loth and I6th Viet., cap. 76, and the
plaintiff, upon affidavit showing efforts to serve the writ of
summons, &c., may obtain an order to proceed as if per¬
sonal service had been effected. The process against a
body corporate is, however, still by distringas in the Court
of Chancery.
Distringas, Juratores, a writ directed to the Sheriff,
by which he commanded to distrain upon a jury to appear
and to return issues on their lands, &c., for non-appearance.
(This writ of distringas judicatores issues for the sheriff to
have their bodies in court at the return of the writ, or to
distrain them by their lands and goods. This writ is now
abolished by the 15th and 16th Viet., cap. 76, sec. 104, and
the jurors are summoned for the commission day in virtue
of a precept issued to the sheriff by the judges of assize.
Formerly also, in an action of detinue after judgment,
the plaintiff' was entitled to a distringas to compel the de¬
fendant to deliver the goods by repeated distresses of his
chattels ; but now, under the 17th and 18th Viet, cap. 125,
sec. 78, the court is empowered to order the specific de¬
livery of chattels. (r. m—m.)
I DITCH, a trench made in the earth by digging, either
for an inclosure or for draining land.
!■ In Fortification, otherwise called /bsse, and moat, a trench
dug round the rampart or wall of a fortified place between
the scarp and counterscarp.
DITHYRAMB US, in Ancient Poetry, a hymn in ho¬
nour of Bacchus, full of transport and poetical rage.
This kind of poetry owes its birth to Greece, and to the
transports of wine. Horace and Aristotle tell us that the
ancients gave the name to those verses in which none of
the common rules or measures were observed. Of this spe¬
cies of writing we have no remains.
DITONE, in Music, an interval of two whole tones, or
a major third.
DITRIHEDRIA, in Mineralogy, an old term expres¬
sive of crystals with twice three sides or six planes, and
which are formed of two trigonal pyramids joined base to
base without an intermediate prism or column.
DITTEAH, a town and fortress of Hindustan, province
of Bundelcund. It is populous and well built, about a mile
and a half long, and nearly as much in breadth. The houses
are chiefly constructed of stone, and covered with tiles. It is
surrounded by a stone wall, and furnished with gates. With¬
out the town is the rajah’s palace, standing on an eminence,
and commanding a very extensive prospect, including a fine
lake. It is an ancient place, having been in the rajah’s fa¬
mily for several centuries. The raj or territory of which
Ditteah is the chief place, lies between Eat. 25. 32.—26.
18.; Long. 78. 15.—78.54. Area, 850 square miles ; pop.
120,000. The rajah pays no tribute. He maintains a mili¬
tary force of 5000 infantry and 1000 cavalry. On the ces¬
sion of Bundelcund by the peishwa to the British in 1804
the rajah of Ditteah joined the British standard, and a treaty
Swas concluded with him, by which he was confirmed in the
possession of his ancient inheritance. The town of Ditteah
is distant N.W. of Calcutta 755 miles. Lat. 25. 40.; Long:.
78.31 (E.T.)
D I V 53
DITTO, contracted into Do. in books of accounts, &c., Ditto
is a corruption of the Italian detto, i.e. the said, and signifies ^11
the aforesaid, or the same. K  ,
DITTON, Humphry, an eminent mathematician, was
born at Salisbury, May 29, 1675. At his father’s request
he entered on the study of theology, and was for some years
a dissenting minister at Tunbridge, where he married. On
the death of his father, however, he was induced to relin¬
quish the clerical profession; and at the persuasion of Mr
Winston and Dr Harris he devoted himself to the more genial
study of mathematics. Through the influence of Sir Isaac
Newton, he was elected mathematical master in Christ’s
Hospital, where he continued till his death in 1715.
Ditton was the author of the following treatises :—Of the
Tangents of Curves, See., Phil. Trans, vol. xxiii.; A Trea¬
tise on Spherical Catoptrics, published in the Phil. Trans.
for 1705, from which it was copied and reprinted in the
Acta Eruditorum, 1707, and also in the Memoirs of the
Academy of Sciences at Paris; General Laws of Nature
and Motion, 8vo, 1705. (Wolfius commends this work, as
illustrating and rendering easy the writings of Galileo, Huy¬
gens, and the Principia of Newton. It is also noticed by
La Roche, in the Memoires de Litterature, vol. viii. p. 46.)
An Institution of Fluxions, containing the first Principles,
Operations, and Applications of that admirable method, as
invented by Sir Isaac Newton, 8vo, 1706. In 1709 he
published the Synopsis Algebraica of John Alexander, with
many additions and corrections. In his Treatise on Per¬
spective, published in 1712, he explained the mathematical
principles of that art; and anticipated the method after¬
wards elaborated by Dr Brook Taylor. In 1714 Ditton
published \\\?, Discourse on the Resurrection of Jesus Christ;
and The New Law of Fluids, or a Discourse concerning
the Ascent of LAquids in exact Geometrical Figures, be¬
tween two nearly contiguous Surfaces. To this was an¬
nexed a tract to demonstrate the impossibility of thinking
or perception being the result of any combination of the
parts of matter and motion ; a subject much agitated about
that time. There was also added an advertisement from him
and Whiston concerning a method for discovering the
longitude, which it seems they had published about half a
year before. This attempt probably cost our author his
life. Although approved by Sir Isaac Newton before being
presented to the Board of Longitude, and the method had
been successfully practised in finding the longitude between
Paris and Vienna, the board determined against it. This
disappointment, together with some sarcastic lines written
by Dean Swift, affected Ditton’s health to such a degree
that he died in the following year.
In an account of his life, prefixed to the German trans¬
lation of his Discourse on the Resurrection, it is said that
he had published, in his own name only, another method
for finding the longitude. This Whiston denied. However,
Raphael Levi, a learned Jew, who had studied under Leib¬
nitz, informed the German editor that he well knew that
Ditton and Leibnitz had corresponded upon the subject;
and that Ditton had sent to Leibnitz a delineation of a ma¬
chine he had invented for that purpose, and which Leibnitz
highly approved of for land use, but doubted whether it
would answer on board a ship on account of the motion.
DIU, a once celebrated island and fortress of Hindustan,
in the peninsula of Kattywar. It is 6^ miles long by
broad, is nearly barren, and contains no good water, except¬
ing what is collected in ponds during the rainy weather. In
1515 the Portuguese gained possession of Diu. They im¬
mediately commenced fortifying it, and in ten years ren¬
dered it impregnable against all the powers of India. It
soon became a place of great trade and commerce, and was
the harbour in which the fleets were laid up in winter. But
with the decline of the Portuguese power it fell into decajq
and was plundered by the Arabs of Muscat in 1670. It
54
D I V
Dival has since dwindled into insignificance, and has now little or
|| no commerce. The trade in slaves formerly earned on in
Divination, is]and has been discontinued under ordeis nom tne
' V ' Portuguese government in Europe. E. Long. 71. ; N.
Eat. 20. 43. vE> T-)>
" DIVAL, in Heraldry, the herb nightshade, used tor
sable or black by such as blazon by flowers and herbs in¬
stead of colours and metals.
DIVALIA, in Antiquity, a festival celebrated by the
Homans on the 21st of December, in honour of the goddess
An<>-erona; whence it was called Angeronalia. On this
day5 the pontifices performed sacrifices in the temple of
Volupia, the goddess of pleasure, who, according to some,
was the same as Angerona.
DIVAN (Arabic diwan), among the Arabs, 1 ersians,
and Turks, is a word that bears very various significations.
It primarily denoted a book of accounts, a muster-i oil o
troops, &c.; and hence came to be applied to a collection
of lyric poems (called gazelles) arranged in a kind of alpha¬
betical order. Thus we have the Diwan of Sadi, the Diwan
of Hafiz, &c.; a practice which has been imitated by Goethe
in his Westostlicher Divan—z collection of poems in the
Oriental style. The word among the Orientals denotes
also a council-chamber, a tribunal of justice, and in^ like
manner is applied to the general council of state. Under
the khaliffs of Baghdad, the diwan was a court of justice
over which the khaliff presided in person. At Constanti¬
nople in the present day the term is used to denote the
great council of the empire. It is also a common appella¬
tion among the lurks for a saloon or chamber of reception,
or in which business is transacted, or used as a place of oc¬
casional repose. The divan more properly is a kind of stage,
raised about a foot above the floor of the saloon, covered with
rich tapestry, and furnished with a number of embroidered
cushions leaning against the wall ; and on this the master
of the house is seated when he receives visitors. Hence
the word is frequently applied by other nations to a kind of
public coffee-room, furnished in a manner somewhat similar.
DIVERGENT or Diverging, separating or receding
from each other, as lines which proceed from the same point;
a term of frequent use in mathematics and optics. It is op¬
posed to convergent. A convex lens renders the rays of
light convergent; a concave lens, divergent. A convex
mirror makes the rays diverge ; a concave one, converge.
A diverging series in mathematics is a series of which the
terms increase more and more the further it is continued.
DIVERSIFYING, in Rhetoric, a mode of varying a
subject,which maybe done, says Vossius, in the six follow¬
ing ways : 1. By enlarging on what was briefly mentioned
before; 2. by a concise enumeration of what had been in¬
sisted on at length; 3. by adding something new to what
is repeated ; 4. by repeating only the principal heads of
what had been said ; 5. by transposing the words and pe¬
riods ; 6. by imitating them.
DIVERSION, in JVar, the act of drawing the attention
and troops of the enemy from the point where the principal
assault is intended to be made, by an attack or alarm in
another quarter.
DIVESTING signifies literally the stripping off a vestment
or garment, in contradistinction to investing. In law it is used
for the act of surrendering or relinquishing one’s effects.
DIVIDIVI, the commercial name of the pod of the
Ccesalpinia coriaria, which is pretty extensively used for its
astringent qualities in tanning, and also as a mordant in
dyeing. It yields a large quantity of tannin.
DIVINATION, a general term descriptive of the
various illusory arts anciently practised for the discovery
of things secret or future. In those countries and ages
where ignorance of physical laws has combined with super-
D I V
stition to debase the human mind, it has sought to gratify
its innate disposition to pry into futurity by looking for pie-
sao-es in things between which and the object of its anxiety
no* connection existed but in the diviner’s imagination.
Scarcely a single department of nature but was appealed
to, as furnishing, on certain conditions, good or bad omens
of human destiny; and the aspect of things, which, perhaps
by the most casual coincidence, marked some event or crisis
in the life of one or two individuals, came to be regarded as
the fixed and invariable precursor of a similar result in the
affairs of mankind in general. By such childish and irra¬
tional notions was the conduct of the heathen guided in
the most important, no less than in the most ordinary occui-
rences of life ; and hence arose the profession of augurs,
soothsayers, et hoc genus omne of impostors, who, ingrafting
vulgar traditions on a small stock of natural knowledge, es-
tablished their claims to the possession of an occult science,
the importance and influence of which they dexterously in¬
creased by associating it with all that was pompous and im¬
posing in the ceremonies of their religion.
This pretended science was divided into various branches,
each of which had its separate professors. In a general
view, divination may be considered as either natural or ar¬
tificial; the first being founded on the notion that the soul pos¬
sesses, from its spiritual nature, some prescience of futurity,
which it exemplifies particularly in dreams, and at the ap¬
proach of death : the second, resting on a peculiar interpre¬
tation of the course of nature, as well as on such arbitrary
observations and experiments as superstition introduced.
The different systems and methods that were anciently in
vogue are almost incredible ; as, for instance, Aeromancy,
divining by the air ; Arithmomancy, by means of numbers;
Capnomancy, by the smoke of sacrifices ; Chiromancy, by
the lines on the palms of the hands; Hydromancy, by water;
Pyromancy, by fire, &c. It is beyond our limits to enter
upon the enumeration and explanation of the various arts
of divination that were practised by the ancients. These
the reader, curious in such inquiries, will find detailed at
length by Cicero {De Divinatione), and Cardan {De Sapi-
entid).
Egypt, the cradle of arts and sciences, if she did not give it
birth, seems to have encouraged the practice of divination
at an early age ; and it is well known that at the time of
the Hebrew exodus there were magicians in that country
whose knowledge of the arcana of nature, and dexterity in
the practice of their art enabled them, to a certain extent,
to rival the miracles of Moses. By what extraordinary
power they changed their rods into serpents, the river into
blood, and introduced frogs in unprecedented numbers, is
an inquiry that has perplexed many learned men. Some
have ascribed their performances to jugglery and legerde¬
main ; the serpents, the frogs, &c., having been secretly
provided and dexterously produced at the proper moment.
Others prefer the supposition that these conjurors were
aided by infernal agents, with the Divine permission, in the
performance of their wonderful feats. See Daemon.
But it was Chaldaea to which the distinction belongs of
being the mother-country of diviners, and especially of judi¬
cial astrologers. Such a degree of power and influence had
they attained in that country, that they formed the highest
caste and enjoyed a place at court; nay, so indispensable
were they in Chaldaean society, that no step could be taken,
not a relation could be formed, a house built, a journey un¬
dertaken, a campaign begun, until the diviners had ascer¬
tained the lucky day and promised a happy issue.
DIVINE, pertaining to the true God; or to a false god
among the heathens. The word is also applied figuratively
to anything superexcellent, extraordinary, or that seems to
surpass the power of nature and the capacity of man.
Divine.
55
DIVING.
Diving. Diving is the art of descending under water to consi-
derable depths, and of remaining there some time, so as
to be able to collect valuable, articles, such as pearls, spon¬
ges, coral, and other submarine productions, from the bot¬
tom of the sea or rivers, or property from the sunken
wrecks of vessels.
Difliculties This art is one of great utilit}^, but is attended with pe-
of diving, culiar difficulties, owing to the very limited powers which
ofsdr'in'11 man naturally possesses within the liquid element. On the
the lurio-s. surface he may no doubt continue a long time floating or
° swimming, and hence arises the wonderful art of naviga¬
tion. But the moment he plunges within the mass he is
cut off from the vital air, and life is speedily extinguished.
The necessity of a constant supply of air for the support
of life is shown by simply attempting to withhold it by
shutting the mouth and nostrils. No one can continue
holding in the breath in this manner much longer than a
minute or a minute and a half. If we begin to hold after
having made an expiration, we cannot do it longer than a
quarter of a minute; but if we take a large inspiration,
and fill the lungs, this supply is found to last longer; so
that we can readily hold breath a full minute, and, with
practice and great exertion, some may even continue to
do so two minutes. Now this is exactly what the diver
must do to remain alive under water; and accordingly we
find that in general a person cannot remain longer than
half a minute without the danger of suffocation, and the
most practised divers not above two minutes; such is the
necessity for fresh air continually present in the lungs.
Necessity The nature and cause of this necessity for air has been
of air,cause illustrated by the discoveries of modern chemistry. These
have proved that it arises from a certain chemical action
which the atmosphere exerts on the blood as it passes
through the lungs, and which is continually going on, and
cannot for a moment be intermitted. The nature of this
action is not yet exactly understood, but the object of it
undoubtedly is to purify the blood, as it becomes vitiated
by circulating through the system. For this purpose, the
air inspired into the lungs, and coming there into contact
with the blood, imparts to it its oxygen, a small portion of
which is supposed to combine with the blood, and to give
it renewed vigour ; but by far the greater portion combines
with the carbonaceous matter of the blood, and carries off
this impurity in the shape of carbonic acid at each expi¬
ration. This is proved by a very simple experiment. Let
a person, for instance, respire by means of a pipe into a
bag or bladder of air of the capacity of a gallon or more;
he will breathe freely enough at first, but in a very short
time with great difficulty, and at last will feel the sense of
suffocation the same as in holding the breath in the ordi¬
nary way. If the air in the bladder be now examined, it
will be found to have entirely changed its nature; it will
no longer support the flame of a candle, but extinguish it
the moment it is immersed, thus showing the loss of oxygen.
Hence arises that sense of closeness and oppression which
is felt in crowded assemblies, where, as generally happens,
the ventilation is imperfect. The same air being breathed
again and again, becomes unfit for respiration, and pro¬
duces those unpleasant sensations which are usually felt.
A very curious and interesting set of experiments on re¬
spiration were made by Messrs Allen and Pepys, and
narrated in the Philosophical Transactions for 1808. The
following bears particularly on the present subject.
“ Th ree hundred cubic inches of common air contained
in one of the mercurial gasometers were respired. In less
than a minute it became necessary to take deeper and Diving,
deeper inspirations, and at last the efforts were so violent
that the glass was in danger of being broken. A great
sense of oppression and suffocation was now felt in the
chest, vision became indistinct, and after the second mi¬
nute the attention of the operator seemed to be withdrawn
from surrounding objects, and fixed upon the experiment.
A buzzing in the ears took place, as in breathing nitrous
oxide ; and after the third minute there was left only suf¬
ficient recollection to close the gasometer after an expi¬
ration ; after which he became insensible, having made
thirty-five inspirations. The expired air contained ten
per cent, of carbonic acid, four of oxygen, and eighty-six
of azote.”
With 300 cubic inches of air, then, in the gasometer, the Quantity-
operator began to be insensible in the space of two mi- of air ne¬
tt utes ; and if we suppose that the lungs, which were jncessal7?
their natural state at the commencement of the operation, !lu’(ie °/
contained 100 cubic inches of atmospheric air, then jtmcreasin8
would follow that 200 inches each minute w ould be neces¬
sary to support life, so as to remain at the same time quite
sensible. Hence, supposing the lungs to contain, with a
full inspiration, 250 cubic inches, which is a pretty large
allowance, it would follow that a man might hold breath,
or remain under water, a minute and a quarter, which
agrees verj' well with what occurs in ordinary cases. But
a very curious fact has been mentioned to us by Professor
Faraday of the Royal Institution, London, and was first
noticed to him by a gentleman connected with the Asia¬
tic Society, a fact which may often be of great importance,
not only in diving, but in cases of fire, and of accidents
in brewers’ vats, &c. The lungs in their natural state are
charged with a large quantity of impure air, being a portion
of the carbonic acid gas which is formed during respira¬
tion, but after each expiration still remains lodging among
the involved passages of the pulmonary vessels. In proof
of this, it is only necessary to breathe by a small pipe, or roll
of paper, into a common water bottle, throwing away the
first portion of the expiration, and propelling the last into
the lower parts of the vessel. Then insert this over a ta¬
per, and it will be instantly extinguished. Now, by breath¬
ing hard for a short time, as one does after taking any vio¬
lent exercise, this impure air is expelled, and its place is
filled up with atmospheric air. The consequence is, that
if we then take a full inspiration, the breath can easily
be held for two minutes. This experiment any one can
make. On trying it in the ordinary way, we could hold
breath for about three quarters of a minute, but this with
great difficulty. We then made eight to ten forced re¬
spirations, and on closing the mouth and nostrils felt no
inconvenience even on the first trial, till after a minute and
a half, but continued, however, to the end of the second
minute. The knowledge of this fact might be of essen¬
tial use in diving, and, we have no doubt, might often be
the means of saving life ; for if in the ordinary way we
can only remain a single minute under water, of what im¬
portance is it to be capable of doubling the time ? A sin¬
gle minute in these cases must be invaluable. Whether
the professed divers are aware of this circumstance or not,
we do not know; but it is probable, at any rate, that in
many cases the exertion induced by swimming may have
the effect of clearing the lungs. Another curious fact il¬
lustrative of the same principles occurred to Mr Bruneli
in descending to examine the breach which the river had
made in the Tunnel under the Thames. Having lower-
DIVING.
ed the divine-bell nearly thirty feet to the mouth of the them thus company for some time in their voyage, con- Mving.
opening, thifwas found too narrow to admit the bell, so versing and asking questions ; and after eating a hearty
that "o further observation could be made on the state meal with them, he took his leave, and, jumping into the
of the Shield and other works, which were perhaps eight sea, pursued his voyage alone.
or ten feet deeper. Brunell, therefore, laying hold of the “ In order to aid these powers of enduring in the deep,
end of a rope, left the bell, and dived himself down the nature seemed to have assisted him in a very extiaoidi-
opening; his companion in the bell being alarmed at the nary manner; for the spaces between his fingers and toes
length of his stay, now about two minutes, gave the sig- were webbed, as in a goose ; and his chest became so very
nal^for pulling up; and the diver, unprepared for the sig- capacious that he could take in, at one inspiration, as
nal, had hardly time to catch hold of the rope which he much breath as would serve him for a whole day.
« The account of so extraordinary a person did not fail
to reach the king himself, who commanded Nicholas to be
brought before him. It was no easy matter to find Nicho¬
las, who generally spent his time in the solitudes of the
Difficulty
from the
had let go, and was surprised on coming up to find that
so much time had elapsed. On descending again, he
found that he could with ease remain fully two minutes
underwater. The reason evidently was, that the atmo- —,  o- - ^ ^ , r i i
sphere in the bell being condensed by a column of water deep ; but at last, after much searching, he was found and
nearly thirty feet in height, contained nearly double the brought before his majesty. The curiosity of this mo-
quantity of air in the same bulk, and thus nearly a double narch had been long excited by the accounts he had hear d
supply in the luno-s of the bottom of the Gulf of Charybdis; he now there-
Besides the difficulty of holding the breath, another fore conceived that it would be a proper opportunity to
  arises in diving, particularly at considerable depths, from have more certain information He therefore commanded
pressure ofthe external pressure of the fluid on the chest, and on our poor diver to examine the bottom of this dreadful
the water. e cayi of. the bod 0n the chest this tends to whirlpool, and, as an incitement to his obedience, he or-
compress it together, and to expel the air out of it, and dered a golden cup to be flung into it. Nicholas was not
thus increases greatly the difficulty of holding the breath, insensible of the danger to which he was exposed, dangers
At each foot of descent this pressure will increase up- best known only to himself, and therefore he presumed to
wards of sixty lbs. on every square foot of the body ; and if remonstrate ; but the hopes of the reward, the desire of
we suppose the chest to expose half a square foot, we have, pleasing the king, and the pleasure of showing his skii, at
at the depth of fifteen feet, a force equal to the weight of last prevailed. He instantly jumped into the gulf, and
450 lbs. loading the chest, and tending to propel the in- was as instantly swallowed up m its bosom. He continued
eluded air. A very great muscular exertion, therefore, for three quarters of an hour below, during which time
will evidently be required to resist this enormous strain; the king and his attendants remained on shore anxious for
nor is it practicable, by any breastplate or other contriv- his fate ; but he at last appeared, holding the cup in
ance, to defend the chest from this pressure, as this, to triumph in one hand, and making his way good among
do any good, would require to be so large, and of such the waves with the other. It may be supposed he was
strength, as greatly to obstruct the free motions of the received with applause when he came on shore; the cup
diver. It is this pressure of the deep water, and the violent was made the reward of his adventure ; the king ordered
exertion necessary to overcome it, that causes, in divers him to be taken proper care of; and, as he was somewhat
who go down frequently, the eyes to become blood-shot, fatigued and debilitated by his labour, after a hearty meal
and brings on a spitting of blood. he was put to bed, and permitted to refresh himself by
Marvel- The art of diving having always in it, and particularly sleeping.”
lous ac- during the infancy of science, something of the marvellous, The diver then, according to the account, gave a nar-
counts of the most extraordinary accounts have been given, by dif- rative of the wonders he had seen, which so excited the
divers. ferent authors, of the feats of some of the most noted curiosity of the monarch, that he again tempted the diver
divers. The most singular of these is that given by Kir- to a second and fatal descent. After plunging into the
cher, of the Sicilian diver Nicolo Pesce, taken, as he states, whirlpool, he was never more heard of.
from the archives of the kings of Sicily. But to return to more authentic statements, these on Authentic
“ In the times of Frederick king of Sicily,” says Kircher, the whole agree very well with the views already stated, statements
“ there lived a celebrated diver, whose name was Nicholas, Among the pearl divers at Ceylon and other parts cf the ^
and who, from his amazing skill in swimming, and his per- East, instances have been known of a diver remaining sixjj?^.0
severance under water, was surnamed the Jish. This man minutes under water ; but these are very rare ; the ordi-
had from his infancy been used to the sea, and earned his nary time seldom exceeds a minute, and sometimes it is
scanty subsistence by diving for corals and oysters, which a minute and a half, or two minutes. There are general-
he sold to the villagers on shore. His long acquaintance ly ten divers in each of the boats belonging to the fishery;
'
Sicilian
diver.
with the sea at last brought it to be almost his natural ele¬
ment. He was frequently known to spend five days in
the midst of the waves, without any other provisions than
the fish which he caught there, and ate raw. He often
swam over from Sicily into Calabria, a tempestuous and
dangerous passage, carrying letters from the king. He
five descend into the sea at a time, and the other five re¬
main above to recruit their strength. In order to hasten
their descent, a large stone is used, with a rope attached
to it, which the diver seizes with the toes of his right foot,
while he grasps a bag of net-work with those of the left.
He then seizes another rope with his right hand, and
was frequently known to swim among the gulfs of the Li- keeping his nostrils shut with his left, plunges into the
pari islands, noway apprehensive of danger. water, and soon reaches the bottom. Then hanging the
“ Some mariners out at sea one day observed something net round his neck, he speedily collects the oysters, and
at some distance from them, which they regarded as a sea resuming his former position, he makes a signal to those
monster; but upon its approach it was known to be Nicho- in the boat, and is immediately hauled up, and the stone
las, whom they took into their ship. When they asked which assisted his descent is pulled up afterwards,
him whither he was going in so stormy and rough a sea, The divers are all Indians, who are accustomed to this
and at such a distance from land, he showed them a packet seemingly dangerous occupation from their infancy, and
of letters which he was carrying to one of the towns of who fearlessly descend to considerable depths. They will
Italy, exactly done up in a leather bag, in such a manner frequently make from forty to fifty plunges in a day; but
as that they could not be wetted by the sea. He kept the exertion is so extremely violent, that in coming up they
DIVING.
57
Diving.
Florida
Indian
divers.
Use of
sponges-
South Sea
divers.
Apparatus
for aiding
the divers.
discharge water, and sometimes blood, from their mouths,
ears, and nostrils. Some of them rub their bodies with
oil, and stuff their ears to prevent the water from enter¬
ing; but the greater part use no precautions whatever.
They take no food while in the boats, nor till they return
on shore and have bathed themselves in fresh water. The
only danger to which they are exposed is from meeting,
while at the bottom, with the ground-shark, which is a
common inhabitant of those seas, and of which the divers
are under dreadful apprehensions; some of them indeed
are so expert as to avoid this enemy, even when they re¬
main under water for a considerable time; but the uncer¬
tainty of escaping is so great, that, in order to avert the
danger, they consult, before they begin, their priests or
conjurors, in whom they place implicit confidence.
Dr Halley relates, as a remarkable circumstance, that
he observed a Florida Indian diver at Bermudas, who
could remain two minutes under water. He states, that
the divers for sponges in the Archipelago are in the prac¬
tice of taking down in their mouths a piece of sponge
dipped in oil, and by this are enabled to dive longer than
others who have none. It is not easy to conceive how this
can assist the diver’s breathing; for the introduction of
any foreign substance into the mouth must necessarily
diminish the quantity of air he can take down. But it
has been lately said that the real object of taking oil in
their mouth is to calm those small waves on the surface of
the sea which prevent the light being so steadily transmit¬
ted to the bottom as is necessary to enable the divers to
find the small objects they search for without delay. By
ejecting a little oil from their mouths, it rises to the sur¬
face, and spreading upon it, calms- the waves in a most
remarkable manner, and gives a brilliant light at the bot¬
tom.
Many nations, and particularly the savages in the South
Sea and other islands, are remarkable for the expertness
they acquire by habit in diving and moving about in the
water. Being accustomed to it from their infancy, the
element becomes so natural to them that they seem to
have the use of all their faculties in the water the same
as on the dry land. According to the accounts of voy¬
agers, they are such expert divers, that when a nail or
other piece of iron was thrown overboard, they would in¬
stantly jump into the sea after it, and never fail to recover
it. On one occasion a smith’s anvil is said to have fallen
overboard. Not being able to bring this up, the island¬
ers notwithstanding contrived to bring it ashore, by de¬
scending a great many times to the bottom, and rolling it
over and over till it reached the land.
Such is the length to which diving has been carried by
the natural powers of the body alone. But from the curious
and difficult nature of the object, and the many important
purposes to which the art might be employed, ingenious
men were led to the invention of various contrivances for
the use of the diver, which have greatly extended his
powers and the usefulness of the art. A multitude of
these contrivances of different descriptions have been
brought forward by mechanical projectors for the last two
hundred years. They all resolve themselves into three
different kinds.
ls£, Water-tight armour or dresses for the body, so
strong as to protect it from the external pressure of the
fluid ; and, along with this, the means of supplying the
diver with fresh air, so as to enable him to remain any
time under water.
2r%, Water-tight vessels of metal for inclosing the
diver, and of such capacity as to contain a supply of air
for a limited period of perhaps half an hour or an hour or
more, and giving him also the use of his hands and arms
externally by a sort of flexible sleeves.
VOL. VIII.
2>dly, The diving-bell, which, from its simplicity, safety, Diving,
and perfect efficiency, has now almost entirely superseded
every other, though there is no doubt that in many cases
these may still be of considerable utility in subservience
to the bell.
In regard to dresses or armour, a number of different Water-
plans of this kind are detailed in Leopold’s Theatrurn^^^
Machinarum Hydraulicarum. At depths of twelve or fif-mour‘
teen feet these may often be of essential use; but beyond
this they become inapplicable, owing to the great pressure
on the limbs of the diver, which must eithqr be exposed,
or covered only with a flexible material, not to impede
his motions; and in that case the pressure, acting on all
sides like a ligature, is liable to obstruct the circulation
of the blood in the limbs, and to drive it from these into
those parts of the body within the armour, causing ex¬
treme pain. In any great depth, also, the necessary
strength of the armour renders it unwieldy; and it is ex¬
tremely difficult, if not impracticable, to fit it tightly on
every part; while the smallest opening, by admitting wa¬
ter, may endanger the life of the diver.
One of the best of these contrivances is perhaps that Klingert’s
proposed by M. Klingert, and described in a pamphletarmour.
published at Breslau in 1798. The harness or armour is
made of strong tin-plate, in the form of a cylinder, with a
round end to inclose the head and body, and, for the con¬
venience of putting it on, is made in two parts, the head-
piece or helmet, and the body. Besides this, there is a
leather jacket, with short sleeves, and a pair of drawers of
the same, which are made water-tight, buttoned on the
metal part where they join, and made tight with brass
hoops, going round the leather and the metal upon the
outside. The chief peculiarity in this machine is the
mode in which fresh air is supplied, and respiration effect¬
ed. This is done by two distinct flexible pipes proceeding
from the inside of the helmet to the surface of the water;
the one is for inhaling the air, and terminates in an ivory
mouth-piece, w'hich the diver may embrace with his lips
and inhale the air; the other enters the helmet at the
same place, and opens merely into the inside of the ma¬
chine, so as to allow the foul air to be discharged. The
diver, therefore, draws in the fresh air by the mouth, and
discharges it into the helmet by the nostrils ; and from
the interior of the machine it is propelled by the act of
inspiration, the expansion of the chest contracting the
space between it and the armour, and forcing out exactly
as much air as is drawn in, keeping up always a due equi¬
librium. This is certainly a very ingenious arrangement;
for, if there were no second pipe to discharge the air, the
expansion of the chest would compress the air round the
body of the diver, and, unless this were of large capacity,
which would be inconvenient, would create a difficulty in
the operation. The construction of the apparatus will be
understood from the draw ing, fig. 1, Plate CCV., which
is a front view of the diver, and by the following descrip¬
tion : A is the helmet-piece, fifteen inches in height,
and the diameter adapted to the size of the body of the
diver ; BB is the lower part of the cylinder, of the
same diameter, and of such a height as to meet the
other at the dotted line C; ddC is the jacket, and jfjfE
the drawers; these are attached to the cylinder by but¬
tons, as seen ; and a, c, bb are the three brass hoops fit¬
ted over each joint to make it water-tight; the hoops
are made of brass-plate, with their ends turned up, and
fitted with screws, by means of which they can be drawn
very tight upon the leather. The cylinder has holes
for the arms, one half in the upper piece and one half in
the lower; and when the jacket is fastened on, it binds
the upper and lower parts of the cylinder together. It is
fastened at the arms with brass screw hoops, dd, and the
H
58
Diving, drawers by similar ones k h represent tlie breath-
jng pipes, the first for drawing in the air, the second foi
discharging it; these are united to a little metal cylmdei,
which screws on the helmet at the aperture g; this is
shown more particularly at fig. 2, where a partition will
be observed in the cylinder dividing the fresh air com¬
partment from the other, the one terminating in the ivory
mouth-piece v, the other just entering the machine at t.
W is a small reservoir at the lower part of the pipes, for
condensing any air, or receiving what may penetrate
through the pipes. To resist the external pressure of the
water on the limbs, the leather drawers have a framing of
iron within them, represented at fig. 3; this consists of a
semicircular piece ll, also seen at U, fig. 1, extending be¬
tween the legs of the diver, and fastened to the lower ex¬
tremity of the cylinder at the front and back; also two
irons n?i outside the thighs, which are jointed to the cy¬
linder, and extend down to f, where they are attached to
a hoop surrounding the thigh; there is another hoop for
each thigh farther up at q ; these hoops are farther con¬
nected by irons, which at the upper end are fitted to slide
upon the semicircular hoop, as at t; and by this means,
though the frame-work is very strong, the diver is at li¬
berty to walk, ww are weights hooked on the cylinder,
to keep the diver down. P is a small pump for discharg¬
ing any leakage water which may penetrate through the
joints.
When the different parts of the machine have been fitted
to the body of the diver, and the proper weights are at¬
tached, he enters the water till it rises as high as his eyes,
while the end of the pipe is held by an assistant above the
surface ; and if he finds that he can breathe freely, and no
water is forced into the pipe, he may venture to go deeper;
and, stopping for some time, to ascertain whether respi¬
ration he not inconvenient from the want of fresh air, he
may advance to still greater depths, while he makes the
proper signals by means of the rope which is secured to
one of his arms, or by speaking through the pipe. By this
kind of exercise for some time, the diver acquires confi¬
dence and ease for conducting the necessary operations.
When he is desirous of ascending he has only to unhook
the weights attached to the apparatus, or to fix them to a
rope let down for the purpose, that they may not be lost,
and as he is then lighter than the same bulk of water, he
rises to the surface.
By following these directions, any one may be able to use
the apparatus, and dive to moderate depths, in a very short
time. In one of the trials upon the Oder, near Breslau,
the diver was a huntsman taught by the author; the water
was of considerable depth, and the current strong, and there
were a great number of spectators present. He sawed
through the trunk of a tree which was lying at the bottom ;
he showed also that he could have fastened sunk bodies to
a rope in order to be drawn up, and that in case any impe¬
diment should prevent the use of the saw, the trunks of
trees might be hewed to pieces by an axe. On the whole,
this apparatus, or one similar, might certainly be of great
use in many cases, particularly in hydraulic works, where
the diving-bell and the machinery connected with it might
not be attainable. The water-proof cloth of Mackintosh
might also be substituted with good effect for the leather.
Apparatus Another mode of supplying air to the diving apparatus
by Tonkin, lias been adopted in some cases. This consists in forcing
the fresh air into the machine by a bellows or pump, till
its elastic force is equal to the pressure of the water. The
foul air may in this case be suffered to escape into the
water through a valve, or may be conducted to the surface
by a pipe. Of this kind is the apparatus contrived by
Mr Tonkin, and employed for some time in raising parts of
the wreck of the Abergavenny East India ship, which was
D I V I N G.
unfortunately lost off Weymouth in 1804. It consisted of Diving,
a body of copper with iron boots, put together and jointed
in the manner of coats of mail; the whole is then coveied
with leather, and afterwards with canvass to distinguish it
under water. The arms are made of strong water-proof
leather ; and the place for sight is about eight inches dia¬
meter, glazed over wuth a plate of glass an inch thick.
The diver is sunk in this machine by means of weights,
fastened equatorially round the waist of it; and he is sus¬
pended by a rope, by means of which his situation is
changed at pleasure. A flexible air-tube communicates
with an air-vessel in the boat above. Through this tube^
the diver gives his instructions and obtains his supply of
fresh air. This machine was used with very good effect
in a depth of water of near seven fathoms, and enabled the
diver to direct the operations of several curious machines,
such as saws for clearing away the ship’s decks, and mak¬
ing sufficient openings to give him access to the treasure
below, as well as tongs, &c. for taking up the heavy goods
by tackle in the vessel above.
In regard to the second kind of diving machines, thatBorelli’s
proposed by Borelli is only curious as showing the low diving
state of physical knowledge in his time. He proposed tobladder
have a copper vessel, or vesica as he terms it, about two
feet diameter, to contain the diver’s head, and to be
fixed to a habit of goat skin for the body. Within the ves¬
sel there were pipes contrived to produce a circulation of
air, by which Borelli supposed that the objections to other
diving machines from the want of air would be obviated;
“ the moisture,” as he says, “ by which it is clogged in
respiration, and by which it is rendered unfit for the same
use again, being taken from it by its circulation through
the pipes, to the sides of which it would adhere, and leave
the air as free as before.” It also contained an air-pump,
by means of which the diver could raise or lower the ap¬
paratus, by condensing or rarefying the air, on the prin¬
ciple of the air-bladder of fishes.
Mr Martin, in his Philosophia Britannica, mentions an Leather
. • i, i   -♦..^r.^divintr
apparatus contrived by an Englishman, consisting of strong
leather, so prepared that no air could pass through. It fit-c )es '
ted to his arms and legs, and had a glass window placed in
the fore part of it. When dressed in this apparatus, which
was large enough to contain half a hogshead of air, he
could walk on the ground at the bottom of the sea, and
enter the cabin of a sunk ship to take out the goods. The
inventor is said to have himself used this machine very
extensively in recovering wrecks, and with such success
as to have acquired considerable property by it. We are
not informed of the depths to which he descended.
Mr Klingert, the inventor of the water armour, also con- Klingert’s
trived a diving chest, of the form of a hollow cylinder, todlvin8
be used along with it. This contained fifty-eight cubicc ^ ‘
feet of air, which, he estimated, would last two hours. It
was suspended from a boat, but could be raised and de¬
pressed independently of this by a pump compressing or
dilating the included air. Thus the ballast is so adapted
to the size of the machine, as to make it sink so far
that only a cubic foot of it remains above water. In
this state an additional weight of a hundred pounds will
depress it below the surface, or make it sink to the bot¬
tom. The effect of adding extra weights is produced by
diminishing the volume of contained air, by condensing it
into a smaller space. To accomplish this, a large cylinder
is applied in the bottom of the vessel, and provided with
a piston, which, by a rack and pinion, can be moved from
one end of the cylinder to the other, when the diver turns
a handle, coming through the side of the machine, and
communicating motion by a worm and wheel to the pi¬
nion of the rack before mentioned. The lower end of the
cylinder is open to the water, and the upper end opens
D I V I N G-B ELL.
within the machine; therefore, when the diver turns the
handle in the direction to raise up the piston in its cylin¬
der, it necessarily diminishes the bulk of the included air,
and the machine will sink; but on depressing the piston
in the cylinder, it will ascend again. The inventor pro¬
posed to furnish the machine with two small oars to move
it in the water, and an anchor or grapnel to make it fast
whilst the diver walks about on the bottom, within the
limits of the length of the pipe, to examine sunk bo¬
dies, and discover the best mode of raising them. To pre¬
vent danger from any accident happening to the machine,
the diver is to be provided with the means of quickly
detaching the pipes from the machine, and retaining a
sufficiency of air in the armour to carry him to the sur¬
face when he throws off the weight suspended from his
girdle.
Another diving machine or chest was invented by Mr
Rowe in 1753, and is represented in Plate CCV. fig.
4. It consists of a trunk or hollow copper vessel AB,
soldered or riveted together with strength proportioned
to the depth of water where it is to be fixed. It contains
the diver’s body, and also a sufficiency of air for the time
he intends to dive. He enters with his feet first at the
open end A, which is then closed by a lid or cover screw¬
ed on by a number of screw bolts passing through the
flanches. The vessel is bent at F, for the bearing of the
diver’s knees, and has a sufficiency of leaden ballast at B
to sink it in the right position. There are two hoops sur¬
rounding it, which, at the same time that they strengthen
it, afford points of suspension by a bar, which is attached
to them, and is pierced with several holes to admit a span
upon the rope, which is so adjusted as to suspend the
whole, with the diver in it, nearly in the position of the
figure, when he will be in a convenient posture for working
with his arms, which come through openings C in the ves¬
sel, to which sleeves E, of very strong leather, are attached
by a hoop or ring, screwed to the vessel with the leather
between them. The sleeves are lined with cloth, and the
edges round the holes are defended by soft quilting, from
hurting the diver’s arms by the pressure, as well as to pre¬
vent the sleeves and his arms being thrust inwards. D is
an aperture covered by a strong lens, for the diver to see
through. At H and G are two other openings in the up¬
per part of the vessel, covered by screw caps, which are
removed when fresh air is to be introduced into the ma¬
chine by the nose pipe of a pair of bellows being applied
to force fresh air into one, and drive out the foul air at the
other. The lower opening is also of use to pump out any
water which may leak through at the joints, though this
is as much as possible prevented by fitting leather into the
joints of the cover and the caps before they are screwed
tight. The mass of lead F is fastened to the lower side of
the vessel in a line between the diver’s arms, by means of
hoops. On this the whole rests if it comes to the ground,
and remains in a proper position for the diver to work, and
fasten ropes to any thing which is to be drawn up, as shown
in fig. 5.
If the water be very deep, the diver must wear a kind of
saddle on his back, which, having a ridge touching the
top part of the vessel withinside, enables him to keep his
arms properly out of the apertures, otherwise he would
not have strength to resist the pressure acting upon the
surface of the arms and sleeves, which forces them into it
with a weight proportional to the quantity of surface ex¬
posed, and to the depth of water. The diver gives his in¬
struction to those above by a small line, which is laid
through a staple at the side of the machine, and has a
handle always hanging in reach of the diver’s hand. The
upper part of this line is held by a person in the boat or
ship above, to whom any signal is given, by the diver
59
snatching or twitching the line a certain number of times, Diving,
as has before been agreed upon. This is immediately
felt by the person above, who gives orders accordingly.
The size of the vessel is such that he can continue at the
bottom about half an hour, without, any pipes or other
supply, and will be enabled to do many things very readily,
such as recovering moorings, chains lost in rivers or har¬
bours, hooking ropes for weighing up lost anchors, or any
other purpose where there is free access to the object
sought; though in entering and searching the wrecks of
ships, it would be less convenient than some others which
we shall describe.
Besides the above, several other projects of a similar Diving ma-
kind have been proposed, not only with means within it-chine to
self of raising and lowering the vessel, but with contri-move un-
vances in the shape of screw arms for moving it when^er waler’
under water in any direction; but none with much suc¬
cess. This is said to have been tried in the reign of King
James I. by a famous English projector, Cornelius Drebell,
who, we are told by Mr Boyle, made a submarine vessel,
which would carry twelve rowers besides the passengers;
and that he had also discovered a liquid which had the
singular property of restoring the air when it became im¬
pure by breathing. This last circumstance, with the num¬
ber of persons inclosed in the machine, and the imperfect
state of mechanics at the period alluded to, render the
whole story extremely improbable, though it shows clearly
that the idea had been entertained, and perhaps some
attempt made. The celebrated Bishop Wilkins, in his
Mathematical Magic, takes up the scheme of Drebell, and,
with all the sanguine facilities of a projector, describes
the benefits of these submarine enterprises. The subma¬
rine vessel of Mr Bushnell of Connecticut, in America,
constructed in 1787, though very complex, appears to
have been a curious and ingenious machine, and to have
promised success if persevered in, according to the ac¬
counts published of it. It was intended to act chiefly as
an engine of war, by advancing under water towards an
enemy’s ship, and fixing in the bottom of it a magazine of
powder, which, by peculiar contrivances, was intended to
take fire after the machine had got to a sufficient distance
to be out of danger. But if this be the only use of such
a machine, its failure need not be regretted. Let us now
turn, then, to the most important of all diving machines
yet contrived, namely,
The Diving-Bell.
The principle of the diving-bell is extremely simple. General
Let any one insert a wine glass in a tumbler of water; on principles,
sinking it to the bottom, the inside of the glass will be
observed to remain nearly full of air, so that any small
object within the glass will remain perfectly dry, the in¬
cluded air being confined on all sides, and by its impene¬
trability excluding the water from its place. If this ex¬
periment be made with a pretty large bell-glass, inverted
over a taper floating on the surface of the water in a still
larger vessel, the taper will be observed to descend with
the glass to the bottom; and though surrounded on all
sides with water, it will be found to remain perfectly dry,
and to continue burning for some time. Conceive then
a vessel of wood or metal, in the shape of a wine-glass or
truncated cone, but so large as, when inverted, to admit
several persons within it, sitting, for instance, on a board
along one of the sides. Let the whole then be suspended
by a rope or chain over the side of a vessel, with a jib pul¬
ley and crane, to lower or raise the machine at pleasure.
Then, on the machine being lowered and loaded with suf¬
ficient weight to sink it, the persons may all descend to a
great depth in the sea, without being wetted in the small-
60
D I V I N G-B E L L.
Diving-
Bell.
History.
est degree; and there is nothing to prevent them remain¬
ing any time in this situation, and moving about and doing
operations at great depths. . ,
The above, then, was the original construction ot the
divino--bell; and the great advantage of it, and what dis¬
tinguishes it above every other similar invention, and ren¬
ders it vastly superior, is, that being perfectly open below,
the divers can get out and in with the utmost facility.
This invention, according to Professor Beckmann, is ge¬
nerally assigned to the sixteenth century; and “ I am ot
opinion,” says he, “ that it was little known before that
period. We read, however, that in the time of Aristotle
divers used a kind of kettle, to enable them to continue
longer under the water ; but the manner in which it was
employed is not clearly described. The oldest information
which we have of the use of the diving-bell in Europe is
that of John Taisnier, who was born in Hainault in 1509,
and had a place at court under Charles V., whom he at¬
tended on his voyage to Africa. He relates in what man¬
ner he saw, at Toledo, in the presence of the emperor and
several thousand spectators, two Greeks let themselves
down under water, in a large inverted kettle, with a burn¬
ing light, and rise up again without being wet. It appears
that this art was then new to the emperor and the Spa¬
niards, and that the Greeks were caused to make the ex¬
periment in order to prove the possibility ot it.
“ When the English in 1588 dispersed the Spanish fleet
called the Invincible Armada, part of the ships went to
the bottom, near the Isle of Mull, on the western coast of
Scotland; and some of these, according to the account of
the Spanish prisoners, contained great riches. This in¬
formation excited, from time to time, the avarice of spe¬
culators, and gave rise to several attempts to procure part
of the lost treasure. In the year 1665, a person was so
fortunate as to bring up some cannon, which, however,
were not sufficient to defray the expenses. Of these at¬
tempts, and the kind of diving-bell used in them, the lead¬
er will find an account in a work printed at Kotterdam in
1669, and entitled G. Sinclari Ars nova et magna gravi-
tatis et levitatis. In the year 1680, William Phipps, a na¬
tive of America, formed a project for searching and un¬
loading a rich Spanish ship sunk on the coast of Hispa¬
niola ; and represented his plan in such a plausible man¬
ner, that King Charles II. gave him a ship, and furnished
him with every thing necessary for the undertaking. He
set sail in the year 1603 ; but being unsuccessful, return¬
ed again in great poverty, though with a firm conviction
of the possibility of his scheme. By a subscription, pro¬
moted chiefly by the Duke of Albemarle, the son of the
celebrated Monk, Phipps was enabled, in 1687, to try his
fortune once more, having previously engaged to divide
the profit according to the twenty shares of which the
subscription consisted. At first all his labour proved fruit¬
less ; but at last, when his patience was almost entirely
exhausted, he was so lucky as to bring up, from the depth
of six or seven fathoms, so much treasure, that he return¬
ed to England with the value of L.200,000. Of this sum
he himself got about sixteen, others say twenty thousand,
and the duke ninety thousand pounds. After he came
back, some persons endeavoured to persuade the king to
seize both the ship and the cargo, under a pretence that
Phipps, when he solicited for his majesty’s permission, had
not given accurate information respecting the business.
But the king answered, with much greatness of mind, that
he knew Phipps to be an honest man, and that he and his
friends should share the whole among them, had he re¬
turned with double the value. His majesty even confer¬
red upon him the honour of knighthood, to show how
much he was satisfied with his conduct. We know not the
construction of Phipps’s apparatus; but of the old figures
of a divine-machine, that which approaches nearest to the Diving-
diving-bell is in a book on fortification by Lorini; who de- Bell,
scribes a square box bound round with iron, which is fur- v
nished with windows, and has a stool affixed to it for the
diver. This ingenious contrivance appears, however, to
be older than that Italian ; at least he does not pretend to
be the inventor of it. ...
“ In the year 1617, Francis Kessler gave a description
of his water-armour, intended also for diving, but which
cannot really be used for that purpose. In the year 1671,
Witsen taught, in a better manner than any of his prede¬
cessors, the construction and use of the diving-bell; but
he is much mistaken when he says that it was invented at
Amsterdam. In 1679 appeared, for the first time, Borelli’s
well-known work De Motu Animalium ; in which he not
only described the diving-bell, but also proposed another,
the impracticability of which was shown by James Ber¬
noulli. When Sturm published his Collegium curiosum in
1678, he proposed some hints for the improvement of this
machine, on which remarks were made in the Journal des
Sgavans.” The diving-bell, as hitherto used in the above
simple form, is liable to two great defects, viz.
1. The elasticity of the included air prevents it from
resisting entirely the entrance of the water into the lower
part of the bell. The water, by the universal law of fluids,
presses the bell on all sides, in proportion to the depth of
the immersion. This pressure therefore it exerts upwards
on the bottom of the bell, and against the included air;
but the air being extremely compressible, yields to the
pressure, and is contracted into a smaller volume, allowing
the water to enter and occupy the lower portion ot the
bell. Such is the effect of this pressure, that at the depth
of thirty-three feet the air becomes compressed into half
its volume, and the bell fills half full of water; and the
same proportion at every other depth. But,
2. The air within the bell, by continued respiration, be¬
comes speedily unfit to support life; and the whole appa¬
ratus therefore must be raised from time to time, to re¬
ceive a fresh supply. Suppose that only two persons de¬
scend in the bell at a time, we have seen that a supply of
two hundred cubic inches of air per minute is absolutely
necessary for each person to keep in life and sensibility.
But in order to breathe freely, at least double that quan¬
tity would be required; say for two persons half a cubic
foot per minute. If then we have a bell six feet long,
and four feet average diameter, this would contain about
seventy cubic feet, and would last upwards of two hours.
So that for at least one hour or more respiration might be
carried on with all manner of freedom.
At great depths, such as twenty, thirty, forty, and sixty Effects of
feet, where the usual pressure on the body from the at-pressure,
mosphere above is doubled and tripled, amounting in the
latter case to nearly forty pounds in every square inch,
one would imagine that respiration, and indeed the whole
system of the body, would be deranged under so thick and
confined an atmosphere. But experience proves that no
great inconvenience arises from this circumstance; and
the reason is, that the air pressing into every cavity with¬
in the body, as well as externally, the pressure is exactly
balanced; so that the effect of the actual increase is ren¬
dered nearly insensible. The only particular sensation felt Pain in ^
in descending in the bell is some pain in the ears, par-ears-
ticularly at first. This increases a little as we descend,
but, after resting at the bottom, goes entirely off. It arises
from the effect of the condensed air acting externally on
the tympanum of the ear, before the air within the tympanic
cavity has acquired the same density to counterbalance
it. The tympanum on the outside communicates directly
with the atmosphere, the pressure of which therefore acts \
instantaneously. But on the inside the tympanum bounds
D 1 V I N G-B ELL. 61
Diving- the tympanic cavity; and this has no communication with clear glass, as a window, to let in the light from above ;
Bell, the external air, excepting by the Eustachian tube, which and likewise a cock to let out the hot air that had been Bell,
leads from the cavity into the mouth. Through this tube, breathed ; and below, about a yard under the bell, I placed
therefore, the condensed air must pass from the mouth, to a stage, which hung by three ropes, each of which was
supply what is necessary within the cavity for restoring the charged with about one hundredweight to keep it steady,
same equilibrium within and without. But the Eustachian This machine I suspended from the mast of a ship by a
tube is a long and narrow passage; at its commencement sprit, which was sufficiently secured by stays to the mast
in the ear it has a bony structure, but towards its termi- head, and wras directed by braces to carry it oyeiboait
nation in the mouth, behind the nostrils, it becomes soft clear of the ship’s side, and to bring it again within board,
and fleshy, so as readily to close the passage, particularly as occasion required. .
with any pressure acting externally. It admits therefore “ lo supply air to this bell when under water, I caused
an easy passage from the ear to the mouth ; but when any a couple of barrels, of about thirty-six gallons each, to be
pressure arises in the opposite direction, it acts in some cased with lead, so as to sink empty; each of them hav-
degree like a valve, shutting the passage, until the increas- ing a bung-hole in its lowest parts to let in the water as
ing pressure again forces it open. Some time then elapses the air in them condensed on their descent, and to let it
before all this can be accomplished ; and during this time out again when they were drawn up full from below. And
the external air pressing with full force on the tympanum, to a hole in the uppermost part of these barrels I fixed a
produces the pain which is felt. When the Eustachian leathern trunk or hose well liquored with bees-wax and
tube opens, it is generally all of a sudden, and with a oil, and long enough to fall below the bung-hole, being
slight explosion or pop, which is followed by instant relief kept down by a weight appended ; so that the air in the
from the pain. This relief may often be produced by fill- upper part of the barrels could not escape, unless the lower
ing the mouth, or gulping the air and pressing it into the ends of these hose were first lifted up.
tube. “ The air-barrels being thus prepared, I fitted them
Different accounts have been given of this effect on the with tackle proper to make them rise and fall alternately,
ears in the diving-bell; but the above seems the most ac- after the manner of two buckets in a well; which was
curate, and what really takes place. The effect, indeed, done with so much ease, that two men, with less than half
may be shown experimentally by shutting the mouth and their strength, could perform all the laboui required, and
nostrils, and exhausting the air from them by the action of in their descent they were directed by lines fastened to
the lungs. The air in the tympanic cavity immediately the under edge of the bell, which passed through rings on
rushing through the Eustachian tube into the mouth, the both sides of the leathern hose in each barrel; so that,
external air acts on the tympanum, and produces a slight sliding down by these lines, they came readily to the hand
sensation of deafness, such as is felt in the bell. But, in- of a man who stood on the stage on purpose to leceive
stead of exhausting the air, attempt to compress it, and them, and to take up the ends of the hose into the bell,
force it through the tube into the internal ear; at first no Through these hose, as soon as their ends came above the
effect is produced: but after exerting a considerable pres- surface of the water in the barrels, all the air that was in¬
sure, a slight pop is felt, and a little pain in the ear, which eluded in the upper parts of them was blown with great
is just the sudden opening of the tube. force into the bell, whilst the water entered at the bung-
The great inconveniences of the diving-bell already holes below, and filled them ; and as soon as the air of one
mentioned were completely removed by the labours of barrel had been thus received, upon a signal given, that
the celebrated and ingenious philosopher Dr Halley, who was drawn up, and at the same time the other descended,
about the year 1715 introduced the grand improvement of and, by an alternate succession, furnished air so quick, and
supplying it with fresh air for any length of time without in so great plenty, that I myself have been one of five who
raising the bell out of the water. This he effected by have been together at the bottom in nine or ten fathom
letting down from the vessel from which the bell was sus- water, for above an hour and a half at a time, without any
pended, barrels of fresh air, which, by means of pipes, dis- sort of ill consequence ; and I might have continued there
charged their contents into the bell; while the foul air as long as I pleased, for any thing that appeared to the
escaped by a small cock in the top of the bell. In this contrary. Besides, the whole cavity of the bell was kept
manner the air within the bell was kept perfectly fresh, entirely free from water, so that I sat on a bench which
and for any length of time. Another remarkable advan- was diametrically placed near the bottom, wholly dressed,
tage arose from this plan. The force of the air in the with all my clothes on. I only observed that it was ne-
barrels was made to discharge the whole of the water out cessary to be let down gradually at first, as about twelve
of the bell, which the elasticity of the included air had feet at a time; and then to stop and drive out the air that
hitherto allowed to enter and partially to fill the cavity, entered, by receiving three or four barrels of fresh air be-
This wras easily done by stopping the cock at the top, and fore I descended further. But being arrived at the depth
letting down the barrels below the level of the bell, by designed, I then let out as much of the hot air that had
which means the air included in them received a sufficient been breathed as each barrel would replenish with cool,
preponderating pressure to enter the bell and drive out by means of the cock at the top of the bell; through
the water. In this manner the whole cavity of the bell whose aperture, though very small, the air would rush
became available for working ; and, what was of still more with so much violence as to make the surface of the sea
importance, the diver could with ease descend and walk boil, and to cover it with a white foam, notwithstanding
on the bottom of the sea, the feet being only slightly im- the weight ot the water over us.
mersed. The following is the interesting account which “ Thus I found that I could do any thing that required
Dr Halley gives of his arrangements: to be done just under us ; and that, by taking ofl the
“ The bell I made use of was of wood, containing about stage, I could, for a space as wide as the circuit of the
sixty cubic feet in its concavity, and was of the form of a bell, lay the bottom ot the sea so far dry as not to be
truncated cone, whose diameter at the top was three feet, over shoes thereon. And, by the glass window, so much
and at the bottom five. This I coated with lead so heavy light was transmitted, that when the sea was clear, and
that it would sink empty ; and I distributed the weight so especially when the sun shone, I could see perfectly well
about its bottom, that it would go down in a perpendicular to write or read, much more to fasten or lay hold on any
direction, and no other. In the top I fixed a strong but thing under us that was to be taken up. And, by the re-
D I V I N G-B ELL.
Diving- turn of the air-barrels, I often sent up orders written with
Bell. an iron pen, on small plates of lead, directing how to move
—us from place to place as occasion required. At other
times, when the water was troubled and thick, it would be
as dark as night below ; but in such cases I have been
able to keep a candle burning in the bell as long as I
pleased, notwithstanding the great expense of air neces¬
sary to maintain flame. This I take to be an invention
applicable to various uses, such as fishing for pearls, div¬
ing for coral or sponges, and the like, in far greater depths
than has hitherto been thought possible. Also for the fit¬
ting and placing of the foundations of moles, bridges, &c.
in rocky bottoms, and for the cleaning and scrubbing of
ships’ bottoms when foul, in calm weather, at sea. I shall
only intimate, that by an additional contrivance, I have
found it not impracticable for a diver to go out of an en¬
gine to a good distance from it, the air being conveyed to
him with a continued stream, by small flexible pipes ;
which pipes may serve as a clue to direct him back again
when he would return to the bell.”
Plate CCV. fig. 5, represents the construction and opera¬
tions of Dr Halley’s bell as thus described.
In 1721, shortly after the above experiments were
made, Dr Halley contrived additional apparatus, to enable
the diver to go out from the bell to a considerable dis¬
tance, and stay a sufficient time in the sea, and walk
about on the bottom, with full freedom to act as occasion
required. Considering that the pressure being greater on
the surface of the water in the bell than on any other
surface which was higher than that in the bell, the air
would pass by a pipe from the bell into any cavity for air;
where the surface of the water was higher, he concluded
that a man, by putting on his head a bell or cap of lead,
made sufficiently heavy to sink empty, and in form re¬
sembling the bell itself, might keep his head dry, and
might receive a constant stream of air from the great bell,
so long as the surface of the water in the cap was above
the level of that in the bell, by means of a flexible pipe
which he would carry coiled on his arm.
In pursuance of this idea he procured pipes to be made,
which answered all that was expected from them. They
were secured against the pressure of the water by a spi¬
ral brass wire, which kept them open from end to end,
the diameter of the cavity being about the sixth part of
an inch. These wires being coated with thin glove lea¬
ther, and neatly sewed, were dipped into a mixture of
hot oil and bees-wax, which, filling up the pores of the
leather, made it impenetrable to water; several thick¬
nesses of sheep’s entrails were then drawn over them,
which, when dry, were covered with paint, and then the
whole defended with another coat of leather to keep them
from fretting. Several of the pipes were as much as forty
feet long, the size of a half inch rope. One end of a pipe
being fixed in the bell at some height above the water,
the other end was fastened to a cock which opened into
the cap. The use of the cock was to stop the return of
the air whenever there was occasion to stoop down or go
below the surface of the air in the bell, which occurred as
often as there was occasion to go out or return into the ma¬
chine. The diver, therefore, when he has descended to
the bottom in the great bell, puts on his cap with the
pipe hanging on his arm like the coil of a rope. As soon
as he leaves the bell, he opens the cock in the pipe, and
walks on the bottom of the sea, giving out the coils of his
pipe as it is required ; and this serves as a clue to direct
him back again to the great bell, from whence he derives
his supply of air by means of the pipe.
The weight of a man being very little more than that of
his bulk in water, he could not act with any strength, nor
stand with any firmness, especially' if there is any current,
without a considerable addition of weight; the leaden Diving-
caps were therefore made to weigh about half a hundred-
weight, to which was added a girdle for the waist, formed
of large weights of lead nearly of as great weight in the
whole ; also two clogs of lead for the feet, of about twelve
pounds each. With this accession of weight Dr Halley
found a man could stand well in an ordinary stream, and
even go against it. It is necessary for the diver to be
provided against the cold of the water, which, though it
could not be removed so that a man could endure it long,
yet it was much eased by wearing a waistcoat and drawr-
ers made close to the body, of that thick woollen stuff of
which blankets are made. This becoming full of water,
would be a little warmed by the heat of the body, and
keep oft’ the chill of new cold water coming on.
When the water is not turbid, things are seen suffi¬
ciently distinct at the bottom of the sea; but a small de¬
gree of thickness makes perfect night in a moderate depth
of water. To obtain an open view from the leaden caps,
which, from their use, the doctor called caps of mainte¬
nance, he at first used a plain glass before the sight, but
soon found that the vapour of the breath made such a
dew on the surface of the glass that it lost its transpa¬
rency. To remedy this, he found it necessary to prolong
that side of the cap which was before the eyes, and there¬
by enlarge the prospect of what was beneath.
Another plan of the diving-bell was proposed by Mr
Martin Triewald, F-11. S. and military architect to the
king of Sweden, which, for a single person, is in some re¬
spects thought to be more eligible than Dr Halley’s, and is
constructed as follows. AB, fig. 6, is the bell, which is sunk
by lead weights DD hung to its bottom. This bell is of
copper, and tinned all over in the inside, which is illumi¬
nated by three strong convex lenses P, with copper lids
to defend them. The iron ring or plate below the bell
serves the diver to stand on when he is at work, and is
suspended at such a distance from the bottom of the bell
by the chains, that when the diver stands upright, his
head is just above the water in the bell, where the air
is much better than higher up, because it is colder, and
consequently more fit for respiration. But as the diver
must always be within the bell, and his head of course
in the upper part, the inventor has contrived, that even
there, when he has breathed the hot air as well as he
can, he may, by means of a spiral copper tube 6c, pla¬
ced close to the inside of the bell, draw the cooler and
fresher air from the lowermost parts ; for which purpose
a flexible leather tube, about two feet long, is fixed to
the upper end of the copper tube; and to the other end
of this tube is fixed an ivory mouth-piece, by which the
diver draws in the air, at the same time expiring by the
nostrils. I his bell may be supplied with fresh air by bar¬
rels, the same as Dr Halley’s.
I he next improvements introduced in the construe-Spalding’s
tion of the diving-bell were those by Mr Spalding of trials in Dr
Edinburgh, and for which the Society of Arts voted him Halley’s
a reward. Ihese are certainly deserving of attention,
although they do not appear to have afterwards been
adopted in practice. Mr Spalding had, in the two pre¬
ceding years, acquired considerable experience in the
management of a bell on Dr Halley’s plan, which he had
constructed in the hopes of recovering part of a con¬
siderable property which had been lost in a ship wrecked
on the Scares, or hern Islands, in 1774, in the night, when
all the crew perished. Some of the light goods were
thrown on shore, and it was proposed to recover the rest
by diving, the remainder of the owners giving up the ma¬
nagement of the whole to Mr Spalding. His first experi¬
ments were made in depths of five, six, and eight fathoms,
in Leith Roads; and having in these made his apparatus
D I V I N G-B E L L. 68
Diving- tolerably perfect, he sailed for Dunbar, thirty miles dis-
Itelb tance, in an open longboat, sloop-rigged, and of about six
^ > "'w' or eight tons burthen. By a mistaken account he had
been informed the bottom of the Fox ship of war lay there ;
but upon his arrival, the oldest seaman in the place could
give him no intelligence; and as that vessel had perish¬
ed in the night with all on board, somewhere in Dunbar
Bay, and by storms, so long before as thirty years, it was
thought to be sanded up. In order to gratify the curio¬
sity of some friends there, he still determined to descend
where it might be thought probable her bottom lay; hut
in seven and eight fathoms water he found nothing but
a hard sandy bottom, from which he was led to conjec¬
ture that the proprietors of the valuable effects which
were on board that vessel might have found their account
in sweeping for her. Being informed that a vessel, which
was thrown up by accident in the river Tay, near Dun¬
dee, with a large quantity of iron, lay within two fathoms
of the surface at low water, he determined to make trial
there, and accordingly sailed across the frith to that place,
about forty-five miles distant from Dunbar. Here he went
down three different times, changing the ground at each
going down, and at last fell in with a stump of the wreck,
sunk five fathoms deep at low water to a level with the
soft bed of the river, which is composed of a light sand
intermixed with shells. The principal parts of this wreck
were supposed to have been carried away by an immense
body of ice the year before. He found that the muddi¬
ness of the river occasions a darkness at only two fathoms
from the surface that cannot be described ; and from the
smallness of his machine, which contained only forty-
eight English gallons, it was impossible to have a candle
burning in it, which would consume the air too quickty
for any man to be able to work, and at the same time pay
attention to receiving the necessary supplies of air.
These trials were only preparatory to his views at the
Scares, hoping to acquire experience which would enable
him to surmount the dangerous difficulty of the unequal
rocky bottom which he expected to meet with ; but in the
preceding trials, and different alterations of the machinery,
so much time had been lost, that the weather became
stormy, and be was obliged to wait at Bamborough Castle
some time till the weather became more favourable. He
then sailed to the Scares with his brother, three sailors,
and two pilots. It was four in the afternoon, about high
water, when he went down at a small distance from the
place where he judged the wreck to lie. The depth was
about ten fathoms. He fortunately alighted on a flat part
of the rock, within a small space of a dreadful chasm, and
had just gone two steps with his machine, when the ter¬
ror of the two pilots was so great, that, in spite of his
brother, they brought him up very precipitately, before he
had in any degree examined around him. On coming
into the boat, they remonstrated on the danger of the
machine being overturned either on the wreck or the
rocks, and also on the impossibility of raising any of the
weighty goods with so small a purchase in an open boat,
and in a place where, at this season, no large vessel
would venture to lie, as the nights were then so long,
and only two passages for a small vessel to run through,
in case of a gale of easterly or southerly wind ; one of
the passages being extremely narrow, and both of them
dangerous.
“ Convinced from this,” says Mr Spalding in his account,
“ that with an open boat nothing could be accomplished,
and that, except in June and July, no man would risk
himself with me in a sloop, to continue a few days and
nights at anchor there, I was obliged to abandon my pro¬
ject; yet I determined to take a view of the guns of a
Dutch ship of war lost in the year 1704; and as they lay
two or three miles nearer the land, I could execute this Diving,
design with less difficulty, especially as the weather con- ®elb
tinned still favourable. Having procured all the intelli-
gence possible, we went to the place, where I went down
four different times, but could find no marks of any wreck,
notwithstanding my walking about in five and six fathoms
water, as far as it was thought safe to allow the rope to
the bell, continuing generally twenty minutes each time
at the bottom. On this occasion I was obliged to carry a
cutting hook and knife, and clear away the sea weeds,
which at this place are very thick and strong; without
this method I could not move about. At the fifth going
down, each trial being in a different place, I was agree¬
ably surprised to find a large grove of tall weeds, all of
them from six to eight feet high, with large tufted tops,
mostly in regular ranges, as far as the eye could reach, a
variety of small lobsters and other shell-fish swimming
about in the intervals.” He then discovered the place
where one of the cannons lay ; but was too much ex¬
hausted, by having been down at intervals for near three
hours, to attempt bringing it up.
In these descents Mr Spalding found out two very se¬
rious dangers attendant on the use of the bell on Dr Hal¬
ley’s plan. These are, 1. By Dr Halley’s construction, the
sinking or rising of the bell depends entirely upon the peo¬
ple who are at the surface of the w ater; and as the bell,
even when in the water, has a very considerable weight,
the raising of it not only requires a great deal of labour, but
there is a possibility of the rope breaking by which it is
raised, and thus every person in the bell would inevitably
perish. 2. As there are, in many places of the sea, rocks
which lie at a considerable depth, the figure of which
cannot possibly be perceived from above, there is danger
that some of their ragged prominences may catch hold
of one of the edges of the bell in its descent, and thus
overset it before any signal can be given to those above,
which would infallibly be attended with the destruction
of the people in the bell, especially as it must always be
unknowm, before trial, what kind of a bottom the sea has
in any place.
To obviate these defects, Mr Spalding introduced a Spalding’s
balance-weight suspended below the bell, and which, improve-
when it reached any rocky or uneven ground, settlednients-
down first, and then the bell being made too light to sink
without the weight, remained suspended and free from
danger; and for the purpose of raising or levelling the
bell without aid from above, be divided with an air-tight
partition the upper portion of the bell from the lower.
The former was capable of being filled either with water or
air at pleasure, and of thus increasing or diminishing the
buoyant effect at pleasure, on the same principle as the
air-bladder in fishes.
Plate CCV. fig. 7, represents these arrangements, which
will be understood from the following description : ABCD
represents a section of the bell, which is made of wood;
ee are iron hooks, by means of which it is suspended by
ropes QBFe, and QAERe, and QS, as expressed in the
figure ; cc are iron hooks, to which are appended lead
weights, that keep the mouth of the bell always parallel
to the surface of the water, whether the machine, taken
altogether, is lighter or heavier than an equal bulk of wa¬
ter. By these weights alone, however, the bell would not
sink; another is therefore added, represented at W, and
which can be raised or lowered at pleasure by means of a
rope passing over the pulley, and fastened to one of the
sides of the bell at M. As the bell descends, this weight,
called by Mr Spalding the balance-weight, hangs down a
considerable way below the mouth of the bell. In case
the edge of the bell is caught by any obstacle, the
balance-weight is immediately lowered down, so that it
64 D I V 1 N G-B E L L.
Diving- may rest upon the bottom. By this means the bell is
Beil, lightened, so that all danger of oversetting is removed ;
f01i being lighter without the balance-weight than an equal
bulk of water, it is evident that the bell will rise as well
as the length of the rope affixed to the balance-weight
will allow it. This weight, therefore, will serve as a kind
of anchor, to keep the bell at any particular depth which
the divers may think necessary ; or, by pulling it quite up,
the descent may be continued to the very bottom.
Bv another very ingenious contrivance, Mr Spalding
rendered it possible for the divers to raise the bell, with
all the weights appended to it, even to the surface, or to
stop at any particular depth, as they might think proper ;
and thus they could still be safe, even though the rope de¬
signed for pulling up the bell was broken. For this pur¬
pose the bell is divided into two cavities, both of which
are made as tight as possible. Just above the second bot¬
tom EF, are small slits in the sides of the bell, through
which the water entering as the bell descends, displaces
the air originally contained in this cavity, which flies out
at the upper orifice of the cock GH. When this is done,
the divers turn the handle G, which stops the cock ; so
that if any more air was to get into the cavity AEFD,
it could no longer be discharged through the orifice H,
as before. When this cavity is full of water, the bell
sinks; but when a considerable quantity of air is admit¬
ted, it rises. If, therefore, the divers have a mind to
raise themselves, they turn the small cock g, by which a
communication is made between the upper and under
cavities of the bell. The consequence of this is, that a
quantity of air immediately enters the upper cavity, forces
out a quantity of the water contained in it, and thus ren¬
ders the bell lighter by the whole weight of the water
which is displaced. Thus, if a certain quantity of air is
admitted into the upper cavity, the bell will descend very
slowly; if a greater quantity, it will neither ascend nor
descend, but remain stationary; and if a larger quantity
of air is still admitted, it will rise to the top. It is to be
observed, however, that the air which is thus let out into
the upper cavity must be immediately replaced from the
air-barrel; and the air is to be let out very slowly, or the
bell will rise to the top with so great velocity that the
divers will be in danger of being shaken out of their seats.
But, by following these directions, every possible accident
may be prevented, and people may descend to great
depths without the least apprehension of danger. The
bell also becomes so easily manageable in the water, that
it may be conducted from one place to another by a small
boat with the greatest ease, and with perfect safety to
those who are in it.
Instead of wooden seats used by Dr Halley, Mr Spald¬
ing made use of ropes suspended by hooks bbb, and on
these ropes the divers may sit without any inconvenience.
I and K are two windows made of thick strong glass, for
admitting light to the divers. N represents an air-cask
with its tackle, and NP the flexible pipe through which
the air is admitted to the bell. In the ascent and descent
of this cask the pipe is kept down by a small weight ap¬
pended, as in Dr Halley’s machine. F is a small cock by
which the hot air is discharged as often as it becomes
troublesome. Fig. 5 is a representation of the whole diving
apparatus, which it is hoped will be readily understood
without any further explanation. Two air-barrels are
represented in this figure ; but Mr Spalding was of opi¬
nion that one air barrel capable of containing thirty gallons
is sufficient for an ordinary machine.
An improvement has been suggested on Mr Spalding’s
plan of raising or lowering the bell, by shutting up the
upper bell entirely, and forming it into a magazine of con¬
densed air, which being charged by two air-pumps within
the bell, could be let off at pleasure, and filling the lower Diving-
bell, would displace the water and increase the buoyancy. Bell.
The last great improvement on the diving-bell, and what
stands next in importance to that of Halley, and has
brought the machine to that perfect state in which itmcnt in jn_
is now so successfully employed, was introduced by the troduction
celebrated engineer Mr Smeaton. This consisted in sub-of an air-
stituting for the air-barrels of Halley a forcing air-pump, pump by
by which a continued stream of air was poured intokmeaton.
the bell without any fa»ther trouble or apparatus than a
man or two to work the pump. It was about the year Trial at
1779, in the repairs of the foundations of Hexham Bridge, Hexham
that Mr Smeaton first tried the use of the diving-bell; Bridge.
and this was the first attempt indeed to introduce it into
the operations of engineering, where it has since render¬
ed such essential service. The piers of the bridge having
been undermined by the violence of the current sweeping
away the gravel from under the floor timbers of the cais¬
sons by which they were founded, it occurred to Smeaton
that by means of the diving-bell the cavities under the
foundations might be filled up with rough stones, ram¬
med and wedged firmly together. His diving-bell con¬
sisted of a square box or chest of wood, three and a half
feet long, two feet broad, and four feet high. The
pump for supplying it with air was fixed on the top of the
bell, and worked by a handle at one side. The depth of
the river being small, it was not intended to go down so
as to cover the whole of the bell, else the air-pump would
have required to be removed; it was only necessary to
sink the mouth of the bell down to the level of the caisson
bottom. With the assistance of this machine Mr Smeaton
succeeded in underpinning the foundations of some of the
piers. The calamitous accident which followed in 1782,
when the whole structure was carried away by a sudden
and violent flood, only proved the great insufficiency of
the natural bed of the river.
In 1788 Mr Smeaton constructed a second diving-bell, Operations
for the operations contemplated at Ramsgate harbour, on at liams-
a much more substantial and improved plan; and this isgatehar-
the model on which all the succeeding diving machines Dour‘
have been formed. Instead of the usual form of a bell or
conical inverted tub of wood, sunk by weights attached to
the outside, this consisted of a square chest of cast iron,
four and a half feet long, four and a half feet high, and
three feet wide, affording sufficient room for two men at
a time to work under it. Instead of the weights applied
externally, the bell itself was cast of such thickness, parti¬
cularly at the bottom, that its own weight, viz. fifty cwt.,
was more than sufficient to sink it when full of air. The
pump also for supplying fresh air was placed in a boat by
itself, on which several hands were stationed, to keep the
pump continually in action. The air from the pump was
conveyed to the machine by a flexible tube, which allow¬
ed the bell to be moved up or down, or in any direction,
independent ot the motion of the boat. From the above
dimensions, the bell would always contain about fifty cubic
feet of air, which, from what we have already shown, would
be sufficient to support life for two persons for about an
hour, independent of any supply from above; so that any
idea of danger from this source is completely removed.
It was in clearing the foundations for the advanced pier
at Ramsgate that it occurred to Mr Smeaton the opera¬
tion might be facilitated by the diving-bell. A large quan¬
tity of stones had been thrown in, to secure the old pier
head ; and it seemed doubtful whether they could be got
up in nine and ten feet water by the usual method of
tongs from the barges. The diving-bell was found to
answer completely the object intended. In the course
of two months the foundations were cleared; and it was
computed that of 160 tons of stone raised out of the foun-
D I V I N G-B ELL. 65
giving- nation, about iUU stones, many of them above a ton each,
Bell. were brought up by the diving-bell, without which a full
season would have been lost.
The pier, which was afterwards built on the foundation
thus cleared, was founded by caissons, but in the course
of years was found to require renewal in some places, and
in others to be protected by an apron or outside wall of
regularly-built masonry; and here a new application of
the diving-bell arose in the building of this wall under
water. For this purpose the bell is suspended by power¬
ful tackle to the extremity of a long wooden frame, which
rests on the top of the pier, the one end projecting over
the pier, and the other running back and turning on a
centre pin, which is fixed in a heavy stone on the pier.
The frame thus sweeping with a long radius, and the
weight of the whole being borne by a roller running along
near the edge of the pier on a cast-iron plate or rail in
the segment of a circle, the bell is capable of having a
considerable motion right or left along the wall, and the
block of the tackle being moveable along the frame, the
bell is by this means shifted out or in from the wall at
pleasure; and by these two motions can be set in any re¬
quired position wfithin the sweep of the apparatus. The
directions for moving it are given by the divers, and com¬
municated to those who have charge of the apparatus
above, by merely striking with a hammer on the inside of
the bell. From the great facility with which water con¬
ducts sound, the strokes of the hammer are heard at a
great distance, and have a peculiar character, which is not
easily mistaken for any other. To convey various directions,
the divers have established a sortof language from the num¬
ber of blows of the hammer. One blow, for instance, de¬
notes more air ; two, stand fast; three, heave up ; four, lower
down ; and so on. The first operation in the building is to
clear and level the foundation. If this be loose materials,
they are removed by dredging, in the usual manner; but
wherever rock occurs, it is done by the bell, with two men
in it, being let down to the bottom, which, at Ramsgate,
is a hard chalk rock. When it stands thereon, it lays the
chalk dry to the level of the bottom edge of the bell; but
if the surface is uneven, the bell cannot descend so low
but that it will leave six or eight inches of water on the
bottom. The surface of this water is the level they work
to, and by cutting away every eminence which rises above
the water, they soon obtain a perfectly level surface. They
work with a small pick, made something like a narrow adze,
for this purpose; and the work proceeds rapidly, for the
chalk is not very hard. When they have accumulated as
much rubbish as becomes inconvenient, they give three
knocks on the bell to order the people to draw it up, till
they, standing on the bottom, find themselves knee deep;
then two knocks to stand fast. They now take in a shal¬
low basket which has been previously let down from above,
and fill the rubbish into it, then snatch it to order it to be
drawn up, and strike four times on the bell, that they may
be lowered down to proceed with their wmrk. Having in
this manner hewed away the surface till the water, stand¬
ing equally all over it, shows it to be a perfect level plane,
they give orders to be removed to a new situation, yet at
such a small distance that part of the surface they before
levelled is still beneath the bell, in order that both may
be brought to one plane. Thus continuing the work, they
get all the rock prepared for the stone-work, without any
other level than the water.
The foundation being thus levelled, the stones are in
the mean time all prepared and jointed, either square or
with dovetails. These are first hoisted from the pier by
means of a crane, and let down to their places in the
work, as nearly as can be done, by the crane. As each
stone is thus laid, the divers direct themselves right or
VOL. vm.
left, up or down, until they be exactly over the stone; Diving-
then making fast a strong chain to the lewis of the stone,
the other end of which is attached to a ring in the top
of the bell, they give the signal to heave, and the bell,
with the stone under it, are both suspended by the tackle,
and being moved right or left until it cover exactly over
its place in the wall, it is then let down, and the chain
being detached, the operation proceeds with another stone
in the same manner, until the wall be completed. No
cement is generally used to unite the stones; their own
weight, and the accuracy of the joints, being sufficient to
hold them together
Since the completion of Ramsgate harbour, the diving-Diving-
bell has been applied with great success to various other bell em-
operations of a similar kind in different parts of the king-Pj”^^ *n
dom, and particularly at Dublin, Donaghadee, and other V
harbours in Ireland, and at Holyhead and Portpatrick on ^
this side the channel. Plate CCIV. contains drawings of
the bell and machinery used for the harbour of Howth,
near Dublin, under the direction of the late eminent Mr
Rennie, and with which the foundations of the pier wall
were laid with success at very considerable depths below
water.
Fig. 1 is a section showing the machine and the bell Account of
viewed in the direction of the length of the wall which is bell and
to be erected, and fig. 2 is an elevation of the same as it^a^"^
appears when viewed from the sea. A is the bell, which isnear
made of cast iron. It is suspended by strong chains passed Dublin,
through eyes rr, fig. 5, and through the ring m of a tackle
B. FF, figs. I and 2, are strong beams supported in a
horizontal position by cross beams G, resting at one end
on the shore, and the other ends supported by a scaffold¬
ing L of piles firmly braced. On the beams F two iron
railways are laid for the wheels of two carriages to run
upon ; one of these carriages contains the tackle which
suspends the bell, and tbe other has a similar tackle to
hoist the large stones, which are to be laid on the wall X.
Each carriage runs with four wheels aa upon the railways
F, and has a smaller or upper carriage running upon it in
a transverse direction ; and this upper carriage contains
the windlass purchase tackle, by which the bell or the
stone is raised. Thus F' is the timber frame of the prin¬
cipal carriage, on the top of which are railways for the
wheels dd of the upper carriage, of which D is the frame ;
and C is the roller or barrel to wind up the rope or fall of
the great purchase tackle B, which is suspended from
the frame of the carriage, and bears the weight of the
bell. On the end of the barrel is a large cog-wheel M,
which is turned round by a pinion fixed on the axis N
of a second wheel O, and this is turned by a pinion, to
which the handles H are applied. By turning these, two
men can raise or lower the bell with ease. In order to
move the bell in either direction, the wheels aa of the
lower carriage E are provided with cogs at one edge, and
pinions b work in the teeth of these ; both pinions b are
fixed on the same axis, which extends across the frame ;
and wheels c are also fixed on each extremity of the axis.
These wheels have holes or mortises in them to receive
handspikes or levers, by which they can be turned round,
and will then move the lower carriage and the bell along
the railways FF, in the direction of the length of the wall,
which is to be built as shown by X. In like manner the
wheels dd of the upper carriage are provided with cogs
and pinions e, on the end of which are the capstan head f
to receive handspikes, when it is required to move the up¬
per carriage and the bell in a transverse direction. By
means of these two motions in transverse directions, the
bell or the stone can be suspended over any required spot
in the wall, and lowered down thereupon as the men in the
bell direct. Fig. 5 is a section of the bell, and fig. 6 a
66
D I V
Divisi
bility
Divinity, plan to show the apertures nn for the lenses which give
11 light. Two men descend together, a seat s being hxed
across on each side of the bell. The air-pipe is screwed
on at k, and proceeds to the air-pump as shown in fig. 1
The pump is placed on the top of the scaffold G; it has
two barrels 11, which are worked by a lever K, by one or
two men; they act as forcing pumps, and the air which
is thrown down escapes from the lower edge of the bell,
and rises up through the water in bubbles. By this means
the air in the bell is at all times quite fresh and pure.
The stones which are to be used in building the wall
are prepared on shore, and fitted to each other. W hen
all is prepared, these stones are lowered down the bank
by a capstan to the position w. I he rope of the machine
is then attached, and by the aid of both ropes the stone
is lowered down upon the wall. The divers then descend
in the bell, and the two carriages are brought close toge¬
ther, by which means the bell will hang partly over the
stone W, fig. 2, so that the men can guide it into its place
on the wall X, and make signals to those above to direct
them which way to move the stone, and where to lowei it.
The bell was also employed, in the first instance, to clear
the foundation for the walls. It was then lowered quite
down on the bottom, and the men worked the rock to a
level surface. In many parts it was requisite to blast it
with gunpowder. The divers bored the hole in the rock,
and placed the powder in a tin cartridge, which was well
secured in the hole, by running in small fragments of
stone. A small tin pipe was affixed to the canister, long
enough to reach up above the surface of the water. When
all was prepared, the bell was drawn up out of the way, and
a nail or other small piece of iron heated red hot was drop¬
ped into the tin pipe, thereby to descend to the powder.
Figures 3 and 4t represent a vessel which was fitted up
under the direction of Mr Rennie, to carry a diving-bell of
cast iron. This vessel was used in Plymouth Sound, and
the bell was swept over the bottom to discover and take up
old anchors, &c. The bell A is suspended over the bow of
the vessel, by a strong tackle q, from the extremity of a
pair of shears ; that is, two masts DB, DB, fig. 4. The fall
or rope of the tackle q is drawn up by a windlass at C.
There is also another strong tackle GH, extended be¬
tween the head of the mast I and the top of the shears
D. This is drawn by the windlass F. The use of this is
to raise the shears upright, and bring the bell on board.
D I V
A platform S is fixed on the deck to lower it upon when Divisibilitj
out of use.
The diving bell has lately been employed with success iJivmg-
in improving the navigation of the Clyde between Glas-beUs^on
gow and Greenock, by raising up and removing out of the
bed of the river a number of large stones which obstruct¬
ed the channel, and could not be so readily got out by any
other means. The bell is constructed similarly to that in
fig. 3, but instead of being let down at the end or side of
the barge, has a well constructed in the middle of the ves¬
sel itself, in which it is made to rise and fall by strong
chains, tackling, and cranes. Recently a second barge and
bell have been constructed, and are now employed on the
river for the same purpose. The management of the vessel
and bell requires six or seven hands. The whole can be
moved with great facility to different parts of the river,
and moored wherever their assistance is required.
Such, then, is an account of the construction and uses
of the different diving machines, and particularly the div¬
ing-bell ; and we have no doubt that the principle, as it is
susceptible of it, may yet be still more extensively applied,
and in various other ways. The only disadvantage attend¬
ing the machine in its present form is the expense and
cumbrous nature of the apparatus, which prevents its use
in many cases where it might be of real service; so that
it is only in some great and extensive public work that it
can ever be thought of. It is to be hoped, therefore, that
the skill and ingenuity of our mechanicians may yet suc¬
ceed in introducing the machine in a more accessible and
manageable form.
See Halley, Phil. Trans. 1716, vol. xxix. p. 492, also
vol. xxxi. p. 177; Triewald, Phil. Trans. 1/36, vol.
xxxix. p. 377; Spalding, Transactions of the Society of
Arts, vol. i. p. 220; Klingert, Phil. Mag. vol. iii. p. 172;
Lawson, Phil. Mag. vol. xx. p. 362; Bushnell, Transac¬
tions of the American Philosophical Society, vol. iv. p. 303 ;
Repertory of Arts, vol. xv. p. 383 ; Nicholson s Journal,
vol. iv. p. 229 ; Healy, Phil. Mag. vol. xv. p. 9; Robert¬
son, Phil. Trans. 1757, p. 30; Franklin’s Works, letter Iv.;
Leopold’s Theatrum Pontific. tom. i. ii. xxvi.; Borelli and
Mersenne, in Hooke’s Phil. Collections, No. ii. p. 36 ;
Bachstrom’s Kunst zu schwimmen, Berlin, 1742; Bazin,
Hamb. Mag. i. iii. and xxi.; Gelacy, Mem. de l Acad. Par.
1757; and Coulomb, Recherches sur les moyens d'executer
sous Veau Travaux Hydrauliques. (g. b.)
DIVINITY, Deity, godhead ; the Deity ; the nature or
essence of God. It likewise denotes any celestial being ;
and among the pagans was applied to their false gods. Di¬
vinity also signifies the science of divine things, and hence
is used as synonymous with theology.
DIVISIBILITY, that general property of bodies by
which their component parts or particles are capable of se¬
paration.
All bodies that possess sensible extension are divisible;
for since no two particles of matter can exist in the same
place, it follows that they are really distinct from each other ;
which, indeed, is all that is meant by being divisible. In
this sense the least conceivable particle must still be divi¬
sible, since it consists of parts which are really distinct. 1 o
illustrate this by a familiar instance, let the least imaginable
piece of matter be conceived lying on a smooth plane sur¬
face ; it is evident the surface will not touch it everywhere,
and those parts, therefore, which it does not touch may be
supposed separable from the others.
All that is supposed in strict geometry, says Mr Mac-
laurin, concerning the divisibility of magnitude, amounts to
no more than that a given magnitude may be conceived to
be divided into a number of parts equal to any given or
proposed number. It is true that the number of parts into
which a given magnitude may be conceived to be divided
is not to be fixed or limited, because no given number is so
great but a greater may be conceived and assigned ; but
there is not, therefore, any necessity for supposing the num¬
ber of parts actually infinite ; and if some have drawn very
abstruse consequences from such a supposition, yet geo¬
metry ought not to be loaded with these.
How far matter is actually capable of being divided, may
in some measure be conceived from this, that a piece of
wire gilt with so small a quantity as eight grains of gold,
may be drawn out to a length of 13,000 feet, the whole
surface of it still remaining covered with gold. We have
also a surprising instance of the minuteness of some parts
of matter in the nature of light and vision. Let a candle
be lit and placed in an open plain, it will then be visible for
about two miles round; and consequently, were it placed
two miles above the surface of the earth, it would fill with
luminous particles a sphere four miles in diameter, and this
before it had lost any sensible part of its weight. A single
grain of blue vitriol will communicate an azure tinge to five
D I V
Division gallons of water; consequently it will be divided into as
II many parts as there are visible portions of matter in that
Divorce, quantity of water. There are perfumes which, without a
v—'' sensible diminution of their quantity, will fill a very large
space with their odoriferous particles: these must therefore
be of an inconceivable smallness, since there is a sufficient
number in every part of that space sensibly to affect the
organ of smelling. Dr Keill demonstrates, that any par¬
ticle of matter, how small soever, and any finite space, how
large soever, being given, it is possible for that small par¬
ticle of matter to be diffused through all that space, and to
fill it in such a manner as that there shall be no pore in it
whose diameter shall exceed any given line.
The chief objections against the divisibility of matter
ad infinitum are, that an infinite cannot be contained by a
finite ; and that it follows from a divisibility ad infinitum,
either that all bodies are equal, or that one infinite is greater
than another. But the answer to these objections is easy ;
for the properties of a determinate quantity are not to be
attributed to an infinite considered in a general sense; and
who has ever proved that there could not be an infinite
number of infinitely small parts in a finite quantity, or that
all infinites are equal ? The contrary is demonstrated by
mathematicians in innumerable instances.
DIVISION, in general, is the separating a thing into
two or more parts.
Mechanical Division signifies that separation which is
occasioned in the parts of a body by the aid of mechanical
instruments, such as a mortar and pestle, a mill, &c.
Division, in military language, signifies generally a cer¬
tain portion of an army, consisting of infantry and cavalry,
either together or separately. The divisions of an army
are the several brigades and squadrons of which it is com¬
posed. The divisions of a battalion are the several platoons
into which a regiment or battalion is divided. The term
is also applied to any number of men on military duty de¬
tached from an established body ; as a division of artillery,
a division of pioneers, &c.
Division, in the Royal Navy, a select number of ships
in a fleeter squadron, under a commander, and distinguished
by a particular flag or pendant. A squadron is commonly
ranged into three divisions, that of the commanding officer
being in the centre.
Division, in Algebra, and in Arithmetic. See Algebra,
and Arithmetic.
DIVORCE (Lat. divortium), a breach or dissolution of
the bond of marriage.
Both among the pagans and the Jews a great latitude
was allowed of in divorce. At Athens and at Sparta, the
only Greek states of whose laws on this subject we have
any certain information, a divorce might be effected either
by the husband or the wife; though in the woman’s case
it was a matter of some difficulty. The husband, on the
other hand, was permitted by the Athenian law to divorce
his wife by a very summary process—namely, by turning
her out of his house. This was usually done in the pre¬
sence of witnesses ; but the husband was bound to restore
her portion, or in lieu of it to pay her the interest on it at
the rate of nine oboli per drachma every month, besides an
allowance for alimony. A woman could only sue for a di¬
vorce by appearing in person before the archon, and deli¬
vering up a memorial stating the grounds upon which she
sued for a divorce. The terms expressing the separation
of men and women were different; the man being said
aTroTrefjLTreiv, to dismiss his wife, and the woman a.7roA.et7mv, to
leave her husband. At Sparta, according to Herodotus, a
man might divorce his wife on the plea of barrenness. The
Cretans, again, are said to have permitted a man to divorce
his wife if he was afraid of having too great a number of
children. ,
Among the Romans, the ordinarv causes of divorce were
D I v 67
sterility, old age, bodily disease, insanity, and banishment; Div°rce.
to which were afterwards added by Justinian a vow of chas-
tity and the profession of the monastic life—with a view to
conciliate his Christian subjects. Divorce always existed
in the Roman polity, and appears to have been permitted
on very slight grounds, since either party might declare his
or her intention to dissolve the marriage on the plea of the
absence of conjugal affection—abiding consent being con¬
sidered essential to the continuance of the connection. The
dissolution of the marriage might be effected without any
judicial process. According to Plutarch (Romulus, c. 22),
the husband alone originally was able to effect a divorce ;
but his authority on this point is questionable. The earliest
instance of a divorce at Rome is said to have occurred
under the consulship of M. Attilius and P. Valerius, about
the year b.c. 234, when Sp. Carvilius Ruga put away his
wife on the plea of barrenness; but it would appear that
his behaviour was much censured.
Divorces were of comparatively rare occurrence at Rome
till towards the latter end of the republic; and under the
emperors they became very common. Doubtless the state
of the law tended greatly to multiply divorces, since either
party was at liberty to contract a new marriage. Pompey di¬
vorced his wife Mucia on the charge of adultery ; Cicero di¬
vorced his aged wife Terentia and married a young woman;
Cato the younger lent his wife Marcia to his friend Horten-
sius, or in other words he divorced her that his friend might
marry her and have children by her; and Julius Caesar di¬
vorced Pompeia because shewas suspected of intriguing with
Clodius. As a general rule, the portion (dos) of the wife
was returned to her when divorced by the husband, or when
they separated by mutual consent. Their offspring in all
cases remained at the disposal of the father. A consti¬
tution of Diocletian and Maximian, however, empowered
a competent judge to declare whether the father or the
mother should be entrusted with the care of the children.
In certain cases, a sixth part of the wife’s portion might be
retained by the husband; as, for example, when the wife
had been convicted of infidelity.
It was necessary, in proceeding to effect a divorce, to
make a distinct notice or declaration of the intention to se¬
parate. The term repudium is said to differ from divor¬
tium, in that the former properly applies to a marriage only
contracted ; but these terms appear to be sometimes used
indifferently. In the time of Augustus an attempt was
made to restrain the facilities for divorce, by the Lex Julia
de Adulteriis and the Lex Pappia—Poppcea.
“ The law of Moses,” observes Archdeacon Paley, “ for
reasons of local expediency, permitted the Jewish husband
to put away his wife; but whether for every cause, or for
what cause, appears to have been controverted amongst the
interpreters of those times. Christ, the precepts of whose
religion were calculated for more general use and observa¬
tion, revokes this permission, as given to the Jews ‘for their
hardness of heart,’ and promulgates a law which was thence¬
forward to confine divorces to the single cause of adultery
in the wife: ‘ Whosoever shall put away his wife, except it
be for fornication, and shall marry another, committeth
adultery; and whoso marrieth her which is put away, doth
commit adultery.’ ”
By the law of Scotland, a divorce may be obtained on
the ground either of adultery or of wilful desertion. Neither
of these grounds, however, dissolves the marriage ipso jure ;
and if a process of divorce be not instituted, the marriage
subsists, notwithstanding the adultery or desertion. Until
recently the action of divorce proceeded before the com¬
missaries of Edinburgh ; and in every such action, whether
founded on adultery or desertion, the pursuer must make
oath that the action is not collusive. The legal effect of
divorce on the ground of desertion is, that the offending
party loses the “ tocher,” as it is called, and the donationes
i
68
Divorce.
V / '
Divorce in
England.
DIVORCE.
propter nuptias; that is, the offending husband is bound
to restore the dowry, and to pay or make good to the wife
all her provisions, legal or conventional ; and the offending
wife forfeits her dowry, and all that would have come to her
had the marriage been dissolved by the predecease of her
husband. It is now held that recrimination is not a good
defence against divorce for adultery; yet, as the mutual
guilt may affect the patrimonial interests of the parties, it
may be stated in a counter action. But lenocinium, or the
husband’s participation in the profits of his wife’s prostitu¬
tion, nay, even the husband’s connivance in her guilt, is a
good defence to the wife against an action of divorce on
the ground of adultery. The statute 1600, cap. 20, declares
marriages contracted between the adulterer and the person
with whom he or she may be found by the sentence of
divorce to have committed the crime, to be null and un¬
lawful, and the issue of such marriages to be incapable of
succeeding to their parents; but the act, nevertheless, has
not the effect of bastardizing such issue. The right to in¬
stitute a divorce is personal to the husband or wife ; but if,
after the action has been raised, either party die before the
decree of divorce becomes final, it has been argued that the
natural dissolution of the marriage by death supersedes and
definitively closes all proceeding commenced for dissolving it
on any other ground. The natural dissolution, it has been
contended, is the first effectual one, and that which is to
regulate all questions as to the status of the survivor. How
far litiscontestation in such a case renders it transmissible
to representatives, has not yet, we believe, been decided.
The following is the substance of the inquiries and recom¬
mendations of the commissioners appointed by Her Ma¬
jesty in December 1850 to inquire into the law of divorce.
Divorces in England are of two kinds—the one partial, and
the other total. Partial divorces are called divorces a mensd
et thoro, because they separate the married parties from each
other’s society without dissolving the marriage union. Total
divorces are called divorces d vinculo matrimonii, because
they dissolve that union altogether, either on the ground of
some antecedent incapacity which rendered the contract
void from the beginning, or on the ground of some super¬
venient cause, which having arisen subsequently to the mar¬
riage justifies the parties in desiring to put an end to it.
Divorces d mensd et ihoro are little more in the eye of
the law than simple separations; they only last until the
parties think fit to be reconciled; and they are granted at
the suit of the husband or wife, when the gross misconduct
of either of them—such as cruelty, adultery, or the like—
have rendered it impracticable for them to live together;
but so careful is our law to encourage reconciliations, that
an express clause to that effect ought always to be inserted
in the sentence of divorce.
The common law of England, which follows in this case the
canon law of the church, “ deems so highly, and with such
mysterious reverence, of the nuptial tie,” that the causes of Divorce,
divorce are purposely limited to a few extreme and specific
provocations; and the preservation of that union, so long
as it can be secured, is so manifestly essential to the best
interests of society, that before it can be dissolved it must
be clearly established by the strictest proof that the offence
has been committed ; that there is no contrivance by which
the parties are endeavouring to escape from their solemn
obligations to themselves and their children ; that they can¬
not discharge their mutual duties by continuing any longer
to cohabit with each other; and that the party complaining
is free from guilt.
A divorce d mensd et thoro will neither bar the wife of
her dower, nor deprive the husband of his marital rights in
respect of her property. Nor will it enable either of the
parties to marry again; nor will it exempt them from the
censure of the ecclesiastical court for living incontinently.
Nor will it bastardize the subsequent born issue ; but during
the separation the court will decree a competent allowance
to the wife for her maintenance under the name of alimony.
This allowance depends on the innocence or delinquency of
the parties, and is measured by the means and circumstances
of the husband.
Before the Reformation, marriages were liable to be set
aside on the ground of some antecedent incapacity which
rendered it in reality void from the beginning; upon proof
of precontract with some other person ; or because the con¬
nexion was within the degrees of consanguinity or affinity
prohibited by the canon law, which was far more restrictive
than the law of God.1 But since the Reformation these
rules have been altered on account of the inconveniences
which resulted from them ; for, to use the language of an
old statute, “ Marriages were brought into such uncertainty
thereby, that none could be surely knit and bounden, but it
should be in either of the parties’ power and arbiter (casting
away the fear of God by means and compasses) to prove a
precontract, a kindred and alliance, or a carnal knowledge,
to defeat the same.” The only grounds, therefore, since
the passing of that statute, for nullifying and absolving the
marriage contract by reason of some antecedent incapacity,
are relationship within the forbidden degrees, a previous
marriage, corporal imbecility, or mental incompetency.
In cases of this description the ecclesiastical courts do
not exercise, nor do they possess, a rescinding power.
The effects of a sentence nullifying a marriage are, first,
that the wife is barred of her dower ; secondly, that the issue
are illegitimate ; and thirdly, that the parties so divorced
may marry again.
By the law of England the marriage contract is indis¬
soluble ; and when once it has been constituted in a legal
manner, there are no means of putting an end to it in any
of our courts. Nevertheless, the actual dissolution of such
a contract, when adultery has been committed, is so con-
Every one knows how much it was the policy of the Roman Church to multiply impediments to matrimony ; the power of granting
dispensations having been in all ages a fruitful source of ecclesiastical revenue. Not only were marriages with cousins interdicted, but
the relation of affinity was held to be contracted by mere commerce between the sexes. Thus, if a man had connection with one sister,
though not married to her, it would have been incestuous in him to marry, or to have sexual intercourse with the other sister, or even with
her relatives, by consanguinity or affinity, to the eighth degree! Thus, on the death of James IV. of Scotland, his widow Margaret
u or married the Earl of Angus. In 1524 she procured (by collusion with her husband) a sentence of divorce d vinculo matrimonii
upon proof of his having been “ precontracted.” Sentence of nullity (that is, in the ecclesiastical phraseology divorce a vinculo matri¬
monii) was thereupon pronounced ; and the queen, freed from her fetters, gave her hand to Lord Methven, whom, however, she very soon
dismissed by another suit in the ecclesiastical court, upon evidence that Methven was cousin, eight degrees removed to her former husband,
Angus; this constituting an affinity by the laws of holy church, and a just impediment to matrimony. In another case, Janet Betoun
(the Lady Buccleugh of the “ Lay of the Last Minstrel,”) having married Simon Preston of Craigmillar, sued a divorce against him in
the ecclesiastica! court, not on the ground of any misconduct on his part, but on the ground that before their marriage she, the plaintiff,
had had sinful intercourse with Walter Scott of Buccleugh, and that Buccleugh and Preston were within the prohibited degrees. On
toUnbnrrrriSdOWri?118’ a Senteiice of dlvorce « vinculo matrimonii was pronounced. (Riddell’s Exposition of Ancient Consistorial Law,
tPllT tw toil ^ +®Se C-aS^ m°St Clear y What the laW Was in the Roman Catholic times on the points in question. Lord Coke
wifeWnlin ” T t w VI VS V'V divor<;e matrimonii might be had “ because the husband had stood godfather to his
wife s cousin. It was not by the axe that Henry VIII. extinguished his marriage with Anne Boleyn. He first carried her into the
wT/hh^r sisten/arv11 In° th ^ alleged Precontra^ Northumberland, and for his own criminal intercourse
the entire ChrisHa^world Catholic times, the same ecclesiastical law prevailed throughout the island, and, indeed, governed
\
Divorce, sonant to reason and religion, that, where the general law
has tailed to give a remedy, parliament has stepped in
to provide one specially by passing a particular law in
favour of those who can make out a case which will warrant
its interference. The origin of this is important and in¬
structive.
In Roman Catholic times marriage was regarded as a
sacrament by the canon law ; and being a sacrament it was
deemed indissoluble. But at the Reformation the courts
denounced, amongst other opinions of the Romish Church,
the doctrine of a sacrament in marriage ; “ retaining the
idea of its being of Divine institution in its general origin,”
but considering it in the light of a civil contract, which for
its full completion had always required, in England at least,
some religious solemnity. The character of marriage was
thus materially altered; for since it was no longer to be
deemed a sacrament, there was nothing, on that account, to
render it indissoluble ; and as the Reformers were about to
revise the whole body of the canon law—which had become
unsuitable to a Protestant country—they did not omit the
matrimonial code. With this view, thirty-two commissioners
were appointed to order and compile such laws ecclesiastical
as should be thought convenient.1 “ A work was accord¬
ing composed for this purpose by Cranmer, and translated
into Latin by Sir John Cheke and Dr Haddon, two of the
restorers of classical literature in England.” This work,
having never received the royal confirmation, is not indeed
law, but it is of great authority. It has been published under
the title of “ Reformatio Legum Ecclesiasticarum,” and the
articles on the subject of marriage and divorce are pecu¬
liarly interesting, as containing, in a short compass, the opi¬
nions of our first Reformers on matters which affect the civil
rights of all men, as well as the highest of all the moral in¬
terests of society.
By these articles, when the husband or wife had com¬
mitted adultery, a divorce was allowed, and the unoffending
party might marry again. But if both were guilty, since
both must fall under the same condemnation, the first mar¬
riage was not to be dissolved. Absolute desertion, pro¬
tracted absence, mortal enmities, and lasting cruelty, were
all adjudged to be lawful grounds of divorce. But recon¬
ciliation was inculcated wherever it could be obtained ; and
separations from bed and board were entirely abolished. It
was, moreover, recommended that adultery should be pun¬
ished by perpetual imprisonment or transportation for life ;
and if the offender were the husband, he was to return to
the wife her fortune, and add to it one-half of his own; or
if the wife, she was to forfeit her jointure, and all the ad¬
vantages which by law, custom, settlement, or promise, &c.,
she might have otherwise derived from her marriage.
It is supposed that the regulations contained in this code
on the subject of divorce were occasioned by the case of
Parr, Marquis of Northampton, who had divorced his wife,
Anne Boucher, for adultery, in the ecclesiastical court.
For, according to the custom which then prevailed, it is pro¬
bable that divorces had no certain and immediate effect be¬
yond that. But since this statute was repealed by a law
passed in the following reign,2 “ nothing is left of these pro¬
ceedings except the advised and lasting belief of Cranmer,
and his associates in reformation, that a more extensive
liberty of divorce ought to be allowed.”3
Apparently, in fact, it was allowed for more than half a
century. For it has been observed by Sir John Stoddart,
that from the year 1550 until the year 1602, marriage was
not held by the church, and therefore was not held by the
law, to be indissoluble.
The church, however, was still anxious to discourage as
much as possible a second marriage after divorce; and ac¬
cordingly it requires by the 109th canon that “ in all sen¬
tences pronounced only for divorce and separation d thoro
et mensd, there shall be a caution and restraint inserted in
the said sentence that the parties so separated shall live
chastely, and neither shall they, during each other’s life,
contract matrimony with other person.”
Mr Serjeant Salkeld lays it down that “ divorce for adul¬
tery was anciently d vinculo matrimonii; and therefore,
in the beginning of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the opi¬
nion of the Church of England was, that after a divorce for
adultery the parties might marry again. Butin Foljambe’s
case, he adds, anno 44th Elizabeth, in the Star Chamber, that
opinion was changed. And Archbishop Bancroft (it should
be Whitgift) upon the advice of divines, held that adultery
was only a cause of divorce d mensd et thoro.” The doc¬
trine of indissolubility was thus not only re-established, but
it operated in this country with a rigour unknown in Roman
Catholic times ; the various fictions and devices in the shape
of canonical degrees and alleged precontracts, which then
afforded so many loopholes of escape from its severity, hav¬
ing been each and all put an end to at the Reformation.
It may be reasonably doubted whether the decision in
Foljambe’s case was assented to by the Church of England
as a body, for the Chamber of Convocation in the succeed¬
ing year re-enacted, word for word, the ecclesiastical con¬
stitutions of 1597. These, as subsequently confirmed by
James I., are now a substantive part of the ecclesiastical
law of this kingdom, being in fact the well-known canons
of 1603, which have never been repealed or disturbed.
How far the conduct of the laity may have been affected
by these proceedings, it is difficult to conjecture. What
was the practical rule respecting second marriages in the
reign of James I., or in that of his son, or during the time
of the Commonwealth, we are but little informed. Mr
Spence has conjectured that, in early times, the Court of
Chancery, under its clerical chancellors, exercised jurisdic¬
tion to decree a divorce d vinculo matrimonii. There is
no authority, however, for this, except some loose entries
in Tothill’s Transactions of the Court of Chancery. The
first case which answered the double purpose of bastardizing
the issue and enabling the parties to marry again is that of
Lord Roos, in the reign of Charles II. The facts were
shortly these. In the year 1666, an act was passed, bastard¬
izing the children of Lady Ann Roos, by reason of her
adultery ; and thereupon her husband, Lord Roos, followed
up this proceeding by obtaining from the spiritual court a
sentence of divorce d mensd et thoro. But these proceed¬
ings were incomplete for his purpose: and since “there was
no probable expectation of posterity to support the family
in the male line, but by the said John Manners Lord Roos,”
a bill was brought in entituled “ An act for Lord Roos to
marry again,” and it enabled him to do so, and gave to the
children born in such wedlock the character of legitimacy,
and the capacity of inheriting.
According to the historians Burnet and Ralph, this bill
was passed on political grounds, and with a political object,
viz., to form a precedent which would enable Charles II. to
separate from his first wife, by whom he had no children,
1 35th Hen. VIII. cap. 16, authorizes the king to name thirty-two persons, viz., sixteen spiritual and sixteen temporal, to examine all
canons, constitutions, and ordinances, provincial and synodal, and to establish all such laws ecclesiastical as shall be thought by the king and
them convenient to be used in all spiritual courts.
3d & 4th Edw. VI. cap. 11. An act that the King’s Majesty may nominate and appoint two-and-thirty persons to pursue and make
ecclesiastical laws.
2 This is a private act, 5th & 6th Edw. VI., and consequently it is not printed in the authentic or common collection of the statutes.
3 See Mackintosh’s History of England, pp. 275, 276 ; and see an account of all the proceedings in Burnett’s Reformation, vol. ii.,
pp. 90, &c., and 306; and Macqueen’s Practice of the House of Lords, pp. 468, 792.
DIVORCE.
7°
Divorce, and to marry a second wife, after that separation, for the
purpose of excluding the Duke of York from the throne.
However that may be, unquestionably the bill was contested
stoutly; seventeen bishops opposed, and three only sup¬
ported it. But amongst those who supported it, was Bishop
Cozens, whose masterly argument on this subject was after¬
wards published in a pamphlet, and is now preserved in
“ The State Trials.”
The first example of an actual dissolution of the nuptial
tie by parliament was in the case of the notorious mother
of Savage, the Countess of Macclesfield. In that case the
aid of the legislature was sought, because, in consequence
of the skilful opposition set up by the countess in the spi¬
ritual courts, and the narrow maxims which there prevailed,
she contrived to baffle all her husband’s efforts to obtain a
sentence of divorce d mensd et thoro. T he circumstances
of the case, however, were so scandalous and flagrant, that
it would have been an outrage upon every principle of jus¬
tice to withhold relief; at the same time, it was so novel a
proceeding to pass a bill of that nature, where there was
not a sentence of divorce first obtained in the spiritual court,
that a protest was entered against it by Lords Halifax and
Rochester, because, as they said, they looked upon it as an
ill precedent, and which might be of ill consequence in the
future.
The next instance of a legislative dissolution of marriage
was in the Duke of Norfolk’s case. There also a sentence
of divorce was refused by the ecclesiastical court, although
the duke tried the experiment more than once. He re¬
covered damages, however, at law, from the adulterer, Sir
John Jermayne. And after his bill had been repeatedly
rejected by the Lords, it became at last, in a new state of
circumstances, successful in 1700. Ihe leading counsel
for the duchess (Sir Thomas Powys) complained that this
was the first instance where an attempt had been made to
obtain a divorce by act of parliament, without any sentence
being previously obtained at Doctors’ Commons. And
the duchess herself protested against it in these emphatic
terms :—“ My lords,” she said, “ I had rather stand charged
for high treason before your lordships than with this igno¬
minious crmie. In the charge for high treason, the manner
of trial and the ways of the proceeding are known, and so is
the punishment. But your lordships are now creating new
ways of proceedings, and a new law to punish me, and this
fora crime supposed and alleged to be committed seven
years past, in another reign, and after public indemnities in
many sessions of parliament.”
Such are the cases in which application was made to par¬
liament before the commencement of the eighteenth cen¬
tury, to get rid of the consequences of a prior marriage.
By these means the right to obtain a divorce d vinculo
was definitively established. It was established, however,
in the rudest and most inconvenient manner; for the pro¬
ceeding was a judicial one by a legislative process, and it
had all the inconveniences which necessarily result from
the discussion of such a question in a mixed and popular as¬
sembly. At first only a few divorce bills were passed—not
more than five were carried through parliament before the
accession of the House of Llanover. From 1715 to 1775
their number was sixty, that is to say, they averaged about
one a-year. From 1775 to 1780 they had increased to
seventy-four, that is to say, upon an average, to about three
a-year: and from 1800 to 1852, they amounted to 110.
Two of these, viz., Lady Macclesfield’s and the Duke of
Norfolk’s cases, were without any sentence ecclesiastical:
and several were without any previous verdict at law; for
no standing orders of either house of parliament required
the institution of these parliamentary proceedings until the
year 1798.
In that year Lord Chancellor Loughborough called the
attention of the Flouse of Lords to the propriety of laying
down certain general rules, which should precede the consi- Divorce,
deration of every case, and with which all parties who came —
before them to seek a divorce should be bound to comply.
Accordingly he framed a series of resolutions ; and by these
resolutions it was not only required that a sentence of di¬
vorce d mensd et thoro should have been pronounced before
soliciting the bill, but that the entire proceedings in the ec¬
clesiastical court should be delivered in upon oath at the
bar of the Llouse of Lords. They further required that the
petitioner should attend the house, in order, if necessary,
that he might be examined as a witness with reference to
connivance or collusion, and also with i eference to another
point which has always been deemed of primary importance
in judging of divorce bills, namely, whether he was, or was
not, at the time of the adultery, living apart from his wife,
and whether he had not, by deed or otherwise, released her
from her conjugal duty by withdrawing his marital autho¬
rity and protection. These resolutions, which were passed
soon afterwards, had the effect of introducing a stricter prac¬
tice than had previously obtained upon bills of this nature.
By a subsequent order it was provided that no bill to dis¬
allow a marriage on the ground of adultery shall be received
without a clause prohibiting the marriage of the offending
parties. But this clause is struck out in committee or on
the report, except in very peculiar cases. In Dr Campbell’s
case, where the adultery was incestuous, a provision to that
effect was inserted in the Lords ; but the Commons refused
to ratify it.
Since the passing of Lord Loughborough’s orders, all ap¬
plications for divorces d vinculo have been supported by
ecclesiastical sentences; and all have been supported by
verdicts at law, or accompanied by circumstances which
justified or explained the want of such verdicts.
Divorce bills in the Commons were originally determined
in the whole house. But that unseemly and inconvenient
practice was put an end to on the motion of Mr Labouchere
in the year 1840, when the house referred them to a select
committee of nine members, of whom three are a quorum.
An instruction is given to the committee that they do hear
counsel and examine witnesses for the bill; and also that
they do hear counsel and examine witnesses against the bill,
if the parties concerned think fit to be heard by counsel or
produce witnesses. The proceedings in the Commons have
acquired by this change a more judicial character; but it
seems absurd that a case which has been already proved
three times should be proved again.
Under ordinary circumstances a divorce bill may be ob¬
tained at the suit of the husband, but not at the suit of the
wife. It may be obtained almost as a matter of right at the
suit of the husband, when the wife is convicted of infidelity,
and the conduct of the husband is irreproachable. But it
cannot be obtained at the suit of the wife except in cases of
aggravated enormity, such, for instance, as incestuous in¬
tercourse with the wife’s relations, which precludes the pos¬
sibility of future reconciliation.
The provisions of a divorce bill are in the discretion of
parliament; and in this respect there is some advantage in
bringing these questions under the jurisdiction of the legis¬
lature, as other courts are bound by rules. Parliament may
mould and adapt its relief according to the facts and exi¬
gencies of the case. In former times, it was asked to pro¬
vide, by express enactment, that the divorced wife should
not be left in a state of destitution. According to the mo¬
dern practice, this is a matter that is ordinarily effected by
private arrangement; but it is never neglected. “ There
is in the House of Commons,” Mr Macqueen observes (and
the observation is perfectly correct), “ a functionary called
‘ The Ladies’ Friend’ (an office generally filled by some
member distinguished for his attention to the private busi¬
ness of the House), whose duty it is to see that the husband
petitioning for divorce makes some suitable but moderate
DIVORCE.
Divorce, provision for the divorced wife.” This he attends to on all
i —’ occasions; not by inserting the intended provision in the
bill itself, for fear it should be rejected by the other House
of Parliament, but by taking care that it is legally secured
to her, before the bill has passed through committee.
It has sometimes been urged that cruelty should have a
more extended signification ; that other causes of divorce,
or at least of separation from bed and board, should be al¬
lowed, such as mutual dislike, incompatibility of temper,
neglect, severity, and repeated provocation ; and that these
separations might even be voluntary, if the parties were for¬
bidden to seek such a dissolution of the marriage contract
as would leave them at liberty to marry again. We can¬
not assent to these suggestions. The arguments against
them are put so forcibly by Lord Stowell, and Hume and
Paley, that they are absolutely unanswerable. “ To vindi¬
cate the policy of the law,” says Lord Stowell, “ is no ne¬
cessary part of the office of a judge ; but if it were, it would
not be difficult to show that the law in this respect has acted
with its usual wisdom and humanity, with that true wisdom,
and that real humanity that regards the general interests of
mankind. For though, in particular cases, the repugnance
of the law to dissolve the obligations of matrimonial coha¬
bitation may operate with great severity upon individuals ;
yet it must be carefully remembered that the general hap¬
piness of the married life is secured by its indissolubility.
When people understand that they must live together, ex¬
cept for a very few reasons known to the law, they learn to
soften by mutual accommodation that yoke which they know
they cannot shake off; they become good husbands and
good wives, from the necessity of remaining husbands and
wives; for necessity is a powerful master in teaching the
duties which it imposes. If it were once understood that
upon mutual disgust married persons might be legally se¬
parated, many couples who now pass through the world with
mutual comfort, with attention to their common offspring,
and to the moral order of civil society, might at this moment
have been living in a state of mutual unkindness, in a state
of estrangement from their common offspring, and in a state
of the most licentious and unreserved immorality. In this
case, as in many others, the happiness of some individuals
must be sacrificed to the greater and more general good.”
Our laws, while allowing divorces a mensd et thoro in
causes of adultery and outrageous cruelty, have wisely denied
the like privileges to mere dislike, contrariety of temper,
severity, neglect, or voluntary arrangements.1 There is
another cause, however, which so entirely frustrates all the
objects of the marriage union that it may reasonably be
doubted whether it should not be put on the same footing
as cases of cruelty. We allude to wilful and obstinate de¬
sertion. Our old Reformers considered that this was so
gross a breach of all the obligations, human and divine,
which the husband and wife owe to each other, that in that
case they would have allowed the deserted party to enter
71
again into fresh nuptials. At the same time they were so Divorce,
impressed with the importance of keeping the contract un-
broken, that before the complainant could obtain a dissolu¬
tion of it, every kind of means was previously to be ex¬
hausted, exhortation and counsel, and even punishment, to
bring the offender back to his duty ; and in case of his ab¬
sence an interval was prescribed of two or three years for
the chance of his return, that nothing might be done with
levity or rashness. In other Protestant countries that of¬
fence, when properly established, is considered a scriptural
ground of divorce, even d vinculo matrimonii. In Scotland,
also, if it be wilfully persevered in for four years, followed by
a judicial requisition of conjugal rights on the part of the
complainant, it warrants a dissolution of the marriage con¬
tract. In England, desertion must be coupled with cruelty
before it can entitle the abandoned party to a sentence of
separation; but in reason, in principle, and in its moral con¬
sequences, it can hardly be distinguished from cruelty itself.
Divorces d mensd et thoro should, for the causes above
adverted to, be allowed to the wife as well as to the hus¬
band, and desertion should entitle the wife to a remedy by
way of alimony ; but whether divorces d vinculo should be
granted at the suit of the wife with the same facilities as at
the suit of the husband, is a question which has elicited
much difference of opinion. There are four instances in
which wives have succeeded in procuring divorces d vinculo
from parliament; but in these the husbands were guilty of
other offences besides adultery, which were held either to
preclude or absolve the complainants from further coha¬
bitation.
For trying and determining questions of divorce three
tribunals must now be resorted to—a court of law for dam¬
ages against the adulterer; an ecclesiastical court for a
divorce d mensd et thoro, and the imperial parliament for a
dissolving statute. The great expense and the long delay
of these proceedings is a grievous hardship and oppression
to individuals, and they amount in many cases to a denial
of justice. Even in an unopposed suit the minimum ex¬
pense of obtaining a sentence of divorce in the consistory
court of London would vary from L.120 to L.140 at the
least, and the case would occupy about two months. If it
were opposed the expense would range from L.300 to L.500
and upwards (in heavy cases to much more), and it would
take from one to two or three years before it was decided.
The proceedings also do not terminate here ; but there is
an appeal to the court of arches, and from thence to the
judicial committee. The expense of an action-at-law will
depend in a great measure on the nature of the case, and
the extent to which it is contested. The expenses in par¬
liament, exclusive of counsel’s fees, charges for witnesses,
and solicitor’s own bill, which amount, no doubt, to a con¬
siderable sum, average about L.200. With the other
charges they would possibly be doubled ; so that the total
cost, under the most favourable circumstances, of obtaining
1 Lord Brougham says, finely and justly, that ci all systems are supposed to agree in this, that no dissolution of the nuptial union should
he allowed upon the mere agreement of the parties to terminate their connection.” (Speeches, vol. iii., p. 446.) And yet there were two
periods in which the system was tried and failed,—one, in the corruption of manners, which hastened the decline of the Homan Lmpire ;
the other, in the utter subversion not only of manners but of law, morality, reason, and religion, which marked the French Revolution.
In the former case the Romans adopted the motto, (< that marriage, like other partnerships, might be dissolved by the abdication of one of
the associates.” But the historian tells us that “ The specious theory was confuted by this free and perfect experiment, which demonstrates
that the liberty of divorce does not contribute to happiness and virtue.” (Gibbon, c. 44.) “ The abuse of this privilege was justly
held up to scorn and indignation by the Roman philosophers, poets, and satirists.” (Seneca de Benef. iii. 16; Martial, vi. 7, lib. ix. epig.
16; Juvenal, Sat. vi. 223.) In the latter case the experiment was again attempted in France, and what was the result? “ In the three
first months the number of divorces in Paris, in 1793, amounted to 562, while the marriages were 1880 ; so that the proportion of divorces
to marriages was not much less than one to three!—And in two years and three months 6000 are said to have taken place.” (Quarterly
Review, No. Ivi., p. 509.) “ Other legislatures,” says Burke, “ knowing that marriage is the origin of all relations, and consequently the
first element of all duties, have endeavoured by every art to make it sacred. The Christian religion, by confining it to the pair, and by
rendering that relation indissoluble, has, by these two things, done more towards the peace, happiness, settlement, and civilization of the
world, than by any other part in the whole scheme of Divine Wisdom.” (Letters on a Regicide Peace, Works, vol. viii., p. 174.) In many
of the States of America, divorces may be obtained with comparative facility. But Chancellor Kent observes “ that it is very question¬
able whether that facility has not been productive of more evil than good ;” and he states that he has had reasons to believe, in the exer¬
cise of a judicial cognizance over numerous cases of divorce, that adultery was sometimes committed on the part of the husband for the
very purpose of the divorce. (See Comment., vol. ii., p. 105.)
72
Divorce.
D I V
a divorce a vinculo matrimonii can hardly be less than
L.700 or L.800; and when the matter is much litigated, it
would probably reach some thousands. . In Scotland, the
average cost of rescinding a marriage is said to be L.^0,
and that when there is no opposition L.20 will suffice. _ In
Scotland, also, it is not a privilege for the rich, but a right
for all; and it is not unworthy of notice that out ot ninety-
four cases between November 1836 and November 1841
the parties litigant were almost all of the lower classes.
The three tribunals which are thus rendered necessary
by parliamentary regulations for a divorce a vinculo would
not be required provided these questions could be submitted
to a court in which the country has confidence. One tri¬
bunal which can satisfy itself of the proper relief to be given
or withheld, is better than three which distrust each other.
The verdict at law is practically valueless; and if the pro¬
ceedings before the legislature were as regular and search¬
ing as those in a court of justice, the ecclesiastical sentence
would be so too.
The commissioners, therefore, recommend that applica¬
tions for divorce a vinculo matrimonii, and all causes ma¬
trimonial, should be submitted in future to a new tribunal,
consisting of a vice-chancellor, a common law judge, and a
judge of the ecclesiastical court, and that they should sit
for the purpose of trying these questions at specified times
in different parts of the year. We would also recommend
that there should he no appeal from their decision except
to the House of Lords; and we think there would be con¬
venience in directing that divorces a mensa et ihoro should
likewise be referred to the same tribunal.
The commissioners add, “We cannot bring this report to a
close without adverting to two questions of immense import¬
ance which are closely connected with the subject, though
they do not fall within the terms of the inquiry proposed for
our consideration. .The one is, whether here, as in Scotland,
the parties whose guilt has occasioned the divorce a vinculo
matrimonii shall be restrained from intermarrying ? The
other, whether a Scotch divorce, upon grounds not allowed
by the laws of England, shall operate as a dissolution 101 all
purposes of an English marriage ? With regard to the for¬
mer question there is a standing order of the House ot
Lords which makes it imperative on any person petitioning
for a bill for a divorce a vinculo to insert a provision in it
prohibiting the person whose marriage with the petitioner
shall be dissolved to intermarry with any offending party on
account of whose adultery such marriage shall be dissolved ;
but this clause, notwithstanding many struggles to have it
retained, is usually struck out without resistance in the
committee. With regard to the latter question, a Scotch
divorce of an English marriage, where the parties are bond
fide domiciled in Scotland, will be binding and valid in the
courts of that country upon any question of Scotch law af¬
fecting themselves, their children, or their property; but
the courts of England will not recognise in some cases the
D J E
binding validity of a Scotch divorce, since an English mar-
riace, being a contract which, like other personal contracts,
must be interpreted according to the law of the country in
which it was made, cannot be dissolved by any proceeding
in the courts of any other country for English purposes.
The anomalies1 arising from this conflict between the law
of the two countries are strange and distressing to many
families, and a remedy, if possible, ought speedily to be
provided for them. We feel, however, that both these
questions involve so many and such important considera¬
tions of national policy, and they relate to matters which in
some respects are so far removed from the scope of our in-
quiry, that we forbear to do more than call attention to them.
Having considered the law ot divorce in its diff'eient
bearings, the commissioners sum up briefly the alterations
and improvements which they think may be made in it with
prudence and safety.
DIVUS, Diva, in Antiquity, appellations given to men
and women who had been deified. Hence it is that upon
medals struck on the consecration of an emperor or empress,
the title of divus or diva is added; as divus julius, divo
ANTONINO PIO, DIVO PIO, DIVO CLAUDIO, &C.
DIXMUDE (Flemish Dixmuyden), a town of Belgium,
province of West Flanders, on the Yser, 12 miles N. of
Ypres. Pop. (1851) 3984. It has an active trade in butter,
which is said to be the best in Flanders.
DIZIER, St, a town of France, department of Haute
Marne, arrondissement of Vassey, and 9 miles N. of the
town of that name. It stands on the right bank of the
Marne, which is here crossed by a bridge and begins to be
navigable. St Dizier is surrounded by old walls, and is a
handsome town. It has an elegant town-hall of recent con¬
struction, a hospital, a ruined castle, ship-building yards,
iron foundries, cotton factories, and a considerable tiade in
wood. In 1544 it sustained a memorable siege by Charles
Y.; and here in 1814 the French forces twice defeated a
part of the allied army. Pop. 6450.
DJEBAIL, Jebail or Gibyle (the ancient Byblus), a
town of Syria, situated on an eminence near the sea at the
foot of Lebanon, 30 miles S.W. of Iripoli. It is walled on
the three sides towards the land, but open towards the sea,^
and is about a mile and a half in circuit. Nearly one-halt
of the space within the walls is occupied by gardens, and
the population probably does not exceed 2000. It has an
old castle built of stones of vast size, an old Maronite church,
and a mosque. Its artificial harbour was destroyed during
the time of the crusades. “ The land of the Giblites, with
“ all Lebanon,” was assigned to the Israelites by the ori¬
ginal appointment; but it does not seem that they ever had
possession of it. It was celebrated for the birth and worship
of Thammuz, the Syrian Adonis. Djebail was taken pos¬
session of by the crusaders in 1100, and, after some vicissi¬
tudes, remained subject to them during their sway in the
East.
Divus
II
Djebail.
i Lord Brougham says, in Warrmder v. War render (2 Cl. & Finn. 540) “ The resolution m Lolley s case was that an English mar¬
riage could not be dissolved by any proceeding in the courts of any other country for English purposes ; in other words that “e courts
of Siis country will not recognise the validity of a Scotch divorce, but will hold the divorced wife dowable of an English estate, the di¬
vorced husband tenant thereof by the courtesy, and either party guilty of felony by contracting a second marriage in England, upon
the force and effect of such divorce in Scotland, and for Scotch purposes, the judges gave and indeed could give no opinion, and as tnere
could be nothing legally impossible in a marriage being good in one country which was prohibited by the law of another, so it tne con¬
flict of the Scotch and English law be complete and irreconcilable, there is nothing legally impossible in a divorce being valid m me
one country which the courts of the other may hold to be a nullity.” Lord Lyndhurst, in his judgment in the same case, says ; _ it
must be admitted that the legal principles and decisions in England and Scotland stand in strange and anomalous conflict on this im¬
portant subject. As the laws of both now stand, it would appear that Sir G. Warrender may have two wives ; for having been divorced
in Scotland he may again marry in that country, he may live with one wife in Scotland most lawfully, and with the other equally law¬
fully in England ; but only bring him across the border, his English wife may proceed against him in the English courts, either for resti¬
tution of conjugal rights, or for adultery committed against the duties and obligations of the marriage solemnized in England ; again,
send him to Scotland, and his Scottish wife may proceed in the courts in Scotland for breach of the marriage contract entered into with
her in that country. Other various and striking points of anomaly, alluded to by my noble and learned friend, are also obvious in the
existing state of the laws of both countries; but however individually grievous they may be, or however apparently clashing in their
principles, it is our duty as a Court of Appeal to decide each case that comes before us according to the law of the particular country
whence it originated, and according to which it claims our consideration, leaving it to the wisdom of parliament to adjust the anomaly,
or get rid of the discrepancy, by improved legislation.”
DOB
DOC
73
Djidda DJIDDA, a seaport-town of Arabia. See Jidda.
|j DMITROV, a town of Russia, capital of a cognominal
Dobuni.^ cjrcie in the government of Moscow, 46 miles N. of the
city of that name. Pop. 3000.
DMITROVSK, a town of Russia, capital of a cognominal
circle in the government of Orel, and 56 miles S.W. of
the city of that name on the Nerussa. Pop. 4000.
DNIEPER, a large river of Europe. See Russia.
DNIESTER, a large river of Europe. See Russia.
DOAB. This term in Hindustan means any tract of
country included between two rivers. Thus, in the Punjaub
there are five Doabs lying between the Indus and the Sutlej,
and the tributaries of these rivers. The tract of territory,
however, usually implied in the general term “ the Doab,”
is that portion of the great political division of India known
as the North-Western Provinces, which lies between the
Jumna and the Ganges. This vast tract extends from
Allahabad in the south to Saharunpore in the north, and is
situated between Lat. 25.20. and 30.20. The soil is fertile,
and produces millet, sugar cane, and barley, and is peculiarly
adapted for indigo, which grows here in a wild state. The
opium-poppy and tobacco have also been introduced. The
territory contains many thriving and populous towns, and the
whole country has been brought into a high state of culti¬
vation by means of a magnificent plan of irrigation, com¬
prising the main line of the Ganges Canal, which flow's from
Kurdwar through the centre of the Doab, with branches ex¬
tending to almost every town in the province. The climate
during the rainy season is hot, but during the winter is cool.
By a treaty concluded with Scindia in 1803, the forts and
territories of the Doab between the Jumna and the Ganges
were ceded to the British; and the southern part of the Doab
was ceded in 1801 by the reigning nabob of Oude. (e.t.)
DOBBERAN, amarket-town and watering-place in the
grand duchy of Mecklenburg-Schwtrin, pleasantly situated in
a valley, on a small river about a mile from the Baltic. Pop.
about 3000. It is much frequented for its sulphurous
springs and baths, and for sea-bathing. The grand duke has
a summer residence here.
DOBELN, a town of Saxony, on an island formed by the
Mulde, 32 miles E.S.E. of Leipzig. Manufactures—woollen
and linen goods, fustians, hats. Pop. (1849) 7158.
DOBROUSCHA, a district of European Turkey. See
Danube.
DOBSCHAU, or Dobsina, a town of Hungary, county
of Gomor, on the Dobsina, 26 miles N. of Gomor. The
inhabitants, amounting to about 4000, are mostly German.
In the vicinity are rich mines of iron, copper, cobalt, and
mercury.
DOBSON, William, an English portrait and historical
painter, born at London in 1610. He served an apprentice¬
ship to one Peck, a stationer and picture dealer ; and while
in his employment he began to copy the pictures of Titian
and Vandyck, whose manner he ever after retained. Van-
dyck, happening to pass a shop in Snow Hill where one of
Dobson’s pictures was exposed, sought out the artist, and
presented him to Charles I., who took Dobson under his
protection, and not only sat to him several times for his own
picture, but caused the Prince of Wales, Prince Rupert,
and many others, to do the same. After the fall of Charles,
Dobson was reduced to great poverty, and fell into disso¬
lute habits. He died at the early age of 36.
dobuni, or Boduni, an ancient people of Britain, who
possessed the territory which now forms the counties of
Oxford and Gloucester. Both names seem to have been
derived from the low situation of a great part of the country
which they inhabited; for both Duvn and Bodun signify
deep or low in the ancient language of Gaul and Britain,
f he Dobuni are not mentioned among the British nations
who resisted the Romans under Julius Caesar; and before
t e invasion of Claudius they had been so much oppressed
VOL. VIII.
by the Cattivellauni, that they cheerfully submitted to the Docetse
Roman yoke. Cogidunus their prince was confirmed by lj
Claudius in the government, and fewer garrisons were sta- Docime‘
tioned in his dominions than in those of the other native
princes. Consequently there are comparatively few Roman /^"“‘
remains in that part of the country. The Durocornovium
of Antoninus, and the Corinium of Ptolemy, are believed
to have been the capital of the Dobuni at Cirencester, where
there are still many marks of a Roman station. Clevum or
Glevum, in the thirteenth iter of Antoninus, stood where
the city of Gloucester now stands ; and Abone, in the four¬
teenth iter, was probably situated at Avinton on the
Severn.
DOCETfE (from Sokhv, to appear), a name applied to
those heretics in the early Christian church who held that
Christ, during his life, had not a real or natural, but only
an apparent or phantom body. From this circumstance
they were also called Phantasiastae, Phantasiodocetae, Opi-
narii, and Opinati. The origin of this opinion is to be
sought in the Greek, Alexandrine, and Oriental philoso¬
phizing about the imperfection or rather the essential im¬
purity of matter. Traces of a Jewish Docetism are to be
found in Philo; and in the Christian form it is combated in
the writings of John, and more formally in the epistles of
Ignatius. It differed much in its complexion according to
the points of view adopted by the different authors. Among
the Gnostics and Manichaeans it existed in its worst type,
and in a milder form it is to be found even in the writings
of the orthodox teachers. The bolder docetae assumed the
position that Christ was born without any participation of
matter; that his eating and drinking, and even his cruci¬
fixion, was a mere phantasm. They denied, accordingly, the
resurrection and the ascent into heaven. Some held that
another man was crucified instead of Christ. To this class
belonged Dositheus, Saturninus, Cerdo, Marcion, and their
followers, the Ophites, Manichaeans, and others. The other,
or milder school of Docetae, attributed to Christ an ethereal
and heavenly instead of a truly human body. Amongst
these were Valentinus, Bardesanes, Basilides Tatianus, and
their followers. T hey varied considerably in their estima¬
tion of the share which this body had in the real actions and
sufferings of Christ. Clement and Origen, at the head of
the Alexandrian school, took a somewhat subtle view of the
incarnation, and Docetism pervades their controversies with
the Monophysites. Docetic tendencies have also been de¬
veloped in later periods of the church’s history, as for ex¬
ample by the Priscillianists and the Bogomiles, and also
since the Reformation by Jacob Bohm, Menno Simonis,
and a small fraction of the Anabaptists.—(Niemeyer De
Docetis, Halle, 1823-4.)
DOCIMASIA, or Dokimasia, in Antiquity, a proba¬
tionary trial to which every Athenian citizen was subjected
when he was appointed, either by lot or suffrage, to any
public office. The docimasia consisted in a scrutiny into
the character and qualifications of the individual, and was
performed in public before certain judges: when, among
other interrogations, it was asked whether he had been duti¬
ful to his parents, had served in war, and if he were in pos- «
session of a competent estate.
DOCIMASTIC (SoKt/xa^w, to test), assaying, proving by
experiments. The docimastic art is otherwise called me¬
tallurgy. It is the art of assaying minerals or ores, in order
to determine the nature and quantity of the metallic sub¬
stances they contain.
DOCIMENUM Marmor, a name given by the ancients
to a bright and clear white marble obtained from the quar¬
ries near Docimenos, a town in Phrygia. It was much
used in building temples and other sumptuous edifices at
Rome, and was accounted little inferior to the Parian in
colour, but inferior in the compactness of its grain; and
hence it was seldom used by statuaries.
K
74
DOCK,
Dock. AN inclosed space for the reception of ships, either for their
security or for the convenience of building or giving them
repairs. This word has been derived by some, absurdly
enough, from the Greek Sexo/uu, to receive. I hat we had
it, along with almost the whole of our sea-terms, irom the
northern continental nations, is sufficiently obvious. Thus
in Flemish it is dok; Teutonic, dock; Swedish, docka ;
Suio-Gothic, docka; perhaps originally from dekken, to co-
ver, protect, secure, inclose. "I he dock lor inclosing the
prisoner in a court of justice is evidently from the same
origin. ,
Docks for the reception of ships are of two kinds, wet and
dry.
A wet dock may either have gates to retain the water in
it, so that ships shall constant!}7 remain afloat, or be left
open for the tide to flow into and ebb out of it at pleasure,
either leaving it dry at low water, or with a certain depth
of water remaining in it, according to its construction and
situation with regard to the low-water mark, and to the
ebbing of the sea at spring or neap tides. A wet dock
without gates is generally distinguished by the name of
a basin, which, however, is sometimes indiscriminately ap¬
plied to a wet dock whether with or without gates.^
A dry dock either becomes dry by the ebbing of the tide
when the gates are left open, or by shutting the gates at
low water, and pumping out whatever water may remain in
it at that time, by the power of men, horses, wind, or, which
is now most commonly performed in the Queen’s dock-yards,
by the steam-engine.
A wet dock, therefore, may be defined to be “ a basin of
water, in which ships may be kept afloat at all times of the
tide a dry dock, a “ receptacle in which every part of a
ship can be examined, and its defects repaired.” Ships
may also be conveniently built in dry docks, and floated
out by opening the gates ; though in all dock-yards there
are places set apart for this purpose, under the name of
slips. A wet dock is called by the French un basin; a
dry dock, une forme ; and a slip, une calle.
The digging out the earth, and building the surrounding
walls of masonry to prevent the sides fading in, and the
preparation of the mortar and puzzolana, in the construc¬
tion of a wet dock, are attended with great labour and ex¬
pense. The two wet docks or basins of Cherbourg (see
Breakwater), which are among the finest specimens that
exist in the world, are estimated to have cost three millions
sterling. The labour of excavation may sometimes be
spared, and a series of wet docks or basins conveniently
made, by turning the course of a tide-river through an isth¬
mus, and placing a pair of gates at each end of the old chan¬
nel. In this way were the new docks of Bristol constructed
out of the bed of the Avon.
Wet docks. Wet docks are an improvement in navigation and com¬
merce of the utmost importance, but of very modern date
in this country ; indeed, they owe their introduction en¬
tirely to a spirit of individual enterprise in commercial spe¬
culation. Liverpool might still have remained a poor fish¬
ing village but for its convenient docks, which not only pro¬
duce to the town and corporation a large revenue, but en¬
sure to the merchant every possible facility in refitting,
loading, and discharging his ships, whatever their bur¬
den or their cargo may be, without being exposed to the
risk of losing both ship and cargo in a rapid tide-river ; and,
at all events, to an unavoidable delay, occasioned by dis¬
tance, the weather, or the state of the tides.
Hull is also greatly indebted for the extension of its com¬
merce to its docks. Its old wet dock contains an area of
ten acres nearly, and has accommodated at one time 130
sail of such vessels as frequent that port. _ ^
London, though unquestionably the first city in the world
for its opulence, its commerce, and public spirit, and pos-
SeSsing within itself the powerful internal means of support¬
ing docks, and all other conveniences that trade and ship-
pino- mav require on the most extensive plans ; London was
the^last to try the experiment of docks, except in the case
of two spirited individuals, Mr Perry at Blackwall, and Mr
Wells at Greenland Dock, both private ship-builders. Not¬
withstanding the total inadequacy of legal quays, which sub¬
jected the merchants to incalculable losses and delays, and
in many cases proved absolutely ruinous ; notwithstanding
the effect of the heavy, expensive, and fatal embarrassments
experienced regularly on the arrival of the W est India fleets,
and the annual losses, by plunder in the river, on West
India produce, which alone were calculated to amount to
L.150,000 to the proprietor, and L.50,000 to the revenue,
and more than the double of those sums, including other
branches of commerce ; it was not till the year 1199 that
prejudices and private interests were so far removed as to
enable the merchants concerned in the West India trade
to obtain an act of parliament to carry into execution a plan
of docks, quays, and warehouses, for the convenience of that
trade on the Isle of Dogs. Since that time the London
Docks, St Katharine Docks, and various others, have been
completed, to the incalculable benefit of the shipping in¬
terest and the commerce of the metropolis.
The docks of Liverpool were the first of the kind that
were constructed in this kingdom, by virtue of an act of
parliament passed in 1708 ; and from that period the town
of Liverpool has rapidly raised itself from a pool fishing
village, and a port for coasting vessels, to he the second
commercial town and port in the empire ; and the impiove-
ments carried out for the enlargement and better arrange¬
ment of the docks rendered it, for convenience and appear¬
ance, in this respect the very first, not even London ex¬
cepted. .
It appears from a statement, apparently authentic, that
in the ten years ending with 1808 the number of ships
which entered these docks was 48,497, tonnage 4,954,204 ;
and the dock duties received L.329,566; and that in the
following ten years ending in 1818 the number of ships
was 60,200, the tonnage 6,375,560, and the amount of du¬
ties L.666,438 ; while for a single year (ending June 1853),
no less than 20,490 vessels entered the docks, the tonnage
of which was 3,889,981, and the amount of duties L.256,702
.—the largest amount yet received—the following being the
return for the last ten years:—
Year.
N umber of
Vessels.
1843   16,606
1844   18,411
1845   20,521
1846   19,951
1847   20,889
1848   20,311
1849   20,733
1850   20,457
1851   21,071
1852   21,473
1853   20,490
Tonnage.
2,445,278
2,632,712
3,016,531
3,096,444
3,351,539
3,284,963
3,639,146
3,536,337
3,737,666
3,912,506
3,889,981
Amount of
Duties Received.
L,188,286
185,164
223,247
213,423
244,435
197,617
224,224
211,743
235,527
246,686
256,702
Dock.
It mav also be observed, that this extraordinary increase
has taken place since the abolition of the slave trade, which,
it was formerly asserted, would be the ruin of Liverpool.
For a more detailed account of these docks, see the arti¬
cles Birkenhead and Liverpool.
-DOCK.
75
The West India Docks on the river Thames were com¬
menced in February 1800, and opened in August 1802. They
consist of an outward and a homeward bound dock, and
communicate by means of locks with a basin of five or six
acres on the end next to Blackwall, and with another of
more than two acres at the end next to Limehouse, both of
which basins communicate with the Thames. The out¬
ward-bound dock is about 870 yards in length, by 135 in
width, containing consequently an area of more than 24
acres ; the homeward-bound dock is of the same length, and
166 yards in width, its area being little short of 30 acres ;
and the two together will contain with ease at least 500 ves¬
sels of from 250 to 500 tons. The whole are surrounded
with a high wall, and, as a security against fire, the moment
that a ship enters the dock the crews are discharged, and
no person whatever is allowed to remain on board, or with¬
in the premises, the gates of which are closed at a certain
hour. They are surrounded by immense warehouses, which
are estimated to contain nearly 10,000 hogsheads of sugar,
and an immense quantity of rum. The sum authorized by
parliament to be raised for completing these docks and ware¬
houses was L.1,200,000, and the total expense was probably
not far short of one million and a half; yet on this capital
the subscribers have been receiving from a very short period
after their opening ten per cent., which, by the terms of the
act, is not to be exceeded, and the term granted is limited
to 21 years ; but, like most other property, these docks have
been greatly depreciated in value, and at present barely pay
8 per cent.
The next set of docks that were undertaken for the ad¬
vantage of the trade of the capital was the London Docks.
These docks are situated in Wapping, and are appropriated
for the reception of all ships arriving in the port of London
with wine, spirits, tobacco, and rice on board, but not ex¬
clusively, ships having on board other cargoes being ad¬
mitted on the payment of certain fees. The act of parlia¬
ment for incorporating the dock company was passed in
1800, authorizing them to raise a capital of L.1,200,000;
but such was the number of houses to be purchased (we
believe not less than 1200) occupying the site of the dock,
that this capital by subsequent acts was extended to
L.2,200,000, the dividends on which are limited, as in the
West India Docks, to ten per cent. The great dock is
420 yards in length, and 230 yards in width, covering an
area of twenty acres. A basin of three acres nearly connects
it with the river. The warehouses are very magnificent;
and the tobacco warehouse is the grandest and most spacious
building of its kind in the world, being capable of containing
25,000 hogsheads of tobacco, and the vaults underneath as
many pipes of wine. This single building, under one roof,
is said to occupy upwards of four acres of ground. These
docks were opened in February 1805.
The East India Docks, for the exclusive reception and
accommodation of the East India ships, were the last in suc¬
cession. The act for the incorporation of the company was
passed in July 1803, authorizing them to raise a capital of
L.200,000, which was afterwards increased to L.600,000,
the dividend, as in the case of the two others, to be limited to
ten per cent. These docks are situated at Blackwall. That
for the reception of homeward-bound ships is 470 yards in
length by 187 in width, containing a surface of rather more
than 18 acres ; the outward-bound dock is 260 by 173 yards,
and is consequently something more than nine acres. An
entrance basin of three acres nearly, and a spacious lock,
connect them with the Thames.
Besides these there are the London Docks, the St Ka¬
tharine’s Docks, and the Victoria Docks in course of con¬
struction ; of these, detailed accounts will be found under
the article London.
Hull has five docks, occupying with their basins a water
area of 49f acres. A timber pond of 9 acres was con¬
structed in 1853. The tonnage of shipping in 1852 was Dock.
799,866 sailing vessels, and 305,021 steam-vessels ; the
amount of dock dues L.433,755.
Southampton, the station for the West India mail and
Lisbon and Alexandria steamers, is now constructing ex¬
tensive docks and quays to accommodate their great and
increasing traffic.
Grimsby Harbour has lately been greatly improved.
Wet and dry docks have been constructed on the most ap¬
proved principles, at an expense of L.250,000, and a canal
cut into the Humber calculated to admit vessels of 1000
tons burden.
Hartlepool has also been of late years greatly enlarging
its harbour and dock accommodation.
Sunderland has new docks of 18 acres extent, which were
opened in 1850, and which can accommodate 300 sail.
Dundee has lately immensely improved her harbour and
docks; besides two smaller docks, the wet dock now con¬
structing will occupy 14g acres, the lock of which will be
60 feet broad.
Aberdeen has a wet dock, where the largest vessels may
float in safety ; it covers nearly 40 acres, with quay room of
about 9000 feet.
Leith, the port of Edinburgh, has three wet docks, con¬
taining about 15 acres of water room. Detailed accounts
of these docks will be given under the names of the respec¬
tive ports.
The naval dry docks of the United States are among
the most stupendous mechanical enterprises of that country;
they are constructed at the navy-yards of New York, Phila-
delpia, Boston, Portsmouth, Norfolk, Pensacola, and San
Francisco. By far the most extensive and magnificent of
these structures is the granite dry dock of New York; 80,000
tons of stone have been used in its construction ; the masonry
foundations are 400 feet in length, and 120 in breadth. The
main chamber is 286 feet long, and 30 feet broad on the bot¬
tom ; 307 feet long, and 98 feet broad at the top within the
folding gates; the height of the wall is 36 feet. The work
was commenced in 1841, and took ten years to complete it;
the aggregate expenditure was above L.430,000. For the
docks at Cherbourg, see Breakwater.
A dry dock, requiring to be perfectly water-tight, de- Dry docks,
mands the greatest care in its construction. It is sometimes
lined all round with wood, but more generally with masonry,
mostly of hewn granite. The expense is very considerable,
as the foundation, by means of piles or otherwise, must be
well secured, all leakage prevented, and the culvers or drains
properly constructed, to let in and carry off'the water without
its undermining the quays or piers. The cost of a complete
dry dock will vary probably from L.20,000 to L.100,000,
according to the sizje of the ships it is intended to admit, and
the nature of the ground on which it is to be constructed.
A dry dock may be single, or made to contain only one
ship ; or double, to contain two ships ; but the former is the
most common, because most convenient.
As it is of the utmost importance to preserve the water
in a wet dock, and to keep it out of a dry dock, it may be
proper to describe the different kinds of gates which are in
use for this purpose.
The most common, and on the whole perhaps the best Dock gates,
and most convenient, are swinging gates, which open in the
middle, and lie flat, one part against each wharf or side-wall
of the passage leading into the dock or basin. The eleva¬
tion of this kind of gate is represented in Plate CCVL,
fig. 3. This kind of dock-gate requires to be made of great
strength, with sound timber and good iron, and the gudgeons
on which the hinges turn to be well secured into the stone
abutments. Care also must be taken to make the bottom
of the passage and the bottom of the gates perfectly plane
and parallel, to prevent leakage, and give facility to their
opening and shutting, which is usually assisted by rollers
fLPBJ.P
76
DOCK.
Dock.
Docking a
ship.
fixed in a groove, and performed by means of a small cap-
stern on each pier. Attached to the top of the gates .s
usually a foot bridge with railing, which, separating in the
middle, opens and shuts with the gates. .
The most simple but by no means the most effective
contrivance for keeping out the water, is the wicket-gate,
of which the plan and elevation are represented in 1 late
CCVI. figs. 5 and 6. It consists of three parts, which
when opened are removed separately. This gate is rarely
made use of unless where the abutments are not sufficiently
strong, or their foundation sufficiently secure, to bear the
weight of a pair of swinging gates. <
A third kind of gate consists of a floating dam or cais-
soon, first introduced into this country by General Ben-
tham, and first applied to the great new basin m Ports¬
mouth dock-yard. They are built somewhat in the shape
of a Greenland fishing-boat, sharp at the two ends, narrow,
and deep in proportion to the depth of water at the en¬
trance of the dock. The keel fits into a groove at the bot¬
tom of the passage, and the two slanting ends rise and fall
in corresponding grooves cut into the two abutments. Gt
this kind of gate, figs. 1 and 2, Plate CCVI. represent the
plan and elevation. By letting in the water, the caissoon
sinks in the grooves, and acts as a closed gate; and by
pumping out the water, or letting it out to a certain depth,
the dam floats as the tide rises, and the narrow part, rising
to the top, is readily disengaged from the grooves, and easily
floated away as a boat. The advantages of these floating
dams, as stated by General Bentham, are, that they are
cheaper of construction than the gates heretofore in use for
closing docks or basins; that they occupy less space, are
more easily repaired, and one and the same dam is capable
of being used, as need may require, in different places at
different times. These caissoons have also the advantage of
serving as bridges of communication for loaded carnages
across^the entrances they close, and they require much less
labour than gates in opening or shutting up passages into
docks or basins, since their occasional buoyancy may be ob¬
tained without pumping water or unloading ballast.
Fit;. 7 represents a plan, and fig. 4 a sectional elevation,
of a dry or graving dock, into which ships are taken to
have their defects examined and repaired, coppered, &c.,
and in which, if necessary, as already observed, ships may
be built.
When a ship is brought into a dry or graving dock, she
gradually subsides as the water flows out, till her keel rests
upon the line of square blocks which are placed to receive
it along the middle for the whole length ; and on these
blocks she is kept steady and upright by a number of shores
or poles on each side, one of their ends being placed on the
altars or steps of the dock, the other under the ship’s bends
and bottom. As a ship under repair generally requires
something to be done to the main or false keel, or at any
rate these parts require to be inspected, sometimes to shift
the main keel, or to add to the whole length of the false
keel, it was always found necessary in such cases to remove
the blocks, in order to get at the bottom of the ship; but
this operation could not be performed without the more
serious one of first lifting bodily the ship clear of all the
blocks, and suspending her as it were in the air. This pro¬
cess was performed by driving wedges simultaneously under
the ends of all the shores that supported the ship; an ope¬
ration that required from four to five hundred men to en¬
able them to suspend a ship of the first rate. When the
San Josef, a large three-decker, required her bottom to be
examined in 1800, the assistance of almost every artificer
in the dock-yard was found necessary to perform this pro¬
cess of lifting her; nor was this the only inconvenience;
the ship, thus suspended, suffered very material injury by
the pressure of her own enormous weight against the ends
of the shores that supported her, such as forcing in her sides,
straining the knees and all her fastenings, breaking the
treenails, &c- .
To remedy these glaring inconveniences and very seri¬
ous injuries that ships thus placed were apt to sustain, and
to effect a saving of time and expense in the operation, Mr
(afterwards Sir Robert) Seppings, then master shipwright,
and afterwards surveyor of the navy, contrived, several
years ago, an improvement, as ingenious as it is simple,
by which twenty men will suspend the largest ship in the
navy, or rather, which amounts to the same thing, will
disengage any one block that may be required, in the space
of’ two ^or three minutes, without the necessity^ of sus¬
pending her at all; and, as a first rate in dock sits upon
about fifty blocks, these twenty men will clear her of the
whole of these blocks in about two hours ; and as the sav¬
ing of a day in completing the repairs of a ship is frequently
the saving of a whole spring tide, the docking and undock¬
ing of a ship may make, and frequently has made, by this
new method, the difference of a fortnight in the time of
equipping her for sea, _
The block of Mr Seppings, instead of being one solid
piece, consisted of three wedges, or, more properly speak¬
ing, of one obtuse wedge and two inclined planes, which,
when put together and placed under the ship s keel, appeal
as under, when viewed in the direction or line of the keel,
Dock.
where G is the wedge on which the keel rests, having its
obtuse angle equal to 170°, and HH are the two inclined
planes, each having an acute angle of 5 . The wedge is
of hard wood, having its two sides lined with iron ; the
two inclined planes are of cast iron. When one of these
blocks is to be disengaged from under a ship’s bottom, no¬
thing more is required than a few smart blows alternately
on the two sides of the two inclined planes, when they fly
out, and the middle part or wedge drops ; and the facility
of thus disengaging any of the blocks is in proportion to
the quantity of pressure upon that block. The strokes aie
usually given by a kind of catapulta or battering-ram, bei'jS
a thick spar or pole moving on a pair of wheels, as KK.
This simple contrivance to get at any part of a ship’s bot¬
tom by removing in succession all the blocks, without the
necessity of lifting the ship, which the removal of any one
block required to be done by the old method, is now uni¬
versally adopted in all the dock-yards ; and the Lords of the
Admiralty marked their sense of the great utility of the im¬
provement, by bestowing on Mr Seppings a reward of L.1000
for the invention.
Another very material improvement introduced into her Roofing
Majesty’s dock-yards, is that of covering the dry docks and the docks,
building slips with roofs. The rapid decay of our ships of
war by that species of disease known by the name of the
dry rot, attracted very general attention ; its effects were
well known, but a variety of opinions were entertained as
D 0
Dock, to its causes and its cure. It was quite obvious, however,
that exclusion of air and moisture were the two great ope¬
rating causes in giving activity to the progress of the di¬
sease (see Dry Rot) ; and that a ship in dock, stripped of
her planking, and open to the weather in every part, alter¬
nately exposed to frost, rain, wind, and sunshine, must at
least have her timbers differently affected, some swelled and
water-soaked, others shrunk with heat, and others rifted with
the wind and frost; and, if closed up with planking in this
state, might be expected, at no great distance of time, to
exhibit symptoms of decay. The workmen, too, in the open
docks or slips, suffered from the vicissitudes of the weather
no less than the ships, and their labour was frequently sus¬
pended, to the great detriment of the naval service. The
measure of roofing over the docks and slips had long and
repeatedly been suggested, but, either from prejudice or a
false economy, it was only of late years carried into prac¬
tice, but is now universal in all the yards. These roofs are
generally constructed so as to be capable of having the sides
and ends occasionally closed, according to the quarter from
which the wind may blow ; and by this contrivance the
timber is prevented from rifting, as it is liable to do, by the
action of a thorough draught of wind, and the health of the
artificer is prevented from injury. The light is admitted
through numerous windows placed in the roof. These roofs
are in general supported on a row of pillars, and covered
with plates of iron. Plate CCVI. fig. 8, exhibits the trans¬
verse section of a roof thrown over the head of the dock at
Plymouth; its span, from A to A, being 95 feet 4 inches,
and the extreme width, from B to B, 125 feet 4 inches,
supported, on the principle of trussing, without a single beam.
Another of the same kind was built at Chatham, whose span
was 100 feet, and the extreme width 150 feet. These im¬
mense roofs, of which there are now some larger, were con¬
structed after a plan of Mr Seppings. The cost of one of the
dimensions above mentioned was from L.6000 to L.7000,
which, great as it may appear, must be amply repaid by
the superior quality and durability of the ships built under
it; but the same roof, with little or no repair, serves as a
covering for eight or ten different ships in succession.
General Bentham, who, in his statement of Services ren¬
dered in the Civil Department of the Navy, seems to claim
to himself all the inventions and improvements which have
been introduced into the dockyards for the last forty years,
carries his invention beyond a mere covering, and proposes
to house over the docks and slips so completely as to afford
“ means of heating, warming, ventilating, and artificially
lighting the interior at pleasure ; the introduction of boilers
or steam-kilns for bending the planks within the inclosure;
the introduction of machinery for assisting in various opera¬
tions, particularly the more laborious ones; the providing
room for carrying on all the shipwright’s work within the
building; besides a variety of lesser works, such as it is
found very inconvenient during the building or reparing of
a ship to have executed, for example, in a smith’s or car¬
penter’s shop at a distance.” Such buildings would not only
be enormously expensive, but, in the present crowded state
of the dock-yards, utterly impracticable. With regard to
the invention of covered docks and slips, they have been
used in Venice from time immemorial; and it appeared,
from the evidence given by Mr Strange, the consul at that
port in the year 1792, before the commissioners of land
revenue, that two-and-twenty large ships had been under
covered slips, some of them for sixty years nearly. At
Carlscrona, also, there are several covered docks, and both
Mr Nicholls and Mr Snodgrass strongly recommended the
building of ships under cover nearly fifty years ago.
Hauling Among other experiments which were made in the dock-
u|j ships on yards for facilitating and expediting the repairs of ships,
T8- one may be mentioned, of which many persons were san¬
guine enough to think that the successful result was likely
C K. 77
to be attended with most important benefits to the naval Dock,
service. It was that of hauling up ships of war, of any di-
mensions, on building slips, instead of taking them into
docks. It is no uncommon practice, at various ports of this
kingdom, where there are neither artificial basins nor na¬
tural harbours, to haul vessels of the burden of fifty to two
hundred tons, or probably larger, upon the beach, by means
of capstans, to give them repairs; in like manner, most of
the large fishing smacks are hauled up for security in tem¬
pestuous weather; but the practicability of hauling up ships
of war, especially of the larger classes, was a matter of some
doubt. Several frigates had, at various times, been hauled
upon slips, when the docks were all occupied ; and the ease
with which the operation was performed induced the offi¬
cers of the dock-yard to propose the hauling up of a line-
of-battle ship. The Kent of 74 guns, was selected for this
purpose. It was necessary, in the first place, to take her
into a dock, to have proper bilgeways prepared, and to be
stripped, so as to be made as light as possible; her weight
being, according to a calculation made from the water she
displaced when afloat, about fourteen hundred tons. To
heave up this weight fourteen capstans were employed, and
the number of men to work these were as under :
Nine men to each bar and swifter 1512
Eight men to hold on at each  112
Three men to each capstan, to attend the fall  42
Men on board the ship, and employed in other 1
operations J
Total of men employed 2116
The time occupied in hauling her up, after all the pur¬
chases were brought to bear, wTas forty minutes. The ex¬
pense of preparing her, and the loss and wear and tear of
the materials, w^as estimated at somewhere about L.2000.
The advantages which slips are supposed to possess
over dry docks are many and important. They can be
constructed at one-twentieth part of the expense ; they oc¬
cupy less space; they can be constructed on a steep or a
shelving shore; and ships can be hauled upon them either
in spring or neap tides ; whereas a dry dock can only be
made in particular situations, and, when made, ships can
only be docked and undocked in certain states of the tides;
from which circumstance a considerable delay and incon¬
venience are frequently experienced. It should be recol¬
lected, however, that a large ship must necessarily go into
a dock preparatory to her being hauled up on a slip.
It has been considered as not at all impossible, as w as sug¬
gested some time ago by Mr Perring, then the ingenious
clerk of the check in Plymouth dock-yard, that the whole or¬
dinary might hereafter be laid up on slips, which, if housed
over, would unquestionably be the best means of increasing
their durability, and preserving them from partial decay.
Nor is it certain that in the end it would not be the most
economical mode of preserving them. The expense, as ap¬
pears from the Estimates of the Ordinary of the Navy for
the year 1817, is L.187,000 for harbour victuals, harbour
moorings and riggings, &c., besides L.135,000 for wages;
the chief part of both which sums is on account of ships of
war laid up in ordinary, none of which would be required
by placing them on slips. It would indeed form a singular
revolution in naval management, if ships hereafter should
be laid up in ordinary on dry land, whilst the timber of
which they are built was considered to be the best preserved
under salt w'ater; a process which, from some experiments
recently made, promises fair to be the most effectual pre¬
vention of, and a probable cure for, the dry rot. (See Dry
Rot.) This method of preserving timber has long been
practised at Brest, Carthagena, and several other places on
the Continent; and the only objection to it in some of our
ports appears to be the attack of the worm known to natu¬
ralists by the name of Teredo navalis, whose bite is almost
as destructive as the dry rot.
78
DOCK-YARDS.
On the other hand, there are very many and serious ob¬
jections, even were the measure practicable, of hauling up
ships of the line in particular, to be laid in ordinary on slips.
In the first place, the length of sea-beach which would be
reouired is greater than probably all the dock-vards in the
kingdom could furnish. Secondly, the three warrant offi¬
cers who are now employed in each ship, and who are the
best men in the service, being no longer necessary, would
be turned adrift, and, in all probability, utterly lost to the
navy. Thirdly, no large ship could be hauled on the slips
without being previously taken into a dock to have her
bilgeways fitted, and her bottom prepared for placing her
on the slip. The time taken for this purpose must neces¬
sarily interfere with the other works of the yard; and after
taking her out, the preparations for heaving her up, the cap¬
stans, blocks, purchase-falls, chains, and a variety of other
articles, amount to a very large expense, not less, with the
expense of the roof to cover the ship, than L.10,000 foi
each slip so hauled up.
Dock-
Yards.
Dock- Yards.
Previously to the reign of Henry VIII. the kings of Eng¬
land had neither naval arsenals nor dock-yards, nor a.ny
regular establishment of civil or naval officers to piovide
ships of war, or to fight them. 1 hey had admirals, how¬
ever, possessing a high jurisdiction and very great power.
(See the article Admiral.) And it would appear, from
a very curious poem in Hackluit’s Collection, called Ihe
Policie of Keeping the Sea, that Henry V. had both ships,
officers, and men exclusively appropriated to his service,
and independently of those which the Cinque Ports were
bound, and the other ports were occasionally called upon,
to furnish, on any emergency. By this poem it also appears
that Little Hampton, unfit as it now is, was the port at
which Henry built
-his great Dromions
Which passed other great shippes of the commons.
But what these dromions were no one can now tell; nor
is it easy to conceive how the building and repairing of tbe
Great Harry, which in the reign of Henry VII. was launched
at Portsmouth, and cost L. 15,000, was managed, consider¬
ing the very rapid strides made at once from the small
Cinque Port vessels, manned with 21 men and a boy, to this
enormous floating castle. At that time it is well known
that they had no docks, nor even substitutes for them.
The foundation of a regular navy, by the establishment
of dock-yards, and the formation of a board, consisting of
certain commissioners for the management of its affairs, was
first laid by Henry VIII., and the first dock-yard erected
under his reign was that of Woolwich. I hose of Ports¬
mouth, Deptford, Chatham, and Sheerness, followed in
succession ; and the last, excepting the new and unfinished
yard of Pembroke, was Plymouth, which was founded by
William III.
From the first establishment of the dock-yards to the
present time, most of them have gradually been enlarged
and improved by a succession of expedients and make-shifts,
which answered the purposes of the moment; but the best
of them possess not those conveniences and advantages
which might be obtained from a dock-yard systematically
laid out on a uniform and consistent plan, with its wharfs,
basins, docks, slips, magazines, and workshops, arranged
according to certain fixed principles, calculated to produce
convenience, economy, and despatch.
Imperfec- Neither at the time when our dock-yards were first esta-
tions of the blished, nor at any subsequent periods of their enlargement
Queen’s as the necessities of the service demanded, could it have
dock-yards, foreseen what incalculable advantages would one day
be derived from the substitution of machinery for human
labour ; and without a reference to this vast improvement
in all mechanical operations, it could not be expected that
any provision would be made for its future introduction ; on
the contrary, the docks and slips, the workshops and store¬
houses, were successively built at random, and placed where-
ever a vacant space would most conveniently admit them,
and in such a manner as in most cases to render the subse¬
quent introduction of machinery and iron railways, and those
various contrivances found in the large manufacturing esta¬
blishments of private individuals, quite impossible, even in
the most commodious and roomy of her Majesty’s dock-yards.
The want of a systematic arrangement in our dock-yards, proposed
independently of machinery, and the enormous expenditure dock-yard
of money laid out on expedients, were questions of frequent on the Isle
discussion among naval men connected with the variousof Grain-
administrations of the navy, and it was thought by many
that it would be more desirable to construct an entire new
dock-yard in some eligible situation, on an extensive scale,
than to continue the improvements in the old ones. For
this purpose, so early as the year 1765, the attention of the
naval administration appears to have been turned to the Isle
of Grain in the river Medway, along the shore of which is
a fine expansive sheet of deep water. A dock-yard thus
placed, on a systematic plan, would supersede that of Chat¬
ham on one side, and Sheerness on the other; but it was
discovered on boring that the substratum was so loose and
sandy as not to admit of a solid foundation. General Ben-
tham, however, revived the project in the year 1800, which
he seems to claim as his own, and painted the situation in
such glowing colours, and as affording so many advantages
for a grand naval arsenal, that the Lords of the Admiralty
were induced to order a fresh set of borings to be taken.
These were carried to the depth of 60 feet, and were every¬
where found to consist of sand and mud, and totally unfit
for the construction of basins, docks, and such solid build¬
ings as are required for naval purposes.
The imperfection of the naval yards to the eastward, the on the pe-
extension of the boundaries of France towards that quarter, ninsula of
the occupation of the greater naval port of Antwerp, and North-
the uninterrupted command of the Scheldt and the ports of ^eet>
Holland by that power, rendered an enlargement of the
means of naval equipment in the eastern dock-yards of Eng¬
land, or a new naval arsenal, indispensable. For the latter
purpose the banks of tbe Thames were considered, in every
point of view, as preferable to those of the Medway, the
entrance into the latter being narrow7, and having a bar
across it, on which, at low water of spring tides, there is
only 14 or 15 feet of water; whereas the navigation of the
Thames is at all times uninterrupted, excepting by the bad¬
ness of the weather. It communicates directly with the
great market-town of London, in which every description
of stores, foreign and domestic, is accumulated; and the
trade of the Thames is the great source from which the
fleet is supplied with seamen. The marshy peninsula of
Northfleet was considered by naval men, who had turned
their attention to the subject, to possess every possible re¬
quisite for the establishment of a royal dock-yard on an ex¬
tensive scale. It was sufficiently removed from the mouth
of the river to be completely sheltered, yet near enough for
ships to proceed to sea with one wind. In the river be¬
tween Northfleet and the sea there is plenty of water
for the largest three-deckers to proceed with all their
guns, ammunition, stores, and provisions on board, and
almost with any wind, if moderate. A copious stream of
good fresh water runs across the peninsula. The soil
afforded plenty of earth suitable for bricks ; the foundation
was excellent for docks, slips, wharfs, and buildings of all
kinds. It was sufficiently near the metropolis for speedy
communication with the naval departments, and to receive
stores in barges and the river craft. It was capable of be¬
ing defended both on the land and river side ; and when
the whole was raised to the height of 12 feet with a dry
gravelly soil, from the excavations of the docks and basins,
DOCK-YARDS.
79
Dock- there could be no doubt of the healthiness of the situation.
Yards. By the direction, therefore, of the Lords of the Admiralty, a
complete survey was made by Messrs Rennie and Whidbey,
who furnished a plan and estimate of a naval arsenal on a
magnificent scale, within which all kinds of machinery were
proposed to be employed for the making of anchors, saw¬
ing of timber, rope-making, block-making, &c.; iron rail¬
ways to be laid from the timber wharfs to the timber fields,
f om thence to the mills and pits, and from them to the
docks, slips, and workshops. The estimate, it appears, was
about six millions sterling, which Mr Rose, in his letter to
the late Lord Melville, calculates, with the fortifications and
unforeseen expenses, to amount actually to ten millions ; an
expense which the minister did not venture to propose,
though there can be little doubt that, when the case was
fairly stated to the public, and the necessity of increasing
our naval establishments to the eastward had been made
apparent, no violent opposition would have been made to a
measure which tended to keep up our naval superiority, and
which was the less objectionable, as none of the money
would have been taken out of the country, but circulated
within it, to the encouragement of the arts, trades, and
manufactures of the kingdom.
The board of revision made a detailed report on the
merits of the plan, which, however, as the execution of it
was delayed, was not printed ; but the real reason was sup¬
posed to' be, the very gloomy view taken by the commis¬
sioners of the disadvantages and imperfections of the present
dock-yards, which Mr Rose seems to think, and indeed it
is generally thought, is by no means warranted, and that
those disadvantages in that report are greatly exaggerated,
perhaps to enhance the value of the Northfleet plan, of
which they seem to have been much enamoured. Imper¬
fect as the old dock-yards are, chiefly from their having
risen, as before observed, to their present state, by a suc¬
cession of expedients and make-shifts, they are neverthe¬
less far superior to any similar establishments on the Con¬
tinent of Europe, if we except the arsenal of Cherbourg,
whose magnificent basins (see Breakwater) are certainly
unequalled, and the space surrounding them capable of
being turned to every possible advantage. M. Charles
Dupin, a French officer, who examined all our dock-yards
with a skilful eye, pronounces them as by far superior to
any on the Continent. We have heard much of the mag¬
nificent basins and the covered docks of Carlscrona, but the
one has been greatly overrated, and the others are merely
covered over with shed-like roofs; nor is there the least
likelihood that the plan will ever be finished. We have
been told likewise of the superior advantages of the naval
arsenal of Copenhagen, where every ship has its appropriate
storehouse. This plan has been adopted at Brest, and is
reprobated there by every naval officer, and the officers of
the yard, as most inconvenient, and a great waste of room,
by having the most bulky and the most trifling articles
stowed together in the same room. A better arrangement
is that of having certain magazines appropriated to certain
kinds of stores, and arranged according to the class or rate
of ship for which they are intended, and, if appropriated or
returned stores, the name of the ship to which they belong
painted in front of the berth in which they are deposited.
This is the system generally followed in our dock-yards.
The great point in which our naval arsenals were most
defective was the want of wet docks or basins ; which, how¬
ever, was to a certain extent compensated at the two prin¬
cipal dock-yards of Portsmouth and Plymouth, by two mag¬
nificent harbours, in which the whole navy of England,
when dismantled, may be moored and laid up in ordinary,
in perfect security. The want of basins, however, in our
dock-yards was most severely felt in time of war, when the
expeditious fitting out of the fleet was so desirable. These
wants are now happily remedied at all the great ports.
The perfection of a dock-yard, then, independently of the Dock-
advantages of machinery, which are but contingent, may be ^ ar(ls-
considered to depend upon one or more extensive basins, '
surrounded by spacious wharfs or quays. By means of these Idea of a
a prodigious saving of time, labour, and expense may be P^601^
saved, in every stage of the progress of fitting out a ship for aoc ^ar
sea, from the moment she is launched from the slip, or taken
out of a dock, as well as in dismantling a ship on returning
to port to be paid off' and repaired, or laid up in ordinary.
For this purpose the docks and slips should occupy one of
the sides of the basin, with working sheds for carpenters and
joiners, smiths’ shops, saw-pits, and seasoning-sheds between
them. The ship, when completed on the slip and launched
into the basin, may then be taken immediately into the ad¬
joining dock to be coppered. From this she proceeds to the
second side of the basin, in the corner of which is the bal¬
last-wharf : the remainder of the side will probably be oc¬
cupied by the victualling department, with appropriate stores
in the rear for various kinds of provisions, and behind these
the bakery, brewery, and slaughter-houses ; on the wharf
the iron tanks for holding water, now universally used for
the ground tier, in lieu of wooden casks. These are taken
on board next after the ballast, and, together with the su¬
perincumbent casks, would be filled in the ship’s hold by
means of flexible pipes to convey the water into them. The
provisions would at the same time be taken on board at the
same wharf, in front of the victualling stores. The third
side might be appropriated to the ordnance department, with
the gun-wharf extending along the whole side, and the gun-
carriage storehouses, magazines, &c., in the rear. The fourth
side would be occupied as the anchor wharf, with the cable
storehouses, the sail lofts and stores, rigging loft, and maga¬
zines for various stores, in the rear. Behind these, again,
on the first side, containing the dry docks and building slips,
the ground would be appropriated to the reception, berthing,
and converting of timber, from whence iron railways would
lead to the saw-mills, saw-pits, and workshops, all of which
would be placed on that side. On the second side a pond
or basin for the victualling lighters and craft, with wharfs
communicating with the manufactories and storehouses; the
same on the ordnance or third side ; and on the fourth side
might be placed the ropery, hemp storehouses, tar-houses,
with a basin for hemp-vessels, lighters, and the like. Com¬
municating with the great basin on the building side, and
also with the river or harbour on the shore of which the
dockyard is to be formed, should be a mast-pond, with a
lock for the storing of spars ; in front the mast-houses, top-
houses, capstan-houses, and a slip to launch the masts into
the pond. Here also might be placed the boat-houses and
boat-pond.
A peninsular situation like that of Northfleet, having at Advan-
least three-fourths of its shore surrounded with deep water, taSes of a
is peculiarly favourable for some such arrangement as is here
mentioned; as any number of locks and canals might be oc ^ar •
made to communicate with the river, so that ships coming
into the basin might not interfere with those going out, nor
the lighters and other craft bringing their several species of
stores, with either or with one another. By such an ar¬
rangement a ship would be equipped for sea at half the pre¬
sent expense, and within half the usual time. A ship fitting
out for an anchorage distant from the dock-yard, as at the
Nore and Spithead, is liable to every inconvenience and
delay, as all her guns, stores, provisions, and water, must be
carried to her in dock-yard lighters and other craft, into
which and out of which they must be hoisted and rehoisted ;
liable to delay from bad weather and contrary winds ; to be
stove alongside the ship, to the total loss or damaging of
their cargoes : added to which is the loss of time in going
backwards and forwards, especially to the artificers ; the de¬
sertion of the men ; the accidents from the upsetting of
boats; and many other evils of a magnitude not easily to
80
DOCK-Y ARBS.
Royal
be calculated, and exceeded only by the disappointment
and vexation that unavoidably occur when ships are prepar¬
ing for some particular and pressing service ; all of which,
when ships are fitted out in a basin for sea, are avoided.
Here no delay, no embezzlement, no desertion, can take
place. A ship in returning from sea may be docked and
undocked into the basin with all her stores on board; and
if to be paid off, instead of keeping the crew on board tor
weeks, till all the stores have been delivered into the dock¬
yard, the ship, by the proposed plan of basins, would remain
securely in the basin, to be stripped at leisure by the rig¬
gers and labourers of the yard, and the crew become imme¬
diately available for other ships. Of the many superior ad¬
vantages of wet docks for laying up ships to discharge, over
the practice of exposing them in rivers or harbours, the
shipping interest of the ports of London, Liverpool, Bristol,
and Hull, can best testify, more especially that of London,
which has taken the precaution to surround the docks with
high inclosing walls, by means of which all access is debarred,
and all possibility of embezzlement prevented.
n.»ya.x From a brief description of the royal dock-yards as they
dock-yards, now stand, a general idea may be formed of their several
capacities, advantages, and defects, laking them in succes¬
sion, according to their vicinity to the capital, the first is
Deptford.—The front or wharf wall of this dock-yard,
facing the Thames, is about 1700 feet in length, and the
mean breadth of the yard 650 feet; the superficial content
about thirty acres. It has three slips for ships of the line
on the face next the river; and two for smaller vessels, which
launch into a basin or wet dock, 260 by 220 feet. 1 here
are also three dry docks; one of them a double dock, com¬
municating with the Thames, and the other a smaller one,
opening into the basin. ^Vith these restricted means, even
with an adequate number of workmen, its capacity for build¬
ing ships, or for large repairs, must be very limited; but in
the occasional repair of fourth-rates and frigates, and in the
fitting out of sloops and smaller vessels, a great deal of
work was performed at Deptford in the course of the war.
The proximity of Deptford dock-yard to the capital is, how¬
ever, of great importance, in the convenience it affords of
receiving from this great mart all the home manufactui es
and products which may be purchased by contract for the
use of the navy. It is, in fact, the general magazine of
stores and necessaries for the fleet, from whence they are
shipped off, as occasion requires, to the home yards, the out-
ports, and the foreign stations, in store-ships, transports,
coasting sloops, lighters, and launches, according to the dis¬
tance to which they must be sent, to the amount, in time of
war, of more than 30,000 tons a-year.
The principal stores deposited in Deptford dock-yard are
small cordage, canvas, and ships’ sails, to an immense
amount; beds, hair for beds, hammocks, slops, and marine
clothing; anchors under the weight of about seventy-five
hundred, which are generally made by contract, all above
that size being manufactured in the Queen’s dock-yards.
The great magazines for the reception of these stores
consist of a large quadrangular building, with a square in
the middle, of three stories in height, with cellars under¬
neath, in which are contained pitch, tar, rosin, and turpen¬
tine. The length of each side of these storehouses is nearly
the same, differing from a square only by some 18 feet:
this length is about 210 feet, but they vary in width from
46 to 24 feet.
Parallel to the west front of this quadrangle is the rig¬
ging-house and sail-loft, 240 feet, and nearly 50 feet wide,
in which all the rigging is fitted for ships and stowed away,
the sails cut out, made, and placed in proper berths for their
reception, as well as for various other stores of a smaller kind.^
On the eastern extremity of the yard is a long range of
building, called the pavilion, in which the beds, hammocks,
and slop-clothing are kept, and in which also are the house-
carpenters’, the joiners’, and wheelwrights’ shops. This
building is about'580 feet long by 26 feet wide.
The remaining buildings usually appropriated to the dif¬
ferent services of a dock-yard are all to be found at Dept¬
ford ; a good blacksmith’s shop, a plumber, glazier, painter
shops seasoning-sheds, store-cabins, saw-pits, mast-house,
and pond, boat-houses, mould-loft, timber-berths, besides
(rood houses and gardens for the principal officers, with se¬
veral coach-houses and stables, so that the whole space is
completely filled up in every part.
The number of men employed in this yard, in time ot
war, may have been about 1500, of whom about one-half
were shipwrights and other artificers, and the other half la¬
bourers. There were, besides, in constant employ, 18 or
20 teams of 4 each, of horses, to drag timber and heavy
stores.
Adjoining to the dock-yard is the victualling yard, the
completest °establishment of the kind, perhaps, in this or
any other kingdom, though still capable of much improve¬
ment in the arrangement. Its frontage to the Thames is
about 1060 feet, and mean depth 1000 feet, containing
about 19 acres. I his space is laid out in a more conveni¬
ent manner than any ot the dock-yards, for answering all
the purposes which were intended. I he geneial stoie-
houses in front of the wharf wall, the cooperage, the brew¬
ery, the butchery, and the bakery, are all separate and com¬
plete in themselves; and a mill of such capacity as to grind
corn to be made into biscuit sufficient for supplying the
whole navy. Besides all the requisite offices for keeping
the accounts, there are houses and gardens for eight of the
principal officers of the yard.
The cooperage is spacious and well laid out. The staves
are all sawed by hand, and this operation employed about 100
sawyers in time of war. Mr Brown of Fulham succeeded
in making casks by machinery, by which 17 men in nine
hours were able to complete 300 casks, whereas, by the ordi¬
nary method, the same number could only complete about
80. The brewery is well arranged, so is the bakery; and
the butchery, consisting of a yard for keeping the cattle,
with pens for sheep and hogs, two spacious slaughtering-
houses, cutting and salting houses, by the abundant supply of
water and constant washing, are kept in the cleanest order,
and free from any disagreeable smell.
In the salting season 260 carcases have been slaughtered
in each of the two days in the week appropriated to killing,
and the hog hanging-house is capable of containing 650
carcases.
The total number of coopers, sawyers, bakers, and la¬
bourers employed during war, in the victualling-yard at
Deptford, amounted probably to 1200 or 1300.
Woolwich Dock-yard.—This first and most ancient of
the dock-yards presents a frontage to the river of 3680 feet,
to which may be added 160 feet timber grove ; the breadth
now is very irregular, being from 250 to 900 feet. It has
two docks with entrance from the river, and one dock with
entrance from a large basin. This large basin has likewise
an entrance into an inner basin, which is also of consider¬
able size. There are besides three building slips for line-
of-battle ships—one for steamers, one for corvettes, one for
frigates; besides two smaller slips. There is also a boat
pond. With all its imperfections, Woolwich yard, with a
complete establishment of artificers, has been of great ser¬
vice both in the building and repairing of ships of all classes.
Some of the largest and finest ships in the navy have been
launched from Woolwich yard, among which may be men¬
tioned the Nelson and the Ocean in former days, and lat¬
terly, the Trafalgar, Agamemnon, and Royal Albert. In fact,
it is chiefly as a building yard that Woolwich ought to be con¬
sidered as of much importance. It is stated in the Eighth
Report of the Select Committee on Finance (1818), that ‘‘the
wharf wall at Woolwich, owing to the action of the tide on
Dock-
Yards.
D 0 C K - Y A R D S.
Dock- the foundation, is in a falling state, and in danger of being
Yards, swept into the river, it being secured only in a temporary
—manner; and requires to be immediately rebuilt in a direc¬
tion that will preserve it from similar injury hereafter, and
prevent, in a great degree, that accumulation of mud which
has, in the course of the last ten years, occasioned an ex¬
pense of upwards of L. 125,692, and would threaten in time
to render the yard useless.” The tides which sweep round
the river wall keep a clear way along shore; but the de¬
posits in the basin are considerable each time the caissoons
are taken out, and the quantity of mud which is periodically
removed in barges is a work of labour and great cost to the
government.
It was found necessary to diminish the depth of the hold
of the Nelson, in consequence of the Trinity Board having
stated that no vessel drawing above 19 feet of water could
be navigated down to Erith Reach, and one even of that
draught not without difficulty and danger.
The magazines or storehouses are not in some respects
to be compared with those of Deptford. They are more
confined, and, owing to the narrowness of the yard, and the
progressive additions made according as necessity required,
there is little or no methodical arrangement. As far, how¬
ever, as regards the building and repairing of ships, its con¬
veniences are now very far superior to those of Deptford.
The new mast-houses and mast-slip, the new mast-ponds,
and the houses for stowing yards, topmasts, &c., with the
locks under them, are all excellent; and two new and spa¬
cious basins complete these great conveniences. The tim¬
ber-berths are well arranged, and the addition recently made
to the western extremity of the yard allow the stacking of
several thousand loads of timber, and of classing it accord¬
ing to the purposes to which it may be applicable ; the new
smithery, and the line of wharf wall has made the dock¬
yard of Woolwich an important and valuable naval arsenal.
Few of her Majesty’s dock-yards have undergone greater
improvement in late years than that at Woolwich. It has
now got its steam factory, its steam kiln, steam saw-mills,
foundry boiler shop, engineers’ stores, smithery, &c., which
render it very convenient for the repair of steam vessels and
for the manufacture of engines.
Woolwich dock-yard seems to be complete in all the
usual appendages of artificers, workshops, store-cabins,
offices for the clerks, houses and gardens for the superin¬
tendent and principal officers of the establishment. The
number of men employed during the war amounted to about
1800, of whom nearly 1100 were shipwrights and artificers,
and the rest labourers. The number of spinners, knitters,
layers, labourers, &c., in the ropery, might be about 260.
Upwards of 20 teams of horses were daily employed in this
yard.
One of the four divisions (the 4th, consisting of twenty-
five companies) of royal marines are stationed at Woolwich,
where barracks and all the necessary buildings have been
erected for their accommodation on shore. See the article
Marines.
Chatham Dock-Yard.—This dock-yard is situated on the
right bank of the Medway, to which it presents a line of
river wall at least 5000 feet in length ; the width at the upper
end being 400, in the middle 1200, and at the lower end
about 800. The superficial contents may be estimated at
about ninety-two acres. It has seven building-slips on the
front, from which ships are launched into the river, all equal
to the building of ships of the line, and three others for
frigates and smaller vessels. In the same front are four dry
docks communicating with the Medway.
The inconveniences arising from want of arrangement
are less felt in Chatham than in any other of her Majesty’s
dock-yards; and it could not perhaps be materially im¬
proved, if on the same site an entirely new dock-yard was
to be planned. At the southern extremity of the yard is
YOL. VIII.
81
the ropery, which is 1248 feet in length and 47§- feet in Dock-
width, in which are employed about 250 persons. It is equal Yards,
to the manufacture of every description of cordage required
for the naval service, including the largest size cable, which
is equal to 24^ inches. The hemp houses, 306 feet long
by 36 feet wide, are equal to the stowage of 1600 tons of
hemp and 3000 hauls of yarn. Next to these are the slips
and docks, with the working-sheds and artificers’ shops close
in the rear, an excellent smithery, timber-berths, seasoning-
sheds, deal and iron yard, &c.; and beyond these, on the
eastern extremity of the yard, the officers’ houses and
gardens. The superintendent’s house and excellent garden
are situated nearly in the centre of the yard. The lower
or north-eastern part of the yard is occupied by mast-ponds,
mast-houses and slips, store boat-houses and slips, ballast-
wharf, timber-berths, and saw-pits.
With all the advantages of interior arrangement, Chat¬
ham dock-yard still labours under that great defect to
which most of the dock-yards are liable, from the injudicious
manner in which the wharf walls have been constructed,
without any regard being paid to the ebbing and flowing of
the tide, or the currents of rivers, projecting in one part
and retiring in others; the consequence of which is, that
eddies are formed, and a constant accumulation of mud
takes place along the line of the wall, and particularly in
the openings of the dry docks, the slips, and the jetties. Of
late years, however, since the attention of engineers has
been called to this important subject, every opportunity is
taken, in the repair of the wharf walls of the dock-yards,
to correct the injurious effects arising from their improper
direction.
There is no wet dock or basin in Chatham-yard ; but the
Medway, flowing along it in a fine sheet of water, in some
degree answers the purpose of one. The whole river might
indeed be converted into a magnificent basin, by pursuing
the same plan as that adopted in forming the new docks at
Bristol. This would be effected by cutting a new channel
for the river through thechalk cliff below fTindsbury Church,
opening out a little above Upnor Castle, and continuing the
newr channel across the marsh near St Mary’s Creek, so as
to open out into Gillingham Reach close to the fort. Here a
basin might be constructed wherein ships might be equipped
in all respects, ready for sea whenever the wind and tide
should be favourable. At present, owing to the shallowness
of the water and the crooked navigation from Chatham
round Upnor Point, they are obliged to take in their water
and ballast at one place, their stores and provisions at an¬
other, their guns, powder, and ammunition at a third; in
consequence of which, a ship is usually longer in getting out
to sea from Chatham than even from Deptford. If this new
channel was made for the river, the whole space from the
first reach below Rochester Bridge to St Mary’s Creek, at
the lower extremity of the dock-yard, might be converted
into one magnificent basin.
Chatham being a building, a repairing, and refitting yard,
the establishment of men was much greater in war than at
Woolwich or Deptford; the number of shipwrights and
other artificers, and labourers, being probably upwards of
2000, besides those of the rope-yard, which might amount
to about 250.
A considerable piece of new ground (about 2000 feet in
length by 200 in breadth) was added to the upper part of
Chatham dock-yard, on which is erected one of the com-
pletest saw-mills in the United Kingdom, under the direc¬
tion of Mr Brunell. The mill is situated on high ground,
and close to the margin of a deep circular basin or reser¬
voir of water, dug down to the level of the Medway, with
which it communicates by a tunnel or subterranean canal,
passing through the mast-pond. From the side of the re¬
servoir opposite to the mill proceeds a long iron railway,
supported on a double row of iron pillars; and alongside of
L
82
Dock-
Yards.
DOCK- YARDS.
and parallel to this railway, on the side next to the dock- ^fxe^amongHwharfrand^buildings belonging to
yard/are a continued series of stages for ^ ^ception of pit d rtment, did not exceed fifteen acres of
timber after it has been sawn into planks. A steam-eng , The storehouses were dispersed in various parts
of the power of thirty-six horses sets in motion all the op - » ‘ e and in s0 ruinous a state, that a ship hauled
rationsPof this mill, which may thus be briefly enumerate . h£ mi’ld was by far the best in the whole yard. It
1st, It drags up the large balks of tl!Jbe^h ^ ^ese had two small inconvenient docks for frigates or smaller ves-
into the reservoir as they are wanted. 2d, It hits up t e- mere t of refitment, and might be
large logs to the margin of the basin, carries them into the «els.^It wa^i ^ Chatham
mill, and places them on the frame under the saws- > From the very limited capacity of Sheerness, and the
saws them with the greatest nicety into planks of any * preparations in the Scheldt, originated the magm-
miired thickness, ^th, It takes away the pieces thus sawn, g y P . P „  , which, from
and places them on carriages of iron. 5th, It drives these
ficent project of the naval arsenal at Norfleet which, from
carriages along the iron railway to any required distance. * n°/ hkely
And, 6f/«, It deposits the sawn timber on the stages, ready p ^ Finance Committee (Eighth
“to be revived. The Finance Committee
jtteporl) say they have learned “that the re-establishment
and extension of the yards at Sheerness and Chatham m y
be considered as superseding, under any circumstance that
can now be likely to occur, the plan contemplated for a naval
establishment at Northfleet, on so extensive a scale as to re¬
quire the expenditure of several millions.”
to"be used in any part of the dock-yard where it may be ^ “heyteve'leariied “that the re-establishment
reauired. From these stages it is conveniently conveyed Sheerness and Chatham may
r«”e docks or slips by single horse carts or .rucked,
great expedition, down an easy descent, and,wlt'“" * “
least interference with any of the works carrying on in the
yard. The whole of these operations are conducted y ^ lu|lule u,     
about ten, or at most twelve men. f These improvements are of sufficient magnitude to ren-
This mill is supposed to be equal to the P°^er °f h ty 1 establishment at Northfleet wholly unnecessary, by
saw-pits and nearly one hundred sawyers and is capable ol A y complete a dock-yard, and perhaps more
supplying the dock-yards of Chatham and Sheemesswith g7™«““rtheerinher^ajesty's dominions. Ire.iouslyto
all the straight-sawn timber that they '.“'' j^'gtiic stcain- carrying into execution this important undertaking, a corn-
great advantage of the plan is in its mittSee of engineers and others was appointed, among whom
engine to the°management andarrangementofnm er y vm^ee^o ^udda^ and Jessop) whose plan was afterwards
which the labour and expense of a great number of ho minutel examined, and some slight improvements sug-
are saved, and, what is of still greater importance, the ob ^ ^ Mr Renniei Xhe first stone was laid on
struction and impediments to the general serv - ^ AuguJ 1814, and the whole was completed at an
yard are avoided, which the dragging about of large talks e ^ ^ ^ >of one mimon sterling.
to and from the saw-pits, with teams o ou ,[la The advantages arising from the adoption of this plan are,
occasions in all the other yards. a The addition of nineteen acres of ground to the dock-
large space of ground which these saw-pits would occ py > b ^ in the whole of the muddy western shore of
to be appropriated to other purposes. the Medwav beyond the low-water mark of neap tides, and
The first division of royal “hamln exf elm bS gett“g rid of thl offensive and unwholesome smell which it
five companies, is stationed at Chatham, m excelle™ ° nernetuallv occasioned. 2dlu, The construction of a wet
racks, situated near to one of the extremities of the doc P^P ^ ^ ^ in len|th by 300 in width, equal in
yard. (See article Marines.) _ ..iQ. c,irface to three and one-half acres, and capable of contain-
parTlymthelariTo/chSm iT^tl? inlltl Ro- ingafleet often sail of the line, in which Urejican take on
F ^ r r • i ,1 u: and nt Shpemes
Chester, from which the ships at Chatham and at Sheerness
and the Nore received a supply of provisions and water.
The premises are still in existence. The establishment con¬
sisted of an agent, clerk of the check, storekeeper, and their
respective clerks, which, with the messengers, porters, la
mg a. iieei ui icu oo-n wi ,
board all their stores, ammunition, and provisions, and be
equipped in all respects ready to proceed to sea. 1 lie en¬
trance into this basin is from the Medway, through a lock
that is closed by a floating dam-gate. Fhe constiuc-
tion of three dry docks on the eastern side of the basin, an
■ '--v   ’ ,, k„„. nlnptv nm-vnns Shins now opening into it, each capable of holding a first-rate s up o
burners,,&c, amounted to emes, except the lul 4(%, Ample space for constructing storehouses,
obtain their supplies from Deptford S^nes^exce^ ^ ^ast.po‘ndSj and sllp, smithery, and artificers
fresh meat and vegetables, which aie obta’i e workshops of every description, othly, A further extension
tracts on demand. situated on a of the dock-yard, by the addition of ten or twelve acres of
Sheerness M-Yard.-’YEe is a low marshy tract of land called Major’s Marsh, which
low point of land on the ^nd of S ^epp was below they level of the sea, and the water kept out, as in
composed of san am ^ otber and fias so Holland, by embankments, but is now raised several feet by
one side and down ie • :ver as completely to the excavation of the basin, the dry docks, and the mast-
much contracted the mouth of tffis ponds, so as to allow of drains to carry off the water to the
command the entrance • ‘ narticularlv from shore, affording space for timber-berths, houses, and gardens,
point of view, is a most impor ant one c 1 ^ the for aU the officfrs of the dock-yard, as well as for the admiral
its vicinity to the North Sea and to the anch | commanding in chief at Sheerness and the Nore. These
Nore ; by which anchorage, and the works « ^ ’ additi ther with SOme part of the premises held by
the mouths of the Thames and the Medway are completely ^ 0f ordnance) maUe 'the whole area of the dock-
e en ed. nbipctions to which it was yard of Sheerness amount to upwards of fifty acres. T he
As a situation for a d»*q„ account wharf wall on the south side of the basin in front of the
liable are now m a great “ea8urwe, r“vedtood f"v““ and mast-houses is a hundred feet, and that on the river front
of the low swampy ground J^Xhts and sixty feet in width, lined on both sides with as complete
agues were at one time so prevalent, that snipwngius aim J , , , .P , nf <Tranitp as any
other artificers were literally impressed and compelled to a specimen of good and beautiful masonry of granite any
1 1 T _ £* A- - — « l T»T T r O h \\? 1^1
work at Sheerness. In process of time, however, a town
sprung up close to the dock-yard, and with it some little
improvement by drainage, embankments, and other mea¬
sures. Still it continued, for a considerable time, an un¬
healthy and disagreeable place. As a dock-yard it was totally
in the kingdom.
The usual officers, with their clerks, amounted during the
war to about fifty ; and the shipwrights, artificers, and la¬
bourers, to about eight hundred ; the shipwrights being the
most numerous, as the principal part of the work was con-
DOCK- YARDS.
83
fined to the repairing of small vessels in the yard, but mostly
to repairs of the fleet afloat at the Nore or in the Med¬
way.
Portsmouth Dock-Yard.—Portsmouth dock-yard will al¬
ways be considered as the grand naval arsenal of England,
and the headquarters or general rendezvous of the British
fleet. The dock-yard accordingly is by far the most capa¬
cious ; and the safe and extensive harbour, the noble anchor¬
age at Spithead, the central situation with respect to the
English Channel and the opposite coast of France, and parti¬
cularly with regard to the naval arsenal at Cherbourg, render
Portsmouth of the very first importance as a naval station;
and in this view of it, every possible attention appears to
have been paid to the extension and improvement of its
dock-yard. The noble steam basin, which was opened by
the Queen in May 1848 with great ceremony, is one of the
most important of the recent improvements. The sea
wharf-wall of this yard, extending in the direction of north
and south along the western shore of the harbour, is about
3900 feet in length, and the mean depth may be 2000
feet; and it in-closes an area of more than 100 acres.
In the centre of the wharf-wall, facing the harbour, is the
entrance into the great basin, whose dimensions are 380 by
260 feet, and its area 2^ acres. Into this basin open four
excellent dry docks, and on each of its sides is a dry dock
opening into the harbour; and all of these six docks are
capable of receiving ships of the largest class. Besides these
is a double dock for frigates, the stern dock communicating
through a lock with the harbour, and the head dock with
another basin about 250 feet square. There is also a camber,
with a wharf-wall on each side, 660 feet in length, and of
sufficient width to admit of transports and merchant ships
bringing stores to the dock-yard. In the same face of the
yard are three building slips capable of receiving the largest
ships, and a small one for sloops, besides two building slips
for frigates on the northern face of the yard, and a smaller
slip for sloops. The range of storehouses on the north-east
side, and the rigging-house and sail-loft on the south-west
side of the camber, are magnificent buildings, the former oc¬
cupying nearly 600 feet in length, exclusive of the two in¬
termediate spaces, and nearly sixty feet in width, and the
two latter 400 feet. The two hemp-houses and the two
sea-store houses occupy a line of building which, with the
three narrow openings between them of twenty-five feet
each, extend 800 feet. The rope-house, tarring-house,
and other appendages of the ropery, are on the same scale.
The two sets of quadrangular storehouses, and the two cor¬
responding buildings, with the intervening timber-berths and
saw-pits, at the head of the dry docks, issuing from the
great basin, are all excellent, and conveniently placed, The
smithery is on a large scale, and contiguous to it is an iron-
mill, a copper-mill, and a copper refinery, at which is re¬
melted and rolled all the old copper which is taken from
ships’ bottoms ; and here, also, are cast bolts, gudgeons, and
various articles of copper used in the navy. The number
of sheets manufactured in one year of the war amounted to
about 300,000, weighing above 12,000 tons; on which it
has been calculated that a saving of at least L.20,000 was
effected for the public, besides obtaining a good pure article.
Most of these were constructed under the direction of Gene¬
ral Bentham. (Bentham’s Services.) At the head of the
north dock are the wood mills, at which every article of
turnery, rabetting, &c., is performed for the use of the navy,
from boring the chamber of a pump to the turning of a but¬
ton for a chest of drawers. But the principal part of these
mills is the machinery for making blocks, contrived by that
ingenious artist Mr Brunell (see Block-Machinery), which
cannot be regarded without exciting the highest respect for
the talents and skill of the inventor.
The northern extremity of the dock-yard is chiefly oc¬
cupied with seasoning-sheds, saw-pits, and timber-berths,
the working boat-house, and boat store-house. On the Dock-
eastern extremity are situated the houses and gardens of ^ aiti's-
the superintendent and principal officers of the yard, the
chapel, and the royal naval college.
Naval College.—The establishment of a college at Ports¬
mouth for the education of young gentlemen for the navy
was first formed in 1729 under the title of the Naval Aca¬
demy. It contained 40 scholars, the sons of the nobility
and gentry. In 1806 it was reorganized under the name
of the Royal Naval College, and the number of scholars
was raised from 40 to 70 ; of whom 40 were to consist of
the sons of commissioned officers of the navy, and to receive
their board, clothing, lodging, and education, free of all ex¬
pense ; the remainder to consist of sons of noblemen, gen¬
tlemen, civil and military officers, on payment of L.72 a-year.
The age of admission from twelve and a half to fourteen
years. A bond was required to be signed by their friends,
in the penalty of L.200 for the first class, and L.100 for the
second class, in the event of any young gentleman being
withdrawn from the navy before he had served the proper
time to qualify for the commission of lieutenant. (See ar¬
ticle Navy.) No student to remain at college longer than
three years ; at the end of which, or sooner if he shall have
completed the plan of education, he was to be discharged into
one of her Majesty’s ships, the college time being reckoned
two years of the six required to be served to qualify for such
a commission. In 1837 the Royal Naval College for the
education of young gentlemen for the navy was abolished,
and by an order in council of 1838 it was reopened as an
establishment for the scientific education of a certain num¬
ber of officers and mates of the naval service, the latter to
have passed both their examinations in seamanship and in
navigation, and to remain one year in the college. At the
end of six months an examination takes place, and a lieute¬
nant’s commission is awarded to the mate who attains the
greatest proficiency. A limited number of commissioned
officers of any rank are also permitted to study at the col¬
lege, but no expense is incurred on their account: neither
for the mates beyond their sea pay, and a customary allow¬
ance in lieu of provisions. The establishment at present
consists of a governor (the first lord of the admiralty), a
captain superintendent; a professor, mathematical master,
instructor of fortification and mathematical drawing, and
assistant in the observatory.
Naval Architecturcd School.—The number of students
formerly did not exceed 24. Candidates for admission were
examined at stated periods, the degree of merit alone giving
preference of admission ; the age of entrance from fifteen
to seventeen, and the duration of their apprenticeship seven
years. The students were lodged, boarded, and educated,
free of all expense, and had the following yearly allowr-
ances: First year L.25, second L.30, third L.35, fourth
L.40, fifth L.45, sixth L.50, seventh L.60. And at the
expiration of their apprenticeship they were eligible to all the
situations in the shipbuilding department of her Majesty’s
dock-yards, to be there employed as supernumeraries until
regular vacancies might occur; provided the apprentice had
completed the plan of education, and was certified by the
professor to be properly qualified.
The consolidated establishment of the two foregoing de¬
partments consisted of a governor, who was the first lord of
the admiralty for the time being; a lieutenant-governor, who
was a post-captain in the navy, with a salary of L.800 a-year
and apartments; two lieutenants of the navy, with L.200
a-year each, apartments ; and an allowance for board; a pro¬
fessor who was a graduate of the university of Cambridge, with
a salary of L.700 a-year, and apartments: a master of classics,
history, and geography, with L.350 a-year and apartments ;
three assistant-masters, well skilled in mathematics, the first
with L.250, the two others L.200 a-year each, with an al¬
lowance for house rent; besides masters for teaching draw-
84
DOCK-YARDS.
Dock-
Y ards.
inff, dancing, fencing, and the French language, and two
sericants of marine artillery. In addition to these, there was
a superintendent of the school for naval architecture, a pro¬
fessional shipbuilder, brought up in one of her Majesty s
dock-yards, to instruct the apprentices in the practical parts
of shipbuilding. The school for naval architecture has also
been abolished; but there is a central mathematical school
for apprentices, with a principal at its head.
The professor of the naval college has the charge and
keeps the rate of all the chronometers which may not be in
use belonging to the navy; and all midshipmen in the navy
are now required to pass their examination in the theory of
navigation at the naval college. See Navy.
The strength of Portsmouth dock-yard, during the war,
was considerably above 4000 working men, of whom about
1500 were shipwrights and caulkers; the joiners and house-
carpenters were nearly 500 ; the smiths 200 nearly ; the
sawyers 250 ; the riggers and their labourers nearly 200 ;
the scavelmen and labourers of various kinds nearly /00;
and the rope-yard employed about 350 persons.
Victualling Yard.—There were formerly two victualling
establishments at this port; the one in Portsmouth town,
the other across the harbour, at a place called Weevil; both
of them inconveniently situated for supplying the ships with
water and provisions, more especially such as may have to
take them in at Spithead. The former consisted chiefly of
provision-stores and magazines, withatide-mill and a bakery;
at the latter there were a cooperage and a brewery. I he
total number of persons employed, including the officers,
at the two establishments, during the war, amounted to about
500. The victualling establishments are now consolidated
at Gosport, and the Royal Clarence Victualling Yard is a
very fine establishment.
The noble building for the reception of sick and wounded
seamen (Haslar Hospital) is situated on the Gosport side of
Portsmouth harbour. Being appropriated to the military
branch of the navy, it will be described under the head of
Navy.
The second division of royal marines, consisting of twenty-
seven companies, is stationed at Portsmouth, in barracks,
which are inconveniently situated in the town ; and eight
companies of the royal marine artillery have their head¬
quarters at Fort Monckton, not far from Haslar Hospital.
See article Marines.
Plymouth Dock-Yard—The naval station of Plymouth
is inferior only to that of Portsmouth; and, in point of its
more westerly situation, as considered with reference to
the grand naval arsenal of Brest, R is superior even to
Portsmouth. It possesses one of the finest harbours in the
world, capable of containing, in perfect security at their
moorings, not less than a hundred sail of the line ; and by
means of the breakwater it may boast of an excellent road¬
stead for eighteen or twenty sail of the line. The dock¬
yard, however, has only one basin, without gates, whose
dimensions are 300 by 280 feet ; but the excellent harbour
of Hamoaze, on the western bank of which the wharf-wall
extends, almost compensates for the want of others, espe¬
cially as the depth of water allows the largest ships to range
along the jetties, and receive their stores on board imme¬
diately from the wharf,
Plymouth dock-yard extends in a circular sweep along
the shores of Hamoaze 3500 feet, its width about the middle,
where it is greatest, being 1600, and at each extremity 1000
feet, making its superficial contents about ninety-six acres.
The land front is about 2850 feet. In the line facing the har¬
bour are two dry docks for ships'jof the first rate, a double dock
for seventy-four gun ships, communicating with Hamoaze,
and another dock for ships of the line, opening into the basin.
There is, besides, a graving-dock without gates, and a canal
or camber similar to that in Portsmouth yard, for the admis¬
sion of vessels bringing stores into the yard; which com¬
municating with the boat-pond, cuts the dock-yard nearly
into two parts. There are five jetties projecting from the
entrances of the dry docks into Hamoaze, alongside of
which ships are conveniently brought when undocked.
All these are situated between the centre and the north¬
ern extremity of the harbour line. On the southern part
are three building slips for the largest class of ships, and
two for smaller vessels; the outer mast-pond and mast-
houses, timber-berths, saw-pits, and smithery. Higher up,
on this end of the yard is an extensive mast-pond and
mast-locks, with plank-houses over them ; and, above these,
three hemp magazines, contiguous to which is the finest
ropery in the kingdom, consisting of two ranges of build¬
ings, one the laying-house, the other the spinning-house,
each being 1200 feet in length, and three stories in height.
In the construction of the new rope-house no wood has
been used excepting the shingles of the roof, to which the
slates are fastened. All the rest is of iron. I he ribs and
girders of the floors are of cast iron, covered over with
Yorkshire paving stone, and the doors, window frames, and
staircases are all of cast iron, so that the whole building
may be considered as proof against fire.
The northern half of the yard, besides the docks and
basin, with all the appropriate working sheds and artificers’
shops, contains a cluster of very elegant stone buildings,
ranged round a quadrangle, the longest sides being about
450 feet, and the shortest 300 feet. Within the quadrangle
are also tm) new ranges of buildings, in which iron has
been used in the place of wood. Ihese buildings consist
of magazines for different kinds of stores, rigging-houses,
and sail-lofts. rihe northern and upper part of the yaid is
occupied by a range of handsome houses, with good gar¬
dens behind them, for the commissioner and the principal
officers of the yard, the chapel, the guard-house, and pay-
office, stables for the officers, and the teams, and a fine re¬
servoir of fresh water for the supply of the yard.
Plymouth is not only a good building and icpairing
yard, on account of its excellent docks and slips, and the
great length of line along the Hamoaze, but also a good
refitting yard, and was fully occupied during the war with
the refitment of the western squadron, employed in the
constant blockade of Brest. The number of men borne on
the establishment of this yard might have been about oOOO,
of which about 800 were shipwrights.
A large addition has been made to Plymouth yard by the
fine establishment of Keyham steam factory which adjoins it,
with a water frontage of about 1300 feet, and with steam
basin 630 feet by 560 feet, and another in progress 100 feet
by 400 feet.
Plymouth Victualling Establishment.—1 he Royal W il-
liam Victualling Yard stands on the eastern entrance^ to
Hamoaze, on about eleven acres of ground; adjoining four
acres on its south side, on which stand two small forts, and
a reservoir containing about 8000 tons of wrater, which sup¬
plies the fleet—the water being brought from Dartmoor.
Plymouth Hospital is a handsome building of stone, or
rather a series of separate buildings, regularly arranged,
in which respect, as admitting a freer circulation of air, it
is perhaps superior to that of Haslar. See Navy.
The third division of royal marines, consisting of twenty-
five companies, are stationed at Plymouth. rl he barracks
are conveniently situated at Stonehouse, very airy, and suf¬
ficiently spacious. See article Marines.
Pembroke Dock-Yard.—This dock-yard has been esta¬
blished but a few years comparatively, and is intended merely
as a building-yard. It is situated on the southern shore of
Milford Haven, not Iw'o miles from the town of Pembroke.
It includes an area of about sixty acres, its surface descend¬
ing in a gradual slope to the water’s edge, along the shore of
w hich there is a frontage of about 2350 feet. It has a dock,
and 14 building slips, 6 of which are for first-rates. Ihe
Dock-
Yards.
Manage¬
ment of thi
dock-yards
&c.
Commis¬
sioners of
the navy.
i
DOCK-YARDS.
85
largest ship of the royal navy, the Duke of Wellington, 131
guns, was launched from this yard.
Other Yards.—In addition to the foregoing, there are
several small naval yards—at Deal, Harwick, Leith, and
Cove of Cork, as well as at Gibraltar, Malta, Antigua,
Jamaica, Halifax, Bermuda, Kingston (Canada), Cape of
Good Hope, and Trincomalee.
Dock-Yard Officers.—The management of the dock¬
yards is intrusted to a superintendent, either a rear-admiral
or captain; a master attendant and his .assistant; master
shipwright and assistant; a store-keeper, store-receiver, and
director of police—a force which has only of late years
been introduced for the protection of the yards.
Ordinary of the Dock-Yards.—At each of the ports
where there is a dock-yard, Pembroke excepted, a certain
number of ships when put out of commission, or new ships
not commissioned, are laid up in what is called a state of
ordinary; and such ships were formerly placed under the
immediate charge of the commissioner, the masters attendant,
and other officers of the dock-yard. But a new system has
been adopted, both with regard to the fitting of the ships for
their better preservation, while thus unemployed (see Dry
Rot), and also as to the care and management of them by
warrant officers living constantly on board. See Navy.
Capacity of a Dock-Yard.—The capacity of a dock-yard
for building, repairing, and refitting ships of war, depends
upon so many circumstances that it scarcely admits of cal¬
culation ; chiefly, however, on the facilities afforded by a
suitable arrangement of dry docks, building slips, and
basins, and on the number of shipwrights and other arti¬
ficers borne on the strength of the yard. In building new
ships, where the materials are at hand, and no interruptions
occur, the capacity may be ascertained to a tolerable degree
of accuracy. To complete the building of a seventy-four
gun ship, it is calculated that the labour of one man would
be required for 18,000 days, or of eighteen men for 1000
days, or about fifty-four men to finish her in the space of one
year. A dock-yard, therefore, with 500 good shipwrights,
might be expected to launch from eight to ten 74-gun
ships every year, if the conveniences of the yard admitted
them all to he employed on building; but this kind of ship
is now supplanted by ships of 120 and 130 guns, requiring
a relative increase of hands. With regard to repairs, they
are so various and so uncertain, that it would be next to
impossible to form any calculation that should at all ap¬
proach to the truth. A writer well versed in naval
matters, in attempting to prove the sufficiency of our dock¬
yards, without having recourse to private merchant yards
during war, has stated, that by a uniform system of man¬
agement, “ the annual regeneration of ships of the line
may be safely reckoned at twelve sail, and that of frigates
at eight sail;” and that, besides, there might be docked
for casual repairs, in the course of one year, two hundred
and sixty-seven sail of ships and vessels of war.” (Letter
to Lord Melville on the General State of the Navy, 1810.)
When Henry VIII. first established a regular king’s
J dock-yard at Woolwich, he appointed a board, consisting of
’ certain commissioners, for the management of all naval mat¬
ters ; and it is curious enough, as appears from the Pepy-
sian Collection of Manuscripts in the university of Cam¬
bridge, that the regulations which he made for the civil go¬
vernment of the navy, and which were in the reign of Ed¬
ward VI. revised, arranged, and turned into ordinances, form
the broad basis of all the subsequent instructions given to the
several officers to whom the management of the civil affairs
of the navy has been committed. (First Pep. Nav. Rev.)
The commissioners of the navy then consisted of the vice-
admiral of England, the master of the ordnance, the surveyor
of the marine causes, the treasurer, comptroller, general sur¬
veyor of the victualling, clerk of the ships, and clerk of the
stores. They had each their particular duties; and once
a-week they were ordered to meet at their office on Tower
Hill, and once a-month to report their proceedings to the
lord high admiral.
In 1609 the principal officers for conducting the civil af¬
fairs of the navy were suspended, in consequence of many
abuses being complained of; and other commissioners were
appointed, with powers to manage, settle, and put the affairs
of the navy into a proper train, and to prevent, by such mea¬
sures as might appear to be necessary, the continuance of
the many great frauds and abuses which had prevailed. A
similar commission was renewed in 1618, which in a full and
minute report detailed and explained those frauds and abuses.
That commission, which ended on the death of James I.,
was renewed by his successor, and remained in force till
1628, when it was dissolved, and the management of the
navy was restored to the board of principal officers, as esta¬
blished by Edward VI.
In the disturbed reign of Charles I. the navy was suffered
to go to decay ; but by the extraordinary exertions of Crom¬
well it was raised to a height which it had never before
reached, but again declined under the short and feeble ad¬
ministration of his son.
On the restoration of Charles II. the Duke of York was Duke of
appointed lord high admiral; and by his advice a committee York the
was appointed to consider a plan he had drawn out for the lord ffigh
future regulation of the affairs of the navy, at which he him- admiral>
self presided. “ In all naval affairs,” say the commissioners
of revision, “ he appears to have acted with the advice and
assistance of Mr Samuel Pepys, who first held the office of
clerk of the acts, and was afterwards secretary of the admi¬
ralty ; a man of extraordinary knowledge in all that related
to the business of that department, of great talents, and the
most indefatigable industry.”
The entire management of the navy was now in the hands
of the duke, as lord high admiral, by whom three new com¬
missioners were appointed to act conjunctly with the trea¬
surer of the navy, the comptroller, the surveyor, and clerk
of the acts, as principal officers and commissioners of the
navy. A book of instructions, drawn out by Mr Pepys, was
sent to the navy board for its guidance. A rapid progress
was made in the repair and augmentation of the fleet; but
being called away, in consequence of the Dutch war in 1664,
the example of zeal and industry set by Mr Pepys was not
sufficient, in the duke’s absence, to prevent neglect and mis¬
management in every department except his own.
From 1673 to 1679, the office oflord high admiral being set of
put in commission, at the head of which Prince Rupert was comims-
placed, the king, through Mr Pepys, arranged all naval af- sl0ners•
fairs ; but in the latter year, when the duke was sent abroad,
and Mr Pepys to the Tower, a new set of men were made
commissioners of the navy, who, without experience, ability,
or industry, suffered the navy to go to decay. “ All the wise
regulations,” say the commissioners of revision, “ formed
during the administration of the Duke of York, were ne¬
glected ; and such supineness and waste appear to have pre¬
vailed as, at the end of not more than five years, when he
was recalled to the office of lord high admiral, only twenty-
two ships, none larger than a fourth-rate, with two fire¬
ships, were at sea; those in the harbour were quite unfit
for service ; even the thirty new ships which he had left
building had been suffered to fall into a state of great decay,
and hardly any stores were found to remain in the dock¬
yards.” He re-appointed Mr Pepys as secretary of the
admiralty; he set about an inquiry into the characters and
abilities of the first ship-builders in England; and by the
advice of Mr Pepys he joined Sir Anthony Dean, eminent
in that profession, with three others, to the former principal
officers in a new commission. The old commissioners were
directed entirely to confine their attention to the business
of a committee of accounts. To each of the new ones was
Dock-
Yards.
86
dock-yards.
Commis¬
sioners of
naval in¬
quiry and
revision.
intrusted a distinct branch of the proposed reform; and it 'ect'™ ^ ^““'conmfof the lords commissioners of
• '     -•Nr performed what ot the home yards and of the fo-
emnpnrs that highly to their credit, —j t .
XP; tad underlke'n in Jess time than «» allowed or it ™ja,„,rai^ n'avy> who wasalways
and at less expense;” having completed the " b^ess^ officer of the rank of captain. The foreign yards
+iio o-pnpral satisfaction of the public two mon is whicli a commissioner presided, were Bermuda, Cape
the general satisfaction of the public
^The business of the navy, thus methodized and settled,
remained undisturbed by that event. The commissioners
of revision justly observed, that “ the great work o re¬
establishing the fleet, and restoring order, industry, and dis¬
cipline, in the dock-yards, accomplished in so short a time
by the commissioners then chosen, with so much care,
proves, in the most convincing manner, how much depends
on having the civil affairs of the navy placed under the
management of men of reaUbility, professional knowledge,
and uninterrupted industry.”
It will readily be supposed that the vast increase of ou
naval force since that time has necessarily required many
additional orders and regulations, some of which from cir¬
cumstances, were not compatible with each other ; some
were o-iven to one dock-yard and not to another ; others in
one yard became obselete, while they continued to be acted
upon in another; so that there was no longer that unifor¬
mity in the management which it is so desirable, indeed
so essentially necessary, to preserve. From the year 1 i
to 1804, when his Majesty appointed a commission for
revising’and digesting the civil affairs of his navy,” the at¬
tention of the lords of the admiralty and the navy board had
frequently been directed to this important subject; but
owing to Various causes nothing was done to forward so de¬
sirable an arrangement, except that Sir Charles Middleton
(afterwards Lord Barham), when comptroller of the navy
classed and digested under distinct heads, in a book for that
of Good Hope, Gibraltar, Halifax, Jamaica, Malta Quebec,
Kino-ston, including the lake establishments and Irinco-
malee, which, with the five belonging to the home yards,
Woolwich (including Deptford), Chatham, Sheerness, Ports¬
mouth, and Plymouth, made the whole number of commis¬
sioners of the navy amount to twenty-four. The salary
of each of the home commissioners was L.1000 a-year,
that of the comptroller L.2000. The salary of the foreign
commissioners L.1200 a-year, except that of the Cape of
Good Hope, which was L.1800, and Tnncomalee L.3000
a-vear. They were also entitled to liberal superannua-
tions when unfit for further service ; and, at their death,
their widows received a pension for life of L.oOO a-year.
All these have been swept away, and the two great de¬
partments, the navy and the victualling offices, have been
consolidated with the admiralty, and the details of the busi¬
ness placed under five principal officers, each having a se¬
parate department. These are, 1. the surveyor of the navy;
2. the accountant general; 3. the storekeeper general; 4.
the comptroller of the victualling and transports ; o. the
director general of the medical department. There is also
a director of engineers and architectural works, who super¬
intends all the great works carried on in the dock and vic-
tU To'each of the dock-yards at Deptford, Portsmouth, and Victual-
Plymouth, are victualling establishments for supplying the ljng^ta,
fleet with provisions and water ; and also at Cork, Cape of
  . ^ 1 i. Tm/'•ci i-lonrav’ I rinco-
W 1786. Good Hope, Gibraltar, Malta, Jamaica, Halifax, Trinoo-
rni-     naval inniiirv. anuointed in 1803, malee, and Ri
Uniform
system of
manage¬
ment in¬
troduced.
Commis¬
sioners of
the navy.
malee, and Rio de Janeiro. The victualling board at So¬
merset House consisted formerly of a chairman and deputy
chairman, the former with a salary of L.1200, the latter of
L.1000 a-year, and five other commissioners with salaries
of L.800 a-year each ; a secretary to the board, and a se¬
cretary to the committee of accounts; a registrar of secu¬
rities, and 136 clerks, with salaries varying from L.80U to
L.80 a-year, according to their class and length of service.
These have all been abolished, and, as before stated, con¬
solidated with the admiralty. „ ,
The transport board having been dissolved at theend ot tne
war, its twofold duties were divided between the navy and
victualling boards; those which concerned the hiring of trans¬
ports devolved on the commissioners of the navy, and those
which related to the sick and hurt department on the com¬
missioners of the victualling board, on whom also devolves t le
i * .i cn ivr i «nw - nil ot wmcn except twu na.vc direction and superintendence of all the naval hospitals at
kst the 6th March 1808 a 0tH^eCnofeXSmong5 and home and abroad! These have also merged in the admiralty.
nwstly^carrfed^nto^e^ct'by^rde^in council. Oneif ,he The principal officers of an established doW pnor
two not printed is an inquiry into the state of the navy at to 1833 were, 1 the comm,ss,one. 2. the " aster Jtte . th,
different periods, and of naval timber ; the other relates to dan ; 3 the master 4'tatie.,
the formation of a new dock-yard at Northfleet . «■ the storekeeper; 6 the de* s"™y1 to e
From these reports were established, for the first tune, in have recently been added the sutardmate offiem ot timbe
all dock-vards, one uniform system of management by master, and the master measurer.
which it was hoped incalculable advantages would have the comm,ss.oner has been superseded by a »upe ^
been derived to the public, in the preventing of frauds, in the clerk of the check and clerk of the
r-i i 1 a -wwrwoMiiontlv timp well as the master measurer, and a store-receivei suosmuitu
for the timber-master. Many subordinate officers have also
been abolished, and the whole system of working the men,
keeping the accounts, &c., simplified and amended; and
some idea may be collected of the diminution of the ex¬
pense by the simple fact, that, in the ordinary estimate of
the navy for 1817 the establishment of officers in Ports¬
mouth yard was L.50,06o, whereas in 1833 it was only
The commissioners of naval inquiry, appointed in 180o,
state the necessity of revising the instructions, and digest-
ing the immense mass of orders issued to the dock-yard
officers, and regret that a work of such utility should not
have been completed. The late Lord Melville, to whom
the navy is perhaps more indebted than to any single indi¬
vidual, and who, from the active part he had long taken in
its concerns, was well aware of the irregularities and dis¬
order which prevailed in the dock-yards, on his appointment
to the administration of naval affairs determined to carry
into execution a complete system of reform and of uniform
management in all the several departments. The commis¬
sion consisted of Admiral Lord Barham, John Fordyce,
Esq., Admiral Sir Roger Curtis, Bart., Vice-Admiral Do¬
mett, and Ambrose Serle, Esq. J hey made fifteen distinct
reports, the date of the first being 13th June 1805, of the
last the 6th March 1808; all of which except two have
the saving of labour and materials, and consequently time
and expense, and in securing better workmanship in the
construction of ships, which is perhaps ot all other consi¬
derations the most important; but the system was cum¬
brous and expensive, and has given way to other more ju¬
dicious management.
The management of the dock-yards, and of all the civil
affairs of the navy, was formerly intrusted to certain com
missioners appointed by patent, of whom the comptroller of L.19,803 ; and in 1853, L.20,121. lo this, however, must
the navy and three surveyors, and seven other commission- now be added the salaries of officers employee in le s e-
ers, formed a board at Somerset House, for the general di- factory, which amount to L.2555.
DOC
Docket The principal officers in the factory are,—1. the chief
engineer and inspector of machinery; 2. his assistant; 3.
Doctor. assistant inspector of machinery ; 4. foreman of the factory ;
5. foreman of boilermakers ; 6. pay-clerk and book-keeper.
Hitherto the men were usually employed by what was
called task and job ; but they are now wholly put upon day
pay. The total number of men employed in the yards may
be stated, in round numbers, at 10,000.
| Defence of In the year 1847 the workmen of the several dock-yards
the yards, were enrolled into a corps for the defence of the yards, and
certain numbers were trained to the use of the great gun
exercise; so that each of the dock-yard battalions have
some artillery attached to them. This valuable body of
men are annually drilled, and, considering the short season
during which they are under arms, present a most credit¬
able appearance. Their uniform consists of blue frock-
coat and trousers, and a helmet recently substituted for the
f chaco.
The commissioners of naval inquiry (Sixth Report}
clearly expose the “ combination of self-interest which has
been permitted to exist against the public in all the persons
who were concerned in the accounts of job-work, and the
fictitious manner of making up those accounts.” The
quarter-men, for instance, were paid usages according to
the amount of the earnings of the men under their own
superintendence, and the accounts of those earnings were
DOCKET or Dcoquet (Lat. documentum), in Law, a
small piece of paper or parchment, containing an abridged
entry of an instrument or proceeding, for convenience of
reference : also, an alphabetical list of cases in a court, &c.
DOCTOR (Lat. from doceo, I teach), a person who has
passed all the degrees of a faculty, and is empowered to
teach or practise the same. Hence the terms doctor in di¬
vinity, doctor in physic, doctor of laws.
The establishment of the doctorate, as now in use amongst
us, is ordinarily attributed to Irnerius, who himself drew
up the formulary. The first ceremony of this kind was per¬
formed at Bologna, in the person of Bulgarus, who began
to profess the Roman law, and on that occasion was so¬
lemnly promoted to the doctorate, that is, installed juris
utriusque doctor. But the custom was soon transferred from
the faculty of law to that of theology ; the first instance of
which was given in the university of Paris, where Peter
Lombard and Gilbert de la Portree, the two leading divines
of those days, were created doctors in theology, sacrce theo-
logice doctores.
Spelman conceives the title of doctor not to have been in
use till after the publication of Lombard’s Sentences, about
the year 1140. Others, however, go much higher, holding
Bede to have been the first doctor at Cambridge, and John
de Beverley at Oxford, where the latter died in 721. But
Spelman contends that doctor was not the name of any title
or degree in England till the reign of King John, that is,
about the year 1207- As to the qualifications or course
of study necessary to obtain the degree of doctor in the dif¬
ferent faculties of theology, law, and medicine, see Uni¬
versities.
Doctor of the I^aw, a title of honour among the Jews.
The investiture, if we may so speak, of this order, was per¬
formed by putting a key and a table book in their hands ;
and it was in allusion to this ceremony, some authors ima¬
gine, that our Saviour, when speaking of the doctors of the
law, says—“ Wo unto you, lawyers! for ye have taken away
the key of knowledge ; ye enter not in yourselves, and them
that were entering in ye hindered.”
Doctor of the Church, a title given to certain of the fa¬
thers whose doctrines and opinions have been the most ge¬
nerally followed and authorized. We usually reckon four
D 0 D 87
taken by themselves. General Bentham has furnished an Doctor
instance of the gross abuses which existed under the old II,
system of job-work. “ By the regulations of the navy board, ^ P°Qd' y
nothing less than L.5, 2s. was to be paid for the smallest
repair of a thirty-four feet launch. If the above sum should
be found inadequate to the payments for the work done to
a boat of this class, the repair was then to be denominated
a middling repair ; in which case L.ll, Is. was the exact
sum. Again, if this sum were insufficient, the repair was
to be denominated a large repair ; and in this case, al¬
though the value of the workmanship might have exceeded
the sum of L.ll, Is. only by a few shillings, the expense
was to have appeared in the account as doubled, and set
down at L.22, 2s., and nothing less was to be the exact sum
paid for this work.” Nothing was more common, in esti¬
mating a man’s wages, than to find him working three or
four tides, and very often three nights, in one day. (Ben-
tham’s Services, &c.) The whole of this system is now done
aw'ay; and the consequence is, that as much work is per¬
formed, and turned out in a more workman-like manner,
and a very large saving effected in pay and materials, by
resorting to day-pay, under proper superintendence. The
effect of the change of system, and the reductions that were
made in the establishments at home and abroad, reduced
the expense in the year 1817 from about L.556,000 to
L.286,000, making a saving of L.270,000 a-year. (j. b-w.)
doctors of the Greek Church and three of the Latin. The
former are, St Athanasius, St Basil, St Gregory Nazianzen,
and St Chrysostom ; the latter are St Jerome, St Augustin,
and Gregory the Great. In the Roman breviary there is
a particular office for the doctors, which only differs from
that of the confessors by the anthem of the Magnificat and
the lessons.
Doctor is also an appellation adjoined to a specific epi¬
thet, expressing the merit of some eminent schoolman.
Thus, Alexander Hales is called the irrefragable doctor;
Thomas Aquinas, the angelic doctor; St Bonaventure, the
seraphic doctor; John Duns Scotus, the subtile doctor;
Raimond Lully, the illuminated doctor; Roger Bacon, the
admirable doctor; and so on.
DOCTORS’ COMMONS. See College ofCivilians.
DOCUMENT, in Laiv, some written muniment pro¬
duced in proof or support of anything asserted.
DODD, Dr William, an unfortunate English divine,
eldest son of the Rev. William Dodd, many years vicar of
Bourne, in Lincolnshire, was born in May 1729. He was
sent, at the age of sixteen, to the university of Cambridge,
where he was admitted a sizar of Clare Hall in the year
1745. In 1750 he took the degree of B.A. with credit,
being upon that occasion in the list of wranglers. On leav¬
ing the university, he married a young lady of the name of
Perkins in 1751, was ordained a deacon the same year, and
priest in 1753, and soon became a popular and celebrated
preacher. His first preferment was the lectureship of West-
Ham and Bow. In 1754 he was also chosen lecturer of St
Olave’s, Hart Street; and in 1757 he took the degree of
A.M. at Cambridge. He was a strenuous supporter of the
Magdalen Hospital, which was founded in 1758, and soon
afterwards became preacher at the chapel of that charity.
By the patronage of Bishop Squire, he in 1763 obtained a
prebend at Brecon ; and by the interest of some city friends
got himself appointed one of the king’s chaplains ; soon af¬
ter which the education of the Earl of Chesterfield was com¬
mitted to his care. In 1766 he went to Cambridge and
took the degree of LL.D.
At this period, the estimation in which he was held by
the world was sufficient to give him the expectation of pre¬
ferment, and hopes of riches and honour; and these he
88
DOB
DOB
Doddridge, might probably have realized had he possessed a portion
of common prudence and discretion. But, impatient of
" his situation, and eager for advancement he unhappily
fell upon means which in the end proved the occasion o
his ruin. On the living of St George, Hanover Square,
becoming vacant, he wrote an anonymous letter to the
chancellor’s lady, offering three thousand guineas if, by
her assistance, he was promoted to the benehce. 1 ms let
ter having been traced to him, a complaint was immediately
made to the king, and Dr Dodd was dismissed with dis¬
grace from his" office of chaplain. After residing for
some time at Geneva and Paris, he returned to Eng¬
land in 1776. He still continued to exercise his clerical
functions, but his extravagant mode of life soon involved
him in difficulties. To meet the demands of his creditors
he forged a bond on his late pupil Lord Chesterfield, for
L.4200, which he actually received. But he was detected,
committed to prison, tried at the Old Bailey, found gui ty,
received sentence of death, and, in spite of numerous ap¬
plications for mercy, executed at Tyburn on the 27th June
1777 p)r Dodd was a voluminous writer, and possessed
considerable abilities, with but little judgment and much
vanity. An accurate list of his various writings is prefixed
to his Thoughts in Prison.
DODDRIDGE, Philip, D.D., an eminent Dissenting
minister, was the son of an oilman in London, and born
there 26th June 1702. At his birth, according to his bio-
o-rapher Orton, “ he was thrown aside as dead ; and in Ins
feeble childhood his parents, who were exceedingly pious,
took great pains in his instruction. He was left an orphan
at the age of thirteen ; and after having completed his clas¬
sical studies at various schools, he was placed by Dr Clarke
of St Albans under the tuition of the Rev. John Jennings,
who kept an academy at Kibworth, Leicestershire, for the
education of Dissenting ministers. Previous to this he had
hesitated greatly in regard to his course in life. Some of
his friends pressed him to study law; and the Duchess of
Bedford, hearing of his inclination for the ministry, offered
to defray the expenses of his education and provide him a
living in connection with the Church of England. Both of
these offers, however, he declined on conscientious grounds.
On the removal of his tutor to Hinckley, Doddridge began
to preach to the vacant congregation ; and on the death of
Jennings in 1723, he succeeded to the charge of the aca¬
demy, which he at first opened at Market-Harborough.
Havin°' been soon afterwards chosen minister of a large
congregation of Dissenters at Northampton, he removed his
academy to that place, where he continued to preside over
it for twenty years. Here he was especially known as a
preacher for the earnestness with which he sought to ele¬
vate the spiritual tone of his communion, and to urge the
practical realities of the Christian life. His prelections were
attended by students from all quarters of the kingdom, and
were remarkable for the facility with which he brought the
results of an extensive course of various reading to bear on
almost every topic of divinity. He received the degree 0
D.D. from the university of Aberdeen. In 1751 his health
began to break down amid the incessant labours of the pul-
pitand the academy. On the 30th September he ern-
barked for Lisbon, where he died the 13th October 17ql.
His remains were interred in the burying-ground belonging
to the British factory at Lisbon, and a handsome monument
was erected to his memory in the meeting-house at Noith-
ampton.
As a writer Dr Doddridge was exceedingly voluminous.
The works on which his fame principally rests are his Rise
and Progress of Religion in the Soul, and his Pamily Rx-
positor. Among his minor works, his Treatise on Regene¬
ration, Sermons on the Education of Children, and the Life
of Colonel Gardiner, are best known. His Theological Lec¬
tures were published after his death by Dr Kippis; and among
his collected hymns are some of the finest now in use among Dodecagon
the Dissenters. Biographies of Doddridge have appeared ||
from the pens of Jacob Orton and Dr Ktppis. The best
delineation of his character will be found in his Private Life
and Correspondence, collected in five vols. 8vo, by one of
his descendants. His works have been collected and edited
by Williams in 10 vols. 8vo.
DODECAGON, in Geometry, a regular polygon con¬
sisting of twelve equal sides and angles.
DODECAHEDRON, in Geometry, one of the platonic
bodies, or regular solids, contained under twelve equal and
regular pentagons. „ , , .
DODO, an extinct bird, one of the largest, or rather the
largest of the feathered race, but so unwieldy and helpless
as to be captured without the least difficulty. It is said to
have been found in Madagascar when that island was first
visited by the Dutch, but is now an extinct species. It is
described as having had only four or five short black fea¬
thers in the place of wings, a small tuft of curly featheis
for a tail, short-unwebbed toes, and a bill of very large
size. The foot of a dodo is preserved in the British Mu¬
seum, and the head exists in the Ashmolean Museum at
Oxford. The beak resembles that of the auk, and the
foot has a resemblance to that of the penguin, though not
palmated. j t,
DODONA, the seat of one of the most celebrated of the
ancient oracles, was a Pelasgictown of Epirus in the north
of Greece. Though the oracle of this town was the oldest
and one of the most sacred of antiquity, ranking indeed
with those of Delphi and Ammon, no vestige either of the
city of Dodona or of the temple of Jupiter has been disco¬
vered in modern times. Even the district of Epirus in
which the town was situated has become matter of discus-
By some it is believed to have been in Thesprotia;
sion
by others in Molossis. It is not impossible that, as the town
was somewhere on the boundary line of these two divisions,
it may have been included at one time in Molossis, and at
another in Thesprotia. The antiquity of the Dodonean 01 a-
cle was very great. Its name occurs frequently in the Ho¬
meric poems, where it is said that the service of the temple
was performed by the u Selli—men with unwashed feet,
sleeping on the ground.” Jlie actual abode of the deity,
however, was not at first a temple, but the stem of a gieat
oak-tree, the wide-spreading branches of which when shaken
by the wind were believed to be giving voice to the mystic
utterances of the inhabitant within. From this circumstance
the oak-grove of Dodona was feigned by some of the an¬
cient poets to be endowed with the power of speech. By
others it was said that the responses were delivered by the
doves that nestled in the branches. Hence the constant
allusions in the classics to the “ Chaoniae aves.” In later
times it was maintained that the oracular Peleiae, orPeleiades,
w'ere not doves, but priestesses, to whom Jupiter sent a
message by the doves to devote their lives to the service of
his temple at Dodona.
With the rise of Delphi, the general repute of Dodona
began to decline, though its local celebrity remained un¬
impaired. The final destruction of the oracle is attributed
to the iEtolians, who near the end of the third century n.c.
ravaged Epirus and levelled the temple of Jupiter with
the ground. So complete was the destruction of the place,
that not a fragment of house or temple now remains that
can with certainty be identified as belonging to the ancient
Dodona. Colonel Leake has endeavoured to fix the site
of the old oracle at the modern Kastritza, but his arguments
are far from being conclusive.
DODONIAN (yldodoncevs), in Antiquity, an epithet
given to Jupiter, from his temple in the grove of Dodona.
See Dodona.
DODRANS, in Antiquity, three-fourths of the as, or of
anything; and as a measure of length, 9 inches.
D 0 D
Dodsley DODSLEY, Robert, an eminent bookseller and inge-
|| nious writer, born in 1703 at Mansfield, Nottinghamshire,
Dodwell. where his father is said to have been a schoolmaster. His
/ first poetical attempts seem to have been made when he
was a servant in the family of the Hon. Mrs Lowther; and
were published under the title of the Muse in Livery. This
was followed by an elegant little satirical farce called The
Toyshop, the hint of which is said to have been taken from
Randolph’s M:uses Looking-glass, and which, having obtained
the approbation of Pope, was acted at Covent Garden with
great success. The profits accruing from the sale of these
two publications enabled him to establish himself as book¬
seller in Pall-Mall; and his own merit and enterprising
spirit soon procured him eminence in that profession. In
1737 anew piece entitled The King and the Miller of
Mansfield was received with undiminished applause. His
immediately subsequent farces, however, were not so po¬
pular. In 1738 he published a collection of his drama¬
tic works in one volume 8vo, under the modest title of
Trifles; which was followed by the Triumph of Peace, a
masque, occasioned by the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, and a
fragment on Public Virtue. Dodsley was also the author of
the Economy of Human Life, a work which acquired con¬
siderable celebrity ; but for this it is supposed he was not a
little indebted to the mistaken opinion which long prevailed
of its being the production of Lord Chesterfield. The name
of Dodsley is from this period associated with much of the
literature of his time. Among other things he projected
The Annual Register, The Museum, The World, and The
Preceptor. To these various works Horace Walpole, Aken-
side, Soame Jenyns, Lord Lyttleton, Lord Chesterfield, and
others, were contributors. It would be tedious and unin¬
teresting to enumerate the various other literary enterprises
in which he engaged. His own latest production was a tra¬
gedy entitled Cleone, and was received with even greater
enthusiasm than his earlier pieces. His personal character
was excellent; he observed the strictest integrity in all his
dealings ; and lived on easy terms with authors of the
highest rank and genius. Dodsley died at Durham while
on a visit to a friend, 25th Sept. 1764.
DODWELL, Henry, a learned controversial writer, was
born at Dublin in 1641. He was descended from an Irish
family who had once been possessed of considerable pro¬
perty in Connaught, but who having lost it at the rebellion
had settled at York in 1648. By the death of his parents
Dodwell was reduced in early life to the greatest poverty.
In 1654 he was sent by his uncle to Trinity College, Dub¬
lin, of which he was soon afterwards chosen scholar and
fellow. To avoid taking orders he relinquished his fellow¬
ship in 1666, and resided for sometime at Oxford, Dublin,
and London successively. In 1688 he was elected Camden
professor of history at Oxford, but was deprived of his
professorship in 1691 for refusing to take the oaths of alle¬
giance to William and Mary. Retiring to Shottesbrooke in
Berkshire, and living on the produce of a small estate in
Ireland, which he had at first generously relinquished in
favour of a near relation, he devoted himself to those liter¬
ary labours in chronology and church politics on which his
fame now rests. In the former department he published—
Discourse on the Phenician History of Sanchoniathon;
Annales Thucydidei et Xenophontei ; Chronologia Grceco-
Romana pro Hypothesibus Dion. Halicarnassei ; Annales
Velleiani, Quintiliani, Statiani; and a larger treatise en¬
titled De Veteribus Grcecorum. Romanorumque Cyclis, obi¬
ter que de CycloJudceorum ac TEtate Christi, Dissertationes.
All of these obtained considerable reputation, and were fre¬
quently reprinted. In the latter department his works are
more numerous and fragmentary. In his earlier writings
he was regarded as one of the greatest champions of the
non-jurors; but the absurd doctrine which he afterwards
promulgated, that immortality could be enjoyed only by
VOL. vm.
DOG 89
those who had received baptism from the hands of one set Dofrines
of regularly ordained clergy, and was therefore a privilege
from which Dissenters were hopelessly excluded, justly de- Doge,
prived him of the confidence even of his friends. Dod-
well died at Shottesbrooke, 7th June 1711. His eldest
son Henry is known as the author of a pamphlet entitled
Christianity not founded in Argument, to which a reply
was published by his brother William, who was besides en¬
gaged in a controversy with Dr Conyers Middleton on the
subject of miracles.
DOFRINES, or Dorefeld. See Norway.
DOG. See Canis, in index to Mammalia.
Dock-Days, that period of the year when Sirius (the Dog-
star) rises and sets with the sun. The dog-days commence
in the latter part of July, and terminate the beginning of
September. See Canicula.
Don-Fish. See index to Ichthyology.
Doa-Ntar, Sirius, a star of the first magnitude, whose
rising and setting with the sun gives name to the Dog-days. '
DoG-Watches, among seamen, half-watches of two hours
each, from 4 to 6 and from 6 to 8 p.m.
DOGE, the title of the chief magistrate in the republics
of Venice and Genoa. The word properly signifies duke,
being formed from the Latin dux; as dogate and dogado
are formed from ducatus, a duchy.
The dogate, or office and dignity of doge, was elective ;
the doge at Venice being elected for life, and at Genoa
only for two years. He was addressed under the title of
Serenity, which among the Venetians was accounted supe¬
rior to that of Highness.
The doge was chief of the council, and the mouth-piece
of the republic ; yet the Venetians did not go into mourn¬
ing at his death, because he was not their sovereign, but
only their first minister. In effect, the doge of Venice was
merely the phantom or shadow of the majesty of a prince,
all the authority being reserved to the republic. He only
lent his name to the senate; and the power was diffused
throughout the whole body, though the answers were all
made in his name. If he gave any answers on his own ac¬
count, they required to be very cautiously expressed and in
general terms, otherwise he was certain to meet with a re¬
primand.
Anciently the doges were sovereigns; but afterwards
things were much altered ; and latterly the prerogatives re¬
served to the quality of doge were, to give audience to am¬
bassadors, but not to make any answer as from himself in
matters of importance ; to answer according to his own
pleasure to the compliments made to the signory, such an¬
swers being of no consequence; and, as first magistrate, to
preside at all the councils. The credentials with which the
senate furnished its ministers in foreign courts were written
in his name, but not signed by him ; this being usually done
by a secretary of state, who also sealed them with the arms
of the republic. The ambassadors directed their despatches
to the doge ; and yet he durst not open them except in pre¬
sence of the counsellors. The money was struck in the
doge’s name, but not with his stamp or arms. All the ma¬
gistrates rose and saluted the doge when he came into
council: the doge rose to none except foreign ambassadors.
In short, he was a mere pageant of state, and, politically
speaking, a nonentity.
The doge nominated to all the benefices in the church of
St Mark; he was protector of the Monastery delle Virgine;
and bestowed certain petty offices of ushers of the house¬
hold, called commanders of the palace. His family was not
under the jurisdiction of the master of the ceremonies;
and his children might have staff officers, and gondoliers in
livery.
At the same time his state was tempered with a variety
of circumstances which rendered it exceedingly burden¬
some. He might not go beyond Venice without permis-
M
90
Dogger
DOG
sion of the council; and if he did, he was liable to receive
II affronts, without being entitled to satisfaction ; and shou
Dogmatists disturbance occur in the place where he happened to
v v 7 be it belonged not to him but to the podesta, as being in¬
vested with the public authority, to suppress it. ...
The children and brothers of the doge were excluded
from all the chief offices of state. They could not receive
any benefice from the court of Rome, but were allowed to
accept of the cardinalate, as being no benefice, nor includ¬
ing any jurisdiction. The doge could not divest himself of
his dignity at will; and after his death his conduct was ex¬
amined by three inquisitors and five correctors, who sifted
it with great severity. The office of doge ceased even to
have a nominal existence when Venice, “ sunk in its glory,
decayed in its worth,” yielded, almost without a struggle, to
the ascendency of republican France. _
DOGGER, a Dutch vessel navigated in the German
Ocean, and chiefly employed in the herring fishery. It is
* equipped with two masts, namely, a mainmast and mizen-
mast, and somewhat resembles a ketch.
DOGGERBANK, an extensive sandbank in the North
Sea, lying between the coasts of England and Holland. Its
western extremity extends nearly to Scarborough in Y °rk-
shire, and its eastern to within 20 leagues of the coast of
Jutland. It is the seat of important fisheries, and in 1/81
was the scene of an obstinate naval engagement between
the English and Dutch.
DOGGERS, in the English alum works, a name given
to a sort of stone found in the mines with the true alum-
rock. They contain some alum, and in some places in such
quantity that they are wrought to advantage.
DOGMA (B6y[xa), a maxim, tenet, or settled opinion,
particularly with regard to matters of faith and philoso-
phv. . .
DOGMATICAL, pertaining to a dogma, or to a settled
opinion. A dogmatist is one who asserts things positively;
a magisterial teacher; and hence the philosophy of the
dogmatists was opposed to that of the sceptics, who doubted
everything.
DOGMATICS, in Church History, one of the three
orders of theologians before the Reformation. They were
so called from basing their systems or dogmas on the autho¬
rity of Scripture and the judgment of the Fathers. Opposed
to them were the Mystics, who rejected the Scripture, and
framed their opinions according to the dictates of spiritual in¬
tuition ; and the Scholastics, who paid an almost sacred de¬
ference to the Aristotelian philosophy. Dogmatics is also
used as a contraction for dogmatic theology, or the systema¬
tic exhibition of the doctrines of revelation.
DOGMATISM, one of the three great schemes into
which philosophy is divided in regard to the possibility of
truth and the means of its attainment. I he first scheme
is that of scepticism or Pyrrhonism, which denies the pos¬
sibility of truth altogether, and affirms that wre are by
the constitution of our being condemned to hopeless and
helpless doubt. The second scheme is that of mysticism,
which, admitting the deceptive nature of human reason, and
the unsatisfactory character of all human inquiry, yet pos¬
tulates the possibility of truth as attainable by a certain in¬
spiration or intuition superior to reason. The third scheme,
viz., that of dogmatism, asserts full confidence in the results
of our intellectual faculties when duly exercised on objects
within their grasp, and affirms the possibility of discovering
truth by a proper attention to order, method, and the laws
of our constitution.
DOGMATISTS, a sect of ancient physicians, of which
Hippocrates was the first author. They are also called lo-
gici, or logicians, from their using the rules of logic in sub-
D 0 I
iects of their profession. They laid down definitions and
divisions ; reduced diseases to certain genera, and these _
genera to species, furnishing remedies for them all; sup¬
posed principles, drew conclusions, and applied these to the
particular diseases under consideration. In this sense the
dogmatists were contradistinguished from empirics and me-
thodists. They rejected all medicinal virtues which they
thought not reducible to manifest qualities ; but Galen long
ago observed of them, that they must either deny plain mat¬
ter of fact, or assign but poor causes and reasons for many
effects which they pretended to explain.
DOIG, David, the most learned of Scottish schoolmas¬
ters in modern times, was born in 1719. His father, who
was a small farmer in the county of Forfar, died when he
was yet in his infancy; and his mother contracted a second
marriage with a worthy man, who, though by no means in
affluent circumstances, and soon burdened with children of
his own, treated him with the tenderness of a parent. A
constitutional defect in his sight prevented him from learning
to read till he was twelve years of age, but his subsequent
progress was uncommonly rapid. Having for the space of
three years attended a parochial school, where he was in¬
structed in writing, arithmetic, and Latin, he became a suc¬
cessful competitor for a bursary, or exhibition, in the uni¬
versity of St Andrews. Here he completed the usual course
with great approbation; and having taken the degree of
A.B. he enrolled himself as a student of divinity, but his
scruples respecting some articles in the Confession of Faith
prevented him from entering the church. What those ar¬
ticles were, we have not discovered; but it appears sum-
cientlv evident that his scruples had no reference to the
essential doctrines of Christianity. Reconciling himself to
the more humble avocations of a parochial schoolmaster, he
for a considerable number of years taught the schools of
Monifieth in his native county, and of Kennoway and
Falkland in the county of Fife. He was afterwards ap¬
pointed master of the grammar-school of Stirling ; and the
duties of this office, as a late writer remarks, he discharged
for forty years with the greatest ability, and with the respect
and esteem of all who knew him.
His accomplishments, not only as a classical scholar, but
as a man of general erudition, procured him no mean repu¬
tation long before he was known as an author. Of his ex¬
tensive knowledge of languages, the earliest specimen which
he imparted to the public is to be found in about twenty
pages of annotations on the Gaberlunzie-man, inserted in
an edition published by his learned friend and neighbour
Mr Callander.1 * His contribution is introduced in the fol¬
lowing terms : a For the following elucidations of the gene¬
ral principles laid down in the preface, and exemplified in
the notes on the foregoing ballad, the public and I are in¬
debted to a learned and worthy friend of the author, whose
extensive erudition is only equalled by the modesty and
candour conspicuous in his whole deportment. I am sure
our learned readers will regret with me, that he has not
pushed his researches further than he has done. . But frorn
the little he has here given us, the general principles of
etymology I have endeavoured to establish will derive new
force, and our readers new entertainment.” Although his
learning did not procure him any academical preferment, it
at least procured him a due share of academical honours.
On the same day he received a diploma of A.M. from St
Andrews, and another of LL.D. from Glasgow.
After an interval of ten years, he published “ Two Letters
on the Savage State, addressed to the late Lord Kaims.
Lond. 1792, 8vo. This work which consists of 157 crown
pages, is dedicated to Dr Horne, bishop of Norwich, and is
introduced by a preface written by the author’s friend Dr
Doig.
1 Two ancient Scottish Poems, the Gaberlunzie-man, and Christ's Kirk on the Green; with notes and observations, by John Callan¬
der, Esq. of Craigforth. Edinb. 1782. 8vn.
D 0 I G.
91
Gleig, a learned Episcopalian clergyman of Stirling. The
first letter, written in 1775, was sent to Lord Kames, who
was passing his Christmas vacation at Blair-Drummond, and
who was much struck with the learning and ability of his
anonymous correspondent. Having without much difficulty
detected the author, he invited him to dine with him next
day, when they met and parted with mutual satisfaction,
but with no abatement of the confidence of either party in
the correctness of his own views as to the primitive condi¬
tion of the human race. After a very copious and free dis¬
cussion of the savage state, each of the disputants retained
his own opinion ; but they nevertheless laid the foundation
of a cordial friendship, which continued uninterrupted during
the lifetime of the judge, who survived till 1782. It was
scarcely to be anticipated that his lordship should abandon
the favourite paradox which pervades his Sketches of the
Historj/ of Man ; namely that the tribes of mankind were
originally placed in the condition of savages, from which they
were enabled to emerge by the slow and gradual operation
of certain instinctive principles implanted in their nature.
This was a paradox which he did not himself devise, but
which had already been exhibited in a variety of shapes by
Condillac, Rousseau, Hume, Smith, Monboddo, and other
speculators. Some of these lovers of wisdom delight in re¬
presenting the human species as very closely allied to what
we venture to describe as the lower animals; and whether
the remote ancestors of men were not downright monkeys,
or at least ourang-outangs, they feel a very philosophical de¬
gree of hesitation in deciding.
Dr Doig was of opinion that “ had all mankind, without
exception, been once in a state of absolute savagism, they
would not only have continued in that state, but would have
sunk still lower and lower, till they had at last, in a manner,
put off the character of humanity, and degraded themselves
to the level of the beasts that perish.” All the learning,
religion, laws, arts, and sciences, and other improvements
that have enlightened Europe, a great part of Asia, and the
northern coast of Africa, were so many rays diverging from
two points, on the banks of the Euphrates and the Nile.
In proportion as nations receded from these two sources of
humanity and civilization, in the same proportion were they
more and more immersed in ignorance and barbarism. “ I
think it obvious, beyond all possibility of contradiction,” he
adds, “ that all those nations and societies of men which
were removed to a considerable distance from the grand
sources of civilization above mentioned, had early degene¬
rated into a state of savagism, that this degeneracy increased
exactly in proportion to their distance from those two points;
that none of those nations who are known to have sunk
into that state ever became civilized till they had renewed
their correspondence with nations, or individuals, who had
derived light and knowledge from the oriental sources ;*
that previous to the opening of this correspondence, no one
people discovered the least propension or tendency towards
culture and civilization ; that, consequently, had all mankind
been, at any one period, absolute savages, they would have
continued in that unhappy state as long as the world existed;
that if this train of reasoning should happen to be just, there
must always have existed, in some part of the globe, a select
society, a civilized race of men, among whom the knowledge
of arts and sciences was always preserved, and from whom,
the blessings of civilization, and a cultivated state of life,
were, in process of time, propagated to all the other nations,
which at this day enjoy these invaluable benefits.” This
reasoning, supported with much ingenuity and learning,
directly leads to the conclusion, which he leaves the reader
to draw for himself, that the scriptural account of the prim- Doig.
eval history of the human race is much more consonant
with the principles of sound philosophy than the account
devised by the united wisdom of modern philosophers.
His next publication, which is of a very different descrip¬
tion, bears the subsequent title: “ Extracts from a Poem
on the Prospect from Stirling Castle. I. The Vision. II.
Carmore and Orma, a love Tale. III. The Garden. IV.
The King’s Knot. V. Three Hymns, Morning, Noon, and
Evening.” Stirling, 1796, 4to. The entire publication ex¬
tends to 35 pages. As a specimen of his English versifica¬
tion, we transcribe a passage from the Vision, in which he
introduces the shade of Wallace addressing King Robert
the night before the battle of Bannockburn. The hero
mentioned in the first verse is Sir John Graham.
Great was the hero’s fall, when squadrons round,
Mow’d by his well-try’d falchion, strew’d the ground;
Thrice blest his envy’d fall, maturely dead,
Fresh laurels blooming round his sacred head !
While I by Faction’s tumults rudely tost,
My country thrall’d, my patriot labours lost,
Betray’d, and basely sold, inglorious died,
The sport of perjur’d peers and tyrant pride.
Go, noble Bruce ! fulfil thy happier fate,
On thee new glories smile, new triumphs wait:
To-morrow’s sun, I see the fulgence rise,
Shall seal thy fame, and waft it to the skies;
To-morrow’s sun shall blast yon barbarous host,
And chase the cloud that low’rs o’er Scotia’s coast.
Dread not, great sire, their threats or boasted might,
Their skill in council or their fame in fight.
Now patriot blood, by impious Edward shed,
In flaming vengeance bursts o’er Edward’s head :
Far round thy camp, array’d in blazing arms,
Thy Scotia’s slaughtered heroes sound th’ alarms ;
On fiery steeds, unseen they watch the fray,
And spread terrific din, and pale dismay ;
With dreams of conquer’d foes they fan the fire,
And hid ev’n dastard souls to fame aspire,
With shields of proof thy half-armed bands protect,
Each random lance, each wav’ring shaft direct,
Till, deeply sped, it reach the deadly wound,
And stretch some champion breathless on the ground,
Till heaps of carnage choak th’ impurpled flood,
And all these fields are drench’d in hostile blood.
I see Caernarvon pale, aghast with fear,
Fly swift, great Douglas thundering in his rear :
111 fare the faithless churl who shelter lends,
And homeward safe the trembling tyrant sends.
These are the only works which Dr Doig published in a
separate form. For the reputation of authorship he appears
to have felt no particular ambition ; he was, however, an in¬
defatigable student, and wrote many tracts which were never
printed, which he probably had no intention of printing. He
wrote an elaborate dissertation On the Ancient Hellenes,
which appeared in the Transactions of the Royal Society of
Edinburgh, vol. iii. He afterwards prosecuted the same sub¬
ject, and transmitted his manuscript to one of the secretaries
of the society; but on the decease of that gentleman, no ves¬
tige of it could be found among his papers. His contribu¬
tions to the third edition of the present work, and particu¬
larly the article Philology, exhibit the most conspicuous
monument of his erudition. In the articles Mysteries and
Mythology, although they bear marks of the same hand, he
has not taken so wide a range; but the article Philology \s
a long and elaborate treatise, distinguished by ingenuity as
well as learning. “ In addition,” says Lord Woodhouselee,
“ to the most profound knowledge of the Greek and Latin
languages, which he w'rote with a classical purity, Dr Doig
had successfully studied the Hebrew, Arabic, and other kin-
1 Relative to the barbarism and civilization of Greece, the following passage occurs in the work of a very ancient philosopher : IDA-
Xcltus ya.^ xtti yiyovi xat urrui (ia^lioc^os >1 EXXoij, vvr' uyG^cowcov fjt,oyov yivo/AWri fj.iTa.ytt.irra.Tos, uX\k xki vtt auTris rtis f unas oil ftti^ovos oiids //.u~
evo; uvrvs yivofLivris, aXXK xai yion^as au, xai orgo; vpas Xafafottvoums- (Ocellus Lucanus de Universi Natura, cap. iii. edit. Gale, 1688.)
D 0 I
dred dialects, and was deeply versed in Oriental literature.”
Of this diversified knowledge he has fully availed himselt in
his treatise on Philology. That portion of the Encyclopaedia
Britannica which contains it was published in London du¬
ring the same week with a tract on the Greek verb, written
by Dr Vincent, afterwards dean of Westminster," “ who
was so struck with the coincidence of Dr Doig’s opinions
on many points with his own, that he began an epistolaiy
correspondence with the author; and these two eminent
scholars went hand in hand in their researches, and in a free
communication of their opinions, with a liberality of senti¬
ment which did honour to both. Such likewise was the
conduct of the learned Mr Bryant, who had entered into a
correspondence with Dr Doig on the subject of ancient
mythology.”3 . ,
Dr Doig, who was married and left descendants, died
16th March 1800, at the mature age of eighty-one. The
following epitaph, written by himself, has been engraved on
a marble monument erected to his memory by the town o
Stirling, where he was respected for his worth and admued
for his learning :—
Edidici quasdam, perlegi plura, notavi
Paucula, cum domino mox peritura suo.
Lubrica Pieriae tentarem praemia palmae,
Credulus, ingenio heu nimis alta meo.
Extincto famam ruituro crescere saxo
Posse putem, vivo quae mihi nulla fuit ?
Of his Latin versification we subjoin a more considerable
specimen, which relates to the erection of a monument to the
memory of Buchanan.
En, Buchanane, pii, longo post tempore, cives
Ingenio statuunt haec monumenta tuo.
Scotia te natum, te Gallia jactat alumnum,
Te canit Europe, quae plaga cunque patet.
Nil opus est saxo, nil indice : laeta sonabunt
Carmine Levinium saecula cuncta decus.
Seu decoras Latio divina poemata cultu,
Seu recinis nugas, ludicra, festa, sales ;
Grandia seu tragico devolvis verba cothurno,
Seu reseras varii claustra viasque poll;
iEmula seu captas Patavi prseconia linguae,
Fcedera dum patriae, bella virosque refers,
Eloquio, gravitate, sono, vi, lumine, verbis,
iEquiparas veteres, exsuperasque novos..
Quod Graii potuere simul, quod Romula virtus,
Tu solus numeris, arte, lepore potes.
Sin aliqua titubas patriae labefactus amore,
Aut nimium vera pro pietate plus,
Ipsa notam lecti Libertas plorat alumni,
Ipsa tegit lauri Calliopea comis.
Seepe nitor veri spissis latet obrutus umbris,
Nec semper Lynceus cuncta videnda videt.
D O L
Besides Latin and English poems, Dr Doig left an immense va¬
riety of works in manuscript. The following list includes his
most considerable treatises:—A Rational Demonstration of the Di¬
vinity and Incarnation of Christ, 36 pp. fol.; The History of the Pas¬
sion, 45 pp. 4to; On Vicarious Punishments, 19 pp. fol.; Strictures
on Dr Campbell's Translation of the Sermon on the Mount, 15 pp..
4to; An Analysis of the Epistle to the Romans, 48 pp. fol.; An Ana¬
lysis of the Epistle to the Hebrews, 60 pp. 4to ; A Dissertation on the
Place where the Ark rested after the Deluge, 30 pp. fol.; An Essay on
the Situation of Tarshish and Ophir, 66 pp. 4to ; A Dissertation on
the Origin of Idolatry, 21 pp. 4to ; An Enquiry into the Origin of
Statue-Worship, 84 pp. fol.; A Philological Dissertation on Chain and
Remphan, 135 pp. fol.; A Philological Dissertation on the Gods of the
Egyptians, 344 pp. 4to ; The History of the Titans, 146 pp.^ 4to ; On
the Doctrine of Demons, 199 pp. 4to ; Letters on Mr Bryant s Ancient
Mythology, 133 pp. fol.; An Essay on the Origin of the Greeks, 406
pp. fol.; Elucidations of Grecian Antiquities, 98 pp. 4to ; On the
Origin of the Scots, 33 pp. 4to ; On the Origin of Language, 59 pp.
fol.; Letters to Lord Karnes on Language, 112 pp. fol. ; Strictures
on Dr Smith's Considerations on the Formation of Language, 33 pp.
fol.; Letters to Dr Vincent on the Formation of Greek Verbs, 48 pp.
fol.; An Essay on the Utility of the Learned Languages, 49 pp. 4to,
Figures of Rhetoric poetically described, 16 pp. 4to.
DOIT, a small Dutch copper coin, in value half a far-
thing It was also the name of the ancient Scottish penny-
piece, of which 12 were equivalent to a penny sterling.
DOKKUM, a town of Holland, province of hriesland,
12 miles N.E. of Leeuwarden, and about a league from the
North Sea, with which it communicates by means of the
ship canal Dokkum-diep. It has salt-refineries, breweries,
and building-docks; and some trade in cheese, butter, and
cattle. Pop. 3800. ,
DOLABELLA, Publius Cornelius, one ot Lsesars
generals and the son-in-law of Cicero, was born about b. c.
70. At the death of Caesar he espoused the party of Brutus,
but soon after went over to that of the Triumvirs. By them
he was intrusted with the province of Syria and the command
against the Parthians; and accordingly he proceeded to Asia
Minor, where he abused his power for the purpose of ex¬
torting money and troops from the inhabitants. . For this he
was declared an enemy of his country; and Cassius, to whom
the proconsulate of Syria had been handed over, declaied
war against him. After the fall of Laodicea, Dolabella in
despair ordered one of his soldiers to kill him, b.c. 43.
DOLCI, Carlo, or Carlino, a painter of considerable
celebrity, was born at Florence in 1616. Fie was a disciple
of Jacopo Vignali; and when only eleven years of age he
attempted a whole figure of St John, which received extra¬
ordinary approbation. He afterwards painted a portrait of
his mother, and displayed a new and delicate style, whic i
brought him into notice, and procured him extensive em¬
ployment at Florence and in other parts of Italy. Dolci
appears to have used his pencil chiefly in sacred subjects,
and bestowed much labour on his pictures. In his manner
of working he was remarkably slow; and it is said ot him
that his brain was affected by seeing Luca Giordano despatch
more business in four or five hours than he could have exe¬
cuted in as many months. His works are consequently not
numerous. He generally painted in a small size, although
there are a few pictures by him as large as life. He die
at Florence in 1686, leaving a daughter (Agnese), who also
painted historical pieces, and arrived at some degree ot ex¬
cellence in copying the works ot her father.
Carlo Dolci holds the same rank in the Florentine that
Sassoferrato does in the Roman school. Without the pos¬
session of much genius or invention, both these^ artists pro¬
duced pleasing and highly-finished pictures. I he works ot
Dolci are easily distinguishable by the delicacy of the com¬
position, and by an agreeable tint of colour, improved by
judicious management of the chiaroscuro, which give his
figures a surprising relief. “ His pencil,” says Pilkington,
“ was tender, his touch inexpressibly neat, and his colouring
transparent; though he has often been censured for the ex¬
cessive labour bestowed on his pictures, and also for giving
his carnations more of the appearance of ivory than the look
of flesh.” All his best productions are of a devout descrip¬
tion, and most frequently represent the patient suffering of
Christ, or the sorrows of the Mater Dolorosa. In these the
heads are marked with calm intellectual beauty and pathetic
emotion, and are peculiarly expressive of pure and tranquil
devotion. They are full of sensibility, and yet all unstained
by earthly passion. There is, we allow, a want of character
and deep shadowing in his pictures, but the colouring and
general tone accord with the idea of the passion portrayed ;
nothing is turgid or bold, harsh, or obtrusive ; all is modesty,
repose, and placid harmony. The best wrorks of this master
are the “St Sebastian;” the “Four Evangelists,” at Flo-,
rence; “ Christ Breaking the Bread,” in the Marquis of
Doit
Dolci.
1 On this subject Dr Vincent published two different tracts. The Origination of the Greek Verb ; an Hypothesis; Lond. 1794, 8vo.
The Greek Verb analysed ; an Hypothesis, in which the Source and Structure of the Greek Language in general is considered ; Lond.
1795 8vo. 1 2 Woodhouselee’s Memoirs Lord Kames, vol. ii.,p- 142.
D 0 L
DDL
93
Dole Exeter’s collection at Burleigh; and several smaller pic-
il tures, which are highly valued, and occupy honourable
Dollond. ^ piaces ;n t}ie richest galleries. (a. h.)
DOLE, a town of France, capital of a cognominal arron-
dissement in the department of Jura; situated on the de¬
clivity of a hill, on the right bank of the Doubs, and on the
canal between the Rhone and Rhine ; 28 miles N. of Lons-
le-Saunier. Pop.(18ol) 9913. It is the seat of a tribunal
of primary instance, and has a Jesuit college, agricultural
society, school of design, and a public library of about 6000
volumes. It is pleasantly situated and well built. The prin¬
cipal public buildings are the Hall of Justice ; the Church
of Notre Dame, a Gothic edifice; the Hotel-Dieu; the
new prison; barracks; two hospitals; and the ancient tower
of Vergy, now used as a prison. Part of the Roman road
leading from Lyons to the Rhine, and remains of a Roman
aqueduct and theatre, are to be found here. Among its
manufactures are straw hats, hosiery, leather, chemicals,
and agricultural implements; and its trade in agricultural
produce, wood, iron, marble, &c., is considerable. Dole is
a place of great antiquity, and was at one time the capital
of the Tranche-Comte and the seat of a parliament and uni¬
versity. In 1479 it was taken by Louis XL, when the
greater part of the town was destroyed, and many of its in¬
habitants were put to the sword. It subsequently came into
the hands of the Spaniards, and was fortified by Charles V.
in 1530. In 1636 it was ineffectually besieged by the Prince
of Conde. In 1668 it was taken by the French ; and again
in 1674, when its fortifications were destroyed.
Dole, in the Saxon and British tongue, signified a part
or portion; most commonly of a meadow where several
persons had shares, and called dole-meadow. It also still
signifies a distribution or dealing of alms, or a gift made by
a great man to the people.
Dole, in Scotch Law (Lat. dolus), is used for malevolent
intention. It is an essential ingredient to constitute a crime ;
and hence the rule, Crimen dolo contrahitur.
DOLGELLEY, a market-town of North Wales, Me¬
rionethshire; situated on the Wnion, in a wide and fertile
valley at the foot of the majestic mountain Cader Idris,
18 miles S.W. of Bala. The town is very irregularly built,
and many of the older buildings are mean and unsightly ;
but these are gradually giving place to modern erections of
a superior class. The Wnion is here crossed by a neat
stone bridge of seven arches, erected in 1638 ; and a smah
stream, the Aran, descending from the Cader Idris, flows
through the town. The church is a spacious edifice, stand¬
ing on an eminence in the centre of the town, but with no
pretensions to architectural beauty. It has a large tower,
and contains some handsome monuments. The other prin¬
cipal buildings are the county hall, county gaol, old parlia¬
ment house, and national school. Market-davs—Tues¬
day and Saturday. Its manufactures are chiefly coarse
woollen cloths and flannels. Pop. (1851) 2041.
DOLLAR, a village of Scotland, county of Clackman¬
nan, 11 miles N.E. of Stirling; only worthy of notice for its
academy, endowed by a Mr M‘Nab, a native of the place,
who left nearly L.80,000 for that purpose. The academy
is an elegant Grecian structure, founded in 1819.
Dollar (Ger. thaler), the name of a silver coin of Spain
and of the United States; worth 100 cents, or about 4s. 2d.
sterling. The dollar appears to have been originally a Ger¬
man coin ; and in various parts of Germany there are coins
of different values so called. See Money.
DOLLOND, John, a practical and theoretical optician
of the highest celebrity; the discoverer of the laws of the
dispersion of light, and inventor of the achromatic telescope ;
descended from a family of French refugees, was born in
London on the 10th June 1706.
His first destination was the manufactory which afforded
employment to the greater part of the French colony es- Dollond.
tablished in Spittalfields, and he passed some of his ear-
her years in the mechanical labour of a silk-weaver. He
was, however, always attached to the mathematics and to
natural philosophy, and he even extended his studies to
the outlines of anatomy and of scholastic divinity ; and in
the pursuit of these objects he found himself obliged to
acquire a competent knowledge of the Latin and Greek
languages, a task which was much facilitated to him by
the possession of a memory no less retentive than his
observation was accurate and his reasoning correct. He
married early, and he continued in his first occupation
till he had established his eldest son, Peter Dollond, who
inherited his own tastes as an optical instrument maker ;
and the success of the undertaking wras such as to induce
him, in 1752, to leave his own business, and to enter into
partnership with his son in Vine Court.
These arrangements having taken place, it was not long
before Mr Dollond communicated to the Royal Society
some of the results of the application of his inventive
powers to his new pursuits ; and Mr Short, wdio then en¬
joyed the highest reputation as an optician, paid him the
compliment of bringing them forward to the Society under
the auspices of his name.
1. A Letter to Mr James Short, F. R. S. concerning an
Improvement of Refracting Telescopes. Phil. Trans. 1753,
p. 103. The author here describes a telescope with six
glasses, as calculated for correcting, either wholly or in
great measure, the errors of refraction arising from the dis¬
persion of the different colours, as well as from the sphe¬
rical form of the surfaces of the eye-glasses ; appealing to
the superiority of the telescopes which he had thus con¬
structed, to those which had before been in use; but he
reserves a more ample detail of the theory for a future oc¬
casion, which, however, does not appear to have presented
itself, the improvement having been superseded by others
incomparably more important.
2. A Letter to James Short, A. M. F. R. S. concerning
a Mistake in Mr Euler s Theorem for correcting the Aberra¬
tion in the Object Glasses of Refracting Telescopes; read
23d November 1752 ; together with an introductory letter
of Mr Short, in which Euler’s calculations are somewhat
too categorically condemned, and with Euler’s answers to
Short and Dollond. Phil. Trans. 1753, p. 287. It is re¬
markable with what profound respect the experiments
of Newton are treated in Mr Dollond’s letter: 44 It is
somewhat strange,” he says, “ that any body now-a-days
should attempt to do that which so long ago has been de¬
monstrated impossible.” But although the investigation
of truth was perhaps in this instance retarded, yet its ulti¬
mate discovery was not prevented by a just deference to
a high authority. Euler was, however, certainly right in
considering the law which he had assumed as sufficiently
compatible with the results of Newton’s experiments;
although he was much mistaken in his conjectures respect¬
ing the achromatic properties of the eye.
3. A Description of a Contrivance for Measuring Small
Angles. Phil. Trans. 1753, p. 178. This apparatus consists
of a divided object-glass, with a scale for determining the
distance of the images, by measuring the linear displace¬
ment of the two portions of the glass, which subtends the
same angle from the focus of parallel rays, as the actual
distance of the images does from the object-glass. The
apparatus is recommended as particularly calculated to be
applied to a reflecting telescope, and was afterwards adapt¬
ed by Mr Peter Dollond to the improved achromatic
telescopes. Mr Savery and Mr Bouguer had before used
two separate lenses in a manner nearly similar; but the
employment of a single glass divided affords a much more
convenient arrangement.
94 D O L
Dollond. 4. An Explanation of an Instrument for Measuring
' , ' Small Angles. Phil. Trans. 1754,p.551. This paper con¬
tains a more detailed theory of the divided object-glass
micrometer, and a testimony of its utility from Mr Short,
founded on actual experiments.
5. An Account of some Experiments concerning the JJij-
ferent Refrangihility of Light. Phil. Trans. 1758, p. 733.
We have here the important results of a series of accu¬
rate experiments, by which the author had undertaken to
investigate the foundations of the Newtonian theory of
refraction; though he began them without any hope of a
success so brilliant as that which ultimately crowned his
labours. ^ . .
It was in the beginning of 1757 that Mr Dollond made
the decisive experiment of putting a common prism of
glass into a prismatic vessel of water, and varying the
angle of the vessel till the mean refraction of the glass
was compensated; when he found that the colouis weie
by no means destroyed, as they were supposed to have
been in a similar experiment related by Newton ; for the
remaining dispersion was nearly as great as that of a prism
of glass of half the refracting angle. Mr Dollond then
employed a thinner wedge of glass, and found that the
image was colourless when the refraction of the water was
about one fourth greater than that of the glass. He next
attempted to make compound object-glasses by inclosing
water between two lenses; but in this arrangement he
found great inconvenience from the spherical aberration;
so that he was obliged to try the effects of different kinds
of glass, and he fortunately discovered that the refractions
of flint and crown glass were extremely convenient for his
purpose, the image afforded by them being colourless when
the angles were to each other nearly as two to three ; and
hence he inferred that a convex lens of crown glass and
a convex one of flint would produce a colourless image
when their focal distances were in the same proportion.
The spherical aberration, where the curvature was so
considerable, still produced some inconvenience; but hav¬
ing four surfaces capable of variation, he was enabled to
make the aberrations of the two lenses equal; and since
they were in opposite directions, they thus corrected each
other. All these arrangements required great accuracy
of execution for their complete success; but, in the hands
of the inventor, they produced the most admirable instru¬
ments, and he was singularly fortunate in obtaining a
quantity of glass of more uniform density than had been
ever manufactured on so large a scale. He afterwards
made some small Galilean telescopes with triple object-
glasses, and Mr Peter Dollond applied this construction
to the longer telescopes with compound eye-pieces, the
alteration rendering the spherical aberration still more
manageable.
The merits of Mr Dollond’s inventions were promptly
acknowledged on the part of the Royal Society by the
adjudication of the Copleyan medal for the year. In 1761,
he was appointed optician to the king, and was elected a
fellow of the Royal Society; a distinction which is often
obtained on easy terms by those whose situation in life
exempts them from the suspicion of seeking it for any
purpose degrading to science, but which is generally an
object of considerable ambition to persons of mechanical
or commercial occupations.
A considerable share of the credit due to Mr Dollond s
discoveries has been very erroneously attributed by some
late historians and biographers on the Continent to Leo¬
nard Euler, a mathematician who most assuredly has little
need of the appropriation of the merits of others to esta¬
blish his claim to immortality. But in fact the only idea
of Euler that could be said to have furnished any hint to
Mr Dollond, has been shown by the calculations of Dr
I) O L
Maskelyne, and by the experiments of Dr Thomas YoungDolomieu.
and Dr Wollaston, to have been completely erroneous;  y '
nor did Euler even admit the accuracy of Mr Dollond’s
conclusions after his discovery was made, without con¬
siderable hesitation and scepticism. Mr Klingenstierna
had simply expressed a doubt with respect to the result of
Newton’s experiments, though he by no means suspected
the extent of the error. Mr Peter Dollond has sufficiently
vindicated his father’s claim to complete originality, in a
paper read to the Royal Society in the year 1789 j he has
also suggested an explanation of the origin of Newton’s
mistake, by stating that there exists a kind of Venetian
glass, of which the dispersive power little exceeds that
of water, whilst its specific gravity nearly approaches to
2-58, which is assigned by Newton to glass in general;
and it certainly seems more probable that some such
circumstance as this was the cause of the error, than that
Newton should, as some have suspected, have mixed ace¬
tate of lead with the water which he used, for an experi¬
ment which was so much more likely to be satisfactory
without it.
Mr Dollond’s appearance was somewhat stern, and his
language was impressive, but his manners were cheerful
and affable. He was in the habit of attending regularly,
along with his family, the service of the French Protestant
church. He constantly sought his chief amusement in
objects connected with the study of those sciences which
he had so much contributed to improve. Perhaps, indeed,
he pursued them with an application somewhat too in¬
tense ; for on the 30th of November, as he was reading a
new work of Clairaut on the theory of the moon, which
had occupied his whole attention for several hours, he had
an attack of apoplexy, which shortly became fatal. He
left two sons and three daughters. His sons succeeded
to his business ; and the younger dying a few years after¬
wards, his place was filled by a nephew, who assumed the
familyname. and who long conducted the establishment with
undiminished respectability and success. (Kelly’s Life of
John Dollond, with an Appendix of all the Papers referred
to, 3d edit, 4to, Lond. 1808.) (T- Y-)
DOLOMIEU, Deodatus Guy Silvanus Tancred
de Gratet de, a distinguished mineralogist and geolo¬
gist, son of Francis de Gratet de Dolomieu, and Frances
de Berenger, was born on the 24th of June 1750, in the
province of Dauphine.
He was admitted a member of the order of Malta during
his earliest infancy, as if he had been devoted from his
cradle to glory and to misfortune. At eighteen he em¬
barked in one of the galleys belonging to the order, and
soon af tei'wards unhappily foundhimself under the necessity
of fighting a duel, in which his adversary fell. Hie iaws
condemned him to die, but he received a pardon from
the grand master; it was, however, necessary that it
should be approved by the pope, who for a long time re¬
fused to confirm it, notwithstanding the solicitations of
several European powers in behalf of the offender, until
his consent was at last obtained by the Cardinal Torre-
giani. Dolomieu, in the mean time, was closely imprisoned
in the island for nine months, and this period of solitude
seems to have contributed materially to increase the se¬
riousness of his character, and to confirm him in a con¬
templative turn of mind.
At the age of twenty-two he went to Metz as an officer
in the regiment of carabineers, in which he had held a
commission for seven years; and he displayed great cou¬
rage and personal activity on occasion of an accidental
conflagration which occurred soon afterwards. His leisure
hours were employed in the study of chemistry and natu¬
ral history, with the assistance of M. Thirion, an apothe¬
cary residing in that city. About the same time he also
D O L O M I E U.
95
Dolomieu. became intimate with De la Rochefoucault, with whom he
maintained an unshaken friendship ever after.
1. He commenced his literary career with an Italian
translation of Bergman s Work on Volcanic Substances, to
which he added some Notes, and some observations on the
classification of those substances.
2. He also furnished some Notes to a translation of Cron-
stedt’s Mineralogy.
3. In 1775 he published Besearches on the Weight of
Bodies at different distances from the Earth's Centre ; and
upon the recommendation of La Rochefoucault, was made
a correspondent of the Academy of Sciences at Paris.
This compliment seems to have contributed to his deter¬
mination to relinquish his prospects of success in the
army, and to devote himself exclusively to science. Hav¬
ing resigned his commission, he commenced his geological
labours with a tour in Sicily, Italy, and Switzerland.
4. This expedition afforded him the materials for his
Voyage aux lies de Lipari, fait en 1781, which he pub¬
lished in 1783, with some other tracts. He describes a
singular kind of volcano at Macaluba, in Sicily, formed by
air bubbling up from the crater, and causing its contents
to overflow. The Essay on the Climate of Malta is ren¬
dered inconclusive by the imperfection of the eudiome-
trical apparatus that was then commonly employed.
5. He spent a part of the same year in examining the
effects of the earthquake in Calabria, which are described
in his Memoire sur les tremblemens de Terre de la Calabrie,
8vo, Rome, 1784. Among other observations, he notices
the singular fact, that all those parts of Calabria to which
the earthquake extended are of a calcareous nature, with¬
out any traces of volcanic substances.
6. He published, in the Journal de Physique, vol. xxv.
p. 191, a paper on the extinct volcanoes of the Val di Noto
in Sicily.
7. His Memoire sur les lies Ponces, 1788, contains also
a catalogue of the productions of Mount Etna, and an ac¬
count of the eruption of 1787.
At the beginning of the revolution Dolomieu embarked,
together with his friend La Rochefoucault, in that which
appeared to be the cause of liberty. He was in Paris on
the 14th of July, but he did not accept of any office under
the newly-modified government. La Rochefoucault soon
fell a victim to the horrors of the times. Dolomieu was
present in his last moments, and received the affectionate
messages which he sent to his mother and his wife, who
were more distant witnesses of the dreadful scene.
8. No longer hoping for any benefit to his country from
the political events of the day, he appears to have resumed
his geological studies in other parts of Europe. In a Let¬
ter on the Origin of Basalt, dated Rome, 1790, Journ.
Phys. vol. xxxvii. p. 193, he considers some stones of this
description, for instance, the black trapps of Saxony, as the
productions of water; and others, particularly the varieties
found in the south of Europe, as of volcanic origin.
9. He writes, in 1791, a Letter from Malta, describing a
species of limestone found in the Tyrol, hard enough to
become phosphorescent upon collision, and not efferves¬
cing with acids until powdered. It was afterwards called
the Dolomite. Journ. Phys. vol. xxxix. p. 3.
10. In a paper of Directions for Naturalists, he gives some
useful advice to the circumnavigators about to sail to the
South Seas. Journ. Phys. vol. xxxix. p. 310.
11. A series of his essays On Compound Stones and
Rocks appeared from time to time in the Journal de Phy¬
sique, yol. xxxix. p. 374; vol. xl. p. 41, 203, 372. In these
he insists on the necessity of supposing that the ocean
must have acted with great violence in reducing the conti¬
nents into their present state ; neither the slow subsidence
of a general deluge, nor the continued action of ordinary
rivers, being sufficient to explain the phenomena; and he Dolomieu.
remarks, that a violent agitation, such as must necessarily
be supposed to have taken place, would naturally cause
several alternations in the state of the waters, like im¬
mense waves or tides, which must have contributed to the
modifications impressed on the earth’s form. Indeed, the
facts which support this opinion appear to be so obvious
and so numerous, that it is difficult to understand how the
opposite hypothesis should ever have become popular.
12. In the same volume there is a short paper On Pe¬
troleum found in Rock Crystal, and on some elastic fluids
obtained from it, p. 318.
13. The progress of his memoirs was now interrupted
by the proscription, in which many of the best and wisest
of his countrymen were indiscriminately involved. “ His
duty and his inclination,” he says, in a iVbte without a date,
“ required the devotion of his time and his arm to the de¬
fence of his kingand he was obliged to submit to a tem¬
porary dereliction of his pursuits of science. P. 481.
14. But the cause was hopeless, and it was impossible
for him to render it any essential service. He soon re¬
sumed his pen, and took occasion to express, with great
spirit and energy, his political feelings, in his Memoir on
the Physical Constitution of Egypt. Journ. Phys. vol. xlii.
p. 41, 108,194. In Egypt, he observes, there are many cal¬
careous rocks and sands, which cannot have been brought
down by the Nile ; but there is also much of the soil which
has the appearance of having been derived from the mud,
with an admixture of sand only. The same cause, he
thinks, may possibly have raised the bed of the river, so
that the relative height of the inundations may have been
little altered. He conceives that the Delta has increased
even in modern times, though far less rapidly than it ap¬
pears to have done formerly; for he is disposed to admit
the credibility of the Homeric account of the distance of
the Pharos from the continent, although he attempts to
explain a part of the supposed change by the filling up of
the lake Mareotis only; and, on the whole, he imagines
that about a thousand square leagues of the surface of
Egypt have been gained from the sea. He has not, how¬
ever, thought it necessary to discuss the arguments which
Bruce and others have brought against the established opi¬
nion, and against the facts asserted by Herodotus in its
support; although some of the best informed of modern
travellers have allowed the accuracy of Bruce’s statements
relating to this subject.
15. In a short paper On the Figured Stones of Florence,
M. Dolomieu attributes the appearance of the arborescent
and architectural figures which characterize them, to the
process of slow decomposition and oxidation, gradually
producing the stains in the extremely minute fissures,
which favour these changes. Journ. Phys. vol. xliii. p.
285.
16. Upon the establishment of the school of Mines, in
1795, he accepted the situations of professor of geology
and inspector of mines. He was also made one of the
original members of the National Institute of Sciences and
Arts, then organized by a law of the existing government.
From this time he appears to have redoubled the energy
with which he had before laboured in the pursuit of na¬
tural knowledge, and he published a great number of me¬
moirs in the course of a very few years. One of the first
of these consisted of Observations on a pretended Coal
Mine, called the Desiree. Journal des Mines, year iii. N.
ix. p. 45.
17. His Methodical Distribution of Volcanic Substances
appeared in the new Journal de Physique, vol. (i.) xliii.
p. 102, 175, 241, 406; vol. (ii.) xliv. p. 81. Of the five
classes which he had before proposed in his notes on
Bergman, the first comprehends substances actually pro-
96 D O L O
Dolomieu. duced by volcanoes ; the second, substances thrown out by
them unaltered; the third, bodies altered by the volcanic
vapours; the fourth, bodies altered in the moist way; and
the last, substances illustrative of the history of volcanoes
ordy. The subsequent papers are partly continuations
of the Memoirs on Compound Rochs ; and they also relate
particularly to the nature of lavas, some of which are
shown to be formed from argillaceo-ferruginous stones.
The heat of lavas has been pretty accurately entertained,
in some cases, by the fusion of silver coins exposed to it,
whilst those of copper remained entire ; there is, however,
an account of a stream of lava over which some nuns are
stated to have walked while it was yet fluid; and this cir¬
cumstance M. Dolomieu attributes to a mixture of sul¬
phur, which remained melted at a temperature compara¬
tively low. Some objections to this opinion have, however,
been advanced by Mr Sage. Journ.Phys. vol. xlv. p. 281.
An Explanation of the New Method adopted in the Descrip¬
tion of Minerals was also published in the Magazin Ency-
clopedique, vol. i. p. 35. .
18. Among the shorter essays of M. Dolomieu, w'e find
a Description of the Beryl. Journ. des Mines, year iv. Ven-
tose, p. 11.—19. Description of the Mine of Manganese at
Romaneche. Germinal, p. 27.—20. Letter on the Heat of La¬
vas. Messidor, p. 53.—21. On Quartzose Concretions, p. 56.
 22. On Ancient Lithology. Mag. Enc. i. p. 437.—23. De¬
scription of the Emerald, ii. p. 17, 145.—24. A Letter from
Berlin on the Magnetic Serpentine, ii. vol. vi. p. 7.—25. On
the Leucite, or White Garnet. Journ. des Mines, year v.
p. 177.—26. On the Necessity of Chemical Knowledge to a
Mineralogist, and on the term Chrysolith, p. 365.
27. An Introductory Discourse on the Study of Geology
appears in the Journal de Physique, vol. xlv. p. 256. It
was preliminary to a course of lectures on the natural po¬
sition of minerals, and it contains good and detailed direc¬
tions for the use of students, with some eloquent advice
on the benefits of travelling, and on the merits of tempe¬
rance and simplicity of manners.
28. In the next volume, p. 203, our author announces
the Discovery of the Crystallized Sulphate of Strontia in
Sicily. It had before been found uncrystallized in France.
29. On Colour as a Characteristic of Stones. Journ.
Phys. vol. (iii.) xlvi. p. 302. This essay contains some ob¬
jections to Werner’s habit of relying too implicitly on co¬
lour, and the white tourmaline of St Gothard is adduced
as an instance of the triumph of form over complexion ; a
just tribute of commendation is also paid to the merits of
Haiiy.
30. A paper On the Pyroxene, or Volcanic Schorl, is
chiefly designed to support the opinion that such crystals
have been formed previously to the existence of the vol¬
cano, by the observation of a specimen found adhering to
a rock which had never undergone the effect of fire. Journ.
Phys. vol. xlvi. p. 306.
31. A Memoir read to the Institute contains the report of
M. Dolomieu’s mineralogical tours, made in the years
1797 and 1798. Journ. Phys. vol. xlvi. p. 401. Journ. des
Mines, year vi. p. 385. He visited the south of France, the
Alps, and the neighbouring lakes and mountains, almost
always on foot, and with his hammer in his hand, accom¬
panied by Brochart, Cordier, Bonniers, and his brother-in-
law the Marquis de Dree. From his observations in Au¬
vergne, in particular, he concludes that the foundation or
origin of the volcanoes there is certainly below the granite
rocks, which therefore cannot, properly speaking, be called
primitive; and he proceeds to a much bolder and less ad¬
missible conjecture, that the central parts of the globe are
at present in a state approaching to fluidity, which he at¬
tempts to support by the ready transmission of the shocks
of earthquakes to distant places; and he even quotes the
M I E U.
authority of Lagrange as haying been disposed to encou-
rao-e the opinion. Volcanoes, in general, he divides into an¬
cient and modern, as separated by the intervention of the
changes which have reduced the continents to their pre¬
sent form. With respect to the heat of the lava, he ob¬
serves, that it has not been sufficient to expel the carbonic
acid from the limestone which has been exposed to it. He
also remarks, that, where basalt in fusion has been sud¬
denly cooled by water, the contraction has caused it to
divide into columns, which are not crystalline, because
their angles are irregular, and which are smaller and more
uniform^in proportion as the water is deeper. He con¬
trasts the horizontal strata of France with the vertical
tables of the Alps, and particularly describes the accretion
of a mantle of calcareous substances, two miles in height,
which has attached itself to the north-east faces of the
Alps, subsequently to their first formation as mountains.
From this expedition he brought home an immense col¬
lection of rocks and stones, principally valuable for their
arrangement with a view to the illustration of his particu¬
lar doctrines in geology, which, with the rest of his cabi¬
net, have since formed a part of the superb museum of M.
de Dree.
32. He published, about the same time, a paper On the
Mountains of the Vosges. Journ. des Mines, year vi. p. 315.^
33. Extract of a Report on the Mines of the department of
the Lozere, p. 577.
34. The only communication of M. Dolomieu printed
in the Memoirs of the Institute, is rather on a mechanical
than a mineralogical subject, containing an Account of the
Art of Making Gun-Flints. M. Math. vol. iii. p. 348. Ni¬
cholson’s Journal, 8. vol. i. p. 88.
He was engaged, after his return from Switzerland, in
some mineralogical contributions to the Encyclopedic Me-
thodique, when he was invited to take a part in the scien¬
tific arrangements of the expedition to Egypt. He did not,
however, strictly confine himself to this department, but
was successfully employed as a negociator for the surren¬
der of Malta. In Egypt he visited the pyramids, and ex¬
amined some of the mountains which form the limits of
the country, but his health soon compelled him to return
to Europe. In this voyage the vessel on board of which he
had embarked was nearly overwhelmed by a tempest, and
appears to have been only saved by the temporary expe¬
dient of throwing overboard pounded biscuit mixed with
straw, which entered the leaks with the water, and afforded
a partial remedy, which was repeated from time to time,
until the vessel, at the last extremity, was driven into a^
port in the Gulf of Tarentum. The counter-revolution of
Calabria had occurred but a few days before, and Dolo¬
mieu, with his companion Cordier, and many others of his
countrymen, were thrown into prison, and they even owed
their lives to the great exertions of an individual among
the insurgents in their favour. They were afterwards re¬
moved to Sicily, but with the loss of their collections and
their manuscripts; and Dolomieu being denounced, as a
member of the order of Malta, for high treason, was sepa¬
rated from his countrymen, and closely confined in a dun¬
geon. Solicitations were addressed to the king of Naples
on his behalf, by the National Institute, by the French
government, by the king of Spain, and in the name of the
Royal Society of London, although its illustrious presi¬
dent was certainly not “ at the time in Sicily,” as the
Nouveau Dictionnaire Ilistorique affirms; but the captive
derived essential assistance from the good offices of an
English gentleman at Messina, and some Danes accom¬
modated him in his pecuniary arrangements. Whilst still
a prisoner, he was appointed successor to Daubenton, at
the Museum of Natural History; and the very circum¬
stance of his captivity seemed to give him an advantage
DOM
D O M 97
Dolphin over his competitor. In the treaty made by the French
|| with the king of Naples, after the battle of Marengo, it
Domat. was expressly stipulated that Dolomieu should be set at
liberty.
35. Upon his return to Paris he was made a member of
the Conservative Senate, and he delivered soon afterwards
a course of lectures on the philosophy of mineralogy. He
had written part of an essay on this subject during his im¬
prisonment in Sicily, with a bone for a pen, and a mixture
of soot and water instead of ink, on the margins of such
books as were allowed him; and his last publication was
Sur la Philosophie Mineralogique, et sur Vespece Minerrdo-
gique. Paris, 1801. His classification depended on con¬
sidering the species as determined by the integrant mole*-
cule, and on arranging the different external forms as va¬
rieties, whether regular as modifications, or irregular as
imperfections; besides the variations of colour and ap¬
pearance, and the more essential affections of the consist¬
ence of the substance, which may be called contamination ;
but the whole essay may be considered as rather of a lo¬
gical than of a physical nature.
After the delivery of his lectures, he set out upon a new
expedition to bis favourite mountains, in company with
Mr Neergard and Mr d’Eymar, who published an account
of the journey. Paris, 1802. He meditated a tour into
Germany and to the north of Europe; but his return to
Paris was interrupted by indisposition, when he had ar¬
rived, by way of Lyons, at Chateauneuf, where he met his
sister and his brother-in-law, and this journey was his
last.
The merits of Dolomieu consisted as much in his per¬
sonal character as in his scientific attainments. His con¬
versation was modest, though his courage was heroic; his
manners were simple though refined; and though his ta¬
lents were considerable, they seem to have been surpassed
by his industry. It has been remarked, that he often un¬
dertook more than he had any reasonable prospect of com¬
pleting ; but, in the mean time, he was perhaps as happy
in the pursuit as he would have been in the attainment of
his object. He died, universally regretted, at Dree, near
Macron, on the 27th of November 1801, in the midst of his
affectionate family, who had been the partakers in his pur¬
suits, and the consolation of his misfortunes.
Lacepede, Notice Historique sur la Vie et les Ouvrages de
Dolomieu; Mem. Math. Inst. vol. vii. 1806, p. 117; Chal¬
mers’s Biographical Dictionary, vol. xi. 8vo, London,
1818. x.)
DOLPHIN. See index to Ichthyology.
Dolphin, in nautical language, a rope or strap fas¬
tened round the mast of a ship to give support to the pud¬
dening (a mass of yarn or oakum used to prevent chafing),
where the lower yards rest on the slings. Dolphin is also
applied to a spar or buoy furnished with a large ring, and
anchored, to which a vessel may bend its cable.
DOM, or Don, a title of honour, invented, and chiefly
used, the former by the Portuguese, the latter by the Spa¬
niards. It is an abbreviation of dominus, and signifies sir
or lord.
This title, it seems, was first given to Pelayo, in the be¬
ginning of the eighth century. In Portugal no person can
assume the title of Dom without the permission of the king,
since it is looked upon as a mark of honour and nobility.
In France it is sometimes used among the religious. The
old English form of the word is dan, so frequently used by
Chaucer.
Dom and Som, in old charters, signifies full property and
jurisdiction.
DOMAT, or Daumat, Jean, a celebrated French juris¬
consult, born at Clermont in Auvergne, in 1625. He is
principally known from his elaborate legal digest, in four
volumes 4to, under the title of Lois Civiles dans leur Or-
VOL. VIII.
dre Naturel; an undertaking for which Louis XIV. settled
on him a pension of two thousand livres. Domat was inti¬
mate with Pascal, and at the death of that celebrated phi¬
losopher was intrusted with his private papers. Besides the
Lois Civiles, Domat made in Latin a selection of the most
common laws in the collections of Justinian. This wa>rk,
however, did not appear until after his death, when it was
published separately under the title of Legum Delectus, and
was subsequently appended to the Lois Civiles. It has
been translated into English. Domat died in 1696.
DOME. See index to Architecture, and Arch.
Dome, or Doom, judgment, sentence, or decree. The
homagers’ oath in the black book of Hereford ends thus :
“ So help me God at his holy dome, and by my trowthe.”
DOMENICHINO, or Domenico, Zampieri, the cele¬
brated painter, was born at Bologna in 1581. He was
placed, when young, under the tuition of Denis Calvart;
but having been treated with great severity by that mas¬
ter, he left him, and became a pupil in the academy of the
Caracci, where he remained for a long time. The genius
of Domenichino was slow in its development. He was at
first timid and distrustful of his powers ; whilst his studious,
thoughtful, and reserved manners were misunderstood by
his companions for dulness. But the intelligent Annibale
Caracci, who observed his faculties with more attention, and
knew his abilities better, predicted that the apparent slow¬
ness of Domenichino’s genius would in time produce what
would be an honour to the art of painting. When his early
productions had brought him into notice, he studied with
incredible application, and made such advances in painting
as to raise his works into a comparison with those of the
most admired masters. From his acting as a continual
censor of his own works, he became amongst his fellow pu¬
pils the most accurate and expressive designer; his colours
were the truest to nature, and of the best impasto, and he
proved the most universal master in the theory of his art;
in short, the only painter, amongst them all, in whom Mengs
found nothing to desire, except a somewhat larger propor¬
tion of elegance. That he might devote his whole being
to the art, Domenichino shunned all society ; or if he occa¬
sionally sought it in the public theatres and walks, it was
in order better to observe the play of the passions in the
features of the people—those of joy, anger, grief, terror,
and every affection of the mind, and to commit them vividly
to his tablets ; and thus, says Belloni, it was that he suc¬
ceeded in delineating the soul, in colouring life, and calling
forth heartfelt emotions, at which all his works aim, as if
he waved the same wand which had belonged to the poeti¬
cal enchanters Tasso and Ariosto.
After several years’ severe study at Bologna, Domeni¬
chino went to Parma, in order to examine the beautiful
works of the Lombards ; and thence proceeded to Rome,
where he assisted Annibale Caracci, and obtained employ¬
ment through his recommendation from Cardinals Borghese,
Farnese, and Aldobrandi, for all of whom he painted works
in fresco, which were justly admired. The distinguished
reputation which he had acquired excited the jealousy of
some of his contemporaries, who represented his very ex¬
cellences as defects. Lanfranco in particular, one of his
most inveterate enemies, asserted that his communion of
St Jerome was an imitation from Agostino Caracci, and
procured an engraving of this master’s picture of the same
subject, copies of which were circulated for the purpose of
showing up Domenichino as a plagiarist. But this strata¬
gem only tended to expose the calumnious intents of his
rivals, as it was evident that there was no other resemblance
in the compositions than what must necessarily be the case
in the pictures of two artists treating the same subject; and
that every essential part, and all that was admired in the
work, were entirely his own. If it had been possible ibr
the exertions of modest merit to have repelled the shafts of
N
Dome
98
DOM
Domesday, slander, the pictures which he painted immediately after
wards, representing subjects from the life of St Cecilia,
might have silenced the attacks of envy and malevolence ;
but they only increased the alarm of his competitors, and
redoubled their injustice and malignity. Disgusted with
these cabals, Domenichino left Rome for Bologna, where
he remained until he was recalled by Pope Gregory XV.,
who appointed him principal painter and architect to the
pontifical palace. But the persecutions of his enemies con¬
tinued unabated, and are said to have absolutely wearied
out his life. He died, not without suspicion of being poi¬
soned, in 1641. . f i
Domenichino, in correctness of design, expression of the
passions, and simplicity and variety in the airs of his heads,
is allowed to be little inferior to Raffaelle. “ W e must,
says Lanzi, “ despair to find paintings exhibiting richer or
more varied ornaments, accessaries more beautifully adapted
or more majestic draperies. The figures are finely disposed
both in place and action, conducing to the general effect;
whilst a light pervades the whole, which seems to rejoice
the spirit, growing brighter and brighter in the aspect of
the best countenances, whence they first attract the eye
and heart of the beholder.” The persons delineated could
not tell their tale to the ear more plainly than they speak
it to the eye. The scourging of St Andrew, which he exe¬
cuted in competition with Guido at Rome, is a power u
illustration of this truthful expression. Of the two works of
these masters, Annabale Caracci preferred that of Domem-
chino. It is said that in painting one of the executioners
the artist actually threw himself into a passion, using threat¬
ening words and actions, and that Annibale Caracci sur¬
prising him at that moment, embraced him, exclaiming
with ioy, “ To-day, my dear Domenichino, thou art teach-
in”- me.” “ So novel,” remarks Lanzi, “ and at the same
time so natural, it appeared to him, that the artist, like the
orator, should feel within himself all that he is repiesenting
to others.” Domenichino is universally esteemed as the
most distinguished disciple of the Caracci. Algarotti pre¬
fers him to the greatest masters; and Nicolo Poussin con¬
sidered him as the first painter after Raffaelle. His pic¬
tures of the Communion of St Jerome, Adam and Eve, and
the Martyrdom of St Agnes, are esteemed amongst his best
works. Domenichino was unrivalled in his frescos. He
excelled also in landscape painting. In that style the beauty
arising from the natural and simple elegance of his scenery,
his trees, his well-broken grounds, and, in particular, the
character and expression of his figures, gained him as much
public admiration as any of his other performances.
The worth of Domenichino, as Agucchi foretold, was
never rightly appreciated during his lifetime. But the
spirit of°party which set in so strongly against him whilst
living, soon passed away when he was no more ; and im¬
partial posterity has done justice to the talents of this illus-
trious painter, whose works are in the highest esteem, and
fetch enormous prices. (A- H')
DOMESDAY, or Doomsday Book, a very ancient
record containing a survey of all the lands of England,
made in the time of W illiam the Conqueror. It con¬
sists of two volumes—a greater and a less. ^ The first is a
large folio, written on 382 double pages of vellum, in a
small but plain character, each page having a double co¬
lumn. Some of the capital letters and principal passages
are touched with red ink, and some have strokes of red ink
run across them, as if scratched out. This volume con¬
tains the description of 31 counties. The other volume is
in quarto, written upon 450 double pages of vellum, but in
a single column, and in a large but very fair character. It
contains the counties of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, part of the
county of Rutland, included in that of Northampton, and
part of Lancashire, in the counties of York and Chester.
This work, according to the red book in the exchequer,
DOM
was begun by order of William the Conqueror, with the Domesday
advice of his parliament, in the year 1080, and completed
in the year 1086. The reason given for taking this sur¬
vey as assigned by several ancient records and historians,
was, that every man should be satisfied with his own right,
and not usurp with impunity what belonged to another.
But besides this, it is stated by others, that all those who
possessed landed estates now became vassals to the king,
and paid him so much money by way of fee or homage, in
proportion to the lands they held; a circumstance which
appears very probable, as there was at that time extant a
general survey of the whole kingdom, made by order of
King Alfred. i , • i
For the execution of this survey recorded in Domesday-
book, commissioners were sent into every county and shire,^
and juries summoned in each hundred, out of all orders of
freemen, from barons down to the lowest farmers. These
commissioners were to be informed by the inhabitants, up¬
on oath, of the name of each manor and that of its owner,
also by whom it was held in the time of Edward the Con¬
fessor; the number of hides ; the quantity of wood, of pas¬
ture and of meadow land; how many ploughs were in the
demesne, and how many in the tenanted part of it; how
many mills and how many fish-ponds or fisheiies belonged
to it; the value of the whole in the time of King Edward,
as well as when granted by King W illiam, and at the time
of this survey ; and also whether it was capable of improve¬
ment or of being advanced in value. T hey were likewise
directed to return the tenants of every degree, the quantity
of lands then and formerly held by each of them, what was
the number of villeins or slaves, and also the number and
kinds of their cattle and live stock. These inquisitions,
being first methodized in the county, were afterwaids sent
up to the king’s exchequer.
This survey, at the time when it was made, gave great
offence to the people, and occasioned a suspicion that it
was intended for some new impost. But notwithstanding
ail the precaution taken by the Conqueror to have the sur¬
vey faithfully and impartially executed, it appears that a
false return was given in by some of the commissioners,
probably, as is alleged, fronr a pious motive. 1 his was
particularly the case with the Abbey of Croyland in Lin¬
colnshire, the possessions of which were greatly under¬
rated, both with regard to quantity and value. Perhaps
more of these “ pious frauds” were discovered, as it is said
that Ralph Flambard, minister to William Rufus, proposed
making a fresh and more rigorous inquisition ; but this was
never carried into operation.
Notwithstanding the proof of its falsehood in some in¬
stances, which must throw a suspicion on all others, the au¬
thority of Domesday-book was never permitted to be called
in question ; and when it has been necessary to distinguish
whether lands were held in ancient demesne or in any other
manner, recourse was always had to Domesday-book, and
to it only, in order to determine the doubt. From this de¬
finitive authority, from which, as from the sentence pro¬
nounced at domesday, or the day of judgment, there could
be no appeal, the name of the book is said to have been
derived. But Stowe assigns another reason for this appel¬
lation, namely, that Domesday-book is a corruption of
“ domus Dei book;” a title given it because heretofore it
was deposited in the king’s treasury in a place of the church
of Westminster or Winchester called domus Dei. from
the great care formerly taken to preserve this survey, we
may learn the estimation in which it was held. In the dia¬
logue de Sacrariis it is said, Liber Me (meaning Domes¬
day-book) sigilli regis comes est individuus in thesauro.
Until latterly it has been kept under three different locks
and keys; one in custody of the treasurer, and the others
in that of the two chamberlains of the exchequer. It is
now deposited in the chapter-house at Westminster, where
DOM
D 0 M
99
Domestic it may be consulted, on paying to the proper officers a fee
|| of six-and-eightpence for a search, and fourpence per line
Dominica. for matter transcribed from it.
v—Besides the two volumes above mentioned, there is also
a third made by order of the same king, and which differs
from the others in form rather than in matter. There is
likewise a fourth, which is kept in the exchequer, and which,
though a very large volume, is only an abridgment of the
others. In the remembrancer’s office in the exchequer
there is kept a fifth book, also called Domesday, which is
the same with the fourth book already mentioned. King
Alfred had a roll which he called Domesday; and the
Domesday-book made by William the Conqueror referred
to the time of Edward the Confessor, as that of King
Alfred did to the time of Ethelred. As the fourth book
of Domesday had many pictures and gilt letters in the be¬
ginning, relating to the time of King Edward the Con¬
fessor, this led some into an opinion altogether erroneous,
namely, that Domesday-book was composed in the reign of
King Edward.
DOMESTIC, one who lives in the family of another in
some particular capacity, as that of chaplain, secretary, ser¬
vant, &c.
DOMFRONT, a town of France, capital of a cognomi-
nal arrondissement in the department of Orne, on a steep
eminence at the foot of which flows the Varenne, 35 miles
W.N.W. of Aleneon. This was formerly one of the
strongest places in Normandy. It was several times taken
and retaken by the French and English, and by the Pro¬
testants and Catholics. The church of Notre Dame is a
fine old building, and contains the tomb of William, Count
of Bellesme, the founder of the town. The chief manu¬
factures are coarse linen and hempen cloths. Pop. (1851)
2773.
DOMIFYING, in Astrology, the dividing the heavens
into twelve houses, in order to erect a theme or horoscope,
by means of six great circles, called circles of position.
There are various ways of domifying. That of Begiomon-
tanus, which is the most common, makes the circles of po¬
sition pass through the intersections of the meridian and
the horizon ; but others make them pass through the poles
of the zodiac.
DOMINANT, in Music. See Music, passim, §§ Har¬
mony, Chords.
I)OMINATION, or Dominion, in Theology, the fourth
order of angelic beings in the celestial hierarchy.
DOMINGO, St. See Hayti.
DOMINIC de Guzman, founder of the Dominican or¬
der of monks, was born at Calahorra, the ancient Cala-
gurris, in Old Castile, in 1170. He preached with great
zeal against the Albigenses when Pope Innocent III. pro¬
claimed a crusade against that unhappy people ; and he was
appointed inquisitor in Languedoc, where he founded his
order, and had influence enough to get it confirmed by the
Lateran council in 1215. He died at Bologna in 1221, in
the fifty-first year of his age, and was afterwards canonized.
The Dominican order has produced many illustrious men.
See Dominicans.
DOMINICA, one of the Leeward group of islands in the
West Indies, belonging to Britain, and lying between the
French islands of Martinique and Guadaloupe, 24 miles N.
of the former, and about the same distance S. of the latter.
Dominica was so named by Columbus from his having dis¬
covered it on a Sunday (in 1493). It was ceded to Eng¬
land by the peace of Paris in 1763, but was taken by the
French in 1778. At the peace of 1783 it was restored to
England, in whose possession it has since remained. Do¬
minica is 29 miles in length from N. to S., and 16 in
breadth, and has an area of about 186,436 acres. The
principal town, Roseau, situated on the S.W. side of the
island, is in Lat. 15.19. N., Long. 61. 28. W. The surface
is generally rugged and mountainous, interspersed with fer- Dominical
tile and well-watered valleys. The highest point is 5314 Letter
feet above the level of the sea. The origin of this island
is volcanic, and sulphur and other volcanic products are
abundant. The soil is light and well adapted for the growth
of coffee. The hills are covered with valuable timber trees
of the kinds commonly found in the West Indies. Game
is abundant, and the fisheries on the coast are very produc¬
tive. The principal productions are sugar, molasses, rum,
coffee, cocoa, and oranges. The cultivation of cotton has
lately been introduced to a small extent, and has been found
to answer very well, particularly on land near the sea coast.
The principal staple products exported in the years ending
5th January 1852 and 5th January 1853 were as follows :—
1852. 1853.
Sugar   62,168 cwts, 65,788 cwts.
lium   30,927 galls. 35,794 galls.
Molasses    95,600 ,, 81,016 „
Coffee  58,063 lbs. 67,594 lbs.
Cocoa   33,884 „ 69.296 „
Lime juice   4,280 galls. 5,062 galls.
Arrow root   5,944 lbs. 3,525 lbs.
Oranges  1,019,800 1,354,020
Cotton Wool   2,000 lbs. 3,250 lbs.
The value of exports and imports, and the revenue for
the years 1849, 1850, and 1851, were as follows:—
1849. 1850. 1851.
Imports  L.50,616 L,57,656 L.71,828
Exports   48,070 58,265 62,527
Revenue   8,913 10,275 12,901
The population in 1844 was 22,200, of whom 11,604
were females. There are places of worship for Episcopa¬
lians, Methodists, and Roman Catholics. A board of edu¬
cation has recently been established. There are three free
schools in Roseau, and seven in other parts of the island,
having in all (1852) 1190 pupils. The principal harbours
are Roseau and Prince Rupert’s Bay.
DOMINICAL Letter, popularly called Sunday Let¬
ter, one of the seven letters A B C D E F G, used in al¬
manacks to denote the Sundays throughout the year. (See
Calendar, vol, vi. pp. 80, 81.) The word is formed from
Dominica or Dominicus dies, the Lord’s day. The domi¬
nical letters were introduced into the calendar by the pri¬
mitive Christians instead of the nundinal letters in the
Roman calendar.
Dominical, in Ecclesiastical History. The council of
Auxerre, held in 578, decreed that women should commu¬
nicate with their dominical. Some authors contend that
this signified a linen cloth in which they received the spe¬
cies, not being allowed to receive them in the bare hand;
while others suppose it was a kind of veil for the head.
The most probable account is, that it was a linen cloth in
which in times of persecution they received and preserved
the eucharist, to be taken upon occasion at home. That
this was the case appears by the practice of the first Chris¬
tians, and by Tertullian’s book Ad Uxorem.
DOMINICANS, an order of religious persons, called in
some places Jacobins, and in others Predicants or Preach¬
ing Friars.
The Dominicans took their name from their founder Do¬
minic de Guzman, a Spanish gentleman of Calahorra, in
Old Castile. He was first canon and archdeacon of Os-
suna ; and afterwards, as above stated, preached with great
zeal and vehemence against the Albigenses in Languedoc,
where he laid the first foundation of his order. It was ap¬
proved of in 1215 by Innocent III., and confirmed in 1216
by a bull of Honorius III. under the title of St Augustin.
Dominic afterwards added several austere precepts and ob¬
servances, obliging the brethren to take a vow of absolute
poverty, to abandon entirely all their revenues and posses¬
sions, and to assume the title of Preaching Friars, because
public instruction was the main object and end of their in¬
stitution.
100 DOM
Dominis. Their first convent was founded at Toulouse by the bishop
Wof that place and Simon de Montfort. Two years after¬
wards another was established at Paris, near the bishop’s
house; and some time subsequently a third in the Rue St
Jacques, whence the denomination of Jacobins.
Immediately before his death Dominic sent Gilbert de
Fresney, with twelve of the brethren, into England, where,
in 1221, they founded their first monastery at^ Oxford, and
soon afterwards another at London. In 12*6 the mayor
and aldermen of the city of London gave them two whole
streets by the river Thames, where they erected a very
commodious convent, whence that place is still. called
Black Friars, from the name by which the Dominicans
were called in England.
St Dominic at first only took the habit of the regular
canons, that is, a black cassock and rochet; but this he
quitted in 1219 for that which the order afterwards wore,
and which, it is pretended, was shown by the blessed Vir¬
gin herself to the beatified Renaud d’Orleans.
This order gradually diffused itself throughout the whole
known world. It had forty-five provinces under the ge¬
neral, who resided at Rome ; and twelve particular congre¬
gations or reforms, governed by twelve vicars general.
This order has produced three popes, above sixty car¬
dinals, several patriarchs, a hundred and fifty archbishops,
and about eight hundred bishops; besides masters of the
sacred palace, whose office has been constantly dischaiged
by a religious person of this order ever since the time of St
Dominic, who held it under Honorius III. in 1218.
Of all the monastic orders, none enjoyed a higher degree
of power and authority than the Dominican friars. Their
credit was great, and their influence universal. But the
measures which they used in order to maintain and extend
their authority were so perfidious and cruel, that towards
the beginning of the sixteenth century their influence began
to decline. ' The tragic fate of Jetzer, at Bern, in 1509,
which occurred there during an uninteresting dispute be¬
tween them and the Franciscans relating to the immacu¬
late conception, must ever reflect indelible infamy on this
order. An account of it will be found in Burnet’s Travels
through France, Italy, Germany, and Switzerland (p. 31),
and also in Mosheim’s Ecclesiastical History (vol. hi. p.
294, 8vo). They were indeed perpetually employed in
stigmatizing with the opprobrious name of heretic numbers
of learned and pious men; in encroaching upon the rights
and property of others, in order to augment their posses¬
sions ; and in laying the most iniquitous snares and strata¬
gems for the destruction of their adversaries. They were
also the principal counsellors by whose instigation and ad¬
vice Leo X. determined on the public condemnation of Lu¬
ther. The papal see never had more active and useful
abettors than this order and that of the Jesuits. As Nomi¬
nalists, Augustinians, and Thomists, the dogmas of the Domi¬
nicans w'ere keenly pitted against those of the Franciscans.
DOMINIS, Marc Antonio de, celebrated as a theolo¬
gian and natural philosopher, was born in the island of Arbe,
in 1566. He was educated in the order of the Jesuits, and
was raised from the bishopric of Segni to the archbishopric
of Spalatro. His endeavours to reform the church soon
after made him obnoxious to the papal authorities, and he
was compelled to leave his native country. Having become
acquainted with Bishop Bedell, whilst chaplain to Sir Henry
Wotton, ambassador from James I. at Venice, he commu¬
nicated to that prelate his books De Republica Ecclesiastica,
which were afterwards published at London, with Bedell’s
corrections. He came to England with Bedell, where he
was received with great respect, and preached and wrote
against the Roman Catholic religion. In 1619 he pub¬
lished at London Father Paul’s History of the Council oj
Trent, with a dedication to King James. But on the pro¬
motion of Pone Gregory XIV., who had been his school-
I) O N
fellow and old acquaintance, he was deluded by Gondomar Dominium
the Spanish ambassador into the hopes of procuring a car- Directum
dinal’s hat, and thus of proving an instrument of great re- Don”bue
formation within the church. Accordingly he returned to , ‘
Rome in 1622, recanted his errors, and was at first well
received ; but he afterwards wrote letters to England re¬
canting his recantation, and these being intercepted, he was
imprisoned by Pope Urban VIII. and died in 1625. He
is believed to have been the first to promulgate a true
theory of the rainbow.
DOMINIUM Directum, in Feudal Law, the right
which a superior retains in his lands, notwithstanding the
feudal grant to his vassal. The right which the vassal ac¬
quires in the lands by such grant is termed dominium utile.
DOMINO (Ital.), a long robe of black silk furnished
with a hood removable at pleasure, and used as a disguise
by persons of both sexes, chiefly at masquerades.
DOMINUS (Lat. lord, master), a title formerly prefixed
to a name, usually to denote that the person was either a
knight or a clergyman. The title was sometimes also given
to a gentleman not dubbed, especially if he were lord of a
manor. In Plolland the title dominus is still used to dis¬
tinguish a minister of the Reformed Church.
DOMITIAN, Roman emperor, reigned a.d. 81-96.
See Roman History.
DOMREMY LA PUCELLE, a small village of France,
department of Vosges, on the left bank of the Meuse, 7
miles north of Neufchateau. It is only remarkable as be¬
ing the birthplace and original residence of the famous Joan
ofArc. The house which she inhabited is still preserved;
and opposite to it a handsome monument surmounted by a
colossal bust of the heroine was erected in 1820.
DON, a title of honour. See Dom.
Don, a river of Scotland, Aberdeenshire, rising in Ben
Aven, near the N.W. boundary of the county, and after a
course of 62 miles falling into the German Ocean about a
mile and a half north of Aberdeen. Not far from its mouth
it is crossed by the “ Brig of Balgownie,” an old Gothic
one-arched bridge celebrated by Lord Byron ; and a little
farther down is a new bridge of five arches.
Don, a river of England, Yorkshire, rising upon Snails-
den-pike near the borders of Cheshire, a few miles W.N.W.
of Penistone, and falling into the Aire immediately below
Snaith, after a course of about 50 miles. By means of arti¬
ficial cuttings and canals it has been made navigable for 39
miles.
Don, a large river of Russia. See Russia.
Don Cossacks, land of, a province of Russia in Europe,
taking its name from the river Don, by which it is traversed.
It extends from N. Lat. 47. to 51., and from E. Long. 37.
20. to 44.45., and contains about 62,300 square miles. The
whole district is a plain, except on the S.E. part, where a
low range of hills, a continuation of the Caucasian range,
extends into the steppes. The soil is dry (consisting for the
most part of a sandy clay), and the pasturage scanty, but
near the river it is highly fertile. Besides the Don, it has
other streams which mostly empty themselves into that
river, but are in summer almost or wholly dry. Agriculture
is but little pursued, and the corn raised is barely sufficient
for the consumption. The breeding of cattle, especially of
horses, is the chief occupation. Even the poorer Cossacks
have from 5 to 10 horses, and many of the richer class from
500 to 1000. The fishing on the rivers and lakes is the
branch of industry next in importance to the breeding of
cattle. The feudal system prevails, the land is held by mili¬
tary tenure, and every man is a soldier. The country is divid¬
ed into seven circles. Pop. (1846) 704,300. See Cossacks.
DONABUE, in the British province of Pegu recently
acquired from the Burmese, a town situate within the delta
of the river Irrawaddy. This place merits notice chiefly
from its association with historical recollections. In 1825,
Donagha-
dee
II
Donaldson.
D 0 N
DON
101
during the first Burmese war, it maintained a successful re¬
sistance against the assault of a British force under the
command of Brigadier Cotton; and here in 1853, during
the last war with the same nation, a detachment of British
Sepoys, accompanied by a party of seamen and marines,
under the command of Captain Granville Lock, R.N., suf¬
fered a repulse in an encounter with a Burmese force, and
lost several officers, including its distinguished commander.
Lat. 17. 10., Long. 95. 27. (e. t.)
DONAGHADEE, a seaport and market town of Ire¬
land, county of Down, on the Irish Channel, 17 miles E.N.E.
of Belfast. Pop. (1851) 2821. The town is built in the
form of a crescent round the harbour. A new pier has re¬
cently been constructed, inclosing a basin of 7 acres in ex¬
tent, with a depth of 16 feet at low water, and having a
lighthouse at its extremity. It is not however a place of
much trade. The principal exports are cattle, grain, and
potatoes ; and the imports coal, culm, and herrings. Many
of the female inhabitants of the town are engaged in the
embroidery of muslin; and in the neighbourhood are numer¬
ous flax mills. A submarine telegraph has been established
between this town and Portpatrick in Scotland.
DONALDSON, Walter, a learned Scottish writer of
the seventeenth century, was a native of Aberdeen, but the
period of his birth has not been specified. His father was
Alexander Donaldson, who is denominated an esquire : his
mother was Elizabeth the daughter of David Lamb of Dun-
kenny.1 In his youth, as lie himself informs us, he attended
David Cunningham, bishop of Aberdeen, and Sir Peter
Young, during their embassy to the king of Denmark and
to some of the princes of Germany. He returned to Scot¬
land, but after a short residence he again visited the Conti¬
nent ; and he now prosecuted his studies in the university
of Heidelberg, where the civil law was ably taught by the
elder Gothofredus. It was perhaps in that university that
he took the degree of LL.D.2 While he resided at Heidel¬
berg, he appears to have taken private pupils; for he men¬
tions that he there read to seme students a synopsis of ethics,
which a young man named Werner Becker, a native of
Riga, published without his consent or knowledge. This
work, which was reprinted in Britain as well as in Germany,
bears the title of “ Synopsis Moralis Philosophise, m. libris
Ex officina Paltheniorum, 1604, 8vo. He likewise com¬
plains that Keckermann had too unscrupulously availed him¬
self of his labours, and he specifies a curious instance of this
plagiarism. Donaldson afterwards settled in France, where
he was appointed principal of the College of Sedan, and at
the same time discharged the duties of professor of moral
and natural philosophy, and of the Greek language ; so that
his attainments must have been various, and his labours not
inconsiderable. In this Protestant seminary he was asso¬
ciated with two of his learned countrymen : Andrew Mel¬
ville was one of the professors of divinity, and John Smith
was one of the professors of philosophy.3 His next publi¬
cation, an arrangement in Greek and Latin of passages ex¬
tracted from Diogenes Laertius, is entitled “ Synopsis Lo-
corum Communium, in qua Philosophise Ortus, Progressus,
&c. ex Diogene Laertio digeruntur.” Francof. 1612, 8vo.
At Sedan he continued to reside for the space of 16 years,
and was then invited to open a college at Charenton, near
Paris; but the attempt was immediately resisted, and it
seems to have been ultimately frustrated by the jealousy of
the Papists. In order to occupy himself during the depen¬
dence of the legal process, he prepared for the press another
learned work : “ Synopsis Oeconomica, authore G. Donald-
sono Scoto-Britanno, Abredonensi, J. C. ad eelsissimum
Carolum, Wallise Principem.” Paris, 1620, 8vo. It was
reprinted at Rostock, 1624, 8vo ; and another edition
speedily followed, Francofurti, 1625, 8vo. Bayle considered
this as a book which deserved to be read.4 With respect to
the subsequent history of the author we have not been able
to collect any information ; but it is not improbable that he
resumed his station at Sedan, and there ended his days.
Elizabeth Goffin, describing herself as the widow of Donald¬
son, addressed to Sir John Scott a letter dated at Sedan on
the 15th of April 1630.5 From this letter it appears that
he left several children. (d. i.)
DONARIUM, in Antiquity, was used to designate the
treasure chamber or place in a temple where the votive of¬
ferings were kept, and also the offering itself; and, by me¬
tonymy, was sometimes used to denote a temple, sanctuary,
or altar. The custom of making presents to the gods was
common to the Greeks and Romans ; and these gifts were
not only very various in kind, but frequently of the most
costly description, such as gold and silver ornaments, statues,
pictures, and, in short, everything that could enhance the
magnificence of the terrestrial habitations of the gods.
DONATION (Lat. donatio), an act or contract by
which a man transfers to another either the property or the
use of the whole or a part of his effects as a free gift.
DONATISTS, ancient schismatics in Africa, so deno¬
minated from their leader Donatus. This sect arose in
a.d. 311, when, in the room of Mensurius, who died in that
year on his return to Rome, Caecilian was elected bishop of
Carthage, and consecrated by the African bishops alone,
without the concurrence of those of Numidia. The people
refused to acknowledge him, and set up in opposition Ma-
jorinus, who, accordingly, was ordained by Donatus, bishop
of Casae Nigrae. The Donatists were condemned in a
council held at Rome tw o years after their separation;
again, in another held at Arles the year following; and a
third time at Milan in 316, before Constantine the Great,
who deprived them of their churches, sent their seditious
bishops into banishment, and even punished some of them
w ith death. Their cause was espoused by another Donatus,
called the Great, the {principal bishop of that sect, who, with
great numbers of his followers, was exiled by order of Con-
stans. Many of them were punished with great severity.
However, after the accession of Julian in 362, they were
permitted to return, and restored to their former liberty.
Gratian, however, in 377 deprived them of their churches,
and prohibited all their assemblies. Yet notwithstanding
the severities which they suffered, it appears that towards
the close of this century they had a very considerable num¬
ber of churches; but about the same time they began to
decline, on account of a schism among themselves, occa-
Donarium
II
Donatists.
1 Litera Prosapiae Alexandri Donaldson, Medicinae Doctoris, dated at Edinburgh 15th November 1642. This is the son of Walter
Donaldson. MS. Adv. Lib. W. 6. 26. p. 21. According to this account, one of his ancestors was Elizabeth Hay, daughter of George
Earl of Errol.
2 In the attested pedigree already quoted, we find mention made “ Walter! Donaldson, Armigeri, Utriusque Juris Doctoris apud
Ruppellam in Galliabut as Rochelle was not the seat of a university, we cannot but suspect the accuracy of the statement. A col¬
lege, including a principal and four regents, was established there in the year 1561; but it did not obtain the privileges of a university,
and had no law faculty, and no professor of law. (Expilly, Dictionnaire G Sographique, Historique, et Politique des Gaules et de la France,
tom. vi., p. 354.)
3 M'Crie’s Life of Melville, vol. ii., p. 420.
4 Bayle, Dictionnaire Historique et Critique, tom. ii., p. 1013.
(( Epistol* doctorum Virorum ad Jo. Scotum, No. 227. MS. Adv. Lib. In the pedigree, she is described as the legitimate daughter
Joannis Goffan de Mostancells prope seden, et Joan, de Hen.” For seden, we must apparently read Sedanum. The entire transcript,
which is in the hand-writing of Robert Myln, is far from being accurate. In the preceding line, Donaldson’s wife is called Hoffan. Her
real name appears to have been Goffin.
102
DON
DON
Donatus.
Donative sioned by the election of two bishops, in the room of Par-
11 menian, the successor of Donatus. One party elected Jrn-
mian, and were called Primianists, and another Maximian,
and were called Maximianists. Their decline was also
precipitated by the zealous opposition of St Augustin, and
by the violent measures which were pursued against them
by the Emperor Honorius, at the solicitation ot two coun¬
cils held at Carthage, the one in 404, and the other in 411.
Many of them were fined, the bishops were banished, and
some were put to death. The sect revived and multiplied
under the protection of the Vandals, who invaded Africa in
427, and took possession of this province ; but it sunk again
under new severities, when their empire was overturned in
534. Nevertheless they remained in a separate body till
the close of this century, when Gregory, the Roman pontiff,
succeeded in suppressing them, and there are few traces of
the Donatists to be found after this period. They were
distinguished by other appellations, as Circumcelhones,
Montenses or Mountaineers, Compiles, Rupitani, and so
on. They held three councils, or conciliabules, one at
Cyrta in Numidia, and two at Carthage.
'The primary errors of the Donatists consisted in holding
that baptism conferred out of the church, that is, out of theii
sect, was null (for which reason they re-baptized those who
joined their party from other churches, and re-ordained
their ministers), and that theirs was the only true, pure, and
holy church, all the rest of the churches being regarded
as prostitute and fallen. From the Donatist contioveisies,
the doctrine passed into the Catholic Church, that there
is no salvation beyond the pale of the church, and that
therefore men might be compelled to enter in. (Luke
xiv. 23). i j •
Donatus seems likewise to have inclined to the doctrine
of the Arians, with whom he was closely allied; and ac¬
cordingly St Epiphanius, Theodoret, and some others, ac¬
cused the Donatists of Arianism ; nor is it improbable that
the charge was well founded, because they were patronized
by the Vandals, who maintained that doctrine. But St
Augustin affirms that the Donatists, in this point, kept clear
of the errors of their leader.
DONATIVE (Lat. donativum), a present made by any
person ; called also gratuity.
The Romans made large donations to their soldiers, and
hence the soldiers in time became the masters of the Ro¬
mans. Julia Pia, wife of the Emperor Severus, is called on
certain medals mater castrorum, because of the care she
took of the soldiery, by interposing for the augmentation of
their donatives.
The donativum or gift to the soldiers was also called
conyiarium, though by post-Augustan writers generally the
latter term is used distinctively to signify a largess to the
people. Salmasius, in his notes to Lampridius s Life of
Heliogabalus, in mentioning a donative which that emperor
gave of three pieces of gold per head, observes, that this
was the common and legitimate rate of a donative. Casau-
bon, in his notes on the Life of Pertinax by Capitolinus,
observes, that Pertinax made a promise of 3000 denarii to
each soldier; also, that the legal donative was 20,000 denarii;
that it was not customai’y to give less, especially to the piae-
torian soldiers ; and that the centurions had double, and the
tribunes more in proportion. i
Donative, in the canon law, a benefice given ana col¬
lated to a person by the founder or patron, without either
presentation, institution, or induction by the ordinary.
DONATORY, in Scotch Law, a donee of the crown ;
or one to whom property escheated to the crown is, on cer¬
tain conditions, made over.
DONATUS, TElius, a celebrated grammarian of the
fourth century, the author of a grammar, and also of Notes
on Terence and Virgil: lie taught rhetoric at Rome, where
he had as his pupil the famous St Jerome. From the cele¬
brity of his grammar, his name was in the middle ages used
as a synonyme for that study. „ „ , . , r ^
DONAUESCHINGEN, a town of Baden, circle of the
Lake, on the Brigach, 46 miles N.W. of Constance. Pop.
3000. In the court of the palace of the Prince ot rursten-
berg is a spring, which some consider to be the source of
the Danube. See Danube.
DONAUWERTH, or Donaitworth, a town of Ba¬
varia, in the circle of Suabia, on the Danube, which is here
crossed by a bridge and receives the Wernitz ; 25 miles N.
of Augsburg. Pop. 2700, principally employed in the
raising of flax, hemp, and hops, and in trading by means of
the Danube. The town is well built and surrounded by
walls. It was formerly a free town of the empire, but since
1607 it has been in the possession of Bavaria. In the
vicinity Marlborough gained a signal victory over the Ba¬
varians in 1704.
DONCASTER, a municipal borough and market-town
of England, in the west riding of Yorkshire, situated on
the right bank of the Don, here crossed by two bridges, 36
miles S. by W. of York. It was the Danum of Antoninus,
and was called by the Saxons Dona Castre, whence its pre¬
sent name is derived. The town stands on the Watling
Street of the Romans; and coins, urns, and other Roman
remains are occasionally dug up in the neighbourhood. It
received its first charter of incorporation from Richard I.
Under the new act it is divided into three wards, and
governed by a mayor, six aldermen, and eighteen council¬
lors. Doncaster is one of the cleanest and most agreeable
towns in the kingdom. Among the public buildings the
principal are the mansion house, a handsome structure, used
for meetings of the corporation, concerts, &c., and which
cost about L.10,000; Christ Church, erected in 1827-8,
for which a sum of L.13,000 was bequeathed by the late
J. Jarratt, Esq., a native of this place ; the town-hall, gaol,
theatre, market-house, &c. The parish church of St Geoige
was a spacious and elegant structure surmounted by a fine
tower 141 feet high ; but it was recently burned down and
is at present (1854) in course of being rebuilt. There are
a grammar and other schools, a public library, savings-bank,
dispensary, union workhouse, Yorkshire institution for the
deaf and dumb, and numerous public charities. About a
mile S.E. of the town is the race-ground where the cele¬
brated Doncaster races are held annually in the third week
of September. They continue for five days. Hie grand
stand is a magnificent and commodious edifice. Doncaster
has several iron and brass foundries, and manufactories of
sacking and linen. Market-day Saturday. The corn mar¬
ket is one of the largest in the kingdom. Pop. (1851)
12,052.
DONEGAL, a maritime county in the extreme N.W.
of Ireland, in the province of Ulster ; bounded on the N.
and Wh by the Atlantic Ocean ; on the E. by Londonderry,
or more strictly Lough Foyle, the Foyle river, and Tyrone ;
on the S. by the Bay of Donegal, and the counties of Fer¬
managh and Leitrim. According to the ordnance survey,
it comprises an area of 1865 square miles, or 1,193,443
acres; of which 393,191 are arable, 769,587 uncultivated,
7079 in plantations, 479 in towns, and 23,107 under water.
Donegal, in Irish Dun-na-ngall, or the fortress of the fo¬
reigners, probably so named from a fortress erected here by
the Danes, was anciently called Tir-conaill, or the country
of Conall; and it was sometimes called O’Donnell s country,
after the head chieftains of the district. The other chief¬
tains of note were the 0’Doghertys,MacSweeneys, O’Boyles,
O’Gallaghers, O’Gormleys, O’Breslins, &c. Tyrconnell is
connected with some of the earliest events recorded in Irish
history or tradition. The chief castle of the O’Donnells,
who became princes of Tyrconnell in the twelfth century,
was at Donegal, and the place of their inauguration the rock
of Doune in Kilmacrenan. The celebrated Red Hugh
Donaues-
chingen
Donegal.
VV
DONEGAL.
103
O’Donnell, one of the most distinguished chieftains of the
race, in conjunction with the Earl of Tyrone, became a
formidable opponent to the government of Queen Elizabeth;
but being ultimately defeated, he sailed to Spain to solicit
fresh succours, was there seized with fever, and died at Val¬
ladolid. Rory O’Donnel, who was promoted to the chief¬
tainship by the English government, and created Earl of
Tyrconnel, a title now extinct, became afterwards disaffected
to the government and fled to Rome, where he died in
exile, his estates having been previously confiscated by
James I. In 1608, Sir Cahir O’Dogherty, lord of Innis-
howen, deceived by hopes of aid from Spain, raised an in¬
surrection against the English government in Ulster. He
burnt Londonderry and maintained his ground for a short
period ; but the Lord-deputy Chichester having offered a
reward for his head, he retired to the wilds of Kilmacrenan,
and was shot by a Scotch settler in his encampment on the
rock of Doune. His extensive estates were confiscated and
transferred to Chichester, the able governor of Ireland at
that time, and ancestor of the earls and marquises of Do¬
negal. Shortly afterwards, the colonization of Ulster with
English and Scotch undertakers and settlers, in pursuance
of the scheme of James L, was partially carried out, and the
baronies of Boylagh and Bannagh were allotted to John
Murray; Sir James Cunningham, Sir John Stewart, and other
Scotch undertakers, received the district of Portlough; the
London Grocers’ Company obtained Muff in Innishowen ;
Sir Roger Bingley, Sir John Kingsmill, and other English
settlers the district round Lifford ; Sir William Stewart, Sir
John Kingsmill, Sir George Macburie, Captain Hart, Sir
M. M‘Swine, Turlogh Roe O’Boyle, MacSwine Bannagh,
MacSwine Fannet, and other servitors and natives the dis¬
trict of Kilmacrenan. Since the period of the settlement of
Ulster, no forfeitures have taken place in this county. The
landholders remained loyal in the rebellion of 1641, and also
during the war of the Revolution.
This district was formed into the county of Donegal in
the reign of Queen Elizabeth, a.d. 1585, by the Lord-de¬
puty Sir John Perrott. It is now divided into six baronies,
viz., in the N. Innishowen, which is peninsulated by Loughs
Foyle and Swilly, and the mountainous Kilmacrenan ; in
the W. Boylagh ; in the E. Raphoe, including the best
land in the county; in the S. Bannagh, a mountainous ba¬
rony and Tyrhugh, containing the towns of Donegal and
Ballyshannon. These six baronies are subdivided into fifty-
one parishes, comprising the entire diocese of Raphoe, and
small portions of the dioceses of Derry and Clogher. The
union workhouses are at Ballyshannon, Donegal, Dunfa-
naghy, Glenties, Innishowen, Letterkenny, Milford, and Stra-
norlar. Portions of the county are included in the neigh¬
bouring unions of Strabane and Londonderry. The net an¬
nual value of property rated to the poor is L.267,398; and the
amount of property valued under the 6th and 7th William
IV., cap 84 (Griffith’s Valuation), L.225,049. The county
is in the Belfast military district, with barracks for infantry
at Lifford and at Ballyshannon, where the staff of the county
militia is stationed. The constabulary force, consisting of
275 officers and men, has its headquarters at Letterkenny;
the district stations are at Buncrana, Ballyshannon, Carn-
donagh, Glenties, Dunfanaghy, Killybegs, Raphoe, and Ra-
melton. This county, as being the chief seat of illicit distil¬
lation in Ireland, affords occupation to a considerable por¬
tion of the revenue police, namely, to 220 men and officers,
at 18 different stations.
The towns are small in extent and importance. Lifford,
the county town, “ the smallest of county towns,” and for¬
merly a parliamentary borough, is practically nothing more
than a suburb of Strabane, in the neighbouring county of
Tyrone, which derives all the advantages properly belong¬
ing to the county town of Donegal; and in the same man-
mer the trade of Londonderry is swelled into greater mag¬
nitude by monopolizing that of the county of Donegal, Donegal,
which is deficient in the means requisite for carrying on its Vs—
own commerce. Ballyshannon (population 3697) is the
most populous and important town in the county. It stands
on both sides of the noble river Erne, but has not yet de¬
rived much advantage from its favourable situation, in con¬
sequence of the fall of the river, usually called the Salmon
Leap, above the town, and the bar at the mouth of the
harbour. Were these impediments to its prosperity re¬
moved, as it is supposed they might be, the first by a canal
four miles in length, and the other by a change in the posi¬
tion of the harbour, Ballyshannon would become an im¬
portant commercial town. Letterkenny, with 1947 inha¬
bitants, is next to Ballyshannon the largest town in the
county. Rathmelton and Killybegs are inconsiderable sea¬
ports : and Donegal, which, instead of Lifford, should have
been the county town, is of insignificant extent. It is situ¬
ated at the foot of a range of magnificent hills in the midst
of scenery of great natural beauty, with a mineral spa of the
same quality as that of Harrogate, and sea-bathing close
to the town. “ Were all the advantages of scenery, loca¬
lity, bathing, and cheapness of living, which this town pos¬
sesses, connected with any English town, it would not be
long before it was a second Brighton, or Bath, or Chelten¬
ham.”—Foster’s Letters on the Condition of the People of
Ireland.
This county returned no fewer than twelve members to
the Irish parliament; two for the county at large, and two
for each of the insignificant boroughs of Ballyshannon,
Donegal, Killybegs, Lifford, and Johnstown. Since the
union with Great Britain, it has been represented in the
imperial parliament by two county members only.
The population of Donegal, according to the different
enumerations taken by authority of parliament, has been
returned as follows :—
Year. Population.
1821  248,270
1831  289,149
1841  296,448
1851  255,160
The manners and habits of the people differ according
to the local circumstances of the districts they inhabit.
The lowland and fertile districts are chiefly peopled by an
industrious and comfortable yeomanry, composed of small
farmers and artizans, whose modes of life differ little from
those in similar circumstances in the adjoining counties. In
the mountainous and less cultivated tracts the want of free
intercourse, and the consequent tardy spread of manufac¬
turing and agricultural improvement, have occasioned a
corresponding backwardness in education and civilization.
“ If you enter their cabins and converse with them frankly
and kindly, you will find the people intelligent and commu¬
nicative, quick to comprehend, and ready to impart what
they know. Small holdings and minute subdivisions of
land prevail in Donegal to a greater extent than I have
found in any other part of Ireland; and the consequent
growth of population has been there so great as to press
hard upon the productive powers of the soil, and to depress
the condition of the people to nearly the lowest point in the
social scale, exposing them, under the not unfrequent con¬
tingency of an unfavourable season, or a partial failure of
the potato crop, to the most dreadful privations. ... Yet
with all this suffering, no disturbance or act of violence has
occurred in Donegal.”—Second Report of Mr Nicholls,
Poor-Law Commissioner, 1837.
The houses, particularly in the mountainous parts, are
mean, and very little attention is paid to cleanliness. The
pigs and cattle, if any, are not unffequently housed along
with the family. The fuel used by the people is every¬
where turf; their food, potatoes and oaten bread, with milk
and butter occasionally, and fish if near the sea. The men
104
Donegal.
DONEGAL.
are clothed in home-made frieze; the women, chiefly in cheap
cottons. The Irish language still maintains its ground m
the retired parts, though its use is every year diminishing.
Adepts in the language consider the dialect spoken in this
county as the purest known.
The state of instruction in the county of Donegal may
be deduced from the following statement relating to the
population above the age of five yeais.
1851.
Could read and write...
Could read only 
Could neither read nor
write 
Rural
Districts.
Civic
Districts.
47,415
47,168
129,147
1640
1121
1715
Total.
49,055
48,289
130,862
Proportion per cent
Males.
29
19
52
Females,
15
23
62
This return exhibits a state of education much lower
than that of any other county in Ulster. Yet crime, which
is sometimes supposed to be in proportion to the ignorance
of the population, is by no means frequent in Donegal; for
although backward in the knowledge of the useful arts, the
people°are stained with few of the vices which indicate a
demoralized state of society. The most common offences
against the laws are connected with the practice of illicit
distillation. The nature of the country peculiarly favours
the operations of the unlicensed distillers, whose occupation
is facilitated by an abundant supply of fuel and numerous
inaccessible retreats, where they are able, by setting watches
on the hills, to gain sufficient time to sink their tubs in the
lake near at hand, knock off the head of the worm, and
carry off the wort and whisky to the other side of the lake,
before the revenue police could reach the scene of their
operations.
In addition to the mountainous district, a considerable
portion is high bog and moor land, making the general cha¬
racter of the surface of the county highland, inferior in ele¬
vation and grandeur to the Scottish highlands, but partak¬
ing of their nature, with a much larger proportion of bog
land. The mountains and irregular groups of highlands
occupy the whole interior of the county, sloping from Bel-
leck on the border of Fermanagh in the south to Barnes-
more hills northwards, turning westwards along the sea-coast
by Killibegs to the great promontory of Tellen Head, from
thence spreading northwards over the waste expanse of the
Rosses round by the northern coast to Lough Swilly, and
through Innishowen barony to Malin Head andGreencastle,
rising occasionally to a considerable altitude. Arrigal moun¬
tain attains an elevation of 2462 feet above the level of the
sea, and commands from its summit a fine panoramic view
over a considerable portion of the county. Bluestack
(2213 feet), Muckish mountain (2190 feet), in Kilmacrenan
barony, and Slieve Snaght (2019), in Innishowen, are, next
to Arrigal, the highest mountains. The eastern and south¬
ern portions of the county are comparatively level, and con¬
tain the most fertile land. Occasionally the scenery attains
a character of savage and romantic grandeur in the high¬
land districts and on the sea-coast, and of much beauty in
the eastern part of the county; but a considerable portion
of the surface, disfigured by bogs, entirely destitute oi tim¬
ber, and partaking of sombre sameness, may be described,
in the language of the first Lord Bristol, as presenting
“ nothing curious to engage admiration, and nothing horrid
enough to stare at.”
The main body of the county rests upon mica slate, which
forms the eastern districts and most of the barony of Ban-
nagh. From Sheephaven to Lochrusmore and the north¬
western coast, granite forms the surface rock, and quartz is
very abundant, often forming mountains of considerable
elevation. Carboniferous or mountain limestone occurs
round Donegal Bay. The geological aspect of the county
affords many indications of internal wealth, which are in
most cases but conjectural, very few attempts having been
made to ascertain more accurately the mineral resources of Donegal,
the district. The minerals hitherto discovered are lead and
iron. Mines of the latter of these metals were formerly
wrought in the parish of Templecarne, until relinquished in
consequence of the failure of timber for fuel. Manganese,
copper pyrites, and clay for potteries and brick-making, are
also found. Siliceous sand, raised in Muckish Mountain,
and rolled down in bags, was formerly conveyed in large
quantities to Belfast and Scotland for the manufacture of
glass. Indications of coal have been observed near Lough
Swilly, and at Inver on the southern coast; and marble of
fine quality is found in many places. Among the mountain
streams the pearl-mussel {llnio margaritifera) is some¬
times found.
With the exception of the tidal river Foyle, which forms
the boundary between this county and Tyrone and Lon¬
donderry, the rivers though numerous are of very inferior
size. The branches of the Foyle which rise in Donegal
are the Derg, issuing from Lough Derg, and the Swilly;
the Finn rising in the beautiful little lake ot the same name
in the highlands, and passing through some of the best cul¬
tivated land in the county. The Foyle, augmented by
their contributions, and by those of several other branches
from Tyrone and Londonderry, proceeds northwards, dis¬
charging its waters into the southern extremity of Lough
Foyle, at the city of Londonderry. It is navigable for ves¬
sels of large burden to this place, where their farther pro¬
gress is prevented by a bridge ; and thence by lighters of
fifty tons as far as Lifford. Boats of fourteen tons can pro¬
ceed up the Finn river as far as Castlefinn. The fine river
Erne flows from Lough Erne through the southern extre¬
mity of the county into the southern extremity of Donegal
Bay. Its navigation is prevented by a fall ot 12 feet, gene¬
rally called the Salmon Leap, in the neighbourhood of Bally-
shannon, and by rapids between Ballyshannon and Belleck,
on the confines of Fermanagh. Schemes for opening the
navigation to the sea have been formed, but never carried
out. The Guibarra, the Awen Ea, and the Eask, are the
only other streams of any note.
Lakes, or rather loughlets, are very numerous in Donegal.
The most remarkable, and also the largest in the county, is
Lough Derg, comprising within its waters several small islets,
on one of which, Station Island, is the cave named Saint
Patrick’s Purgatory, a celebrated place of resort for pil¬
grims and devotees—the victims of ignorance and supersti¬
tion. The penances consist of constant prayer, fasting, and
vigils. The circumference of the lake is about nine miles,
and less than one acre is the extent of the island to which
the pilgrims are ferried over. “ Stowed like so many brutes
in the bottom of the boat from front to stern—the master
shoving and pushing them as he would a drove of pigs—no
one could contemplate the scene without being forcibly^
reminded of the paintings of Charon and his cargo of
damned.” (I?iglis.) The landscape around Lough Derg is
desolate and sombre in the extreme. Barren moors and
heathy hills, possessing neither form nor elevation, surround
it on all sides, without one green spot, house, or tree, to
refresh the eye. The other lakes are worthy ot note only
as being the sources of most of the rivers of the county.
The county of Donegal possesses a large extent ot sea-
coast indented by numerous bays and inlets. Ballyshannon
harbour, the most southern of them, is small, and has a bar
at its mouth, as have Donegal and Inver harbours farther
west. Killibegs harbour is well sheltered, and capable of
receiving large vessels. On the wrestern coast are Bruckles
or M‘Swiney’s Bay, and Tellen harbour, suitable for small
vessels; and on the north is Sheephaven, within which is
Dunfanaghy Bay, where the largest ships may lie in safety,
as they may also in Mulroy Bay, farther east. Lough Foyle,
which divides Donegal from Londonderry, is a noble sheet
of water, but shallow and dry at ebb tide, contracted at its
DONEGAL.
105
Donegal, entrance, and encumbered with shoals. A few miles from
Malin Head, the most northerly portion of the mainland of
Ireland, the varied and extensive Lough Swilly runs far into
the interior. From these two loughs much land has of late
years been reclaimed.
Numerous islands, islets, and isolated rocks stud the coast
of Donegal. The largest is Arranmore or North A rran, about
fifteen miles in circumference, with a lofty hill in its centre,
and a gradual declivity down to the sea. On another of
the Arran group of islands Innismacdurn, a town named
Rutland, with stores and curing houses, was built in the
last century, and the herring fishery cultivated with spirit;
but the fishery having declined, the place is now in a ruin¬
ous condition. On the northern coast are Tory Island, on
which is one of those singular round towers marking the
holy places of ancient times, and Innistrahul the ultima
Thule of Ireland. The inhabitants of the islands obtain a
precarious livelihood by fishing, kelp-burning and rude hus¬
bandry, but are often reduced to extreme destitution.
The fishery districts of the county are—Dunfanaghy,
Killibegs, and Carne, together comprising 395 miles of
maritime boundary, employing about 2000 vessels and 9000
men and boys. In the project for the plantation of Ulster,
drawn up in the early part of the reign of James I., twenty-
five places in this county are named as being approved sta¬
tions for the salmon, herring, and ling fishery. The prin¬
cipal salmon fishery at present is at Ballyshannon.
There are several mineral springs in the county, the chief
of which is the sulphureo-chalybeate water at Killymard,
adjoining the town of Donegal and of considerable local
celebrity.
The modes of agriculture present little peculiar to the
county, and the spade still supplies the place of the plough
where the rocky nature of the surface prevents the applica¬
tion of the latter implement. The soil of the greater por¬
tion of the county, i.e. the granite, quartz, and mica slate
districts, is thin and cold, while that on the carboniferous
limestone is warm and friable. The number of holdings
exceeding one acre in extent, in 1852 was 31,607; in 1853,
31,139—being a decrease of 468. In 1853 the number of
cottier tenements or holdings which do not exceed one acre
in extent, have somewhat increased in number over those
of the previous year.
The division of land into holdings during the years 1852
and 1853 was as follows:—
The extent of land under crops in 1853 was 236,097
acres, being 792 or 3 per cent, less than in 1852; which
year, however, showed an increase of 4T per cent, over the
year preceding.
The crops on the land were divided in the following
manner:—
1852   122,286
1853   118,547
37,331
39,221
Turnips, Man¬
gold-Wurzel,
&c.
18,385
18,876
Cabbage,
&c.
1945
1832
21,604
25,610
35,338
32 011
The total produce of corn, beans, and peas in 1853 was
76,688 tons, or an average of 673 lbs. per head, being 27
lbs. per head below the average of all Ireland: that of pota¬
toes averaged 181 stones per head (41 stones above the
general average), or a total produce of 2,307,993 barrels.
VOL. VIII.
Ot the 32 counties of Ireland arranged in the order of the Donegal,
condition of their farms as to cultivation, Donegal stands
number 30 on the list, and number 28 in the comparison of
the state of the road-sides as to the growth of weeds. The
live stock in the county, m 1852, on 31,607 holdings, con¬
sisted of 23,025 horses, 1946 mules and asses, 149,852
cattle, 88,410 sheep, 17,731 pigs, 2946 goats, and 314,265
poultry, of the total value of L.1,289,750. The estimated
value of stock in 1841 was L.882,203.
In proportion to its extent, Donegal contains a larger
portion of uncultivated land, and a smaller area occupied by
towns or plantations, than any other county in Ireland. On
the authority of Mr Griffiths, the general valuation com¬
missioner, and the commissioners of inquiry into the occu¬
pation of land in Ireland, it is stated as matter admitting of
no doubt, that, notwithstanding the wetness of the soil, and
the nature of the subsoil, “ vast tracts may be easily re¬
claimed by the expenditure of a moderate capital, and the
introduction of additional labourers. From a careful exa¬
mination, it ivould appear that Donegal contains about
760,000 acres of unimproved and uncultivated land, 253,000
of which are situated at elevations which exceed 800 feet
above the level of the sea; and, in such a climate, unless
in favoured and sheltered spots, cultivation should not be
attempted at elevations exceeding 800 feet. It is probable
that, within the limits of the county of Donegal, there are
about 150,000 acres which might be improved for cultiva¬
tion, 250,000 acres might be drained and thus rendered
available for the rearing of young cattle, and 369,000 acres
of mountain land which it is probable would not repay the
expense of draining.” The reclamation of these 150,000
acres capable of being improved for cultivation would afford
both present and future employment for the entire labour¬
ing population, increase the means of tenant farmers, and
in addition to these advantages create a considerable rental
for land now almost worthless. In some instances the pro¬
cess has been successfully carried out in spite of the tor¬
pidity and prejudice of the population, who are accustomed
to regard as of paramount importance the amount of rent
rather than the value or capabilities of the land for improve¬
ment. A remarkable and instructive instance of what may
be accomplished in the most remote districts, and under
great disadvantages, is recorded in Lord George Hill’s
work, “ Facts from Gweedore,” describing the circumstances
of a large estate, exceeding 23,000 acres, in this county, the
condition of its inhabitants, and the means employed to
convert a property and community from a state of utter
neglect, poverty, and disorganization, into one of order and
comfort.
Gweedore is situated in the remote north-western portion
of the county, in the midst of wild and magnificent moun¬
tain scenery, and when purchased by Lord George Hill,
was almost wholly uncultivated, but in part thickly peopled,
the population being in the most poverty-stricken condition;
“ famine was periodical among them, with fever as its at¬
tendant, and wretchedness pervaded the district.” The
land was held in rundale, i.e. a tenant had his proportion
of a town-land sometimes in thirty or forty different places,
each tenant considering himself entitled to a portion of each
various quality of land, and the man who had some good
land at one extremity was sure to have some bad at the
other, and a bit of middling in the centre, and bits of other
quality in odd corners, each bounded by his neighbour’s hold¬
ings. Rents were almost nominal, and they were collected at
fairs in small sums as they could be got; often no receipt be¬
ing given, and no accurate account kept. There were arrears
of eight, ten, and even twenty years’ standing, and many
lived on the estates who were quite unknown. The rents
in fact were so small, numerous, and difficult to be obtained,
that they were not worth the trouble and expense of col¬
lecting. There were no fences between the small patches
o
106
Doneraile.
DON
of land; and “ fights, trespasses, confusion, disputes, assaults,
and litigation, were the natural and unavoidable conse¬
quences of this system ” There was neither inn, road, nor
market within a dozen miles, and the only alternative there¬
fore was for the people to distil their grain into whisky. The
people had become so far degenerated as to be reconciled
to the state of things, and the chief obstacles to improve¬
ment were found in their ignorance and prejudices ; yet, by
skilful management and perseverance, this portion of the
county has been raised to a state of comparative indepen¬
dence. Notwithstanding much neglect, there are many
other instances of improvement in this county ; prominent
among which is Sir Charles Style’s estate of Cloghan
(16,000 acres), in Glenfinn, not many years ago an un¬
cultivated waste, inhabited by potheen makers, but now
annually covered with rich crops.
Iii Donegal, as in other counties of Ulster, the linen
manufacture affords employment for many of the people,
especially in the neighbourhood of the Foyle and about
Raphoe, Letterkenny, Stranorlar, and also to some extent
near Ballyshannon. There are many corn mills in the county,
but the export trade is carried on through the port of Lon¬
donderry.
Numerous ruins of ancient castles along the coast prove,
that much attention was formerly paid to the defence of
the country from invasion, or, what was more to be dreaded,
piratical depredations. The principal are Kilbanon Castle,
an ancient stronghold of the O’Clerys, near Ballyshannon ;
Donegal Castle, built by the O’Donells, anciently their
chief residence, and now a fine ruin standing close to the
water’s edge; Burt Castle, built in the reign of Henry VIII.
on the shores of Lough Swilly by Sir Cahir O’Dogherty,
to whom is also attributed the erection of Green Castle,
one of the strongholds of the clan on Lough Foyle. Near
the Castle of Doe, or M‘Swiney’s Castle, at Horn Head, is
a natural perforation in the roof of a cave, called M‘Swiney s
Gun, wrought by the workings of the ocean into the over¬
hanging cliff. When the wind blows due north, and the
tideMS at half flood, the gun is seen to spout up jets of water
to a height of 100 feet, attended with explosions heard oc¬
casionally in favourable weather at an immense distance.
Culmore Fort, on the coast of Lough Swilly, supposed to
have been erected by the O’Doghertys, haying come into
the possession of the crown, was granted in 1609 to the
corporation of London. It was afterwards enlarged or rebuilt,
and acted a prominent part in the celebrated siege of Derry.
It is, and has been for the last century and a half, unoccu¬
pied as a military station, although the governorship of Cul¬
more and Londonderry is still continued as a post of honour
and emolument.
Traces of religious houses, some existing only in tradi¬
tionary or documental records, are also numerous. Ashroe
Abbey, on a small stream near Ballyshannon, was of great
extent. The ruins of that of Donegal, founded in 1474,
also afford proofs of its ancient grandeur. But its memory
will be held in veneration by the lovers of antiquity as the
place in which was written the celebrated collection of an¬
cient Irish annals, still known by the name of the Annals
of the Four Masters, and sometimes called the Annals of
Donegal, compiled in the year 1632, by Michael O’Clery
and his learned coadjutors, fellow brothers in that house, at
the instigation and expense of Fergal O’Gara, lord of Moy
O’Gara and Coolavin, in the county of Sligo. The original
of this curious and valuable manuscript is now in the library
of the Royal Irish Academy. (h. s—R.)
DONERAILE, a market-town of Ireland, county of
Cork, on the Awbeg, here crossed by a handsome stone
bridge, 6 miles N.N.E. of Malone, and 23 miles N.N.W. of
Cork. It is a small but neat town, with a parish church, a
spacious Roman Catholic chapel, a nunnery, courthouse,
and dispensary. Pop. (1851) 1856, Previous to the Union
DON
it sent two members to the Irish parliament. About two Dongola
miles N. of the town are the ruins of Kilcolman Castle, at ||
one time the residence of the poet Spenser. Donne.
DONGOLA, a province of Nubia, extending along the W'*-'
banks of the Nile, from about 18. to 19. 30. N. Lat., but
having generally a breadth of only from 1 to 3 miles. It is
chiefly famous for its horses, which rival in beauty the finest
Arabian breeds, besides being larger, and having more bone.
The principal towns are New and Old Dongola.
Dongola, New, or Marakah, stands on the left bank of
the Nile, in Lat. 19. 7. 30. N-, and Long. 29. 54. 35. E.,
according to Linant; but according to Riippell, in Lat. 19.
10. 19. N., Long. 30. 22. 15. E. It has taken its rise within
the last forty years ; and is now a considerable town, and a
resting-place for the caravans from Kordofan and Senaar.
The bazaar is well supplied with shoes, printed cottons, cali¬
coes, rice, sugar, coffee, hardware, &c.from Cairo. It has large
barracks, and a manufactory for indigo. Pop. about 6000.
Dongola, Old, lies to the S. of the preceding, on the
right bank of the Nile. It was formerly a place of some
importance, but is now in ruins, and does not contain more
than 300 inhabitants. The sand has accumulated here in
such quantities, as in many parts to conceal the houses, while
others of them are only accessible by the roof.
DONGURPORE, in Hindustan, a town, the chief place
of a petty native state of the same name, situate in the pro¬
vince of Rajpootana. This territory extends from Lat. 23.35.
to 24. 3., and from Long. 73. 40. to 74. 18. It contains
an area of 1000 square miles, and its population is estimated
at 100,000. Its chief is descended from a branch of the
Odeypore family, whose ancestors became dependent on
the emperor of Delhi, and so continued until subjugated by
the Mahrattas, from whose yoke the country was rescued
by the British. The treaty by which the British connec¬
tion was established with this state was concluded in 1818.
The town of Dongurpore is distant north from Bombay 345
miles. Lat. 23. 50. Long. 73. 50. (e. x.)
DONJON, or Dungeon, the principal tower in an¬
cient castles, underneath which there were vaults in which
prisoners were confined. It was likewise called the Keep.
See Castle.
DONNE, Dr John, a poet and divine, was born at
London in 1573. His parents were of the Roman Catholic
faith, and used their utmost efforts to keep him firm in the
same persuasion ; but an early examination of the contro¬
versy between the Church of Rome and the Protestants de¬
termined him to adhere to the creed of the latter. After
having prosecuted the study of law for some time at Lin¬
coln’s Inn, he travelled into Italy and Spain, where he
learned the languages of both countries to perfection. Soon
after his return to England, Sir Thomas Egerton, keeper of
the great seal, appointed him his secretary; and in this
post Donne continued five years. Having however married
privately Anne, the daughter of Sir George Moore, then
chancellor of the garter, and niece to the lord keeper’s
lady, he was dismissed from his situation at the instiga¬
tion of his father-in-law, and thrown into prison. But he
was afterwards reconciled to Sir George by the good offices
of Sir Francis Wooley. In 1612 he accompanied Sir Ro¬
bert Drury to Paris. During this time many of the nobi¬
lity solicited the king to give him some secular employment.
But James I., who took pleasure in his conversation, and
was highly delighted with his Pseudo-Martyr, a polemic
treatise against Catholicism, printed at London in 1610,
prevailed on the author to enter into holy orders, and ap¬
pointed him one of his chaplains. He also procured him
the degree of doctor of divinity from the university of Ox¬
ford. In 1619 Dr Donne attended the Earl of Doncaster
in his embassy into Germany. In 1621 he was made dean
of St Paul’s ; and the vicarage of St Dunstan in the West
soon afterwards fell to him. Besides the work above men-
DOR
Donny- tioned, he wrote Devotions upon emergent Occasions ; the
brook Ancient History of the Septuagint, translated from th e Greek
II of Aristeas, 1633, 12mo ; Three volumes of Sermons, 1640,
Dorchester, 1660, folio ; A Treatise against suicide, entitled Bia-
thanatos ; and Poems.
Donne’s writings show him to have been a man of wit and
learning; but he chiefly excelled in satire. Lord Falkland,
no mean judge, styles him one of the most witty and most
eloquent of modern divines. His reputation as a poet was
higher in his own time than it has been since. Dryden,
with his usual judgment and discrimination, characterizes
him as “ the greatest wit, though not the best poet, of our
own nation and adds, that “ he affects metaphysics, not
only in his satires, but in his amorous verses, where nature
only should reign, and perplexes the minds of the fair sex
with nice speculations of philosophy, when he should en¬
gage their hearts and entertain them with the softness of
love.” Donne’s numbers, if they may be so called, are cer¬
tainly the most rugged and uncouth of any of our poets ; yet
he was certainly not ignorant nor unskilled in the higher attri¬
butes of style, for he wrote elegantly in Latin, and displays
considerable taste in some of his smaller pieces and epigrams.
DONNYBROOK. See Dublin, County of
DOOMSDAY Book. See Domesday Book.
BOON, a small river of Ayrshire, Scotland, immortalized
by Burns. It rises in Loch Doon, a lake about 6 miles in
length and f ths of a mile in breadth ; and after a course of
18 miles falls into the Firth of Clyde, 3 miles S. of Ayr.
DOORNIK, the Flemish name of Tournai. See
Tournai.
DOOSHAK, a town of Afghanistan. See Jelalabad.
DOR, the English name of the black beetle, or the hedge-
chafer, a species of Scarabaeus.
DORADO, a southern constellation of six stars, not visi¬
ble in our latitude. It is also called xiphias.
DORAK, or Felahi, a town of Persia, province of
Khuzistan, situated in low and marshy ground, on two
branches of the river Jerahi, 75 miles S. of Shuster. It is
surrounded by mud walls about 2 miles in circumference, 16
feet thick, and flanked with towers. It contains few houses
within the walls, as the majority of the people prefer living
in the suburbs, under the shade of date trees. Dorak is
celebrated for its manufacture of Arabian cloaks, which are
exported in great numbers, but it has little other trade.
Pop. about 8000.
DORCHESTER (the Durnovana of the Romans),a par¬
liamentary and municipal borough and market-town of Eng¬
land, capital of the county of Dorset, situated on an eminence
on the right bank of the Frome, 8 miles N. of Weymouth,
and 120 miles from London by railway. It is governed by
a mayor, four aldermen, and twelve councillors, and returns
two members to parliament. Pop. of burgh (1851) 6394.
Registered electors (1851-52), 432. The town, consist¬
ing chiefly of three spacious streets, is neat and pleasantly
situated, and is nearly surrounded by a fine avenue. St
Peter’s church is an ancient edifice in the perpendicular
style, containing some curious monuments. The grammar-
school has two exhibitions to St John’s College, Cambridge,
and one to either university. Of the other public buildings
the principal are, the town-hall, with market-house, shire-
hall, county jail and house of correction, theatre, and county
hospital. The cavalry barracks in the vicinity may also
be noticed. There are also several almshouses and other
charities, and a savings-bank. Market-days, Wednesday
and Saturday. Its woollen manufacture was once consider¬
able ; but it is now noted principally for its ale. Dorches¬
ter is a place of considerable trade, and large sheep and
lamb fairs are held here annually. The borough includes
four parishes, All-Saints, St Peter’s, Holy Trinity, and For-
dington. In the vicinity there are some interesting Roman
remains, including an amphitheatre, the most perfect of its
DOR 107
kind in England. The seats for the spectators are formed Dorchester
of masses of chalk, rising 30 feet above the arena. This II
amphitheatre when perfect is supposed to have been capa- ^ or 0gn0‘
ble of accommodating 13,000 spectators. Durnovaria was
one of the principal stations in England of the Romans, by
whom it was surrounded with a wall and fosse ; part of the
former having been standing as late as 1802. Here Judge
Jeffries’s “bloody assize” was held in September 1685.
Dorchester (the ancient Durocind), a village, formerly a
market-town of Oxfordshire, situated at the junction of the
Thame with the Thames, 50 miles from London. In 635
it was made the seat of a bishopric, which was removed to
Lincoln in 1086. The church is a curious old building in
the Norman and later styles; it has a leaden font said to
be the most ancient of its kind in England; four brasses,
effigies of bishops; and a window of richly painted glass,
representing the genealogy of Christ from Jesse. Numerous
Roman remains have been found in the vicinity.
DORDOGNE, an inland department in the S.E. of
France, taking its name from its principal river the Dor¬
dogne, and formed out of the old province of Perigord, with
a small portion of Limousin. It is bounded on the N. by
Haute Vienne, W. by Charente and Charente-Inferieure,
S.W. by Gironde, S. by Lot-et-Garonne, and E. by Lot
and Correze. It extends from 44. 35. to 45. 42. N. Lat.,
and from 0. 0. to 1. 28. E. Long., being about 77 miles in
length from N. to S., and 69 in breadth from E. to W. In
extent it is only exceeded by the departments of Gironde
and Landes, its area being 2,261,781 acres, or 3534 square
miles. It is divided into five arrondissements, with cantons,
communes, and population, as follows :—
Cantons. Communes. Pop. 1851.
Perigueux  9 116 110,748
Bergerac  13 187 118,247
Nontron  8 87 86,697
Riberac  7 93 73,177
Sarlat  10 146 116,920
47 629 505,789
This department belongs almost wholly to the basin of
the Dordogne; and, though it has no mountains properly so
called, it is very hilly, the greater part of it being covered by
low projections of the Limousin and Auvergne mountains.
The highest elevations are in the S.E., but even there they
do not exceed 650 feet in height. Dordogne is formed by
the union of two mountain streams, the Dor and the Dogne,
which rise in Mont d’Or, Puy-de-D6me, and unite after
a short course. It flows westward through the departments
of Correze, Lot, Dordogne, and Gironde, and after a course
of 250 miles (for 180 miles of which it is navigable), joins
the Garonne 13 miles N. of Bordeaux. Its principal af¬
fluents are the Vezere and the Isle, both of which are in
this department. The climate is on the whole agreeable
and healthy, but rather humid, the winter and spring being
generally rainy. The prevailing win'Is are from the north
and west. A great part of the department consists of arid
heaths and wastes incapable of cultivation. Sufficient corn,
however, is grown for home consumption. About one-tenth
of its entire surface is taken up in the cultivation of the
vine. Its red and white wines are in high repute. In the
forests the prevailing trees are the oak and the chestnut.
The fruit of the latter is much used both as food by the
people and for fattening hogs. The walnut is extensively
cultivated for making oil. The truffles of this department
are considered the best in France. Dordogne is rich in
various kinds of minerals, as iron, copper, lead, manganese,
coal, marble, alabaster, lithographic stones, gypsum, &c.
The chief branches of industry are the working in metals,
particularly iron and steel, and the manufacture of paper.
Dordogne also produces coarse woollens, serges, leather,
earthenware, hosiery, beer, brandy, &c. The language is a
patois of French and Provencal.
108
Doria
II
Dorians,
DOR
DOR
DORIA Andrea, the famous Genoese admiral, was born
at Oneglia in 1466. He entered into the service of Francis
I of France, and commanded his fleet in the Mediterranean,
but preserved that spirit of independence which is so na¬
tural to a sailor and a republican. When the French how¬
ever, attempted to render Savona, long the object of jea¬
lousy to Genoa, its rival in trade, Doria remonstrated in a
high tone against the measure ; and this bold action, repre¬
sented by the malice of the courtiers in the most odious
lio-ht, irritated Francis to such a degree that he ordered his
admiral Barbesieux to sail for Genoa, then in the hands of
the French troops, to arrest Doria, and to seize his galleys.
But Doria got a timely hint of this rash order ; retired with
all his galleys to a place of safety ; and, whilst his resent¬
ment was warm, closed with the offers of the emperor
Charles V., returned his commission with the collai ot St
Michael to Francis, and hoisted the imperial colours. Io
deliver his country, now weary alike of the French and the
imperial yoke, from the dominion of foreigners, was Donas
highest ambition; and the favourable moment had pre¬
sented itself. Genoa was afflicted with the pestilence, the
French garrison was ill paid and greatly reduced, and the
inhabitants were sufficiently disposed to second his views.
He sailed to the harbour with thirteen galleys, landed five
hundred men, and made himself master of the gates and the
palace with very little resistance. The French governor
with his feeble garrison retired to the citadel, but was soon
forced to capitulate; upon which the people speedily levelled
the citadel with the ground. It was now in Donas power
to have rendered himself the sovereign of his country ; but,
with a magnanimity of which there are few examples, he
assembled "the people in the court before the palace, dis¬
claimed all pre-eminence, and recommended to them to
settle what form of government they chose to establish.
The people, animated by his spirit, forgot their factions,
and fixed that form of government which, with little varia¬
tion, subsisted until 1815. Doria afterwards engaged in an
expedition against the Turks, from whom he took Coron
and Patras. He also co-operated with Charles V. in the re¬
duction of Tunis and Goulette. In 1547 two successive
attempts were made against his life by Fieschi and a Ge¬
noese emigrant of the name of Giulio Cibo. He resigned
his command in 1556, and died at Genoa in November
1560, being then ninety-four years of age. He is still ce¬
lebrated in Genoa by the most honourable of all appellations,
the Father of his Country, and the Restorer of its Liberty.
DORIAN or Doric Mode, in Music, one of the most
ancient Greek modes or scales. It was equivalent to d, e,
f g, a, b, c, d, in which the two semitones occur between
the second and third, and the sixth and seventh notes.
DORIANS, a people of Greece, who derived their ori¬
gin from those districts in which the Grecian nation bor¬
dered towards the north upon numerous and dissimilar
races of barbarians. According to Herodotus, they were
from early times one of the chief races ot that nation, which,
in fact, was composed of Dorians and lonians; the one of
Hellenic and the other of Pelasgic origin, the former a mi¬
gratory and the latter an aboriginal race. In this defini¬
tion it is assumed that the Pelasgi were Greeks and. spoke
the Grecian language in its elder form ; an opinion in sup¬
port of which many arguments might easily be adduced.
But all the races whose migrations took place at a compa¬
ratively late period, such as the Achaeans, lonians, and
Dorians, particularly the last, were not sufficiently nume¬
rous or powerful to effect a complete change in the cus¬
toms of a barbarous population ; many districts, as Arcadia
and Perrhsebia, remained entirely Pelasgic, without being
inhabited by any nation not of Grecian origin : the most
ancient names either of Grecian places, or those mentioned
in the traditions of the Grecian race, belonged indeed to a
different era of the dialect, but not to a different language :
and lastly, the great similarity between the Latin and the
Greek can only be explained by supposing the Pelasgic —
language to have formed the connecting link. The Do¬
rians are mentioned in ancient legends and poems as having
been established in one extremity of the great mountain
chain of Upper Greece, namely, at the foot of Mount
Olympus ; but there are, nevertheless, many reasons for
supposing that, at a period still earlier than that to which
these monuments refer, they dwelt at its other extremity,
reaching to the farthest limit of the Grecian nation. In¬
deed the Doric Hylleans had a tradition that they came
originally from those northern districts which bordered on
the” Illyrians, and were afterwards occupied by that people ;
a tradition, we may observe, which many facts and circum¬
stances unite to confirm, or at least to render highly pro¬
bable. Be this as it may, however, the earliest ascertained
seat of the Dorians was the district of Mount Olympus.
But, either from a restless and wandering disposition, or
impelled by the pressure of some northern hordes, they
seem to have migrated from this district into Crete, that is,
from one end of the Grecian world to the other ; thus pi e-
senting a striking anomaly in the history of the ancient
colonies. The earliest trace of this circumstance is found
in the Odyssey, where it is mentioned that the “ thrice
divided” (rpt^atKes) Dorians formed part of the population
of Crete. Though originally inhabiting a mountainous re¬
gion, they appear, in course of time, to have become, as it
were, the Normans of Greece, and to have sought settle¬
ments wherever they could find them. But the most im¬
portant, and the most fertile in consequences, of all the mi¬
grations of the Grecian races, and that which continued
even to the latest period to exert its influence upon the
Greek character, was the expedition of the Dorians into the
Peloponnesus. This circumstance is mentioned by Heio-
dotus, who states that, under Deucalion, they dwelt , in
Phthiotis, and in the time of Dorus, the son of Hellen, in¬
habited the country at the foot of Ossa and Olympus, called
Hestiaeotis; that, afterwards, being driven from Hestiaeotis
by the Cadmeans, they dwelt under Mount Pindus, and
were called the Macedonian nation ; that thence they again
migrated to Dryopis, and from Dryopis passed into the Pe¬
loponnesus, where they were called the Doric race. Jfhe
traditionary name of the expedition in question is . the
Return of the descendants of Hercules,” who are admitted
to have been of Doric origin ; and, in process of time, suc¬
cessive conquests were effected by them in the Pelopon¬
nesus, until the whole of that country was at length sub¬
dued and occupied by the Dorians. Argos was captured
by this people ; Sicyon was conquered from Argos, Phlius
from Sicyon, and Cleonse from Argos. I he Dorians ex¬
pelled the lonians from Epidaurus, and afterwards reduced
Angina and Troezen; they appear also to have made them¬
selves masters of Corinth and Megara ; and, under Aristo-
demus, thev conquered Laconia, which soon afterwards rose
into great importance among the states of Greece. In due
time, Doric colonies from Argos, Epidaunis, and Trcezen
established themselves on the south-west coast of Asia
Minor ; and other colonies of the same race also settled in
different parts of the same country, where, at a very early
period, we find them forming a league against the lonians,
whom they had either encroached upon or expelled. In
fact, there is nothing so remarkable in the history of this
remarkable race as its extraordinary propagation and diffu¬
sion. In course of time it spread itself on all sides, from
Greece to Asia Minor, Byzantium, Syracuse, and the coun¬
try which sweeps round the Gulf of Tarentum, including
the territory afterwards known by the name of Magna
Grsecia, with Crotona, Locri, and Lyctus, to say nothing of
Chalcis, Solium, Ambracia, Anactorium, Leucadia, Corcyra,
Epidamnus, Apollonia, Potidaea, Chalcedon, Trogilus, Ihap-
sos, Selinus, and other places, which it conquered or colo-
Dorians.
»
D O R
DOR
109
Dorians, nized. It is remarkable that, wherever any portion of Do-
ric invaders or settlers proceeded, they not only carried
along with them, but gave a permanent ascendency to the
peculiarities and characteristics of their race. Their reli¬
gion, their laws, their literature, their manners, and in short
all that distinguished them as a separate people, appear to
have taken root wherever they pitched their tents ; and it
is by the vestiges which still remain of their migrations,
settlements, and power, that we are enabled to trace with
some degree of certainty events which either took place be¬
fore the commencement of authentic history, or in regard
to which history, tradition, and even fable, are alike silent.
The limits of this article, however, preclude our entering
into details, which in fact would require volumes for their
full development and illustration. We shall therefore con¬
fine ourselves to some general remarks on the character of
the Dorians, deduced from the masterly analytical investi¬
gations of Karl. O. Muller in his History and Antiquities
of the Doric Race ; a work not more distinguished for its
almost boundless erudition, than for the critical sagacity and
philosophic spirit which is displayed in it throughout.
And the first peculiarity in the Doric character which we
shall notice, is the tendency which it exhibited to produce
uniformity and unity. Every individual was destined to re¬
main within those limits which were prescribed by the will
of the whole; every one was bound to obey in his own
place. All the smaller associations were regulated on the
same principle ; there was a gradation of power, but never
independent equality. The Dorians also had little incli¬
nation to admit the customs of others, and strong desire
to disconnect themselves from foreigners ; their instinct
seems to have been to adhere scrupulously to their own
national habits, and to preserve that distinct individuality
of national character which appears to have given them so
decided an ascendency over all the races amongst which
they intermingled or settled. They loved independence,
and knew well how to maintain and defend it. A calm and
steady courage was the natural quality of the Dorians;
and though they sometimes yielded to the impetuosity of
excitable and enthusiastic enemies, their fortitude and per¬
tinacity commonly secured them the victory, and almost
always prevented defeat from degenerating into disaster.
As they were not ready to receive, neither were they prone
to communicate, outward impressions ; and hence, both in
their poetry and prose, the narrative is often concealed by
expressions of the feeling, and tinged as it were with the
hue and colour of the mind. They endeavoured always to
condense and concentrate their thoughts, which was the
cause of the great brevity and obscurity of their language ;
and as their attention was turned to the past rather than
the future, they cherished an ardent attachment to the
usages and manners of their forefathers, as embodied and
preserved in their actual institutions. Hence the Dorians
preserved most rigidly, and represented most truly, the
customs of the ancient Greeks. They were not a station¬
ary, far less a retrograding people ; but the advances which
they made were slow, and all their changes imperceptible.
With the desire to attain uniformity, for which the Do¬
rians were distinguished, there was also combined in their
character another remarkable peculiarity, namely, a love for
measure and proportion. 1 heir works of art are conspicu¬
ously marked by this attention to singleness of effect; and
everything discordant or useless was pruned off with an un¬
sparing hand. Their moral system also prescribed the ob¬
servance of the proper medium in all things; and it was in
this that the temperance which so distinguished them con¬
sisted ; it was the synonyme, not of abstinence, but of mo¬
deration. One great object of the worship of Apollo, which
the Dorians introduced into Greece, was to maintain un-
(isturbed the balance of the mind, and to remove every¬
thing calculated to disquiet the thoughts, inflame the pas¬
sions, or overcloud the serenity of the soul. The nature of
this singular race seems to have required an equal and re¬
gular harmony; and for this reason dissonances, even if
combined into harmony, were by no means suited to their
taste. The national song was doubtless not remarkable for
soft or pleasing melody ; and the general accent of the lan¬
guage had the tone and character of command, without any
of that delicacy or flexibility which are required in Elysian
airs or Lydian measures. But the Dorians were contented
with themselves, and with the powers to which they owed
their existence and their happiness; in almost every sense,
they were a self-centred race, living in themselves and
for themselves; they looked not to future, but to present
existence, and they loved their own laws, religion, institu¬
tions, manners, customs, literature, and arts, too much to
envy those of other nations, or even desire to imitate them.
Man was the chief and almost only object which attracted
their attention. This feeling may be detected in their re¬
ligion, which was always unconnected with the worship of
any natural object, and originated solely from their own
reflections and conceptions; and to the same source may
perhaps be traced their aversion to mechanical and agri¬
cultural labour, a feeling which belongs and is indeed na¬
tural to minds of a contemplative turn. In a word, the
whole Doric race bears the stamp and character of the male
sex among nations; the desire of assistance and connection,
of novelty and curiosity, the characteristics of the weaker
sex, being directly opposed to the nature of the Dorians,
which, from first to last, was marked by severe simplicity,
inflexible independence, subdued strength, and unquench¬
able nationality. (See Muller’s History and Antiquities of
the Doric Race, English translation, Oxford, 1830, 2 vols.
8vo.) (j. b—E.)
DORIC, pertaining to Doris, or to the Dorians.
Doric, in Architecture, the second of the five orders.
See Architecture.
Doric Dialect, one of the five dialects, or forms of
speech, which prevailed among the Greeks. It was first
used by the Lacedaemonians, and particularly by those of
Argos ; and thence it passed into Epirus, Libya, Sicily, and
the islands of Rhodes and Crete. Pindar used the Doric
dialect in his poems, as did also Archimedes and Theocritus,
who were both Syracusans.
In strictness, however, w'e should rather define Doric
the manner of speaking peculiar to the Dorians, and which
afterwards came to prevail among the Lacedaemonians and
other states. Some even distinguish between the Lace¬
daemonian and Doric; but in reality, setting aside a few
peculiarities in the language of the Lacedaemonians, these
dialects were the same; as indeed is shown by Rulandus
in his treatise De Lingua Grceca ejusque Dialectis.
Besides the authors already mentioned as having written
in the Doric dialect, we might add Archytas of Tarentum,
Bion, Callinus, Simonides, Bacchylides, Cypselas, Alcmaeon,
and Sophron.
Most of the medals of the cities of Graecia Magna and
Sicily savour of the Doric dialect in their inscription : thus,
AMBPAKIDTAN, AIIOAAONIATAN, AXEOPONTAN,
AXYPITAN, HPAXAEDTAN, TPAXINION, ©EPMITAN,
KAYAONIATAN, KOHIATAN, TAYPOMENITAN.
These names indicate the countries in which the Doric
dialect was used.
The general rules of this dialect are laid down by the
grammarians of the Port-Royal; but they are much better
explained in the fourth book of Rulandus, where he even
notes the minuter differences of the dialects of Sicily, Crete,
Tarentum, Rhodes, Lacedaemon, Laconia, Macedonia, and
Thessaly. The omega abounds everywhere in the Doric ;
but this dialect bears so close a conformity to the Alolic,
that many reckon them but one. (See Muller’s History
and Antiquities of the Doric Race, vol. ii., Appendix.)
Doric.
110
0 R
DOR
Doric Doric Mode, in Music. See Dorian Mode.
II DORING, or Daring, among sportsmen, a method of
Dormant. takjng ]arkSj by means of a clapnet and a looking-glass. For
this purpose there must be provided several pieces of look¬
ing-glass, which are to be so fixed in a frame as to reflect
their5light upwards; and this apparatus is supported on a
moveable pin, with the end of a long line fixed to it, and so
arranged that by pulling one end of the cord the apparatus is
made to rotate. Several larks, termed calls, are provided;
and these, with the glittering of the looking-glasses as they
twirl round in the sun, invite the other larks down. 'Ihe
card which communicates wfith the net is then to be drawn,
in order to bring the net over the birds so attracted to the
spot. The places best adapted for daring larks are open
fields remote from any trees and hedges, except one lor the
concealment of the fowler.
DORIS, the smallest state of ancient Greece, was
bounded north by Thessaly and Locris,eastby Phocis, south
by the Locri Ozolae, and west by iEtolia. The country it¬
self, which is very limited in extent, is surrounded on every
side by spurs of the mountain ranges of Gita and Parnassus,
and intersected by the river Pindus (now the Apostolia), a
tributary of the Cephissus. Ihe cities of the Doric tetia-
polis, which were all situated in the vale of this river, were
Boium, Cytinium, Erineus, and Pindus.
The original name of Doris is said to have been Dryopis
so named from its inhabitants the Dryopes, w ho were ex¬
pelled from the country when the Dorians took possession
of it. In addition to the small territory to which they gave
name, these Dorian adventurers are said to have occupied
a great tract of the adjoining country : a supposition all the
more probable as it is nearly incredible that Doris Proper
should have maintained a population capable of subduing
the Peloponnese. An account of this expedition wfill be
found under the head Dorians. The most powerful state
which owed its origin to this expedition was Sparta, which
in after times acknowledged her Doric descent by assisting
Doris when hard pressed by her more powerful neighbours.
Besides Laconia, however, all the other states of the Pelo-
ponnese, except Elis and Arcadia, and a few detached spots
of small importance, were equally proud of tracing their
origin to the Dorian invaders. From the Peloponnese the
Dorians spread in all directions. Corinth, Corcyra, Syra¬
cuse, Gela, Agrigentum, Selinus, and Tarentum were all
colonized by them; and all retained, with certain modifi¬
cations, the constitution of the parent state. These colonies
all subsequently attained so great importance as completely
to eclipse the parent state, which in the historical times of
Greece is seldom mentioned. In the second Persian inva¬
sion it submitted to Xerxes and his hosts, and its towns
were therefore spared. In the wars which subsequently
harassed Greece it suffered so severely, that it was matter
of wonder that any of its cities maintained their very exist-
DORKING, a market-town in the county of Surrey, 21
miles S.S.W. of London. It occupies the side of a sand¬
stone hill, in a picturesque valley, and is a neat and clean
town, with wide and well-paved streets. The parish church,
recently rebuilt, is a spacious structure, surmounted by a
spire. The surrounding country is well wooded and re¬
markable for its beauty, having numerous fine seats, includ¬
ing Deepdene, the residence of the late Mr Hope, author
of Anastasius, and the Rookery, where Malthus was born.
A considerable trade is carried on in lime and chalk from
adjacent pits. Market-day Thursday. Dorking is famous
for its breed of fowls, which have five claws on each foot.
Pop. (1851) 3490.
DORMANT, in Heraldry, denotes the posture of a lion,
or other beast, lying in a sleeping attitude, with the head on
the fore paws; by which it is distinguishedfrom the couchant,
where the beast, though lying, has its head elevated.
DORMER Window, in Architecture, a window stand- Dormer
ing vertically on the sloping roof of a house..
DORMITORY, a gallery in convents divided into se¬
veral cells, in which the inmates sleep ; and hence also ap¬
plied to the sleeping apartments in other great establishments.
DORMOUSE. See Myoxis in index to Mammalia.
DORNBIRN, a market-town of the circle of Bregentz,
and Austrian province of Tyrol. It stands on the river
Fussach, and is a flourishing place, owing to its manufac¬
tories of muslins and cotton cambrics, and its mills fbi spin¬
ning flax. Pop. 4600. , no T J 1
DORNOCH, a parliamentary borough of Scotland, and
capital of the county of Sutherland, is situated on the N.E.
of the Firth of the same name, 14 miles N. of Cromarty.
It unites with Dingwall, &c., in sending a member to par¬
liament. Pop. (1851) 599. Dornoch was formerly the
principal seat of the Bishop of Sutherland and Caithness,
and was made a royal burgh by Charles I. in 1628. The
cathedral, now the parish church, was built about the middle
of the thirteenth century, and has recently been restored
by the late Duchess of Sutherland. 1 he palace or castle
was a large building of most massive structure, of which
only the picturesque western tower now remains. On its
site a handsome new prison and court-house have recently
been Greeted*
Dornoch Firth, an arm of the sea on the E. coast of Scot¬
land, serving as the boundary between the counties of Ross
and Sutherland. It is about 15 miles broad at its mouth,
and here has more the character of a bay than of a firth.
It gradually becomes narrower, till, about three miles west
from the town of Dornoch, its breadth decreases to two
miles. Above this point it becomes much broader, forming
an inner harbour or bay.
DORPAT, or Derpt, a town of Russia, in the govern¬
ment of Livonia, and capital of a circle of the same name,
on the Embach, here crossed by a handsome stone bridg-e
of three arches; and also on the road between Riga and St
Petersburg, 140 miles N.E. of the former, and 170 S.W.of
the latter. Pop. (1851) 12,683. This town is neat, clean,
and well-built, the streets are wide and regular, and the
houses generally of one story, built of brick, or wood painted
in showy colours. It consists of the town proper, and the
suburbs of Riga and St Petersburg. I he old fortifications
have been converted into gardens and public walks. I he
cathedral is now in ruins, having, with the entire town, been
destroyed by a great fire in 1775. Dorpat is the seat of a
university originally founded by Gustavus Adolphus in 1632,
when Livonia belonged to the Swedish crown. After un¬
dergoing numerous vicissitudes during the wars between
Russia and Sweden, and having been removed to Pernau,
it was re-established here in 1802 by the Emperor Alex¬
ander. It has faculties of theology, law, medicine, and phi¬
losophy; a library of upwards of 60,000 volumes; a noble
observatory, botanical garden, and extensive collections in
mineralogy, zoology, anatomy, pathology, &c. In 1852 it
was attended by 607 students. Dorpat has also a veteri¬
nary school with 37 pupils, a gymnasium, normal school,
&c. Eat. 58. 22. 44. N.; Long. 26. 42. 19. E.
DOROGOBUSH, a town of Russia, capital of a cog-
nominal circle in the government of Smolensk, and 46 miles
E.N.E. of the town of that name. It is situated on the left
bank of the Dnieper, is surrounded by walls, and had 56/7
inhabitants in 1850. On 12th October 1812 the French
were defeated here by the Russians.
DORSETSHIRE, an English county, situated on the
south-western coast. In British times, and previous to the
landing of Caesar, it was inhabited by the Durotriges and
Morini, two appellations derived from the British language,
and signifying dwellers on the coasts of the ocean. Under
the Romans this county constituted a portion of Britannia
Primai and the Saxons called it Dorsetta (a word having
DORSETSHIRE. Ill
Dorset- the same meaning as the above British appellation), and in- which, added to the beauty of its scenery, has obtained for D^set'
Shire, eluded it in the kingdom of Wessex. Kingston Hall and it the appellation of the Garden of England. Weymouth i S lre'_ /
' Corfe Castle are mentioned as royal residences. has long been celebrated as a fashionable watering-place ;
On the north Dorsetshire is bounded by Somersetshire and, owing to the general calmness of the sea there its
and Wiltshire, on the east by Hampshire, on the west by pleasant situation, and its commodiousness for bathing, it
Devonshire and a part of Somersetshire, while the British has risen to great consequence.
Channel bounds it on the south. Its form is very irregular: The chief port in the county is Poole, situated on an es-
the northern boundary has a considerable angular projection tuary formed by the mouth of the Frome. Its entrance is
in the middle ; the southern coast runs out in various points defended by Brownsea Castle, and it is very secure in all
and headlands; and the western coast inclines towards winds. It is the chief place for equipping ships for the
Devonshire, with an irregular line. Its greatest length Newfoundland fishery; and considerable trade is carried
from north to south is about 35 miles, and its breadth from on from it with Spain, Portugal, and the Mediterranean,
east to west 55. Its circumference, including about 632,025 Swanage, Weymouth, Bridport, and Lyme, have harbours
acres, is nearly 160 miles. In 1851 the population was capable of admitting small vessels only,
found to be 184,207 ; being an increase of 61 per cent, in The rivers of Dorsetshire are the Frome, the Stour, the
fifty years. The number of inhabitants to a square mile Piddle, and the Ivel. The Frome rises in the north-west-
was 186; to a house 5*1. The total number of houses was ern part of the county, near Evershot; and, passing by Dor-
37,940; 36,138 being inhabited, 1587 uninhabited, and Chester, reaches Poole, and falls into its bay. The Stour
215 in the course of erection. enters this county from Wiltshire, near Gillingham, and,
Dorsetshire is divided into thirty-four hundreds, contain- pursuing a southern and south-eastern direction, enters
ing more than 390 parishes, nine boroughs, twenty-two Hampshire. The Piddle rises in the north, and, flowing to
liberties, and nineteen market-towns, the principal of which the south-east, falls into Poole Bay. The Ivel, ancientlythe
are Dorchester, Bridport, Sherborne, Lyme-Regis, Shaftes- Yoo, has its origin from several springs near Horethorn, in
bury, Wareham, Weymouth, Melcombe-Regis, Poole, and a hill north-east from Sherborne, from which town it flows
Blandford. Only thirteen members are returned to par- into Somersetshire, and falls into the Parret.
liament, instead of twenty as formerly. The county itself Although neither coal nor any metallic ores have ever
sends three; Dorchester, Bridport, and Poole, two each; been found in Dorsetshire, the stone quarries of Purbeck
Melcombe-Regis and Weymouth two between them; and and Portland have long been celebrated. Purbeck, though
Lyme-Regis, Shaftesbury, and Wareham, one each. Dor- called an island, is more properly a peninsula, of an irregular
setshire forms part of the see of Bristol. Its bishop was oval form, about twelve miles in length and seven in breadth,
established at Sherborne by Henry VIIL, but was shortly It consists, according to Mantell^of cretaceous, wealden,
added to the diocese of Bristol. In remote times it had and oolitic strata, in their regular order of succession, and
been a part of the sees of Oxford, of Salisbury, and of highly inclined in their section toward Swanage Bay, where
Winchester successively. they are easily detected. At Handfast Point the chalk is
The surface of Dorsetshire is hilly and uneven. A great discovered, its lower division dipping at a considerable
portion of the county has the appearance of downs, open angle ; then comes a layer of firestone, next gait, and then
and uninclosed pasture land covered with sheep, the stock of greensand—all inclined; then, at Swanage Bay, a thick
which averages from 600,000 to 700,000. More sheep are wealden bed ; to the south of which are the Purbeck Hills,
pastured in the neighbourhood of Dorchester than in any with their peculiar strata; and, a little further on, the Port-
other district, though great numbers of both sheep and oxen land oolite. The soil is altogether calcareous, and for the
are fed in the valley of Blackmore, which is celebrated as most part a continued mass, either of white or a brownish
rich pasture land, and comprises upwards of 170,000 acres, limestone, the latter having a mixture of sea-shells. The
Iheie aie also in this district several orchards, producing quarries on the south side of the isle afford an inexhaustible
excellent cider. On the south-western side there are many fund of natural curiosities. The best quarries are at Kings-
vales of great luxuriance ; but on the south-eastern there is ton, Worth, Langton, and Swanwick. Idle Swanwick stone
much waste land, dreary and barren, hardly supporting, is white, full of shells, takes a polish, and looks like alabas-
even in the summei months, a few sheep and cattle, and ter. About Wareham and Morden is found a stone of an
supplying the neighbouring villages with heath for fuel, iron colour, called firestone. Near Dunshay, marble of
Even in this region, however, cultivation is advancing, and various colours, blue, red, gray, and spotted, is dug up; but
etached portions are improved. I he turn pike-roads in all of a coarse grain. Much of the stone of this district was
this county are numerous, rendering travelling easy and used in the building of St Paul’s Cathedral, Westminster
• • Bridge, and Ramsgate Pier, and may be discovered in many
Ihe downs are principally of a light chalky soil, with a of our ancient cathedrals, churches, gravestones, and monu-
turf remarkably fine, producing hay, in the inclosed parts, ments. One of the most valuable products of Purbeck is a
of an excellent quality, on which beasts will thrive well in white clay used for making pipes, and very extensively ap-
winter without any other food. About Bridport the lower plied to the manufacture of china. Large quantities of it
lands are mostly a deep rich loam ; but on the hills, through- are dug, and many vessels loaded with it for Staffordshire,
out the western district, the soil is a sandy loam, intermixed at Russell Quay, within the port of Poole,
with flint, well adapted for the growth of beech. To the The cliffs in the Isle of Portland rise frequently to 100
noith of Sherborne, where is some of the best land in the or 150 feet in height, and large masses lie scattered on the
county for the plough, it is a stone brack, which is the case . shore. These are composed of calcareous grit, containino-
m the Isle of Portland and the Isle of Purbeck. In the moulds or forms of various shells, and emitting, when rubbed
centre of the county the soil is good and the land well ma- with steel, a bituminous smell. The grit is cemented to-
naged. About a third of the soil is chalk, a fifth clay, a gether by a calcareous paste. The quarries are scattered
sixti sand, a ninth waste, and the remainder gravel, loam, &c. among these rocks, more or less, in every part of the isle;
orsetshire is not a well-wooded county ; and, in general, but those of most repute are at Kingston. At this place
H? 1Vie ^ . er *s]scarce and dear. In some local spots, where there is a pier, whence upwards of 6000 tons of stone, on an
pf .u™ 18 an<^ wet’ such as ^uncliff in the vale of average, are supposed to be shipped off annually. The first
ac moie, Heycombe Wood in the vale of Sherborne, and stratum in these quarries is about one foot of blackish or
icis o a similar nature,, some plantations may be seen. reddish earth ; then six feet of stone, not fit for exportation.
ie air ot Dorsetshire is remarkably mild and salubrious; Below this is the bed of good stone, ten or twelve feet
112
DORSETSHIRE.
deep and beneath it chert or clay. The stratum of stone
that is worked for sale lies nearly parallel with the upper
surface of the island, and without much earth or rubbish on
it. When the beds are cleared, the quarrymen proceed to
cross-cut the large flats, which is done with wedges. The
beds being cut into distinct lumps, are squared by the
hammer to the largest size which it will admit; and blocks
are thus formed from half a ton to six or eight tons weight.
The colour of the Portland stone (or freestone as it is some¬
times called, from the freedom with which it may be broken
into any shape), is well known as almost white, and as com¬
posing the materials of the most splendid erections in Lon¬
don, as well as in other parts of the British empire.
The general practice and management of tillage in this
country is less attended to than any part of agriculture ; for
it appears to be the plan of the farmers to put the seed into
the ground with as few ploughings as possible. The sowing
of wheat is often effected with one ploughing ; and sym¬
metry and neatness are not much regarded. rl he plough
used is called a sull, and is long, large, and heavy, with one
small wheel at the side of the beam, and is worked by four
horses or six oxen, two abreast. In the neighbourhood of
the towns, land lets for from forty to fifty shillings the acre ;
and, in general, arable land from twenty to thirty.
Barley is found to make the best returns, yielding about
30 bushels to the acre. Flax and hemp are objects of great
importance about Bridport, Bradford, and Beaminster. "1 he
flax seed is imported from Riga, and the average crop is from
fifty to sixty dozen pounds per acre, worth from four shillings
and sixpence to seven shillings per dozen. It is aprecaiious
crop, depending very much on the season; and hence the
quantity cultivated has of late years been gradually dimi¬
nished. The farms are mostly large. Leases generally run
from 10 to 20 years. Agriculture is certainly backward in
the county, but it is improving.
The sheep of Dorsetshire have long been celebrated.
They are horned, white faced, with long small white legs,
the carcass rather long and thin, the mutton fine-grained and
of good flavour, weighing per quarter, in wethers at three
years and a half old, from sixteen to twenty pounds. Iheir
wool is fine and short; and the breed has the peculiar pro¬
perty of producing lambs at any period. There is a small
breed in Portland and Purbeck, the quarter of which weighs
about eight pounds.
Many fine Devonshire oxen are fattened for the market
in Dorsetshire. In the hilly districts a hardy race of half
long-horned cattle, with brindled sides, and white on the
underparts, exists. Great quantities of butter are sent to
the London market. The skimmed-milk cheese is much
esteemed, though very little of it is exported.
Vast numbers of mackerel are taken near Abbotsbury,
and along the shore from Portland to Bridport. The season
for taking them is from the middle of March till midsum¬
mer, in nets or seines. Herrings and other fish common in
these seas are also taken in abundance.
The manufactures of Dorsetshire are not extensive. The
principal are those of flax and hemp, in the neighbourhood
of Bridport and Beaminster, and also on a smaller scale in
the Isle of Purbeck ; of all sorts of buttons, chiefly at Bland-
ford, and to a smaller extent at Shaftesbury; and of a sort
of flannel or coarse woollen cloth, called swanskin, at Sher-
minster. At Stalbridge is a manufacture for spinning silk,
and at Sherborne is another upon a larger scale. Some
worsted stockings are made at Wimborne.
On the extended downs in the neighbourhood of Dor¬
chester several tumuli are thrown up in all directions, prov¬
ing this town to have been an important place in British
times. Maiden Castle, situated on the apex of a hill about
one mile south of the town, is undoubtedly the remains of
an original British fortress. Nearly two miles N.W. of
Kingston Hall, in the parish of Chapwicke, is a large Bri¬
tish encampment called Bradbury Rings, which occupies the Dorset*
summit of a considerable eminence. This camp is of a cir- shire,
cdar form, with treble ramparts and ditches, having two en-
trances, one on the N.E. and another on the western side.
The circumference of the outer rampart is nearly a mile. In
the parish of Lullworth is another British fortification, con-
sistino- of three ramparts and ditches, including an area of
about5five acres. It is generally called Flowers’ Barrow,
from the prevalence of these ancient sepulchres within its
compass. Many of these barrows have been opened, and
found to contain burnt bones, corroded metal, and remains
of ancient warlike instruments. A barrow was opened some
years ago at Stowborough, in which a body was discovered
in an excavated oak trunk,'wrapped in folds of skin. Be¬
tween three and four miles from Gorfe Castle eastward is
Nine Barrow Down, an eminence which derives its name
from the nine large barrows situated on it in a line. About
a mile from Winterbourn Abbas is a small circle of stones,
the diameter of whose area is twenty-eight feet; and the
adjacent downs are much fuller of Celtic barrows than even
Salisbury plains. There is an endless field in many parts
of the country for those fond of British antiquities.
The Via Iceniana, or Icennine Way, enters the county
near Woodyates ; and, passing through Dorchester, takes its
course to Seaton in Devonshire. T. here are several smaller
ways proceeding from Dorchester, Wimborne-Minster, and
some other places in the county. The Roman stations in
Dorsetshire appear, from the best authorities, to have been
Londinis, now Lyme-Regis; Canca-Arixa, Charmouth ;
Durnovaria, Dorchester; Vindogladia, Winborne; Cla-
vinio, Weymouth; Morinio, Wareham; and Bolclanmo,
Poole. Near Dorchester are the remains of a Roman am¬
phitheatre, which is computed to have held nearly 13,000
spectators. A large circular entrenchment may be traced
upon Woodbury Hill, supposed to have been the Castra
Stativa of the Romans. On Hambledon Hill is another en¬
campment; and also the remains of what has been thought
to be a labyrinth. In the parish of Rampisham a beautiful
tessellated pavement, about fourteen feet by ten, was dis¬
covered in 1799 ; and in the vale between Maiden-Newton
and Frampton, at the distance of loO yards from the rivei
Frome, another of much larger dimensions wras found in
1794. At Sturminster-Newton are the ruins of a castle,
in the form of the letter D. .
The remains of ancient castles are numerous in Dorset¬
shire. The principal are, Corfe, whose ruins are large, and
allowed tobeamong the noblestand grandestinthekingdom ,
Abbotsbury, a little north of East Bexington ; Brovynsea
Castle, in the island of the same name ; and Portland Castle.
The abbeys whose ruins may yet be discovered, are those^
of the monastery of Benedictines at Cranborne, a pait of
which now forms the parish church, one of the oldest in the
county ; Cerne Abbey, said to be founded by St Augustin,
the remains of which though not extensive are interesting ;
Abbey Milton,whose church is now converted into a private
chapel; and the monastery of Shaftesbury, the ruins of which
are discernible near the mansion of Sir I homas Arundel.
Some parts of the cloister and domestic buildings of the
Abbey of Sherborne are now occupied by silk machinery ;
besides inconsiderable remains of several more.
The church of Fordington is partly in the Saxon style ;
that of Corfe is Gothic. The churches of Dorchester, Sher¬
borne, Millbourne, St Andrew, Rapisham, W eymouth, and
Shaftesbury, are all venerable buildings; but Dorsetshire
cannot boast of many ancient ecclesiastical structures.
Amongst the modern erections of this county should be
mentioned the new jail of the county town. It was built
according to Howard’s plan, under the direction of Brad-
burn the architect. In its external appearance it is pecu¬
liarly handsome and characteristic ; and the interior pos¬
sesses every convenience appropriate to its purpose.
D 0 T
Dorsal This county affords the following titles to different noble
11 families : Duke of Dorset, to the family of Sackville ; Duke
Dotis. 0f Portland, to thatof Bentinck ; Earl of Dorchester, to that
of Carleton ; Earl of Sherborne, to that of Dutton ; Earl of
Shaftesbury, to that of Ashley Cooper; Earl of Digby, to
that of Digby ; and Viscount Bridport, to that of Hood.
Bishop Stillingfleet was born at Cranborne; Prior the
poet at Wimborne ; and Hussey, the artist, who drew by the
proportions of the musical scales, at Marnhull, in Dorsetshire.
Places of worship belonging to Church of England 304,
sittings 94,097; day schools 664, day scholars 25,004;
Sunday schools 386, Sunday scholars 27,676.
DORSAL (Eat. dorsum, the back), pertaining to the
back ; as the dorsal fin of a fish, &c.
DORSIFEROUS, in Botany, bearing seeds on the
back of the leaves, as the ferns.
DORT or Dordrecht, an important commercial city
of Holland, capital of a cognominal district in the province
of South Holland, 10 miles S.E. of Rotterdam. It is situa¬
ted on an island of the Meuse, said to have been separated
from the mainland in 1421, by an inundation which swept
away 72 villages, and about 100,000 inhabitants. This is
one of the oldest cities of Holland, but the period of its rise
is uncertain. It was surrounded by walls in 1231 by Flo-
rent IV. Count of Holland, who made it his residence, and
granted it many important privileges. In 1457, almost
the entire town, including the church of Notre Dame,
founded in 1366, and other public buildings, was destroyed
by fire. It was one of the first towns to embrace the Re¬
formed religion, and to throw off’ the yoke of the Spanish
king. In 1572 a meeting of deputies was held here when
the independence of the United Provinces was first de¬
clared: and in 1618 and 1619 sat the celebrated synod of
Dort. The town-hall is a handsome building; and the
principal church is an old Gothic structure 300 feet long
by 125 wide, with a heavy square tower, and numerous
monumental stones, some of great antiquity. The hall in
which the synod was held is now a public house. The
houses are generally of an antique fashion, with the gables
turned outwards, and many of them date from the period of
the Spanish occupation. Dort possesses a good harbour,
from which two canals lead to the centre of the town,
and thus facilitate the conveyance of goods to the ware¬
houses. It carries on an extensive trade in corn, flax, salt
fish, train oil, and timber, brought down the Rhine ; and
has shipbuilding docks, saw-mills, sugar and salt refineries,
tobacco factories, linen bleaching, and white-lead works.
Dort is the birthplace of the brothers De Witt. Pop.
(1850) 20,878.
DORTMUND, a walled town in the Prussian province
of Westphalia, capital of a cognominal circle, in the go¬
vernment of Arnsberg. It is situated in a fertile district
on the Emscher, and on the Minden and Dusseldorf rail¬
way, 29 miles W.N.W. of Arnsberg. Pop. (1849) 10,532.
It is the seat of a superior mining board, and has manufac¬
tures of woollens, linens, velvets, tobacco, nails, and cut¬
lery, and some trade.
DORYPHORI (Sopu, spear, and I bear), in An¬
tiquity, the body-guard of kings and tyrants, of which the
spear was the characteristic weapon. In imitation of the
Greeks, the Roman emperors had similar body guards.
The Praetorian bands likewise were thus designated.
DOblTPIEANS (Dosithei), an ancient sect among the
Samaritans in the first century of the Christian era. On
the subject of the Dositheans, see Archbishop Usher.
DOSSER (Ff. dos, the back, or dossier, a bundle), a
pannier or basket to be borne on the shoulders of men ;
sometimes used in fortification for carrying earth.
DOSSIL, in Surgery, a pledget of lint made into a cv-
hndric form. J
DOTIS or Tata, a town of Hungary, county of Ko-
vol. vm.
D 0 U 113
morn, and 12 miles S.E. of the town of that name. It con- Dottard
sists of the Upper and the Lake town, the latter so called II
from a small lake in its vicinity. In the neighbourhood are P°ut)let-
several mineral springs, and stone and marble quarries.
Pop. about 8000.
DO 1 IARD, a tree kept low by cutting; a pollard.
DOUAI, or Douay, an ancient and strongly fortified
town of France, capital of a cognominal arrondissement in
the department of Nord, situated on the Scarpe, 18 miles
south of Lille, with which, as well as with many other large
towns both in France and Belgium, it is connected by rail-
way. Old walls flanked with towers surround the town,
which is farther defended by a detached fort on the left
bank of the river, about 2 miles distant. Douai contains
numerous literary and scientific institutions, including a
university; academy; royal college; college for the educa¬
tion of English Roman Catholic priests, founded by Cardi¬
nal Allen; a royal school of artillery; school of drawing
and music ; museum of natural history ; collection of paint¬
ings ; botanic garden; and a public library, with about
30,000 volumes. It was formerly the seat of a university,
founded in 1562. It contains also one of the three royal
cannon foundries of the kingdom, an arsenal, and large esta¬
blishments of artillery ; and is the seat of royal court for
the departments of Nord and Pas-de-Calais. Its railways
and canals open up to Douai an extensive trade in corn,
wine, brandy, cattle, wool, hops, flax, and its manufactured
produce, chiefly lace, gauze, cottons, linens, thread, earth¬
enware, glass, soap, sugar, salt, and paper. According to
some, Douai existed in the time of the Romans; but this
seems to be very doubtful. It, however, rose to consider¬
able importance under the Counts of Flanders, and passed
with that country into the hands of the king of Spain. In
1667 Louis XIV. took possession of Douai. In 1710 it
was taken by the allies under Marlborough and Eugene,
but was retaken by the French the following year. Douai
gives name to an edition of the Holy Scriptures with copious
notes by Roman Catholic divines, prepared for the use of
the members of that communion. Pop. (1851) 18,013.
DOUBLE-BASS. See Music, § Musical Instruments.
DOUBLET, among lapidaries, a counterfeit stone com¬
posed of two pieces of crystal, with a colour between them ;
so that they present the same appearance to the eye as if
the whole substance of the crystal were coloured.
The crystal or glass is first cut in the manner of a bril¬
liant, except that the figure must be composed of two sepa¬
rate pieces. After the two plates have been thus cut, and
fitted with the utmost exactness, the upper part is to be
polished ready for setting. The colour is then put between
the two plates by the following method:—To two scruples
of Venice turpentine add one scruple of the grains of very
pure mastich previously powdered; melt them together in
a small silver spoon, add to them gradually any of the co¬
loured substances mentioned below, in a state of fine pow¬
der, and stir them well together as the colour is put in.
Then warm the doublets to the same temperature as the
melted mixture, apply it to the surface of the lower plate ;
and put the upper one instantly upon it, and press them to
each other, taking care that they be conjoined perfectly
even. When the cement is quite set, the redundant part
of it, which has been pressed out of the joint, should be
scraped off. In the setting, the mounting should cover the
joint, in order to prevent the separation of the pieces.
The colour of the ruby may be imitated by mixing a
fourth part of carmine with some of the finest crimson lake;
the sapphire, by very bright Prussian blue, mixed with a
minute portion of crimson lake ; the emerald, by distilled
verdigris, to which is added a little powdered aloes; the
garnet, by dragon’s blood, with the addition, if necessary,
of a very small quantity of carmine ; the amethyst, by mix¬
ing some Prussian blue with crimson lake ;' the yellow
p
114
0 U
Doublets topazes, by mixing powdered aloes with a little dragon
|| blood, or by good Spanish arnotto ; the chrysolite, hyacinth,
Doubs. vinegar garnet, aqua-marine, and such other weaker 01 di-
 v ' luted colours, may be formed in the same manner, by lessen¬
ing the proportions of the colours, or by compounding them
together so as to correspond with the hue of the stone to be
imitated.
DOUBLETS, a game on dice within tables. I be men,
fifteen in number, are placed thusUpon the six, cinque,
and quatre points, there stand three men a-piece ; and upon
the trey, deuce, and ace, only two. He who throws highest
has the benefit of throwing first, and what he throws he
lays down, and so does the other: what the one throws and
has not, the other lays down for him, but on his own ac¬
count ; and thus they proceed until all the men are down,
and then they “ bear,” as it is called. He who is first down
bears first, and will doubtless win the game if the other
throws not doublets to overtake him; which he is sure to
do, since he advances or bears as many as the doublets ma ^e,
namely, eight for two fours. ,
DOUBLING, in the military art, the putting of two
ranks or files of soldiers into one. Thus, when the word of
command is double your ranks, the second, fourth, and sixt i
ranks march into the first, third, and fifth, so that the six
ranks are reduced to three, and the intervals between the
ranks become double what they were before.
Doubling, in Navigation, the act of sailing round 01
passing beyond a cape or promontory.
DOUBLOON, or Doblon, a Spanish and Portuguese
coin, being the double of a pistole.
DOUBS, one of the eastern frontier departments of
France, bounded on the E. by Switzerland, from which it
is separated partly by the Jura chain of mountains, and partly
by the river Doubs, and on the N., and S. by the de¬
partments of Upper Rhine, Upper Saone, and Jura. ^ It is
formed of part of the ancient province of Franche-Comte,
and the ancient German principality of Montteliai d. Four
parallel chains of the Jura mountains traverse it from N.E.
to S.W. In the highest and most eastern of these, the
principal summit, Mont Luchet,attains a heightof 5283 feet ,
but in the most western the highest points do not exceed
1000 feet. These chains are all of calcareous formation, and
present numerous rocky crags, grottoes, caverns, and other
natural curiosities. The river Doubs, which gives name to
the department, rises at the foot of Mount Rixon, in the ar-
rondissement of Pontarlier, and, after twice traversing this
department through its entire length, passes through the de¬
partment of Jura, enters that of Saone-et-Loire, and joins
the Saone. It has an entire course of about 250 miles, 195
of which are in this department. Near Morteau it forms a
magnificent cataract, having a perpendicular fall of 88 feet.
From Besan^on to near Montbeliard it forms part of the
navigable canal between the Rhine and the Rhone. Doubs
is abundantly watered by numerous smaller rivers and rivu¬
lets. The differences in its elevation give it a very variable
climate, but the general character is cold, with long and
severe winters. The prevailing winds are the north-east
and south-west. The surface may be divided into three
distinct regions. The highest region, on which the snow
usually lies for six months in the year, is mostly covered
with vast forests of fir trees, and affords good pasturage to
numerous herds of cattle. The second or less elevated re¬
gion is chiefly occupied by forests of oak, beech, sycamore,
the walnut-tree, &c., and the intervening valleys are sus¬
ceptible of cultivation. The plain region is the most fertile,
producing wheat, rye, maize, hemp, pulse, fruits, and wines.
D O U
Of its entire area of 525,212 hectares (2020 square miles),
191,577 hectares are arable ; 120,646 in wood ; 101,688 in
heath and pasture; 79,892 in meadow; and 8011 in vine¬
yards. Agriculture is in a very backward state cattle¬
rearing and dairy produce, particularly cheese, receiving a
great share of attention. It has numerous iron foundries;
manufactures of cotton and woollen cloths, hardware, cut¬
lery, watches, paper, glass, leather; and a considerable trade in
cattle hides, timber, and dairy produce. There are also mines
of iron, coal, and lignite ; and quarries of gypsum, marble,
building stone, &c. It is divided into four arrondissements,
which, with their subdivisions and population, are as follows:
Arrondissements. Cantons. Communes. Pop. 1851.
Besan9on,  8 203 110,826
Pontarlier,  5 89
Baume,  7 187 68,354
Montbeliard,  7 161 65,3( 4
Douche
II
Douglas.
27 640 296,679
The capital is Besanqon.
DOUCHE (French), a jet of water directed upon some
part of the body, as a cure for local weakness, rheumatism, &c.
DOUGLAS, Gavin, bishop of Dunkeld, was the third
son of Archibald earl of Angus, and of Elizabeth the
daughter of Robert Lord Boyd, who for some time filled
the office of high chamberlain. He appears to have been
born in 1474, or the ensuing year. With the place of his
birth or education we are not acquainted, but we may sup¬
pose his course of study to have been suitable to his pro¬
fession. Having entered into holy orders, he was collated
to the rectory of Hawick J and as the dormant energies
of the human mind are awakened by external objects, his
early residence amid the fine pastoral scenery of feviot-
dale may have had a strong tendency to cherish in^his
imagination the seeds of genuine poetry. In the year 1509,
we find him described as provost of the collegiate chinch
of St Giles in Edinburgh.1 2 This preferment was in the
gift of the crown : it placed him in a situation of no small
dignity and emolument, and he appears to have held it
with his other benefice. It was while he occupied these
less elevated stations that he composed the very ingenious
works which have rendered his name so conspicuous in the
literary annals of his country.
His father, who is sometimes denominated the great
earl of Angus, and sometimes Bell-the-cat, followed the
standard of James the Fourth when he invaded England;
but finding his prudent counsels disregarded, he excused
himself on account of his advanced age, and withdrew from
the army. His two eldest sons, George and William, to¬
gether with about two hundred gentlemen of the name
of Douglas, perished in the fatal battle of Flodden-field.
This calamity to the nation in general, and to his own
family in particular, made so deep an impression on his
heart, that having retired to St Mains, a religious house in
Galloway, he died there within the space of twelve months.3
His title and estates descended to his grandson Archibald,
a young nobleman whose personal attractions were so un¬
rivalled that he speedily obtained the tender regard of the
widowed queen, and their nuptials were solemnized be¬
fore she had completed the year of mourning. Ihis pre¬
cipitate match, which had been concluded without the
concurrence of the principal nobility, excited general in¬
dignation : the queen was no longer willingly acknowledg¬
ed as regent; the pre-eminence of her husband rendered
him odious in the eyes of the more powerful subjects;
and the house of Douglas was involved in persecutions
which this resentful spirit of jealousy excited.
1 Alexandri Myln Yitse Episcoporum Dunkeldensium, p. 72. Edipb. 1823, 4to.
1 Keith’s Catalogue of the Scottish Bishops, p. 93.
* Hume’s History of the Houses of Douglas and Angus, p. 235. Edinb. 1644, fol.
D O U <
Douglas. Among those who perished at Flodden were the arch-
bishop of St Andrews, the bishop of the Isles, the abbot
of Kilwinning, the abbot of InchafFray, and other warlike
sons of the church. The archbishop of St Andrews,
Alexander Stewart, who was the king’s natural son, and
a young man of very promising talents, had likewise held
the abbacies of Aberbrothock and Dunfermline, together
with the priory of Coldingham. In a letter addressed to
Pope Leo the Tenth, the queen, after extolling Gavin
Douglas as second to none in learning and virtue, earnest¬
ly requested that he might be secured in the possession of
the abbacy of Aberbrothock, till his singular merit should
be rewarded by some more ample preferment.1 After the
death of the late primate, William Elphinstone, bishop of
Aberdeen, had been nominated to the vacant see; but his
modesty or infirmities induced him to decline this splen¬
did offer, and the queen afterwards attempted to elevate
Douglas to the primacy. Confiding in the royal nomina¬
tion, and in the influence of his own family, he took pos¬
session of the archiepiscopal palace ; but his claims were
disputed by two powerful rivals, John Hepburn, prior of
St Andrews, and Andrew Foreman, bishop of Moray in
Scotland, and archbishop of Bourges in France. Hepburn
having prevailed upon the canons to elect him to the see,
laid siege to the castle, and after meeting with some re¬
sistance, expelled the retainers of his competitor; nor did
the earl of Angus, with a party of two hundred horse,
succeed in his attempt to recover the possession of this
strong hold.2 In the mean time, Foreman, who was a per¬
son of great influence, found means to obtain from Rome
a grant of the archbishopric of St Andrews, and the
other preferments which had been held by the late pri¬
mate.3 Douglas, actuated by a decent spirit of modera¬
tion, resolved to abandon the pursuit of this high object
of ecclesiastical ambition ; but the other competitors seem
to have been alike insensible to motives of private virtue
and of public decorum. Foreman being afraid to publish
the papal bulls, prevailed upon Lord Hume, by bestowing
on his brother the priory of Coldingham, to undertake the
support of his cause ; and this border chieftain enabled
him to appear at Edinburgh, attended by ten thousand
men in arms. Having performed the necessary ceremony,
they hastened to St Andrews in order to complete their
pious task, but they found the prior sufficiently prepared
for their reception: in the castle and in the cathedral he
had placed so considerable a garrison, that Foreman was
unwilling to hazard an attack, and deemed it more pru¬
dent to adjust their claims by an amicable negociation ; it
was finally stipulated that he should be put in quiet pos¬
session of the primacy, that Hepburn should receive a
yearly pension from the bishopric of Moray, and should
retain such rents as he had already levied from the arch¬
bishopric of St Andrews.4
From this negociation Douglas derived no advantage;
and, to complete the measure of his disappointments, the
abbacy of Aberbrothock, which he had regarded as se¬
cure, was transferred to James Beaton, archbishop of
Glasgow, and chancellor of the kingdom. The death of
George Brown, bishop of Dunkeld, which occurred in the
j L A S. 115
month of January 1515, presented him with new pros- Douglas,
pects, and exposed him to new mortifications. The queen
nominated him to the vacant see, and, as is supposed, by
the intervention of her brother the king of England, ob¬
tained a papal bull in his favour. But, in the mean time,
the ear] of Athole had induced the chapter to postulate
his brother Andrew Stewart, prebendary of Craig, who
had not yet taken subdeacon’s orders.5 The enemies of
the queen did not neglect this opportunity of disgracing
an individual so nearly allied to her husband : Douglas
was cited before the competent judges, and was accused
of having violated the laws, by procuring bulls from Rome.
Such practices had indeed been prohibited by several
statutes, but these had very seldom been enforced. Of
this offence he was however convicted ; and being com¬
mitted to the charge of his former rival Hepburn, he was
successively confined in the castles of Edinburgh, St An¬
drews, and Dunbar, and again in that of Edinburgh. Be¬
fore the period of his trial, the queen’s party had almost
entirely lost its influence : the duke of Albany, who was
the grandson of James the Second, and the cousin of the
late king, arrived from France on the 10th of May, and
within the space of about two months was declared regent
of the kingdom. A compromise at length took place
between the two parties: Douglas obtained his liberty
after an imprisonment of more than twelve months ; and
his claim to the bishopric was secured by Beaton's media¬
tion with the new regent. He was consecrated at Glas¬
gow by the same prelate, who defrayed the expenses
attending this ceremony; and having paid a visit to the
metropolitan city of St Andrews, he proceeded to Dun¬
keld, where the clergy and laity testified the utmost joy
at the arrival of so noble, learned, and pious a bishop.
The bulls having with the usual solemnities been read at
the high altar, he retired to the residence of the dean,
George Hepburn, by whom he was suitably entertained.
The episcopal palace was still occupied by the retainers
of Stewart; and the bishop finding next day that they
had likewise seized the tower of the cathedral, was obli¬
ged to perform divine service at the deanery. In the
afternoon he held a consultation with the nobility, gentry,
and clergy, by whom he was attended; but their delibe¬
rations were speedily interrupted by the intelligence that
Stewart had taken up arms, and was advancing to support
his adherents; and at the same time they were alarmed
by the commencement of a fire from the palace and the
cathedral. Lord Ogilvy, with the eldest son of the earl
of Crawford, and many other friends, including a con¬
siderable number of ecclesiastics, with the dean among
the rest, immediately began to prepare for action ; and
messengers having been dispatched to the neighbouring
districts, his party was next day strengthened by the ar¬
rival of a formidable reinforcement of armed men. Stew¬
art, who did not find himself strong enough to hazard an
attack, retired into the wmods. His retainers, who gar¬
risoned the palace and the cathedral, were now summoned
to surrender, under the pain of excommunication ; and on
their refusing to obey this summons, the bishop’s servants,
led by a valiant prebendary, and by James Carmichael,
1 Epistolse Regum Scotorum, vol. i. p. 183. Edinb. 1722-4, 2 tom. 8vo.
2 Ruchanani Rerum Scoticarum Hist. p. 256. Pinkerton’s Hist, of Scotland, voL ii. p. 124.
3 Rpistoke Regum Scotorum, vol. i. p. 269.
4 Buchanan, p 257. Lindsay’s Cronicles of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 291.
It may not be unnecessary to remark, that in the popish church there are seven orders, namely, those of porter, lector, exorcist,
aco y e, subdeacon, deacon, and priest; and that no person can regularly be elected a bishop, unless he has at least taken subdeacon’s
or ers. Although he cannot be elected, he may however be postulated by the chapter; and if this postulation is admitted by the
1» consil^e.re<^ 33 elected and confirmed. “ Postulatio est ejus, qui eligi non potest, in praelatum concors capituli fac-
pe i io. (Lancelotti Institutiones Juris Canonici, lib. ii. tit. viii.) There are other canonical impediments, which we need not
enumerate; for Stewart’s disqualification is particularly specified by Myln.
116
DOUGLAS.
Douglas, took possession of the cathedral. Intimidated by this
event, those who occupied the palace requested that a
truce might be granted, and the sentence of excommuni¬
cation delayed for a few hours ; but when the stipulated
time had elapsed, they still refused to surrender. The in¬
terference of the regent at length enabled Douglas to take
possession of his palace without the effusion of blood ; a cir¬
cumstance, as one of his biographers has remarked, which
“ was certainly very acceptable to the good bishop ; who in
all the actions of his life discovered a gentle and merciful
disposition, regulating the warlike and heroic spirit of his
family by the excellent laws of the Christian religion.”1
After these events, Stewart hastened to the court, accom¬
panied by his brother the earl; and Douglas haying like¬
wise made his appearance, their respective claims were
taken into consideration by the regent and council. It
was finally agreed that Stewart should relinquish his pre¬
tensions to the see of Dunkeld, but should retain such
rents as he had already levied, and should be confhrned
in the possession of the two benefices of Alyth and Car¬
o-ill, under the condition of paying the bishop a certain
annual contribution in grain.2 Although Douglas had so
recently been punished for soliciting bulls from Rome,
yet the regent did not scruple to apply to the pope for a
ratification of this agreement: in a letter dated on the
28th of September 1516, he entreated his holiness that all
informalities might be removed, and the stipulations ren¬
dered valid by his sanction.3
Having at length been installed in his cathedral, he was
speedily called from the discharge of his episcopal func¬
tions. During the ensuing year, an ambassador arrived
from France, with a proposition for the renewal of the an¬
cient league between the two kingdoms; and it was thought
expedient that the duke of Albany should himself repair
to Paris, accompanied by Bishop Douglas, and by Pa¬
trick Panter, chancellor of Dunkeld, and secretary of state.
The negociation having been brought to a satisfactory con¬
clusion, the bishop was employed to convey the earliest
intelligence to Scotland.4 His professional duties seem
again to have been interrupted during some part of the
year 1518: in the British Museum there is an origi¬
nal letter, signed by the earl of Angus and others, and
recommending him to the English king as a proper per¬
son to transact certain affairs in which they were con¬
cerned.5 Though thus exposed to occasional distractions,
he yet presided over his diocese with exemplary piety.
The various troubles in which he was formerly involved
had not merely prevented him from accumulating riches,
but had even encumbered him with debts; yet the bene¬
volence of his disposition prompted him to perform many
acts of charity and munificence.6 The revenues of this
see are represented as ample,? and he was again so fortu¬
nate as to fix his residence in a delightful part of the
country: the situation of Dunkeld, which no intelligent
lover of our early literature can visit without recollecting
the name of Douglas, has a romantic beauty of which it is
difficult to convey an adequate idea.
When the duke of Albany was preparing to quit the
kingdom, he delegated his authority to the archbishops of
St Andrews and Glasgow, and the earls of Arran, Angus, Roughs-
Argyle, and Huntley : but the predominating power of
Angus excited the apprehensions or the jealousy of his
colleagues ; and they resolved to unite their strength with
the view of circumscribing the influence of so formidable
rival. On the 29th of April 1520, Arran with many
others of the nobility assembled at Edinburgh in the house
of Archbishop Beaton : they formed the resolution of in¬
stantly seizing the person of Angus, whose power, they
pretended, was so exorbitant that, while he continued at
liberty, his fellow-subjects could enjoy no security. Aware
of their hostile intentions, he requested his uncle the bishop
of Dunkeld to mitigate their resentment, and persuade
them to adopt a more lawful method of redress. He ac¬
cordingly addressed himself to the archbishop, whom he
found in the church belonging to the monastery of the
black friars, and entreated him to act the part of a peace¬
maker : the crafty and turbulent prelate protested that he
was at once ignorant of their designs, and unable to pre¬
vent them from being carried into execution ; and to con¬
firm this averment, he made a solemn appeal to his con¬
science, but having too forcibly applied his hand to his
breast, he discovered to his indignant companion, that his
sacred habit concealed a coat of mail. “ My Lord, ex¬
claimed the bishop, “ I perceive your conscience is not
good, for I hear it clattering” that is, telling tales. He
next accosted Sir Patrick Hamilton, requesting him to in¬
terpose with his brother the earl of Arran: this gentle¬
man was inclined to peaceable measures, when the earl s
natural son Sir James, a man of a ferocious disposition,
rudely upbraided him with cowardice. Ihis charge he
repelled with indignation ; and having drawn his sword,
he rushed furiously into the street, where the earl of
Angus had stationed a numerous body ot his retainers :
perceiving him advance before the other assailants, the
earl called aloud to his followers to save Sir Patrick Ha¬
milton’s life ; but in the heat of battle it is difficult to spare
those who are eager to destroy, and he was speedily slain,
together with the eldest son of the earl of Eglintoun.
The encounter, which was long and fierce, was at length
decided by the interference of some of the citizens, who
were favourably disposed to the queen, and therefore
espoused the cause of her husband. Seventy-two of his
antagonists perished in the battle. During this scene of
disgraceful violence, the bishop of Dunkeld had retired to
his chamber, and spent the anxious interval in a manner
suitable to the profession ; but when the contest was de¬
cided, he hastened to prevent the wanton effusion of blood.
The archbishop, who appears to have been personally en¬
gaged, had taken refuge behind the altar of Black-friars
church, and the rocket was already torn from his shoulders,
when the interposition of Douglas saved his life.8
The duke of Albany, after an absence of upwards of
four years, returned to Scotland in 1521; and one of his
earliest measures was to reduce the inordinate power of
the Douglasses. Angus and his principal adherents, having
been summoned to answer for their violent proceedings,
fled for refuge to the Kirk of Steill. The bishop of Dun¬
keld was dispatched to London as their accredited agent,
75.
1 Sage’s Life of Douglas, p. 7-
3 Myln, Vitae Episcoporum Dunkeldensium, p-
» Epistolae Itegum Scotorum, vol. i. p. 222.
* Leslseus de Rebus gestis Scotorum, p- 385-9.
5 Pinkerton’s List of the Scotish Poets, p. xcv.
7 Winton’s Cronykil of Scotland, vol. i. p. 167.
reckoned the third see in the kingdom. , a *  
3 Buchanan, p. 261. Lindsay s Cronicles of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 285. Hume’s Hist, of the Houses of Douglas and Angus,
p. 245 Lindsay refers this event to the year 1515, but other historians, with greater probability, add five years to the numoer.
The encounter was long remembered in Edinburgh by the name of Cleanse the Causey.
Pinkerton’s Hist, of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 165.
6 Mvln, p. 75-
Pinkerton’s Hist, of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 127- The bishopric of Dunkeld was
DOUGLAS.
Douglas, and was instructed to represent their safety as necessarily
connected with that of their young sovereign.1 At the
court of Henry the Eighth, where his poetical talents had
probably found many admirers, he experienced a gracious
reception ; and the king is said to have provided for his
maintenance by the grant of a liberal pension.2 He
now contracted a friendship with Polydore Virgil, who
was engaged in composing a history of England. The re¬
cent publication of Mair’s history of Scotland, in which he
ventured to expose the Egyptian fables of his predecessors,
had excited the indignation of such of his countrymen as
delighted to trace their origin to the daughter of Pharaoh.
Douglas was studious to warn his Italian friend against
the opinions of this worthy doctor of the Sorbonne ;3 and
presented him with a brief commentary, in which he pur¬
sued the fabulous line of our ancestry from Athens to
Scotland ; nor was a poet to be easily induced to relin¬
quish so fine a tissue of romantic narrative. This tract,
which was probably written in Latin, seems to have shared
the common fate of the manuscripts entrusted to Poly¬
dore ; who, in order to secure the errors of his work from
detection, is said to have destroyed many valuable monu¬
ments of antiquity.4 Vossius has stated that Douglas
wrote a history of Scotland, consisting of several books ;5
but Bishop Bale, to whose authority he refers, only men¬
tions a single book;6 and it is evident that the historical
work to which both these writers and Dempster7 allude, is
merely the brief commentary quoted by Polydore Virgil.
While the accomplished prelate was thus employed in
England, his enemies were not inactive in Scotland. His
mission to the English king furnished a sufficient pretext
for accusing him of treason : on the 21st of February 1522
he was declared a traitor, and the revenues of his see were
placed in a state of sequestration ; the king’s subjects were
prohibited, under the pain of treason, from affording him
any pecuniary assistance, or maintaining with him any
correspondence either by letters or messages. An account
of these proceedings was transmitted to the pope, accom-
117
panied with a remonstrance against the nomination or re- Douglas,
commendation of the traitor Gavin Douglas to the arch-
bishopric of St Andrews and the abbacy of Dunfermline,
or to either of those preferments.8 The extent of his in¬
fluence had manifestly excited the alarm of Beaton, who
was determined at all hazards to secure these ample pre¬
lacies, recently become vacant by the death of Foreman.
Nor were these the only expedients to which he resorted :
as chancellor of the kingdom, he addressed a letter to the
king of Denmark, entreating him to represent Douglas to
the sovereign pontiff' as a person altogether unworthy of
his favour and protection.9 Beaton became archbishop of
St Andrews, and Douglas died in exile. He had been
cited to appear at Rome, and, according to his own de¬
claration, he intended to obey the summons;10 but in the
course of the same year, and before he began to decline
from the vigour of manhood, he was seized with the
plague, and speedily fell a victim to its dreadful contagion.11
He died at London in 1522, and was interred in the Sa¬
voy church, on the left side of Thomas Halsay, bishop of
Leighlin in Ireland; whose monument also contained a
short inscription of his name and addition.12 The charac¬
ter which he left behind him was that of a “ man learned,
wise, and given to all vertue and goodness.”13 With the
splendour of his birth and the dignity of his person he
united many accomplishments and many virtues. Al¬
though he lived in an age of lawless violence, and was
connected with a powerful and turbulent family, he was
uniformly distinguished by the moderation of his conduct.14
The fruits produced by the celibacy of the Romish clergy
are sufficiently known : the bishop of Dunkeld left a na¬
tural daughter, from whom Semple of Foulwood derived
his lineage.15 Transgressions of this nature were so com¬
mon, that they must almost have ceased to be regarded as
criminal: Patrick Hepburn, bishop of Moray, had two sons
legitimated in one day, and five daughters in another.
It is the secular learning of Bishop Douglas that has
chiefly attracted the attention of posterity; but Myln,
1 In the British Museum, Calig. B. vi. 223, there is an original paper, dated “ at the Kirk of the Steill,” 14 December 1521,
and containing u Instructions and Commissioun for my Lord of Dunkeld, to be schawin vnto the Kyngis Grace of Ingland, on the
behalf of my Lord of Anguss, his kyn and frendis, Lord Hwme, Lord Sommervel, thar kyn and frendis.” This document states
that, for the fulfilment of the articles mutually agreed upon, the said lords are bodily sworn upon the gospels, “ befor a reuerend
fader, Gawin Bischop of Dunkeld, and Thomas Lord Dacre.”
2 Holinshed’s Chronicles, vol- iii. p. 872.
3 Polydori Yirgilii Anglica Historia, p. 52. edit. Basil. 1556, fol.
4 Peacham’s Compleat Gentleman, p. 51. edit. Lond. 1634, 4to.—“ He is said to have borrowed books out of the publick library
at Oxford, without taking any care to restore them : upon which the university (as they had good reason) declined lending any
more, till forced to it by a mandate which he made a shift to procure from the king. In other places he likewise pillaged the libra¬
ries at his pleasure ; and, at last, sent over a whole ship-load of manuscripts to Home.” (Nicolson’s English Historical Library, p. 70.)
* Vossius de Historicis Latinis, p. 686. 6 Balei Scriptores Britanniae, cent. xiv. p. 218.
7 Dempsteri Hist. Ecclesiast. Gent. Sector, p. 221.
8 Epistolae Begum Scotorum, vol. i. p. 328. 9 Ibid. vol. p. 333.
10 Pinkerton’s Hist, of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 194 In a letter from the bishop of Bath to Cardinal YVolsey, dated at Rome on the 19th
of March, the following passage occurs: “ The bishope of Dunkell his servant is come ; and I doo the best I cane to helpe and assist
hyme in his masters causes, accordyng your grace is commandment.” (H. Ellis’s Original Letters, second series, voi. i. p. 316.) See
likewise p. 323. The earl of Morton was accused of treason, and, among other grounds, “ for the tresonable counsale, help, sup.
portacioun, and assistance, gevin to Gawyne bischop of Dunkeld, in his tresonable passing in Inglandbut an act of parliament,
passed in 1524, declared the charge against him, “ in all the punctis it contenit, vane, vntrew, and had na veritie.” (Acts of the Par¬
liaments of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 290.)
11 Polydori Virgilii Anglica Historia, p. 53 According to Hume’s calculation, he had reached the forty-sixth year of his age in
1520. His testament may be found in the appendix to Mr Riddell’s Reply to the Misstatements of Dr Hamilton, in his late Memoirs
of the House of Hamilton corrected. Edinb. 1828, 4to. On the 19th of September 1522, it was proved by one of the executors, Mat¬
thew Geddes, vicar of Tippermuir, his chaplain. The inventory of the bishop’s goods was taken “ apud hospitium Domini Dacris.”
In the British Museum, Calig. B. i. 27, there is an original letter from Douglas to Lord Dacre, in which he says, “ our houssys ar
of the auld allyat.” Mr Riddell has suggested that the testament makes no allusion to the pension mentioned by Holinshed; and
that “ the bishop seems to have been reduced to straits, as he is obliged to pawn some of his silver plate.” But as his mission to
England was considered as treasonable, he had an obvious reason for avoiding the mention of an English pension ; and in most cases
there is no great difficulty in supposing a man’s expenses to exceed his income.
12 Weever’s Ancient Funeral Monuments, p. 446.
18 Spotswood’s Hist, of the Church of Scotland, p. 101 This historian states that “ he died of the plague at London in Savoy
house.” i * Buchanani Rerum Scoticarum Historia, p. 262.
21 Hume’s Hist, of the Houses of Douglas and Angus, p. 220
118
Douglas
DOUGLAS.
who was one of the canons of his cathedral, represents
him as eminently skilled in divinity and the canon law.
He was perhaps the most learned of the early Scotish
poets. Among the ancient poets, his favourites were ap¬
parently Virgil and Ovid; among the Christian fathers,
his favourite was St Augustin, whom he denominates the
chief of clerks. Of the Latin language his knowledge was
certainly extensive; and as he states that Lord Sinclair
had requested him to translate Homer, we may venture
to infer that he was not unacquainted with Greek. It is
highly probable that he had completed his education on
the continent, and had thus given his studies a more ele¬
gant and classical direction. Nor were his talents less
conspicuous than his learning. In all his writings he
evinces an excursive fancy, with much of the fervour of
genius. His allegorical sketches are efforts of no common
ingenuity ; but what chiefly renders his works interesting
is the frequent occurrence of those picturesque and cha¬
racteristic touches, which can only be produced by a man
capable of accurate observation and original thinking. lie
exhibits perpetual vestiges of a prolific and even exube¬
rant imagination, and his very faults are those of supei-
abundance rather than deficiency. In his descriptions,
which are often admirable, he occasionally distracts the
attention by a multiplicity of objects, nor is he sufficiently
careful to represent each new circumstance in a definite
and appropriate manner. His style is copious and impe¬
tuous, but it cannot be commended for its purity. In his
translation of Virgil he professes to be scrupulous in re¬
jecting Anglicisms, and indeed his diction is often remote
from that of the English poets : but he has imported
many exotic terms from another quarter; his familiarity
with the Latin language betrays itself in almost every
page of his writings. His verses, though less smooth and
elegant than those of Dunbar, are not unskilfully con¬
structed.
Of Douglas’s original compositions the longest is the
Police of Honour? an allegorical poem which displays
much versatility of fancy and a ready command of striking
imagery. Still however it is to be considered as a Gothic
structure, and as exhibiting many of the peculiarities
which belong to that order: ancient and modern usages,
classical and Christian subjects, are almost constantly
blended together; and a nymph of Calliope’s train ex¬
pounds the scheme of human redemption. This poem
appears to have been composed in 1501, when the author
was twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age. It has
been surmized that Douglas’s work is probably founded
on the Sejour d'Honneur of Octavien de St Gelais.1 2 The
titles have indeed an obvious resemblance to each other,
but there is little or no affinity in the plan and execution
of the two poems. The successive appearance of the dif¬
ferent courts described in the Palice of Honour, may pos¬
sibly remind some readers of the Triumphs of Petrarch,
in which various shadowy trains succeed each other in a Douglas,
somewhat similar manner; but notwithstanding these dif-
ferent suggestions, Douglas’s poem must still be regarded
as entitled to the praise which belongs to an original de¬
sign. .
King Hart, another allegorical poem of the same au¬
thor exhibits a very ingenious adumbration of the pro¬
gress of human life.3 It is a singular composition, and
may remind the reader of Phineas Fletcher’s Purple
Island; a work which furnishes a striking example of the
misapplication of fine poetical talents. From the occur¬
rence of several incorrect passages, it has been supposed
to be one of Douglas’s earliest performances. Incorrect
passages we may expect to find in all the vernacular poe¬
try of that age ; and the versification appears to us supe¬
rior to that of the Pahce of Honour. As he has not enu¬
merated it among his early works, we may perhaps ven¬
ture to conclude that it was written after his translation
of Virgil. The heart, being the fountain of vital motion,
is here personified as man himself, and is conducted through
a great variety of adventures.
But the most remarkable of Douglas’s works is perhaps
his translation of the ^Eneid.4 In the original poems
which accompany it, he has fortunately specified the ori¬
gin and progress of this undertaking: he there informs us
that it was begun at the request of his cousin Lord Sin¬
clair, whom he represents as a zealous collector of books,
and protector of science and literature; and that it was
the labour of only sixteen months, being completed on the
22d day of July 1513, about twelve years after he had
composed the Palice of Honour. This task must appa¬
rently be understood to comprehend, not merely a version
of Virgil’s twelve books, but likewise of the supplemen¬
tary book of Mapheus Vegius, together with the original
poems which he has interspersed in the volume. Whe¬
ther we consider the state of British literature at that pe¬
riod, or the rapidity with which he executed so extensive
a work, it is impossible to withhold from this version a
large share of our approbation. In either of the sister
languages, few translations of classical authors had hither¬
to been attempted. Even in England, it has been remark¬
ed, no metrical version of a classic had yet appeared; ex¬
cept of Boethius, who scarcely merits that appellation.5
On the destruction of Troy, Caxton had published a kind
of prose romance, which he professes to have translated
from the French; and the English reader was taught to
consider this motley composition as a version of the iEneid.
Douglas bestows severe castigation on Caxton for his per¬
version of the classical story; and affirms that his work
no more resembles Virgil than the devil resembles St
Austin. He has however fallen into one error which he
exposes in his precursor; proper names are so completely
disfigured in his translation, that they cannot be recog¬
nized without some degree of difficulty. In various in-
1 The Palis of Honoure, compeled by Gawyne Dowglas, Bysshope of Dunkyll. Imprinted at London in Fletstret, at the sygne
of the Rose garland, by Wyllyam Copland. 4to. This edition, which is without a date, was probably printed about the same time
with the author’s translation of Virgil. They are uniformly printed, and both title-pages have the same ornamental border. Ano¬
ther early edition bears the following title :* “ Heir beginnis ane treatise callit the Palice of Hbnovr, compyht be M. Gawine
Dowglas, Bischop of Dunkeld. Imprentit at Edinburgh be lohne Ros for Henrie Charteris, anno 1579. Cum Pnvilegio Regali. 4to.
The epistle “ To the Reidar” begins thus : “ Quhen we had sene and considderit the dmers impressiones befoir imprentit ot this
notabill werk, to haue bene altogidder faultie and corrupt, not onlie that quhilk hes bene imprentit at London, bot also the copyis
set furth of auld amangis our selfis.” Copland’s edition is however the earliest which bibliographers have been able to trace. The
Edinburgh edition hasTately been reprinted for the Bannatyne Club. Edinb. 1827, 4to.
2 Le Seiour d’Honneur, composd par reuerend Pere en Dieu Messire Octouien de Sainct Gelaiz, Euesque d Angoulesme, nou-
uellement imprimd. Paris, 1519, 8vo.
3 King Hart was first printed in Mr Pinkerton’s Ancient Scotish Poems, vol. i. Lond. 1788, 2 vols. 8vo. _
4 The xiii. bukes of Eneados of the famose poete Virgill, translatet out of Latyne verses into Scottish metir, bi the Reuerend
Father in God, Mayster Gawin Douglas, Bishop of Dunkel, & vnkil to the Erie of Angus : euery buke hauing hys perticular Pro-
loge. Imprinted at London, 1553, 4to. Another edition, with a life of the translator by Sage, and a glossary by Ruddiman, ap¬
peared after a long interval. Edinb. 171ft, fob
4 Warton’s Hist, of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 112.
D O U
D O U
119
Douglas, stances, he has been guilty of modernizing the notions of
his original: the Sibyl, for example, is converted into a
nun, and admonishes iEneas, the Trojan baron, to persist
in counting his beads.
Douglas’s translation of Virgil is certainly executed with
no mean ability ; it is the effort of a bold and energetic wri¬
ter, whose knowledge of the original language,1 and prompt
command of a copious and variegated phraseology, quali¬
fied him for the performance of so arduous a task. It is
indeed to be regretted that he did not devote a much
longer period to this undertaking: he might thus have
been enabled to render his versification more terse and
finished; but the work, in its present state, is a singular
monument of his genius and industry. One of his princi¬
pal objects was to write in plain and intelligible language,
so that his favourite poet might be readily understood by
his countrymen; and by keeping this object constantly in
view, he has frequently attained to less elevation of style
than might have been expected. His translation possesses
one merit w’hich he probably did not contemplate: as a
version of a well-known classic, it presents an ample fund
of philological information ; and Ruddiman’s excellent glos¬
sary has long recommended it to all those who have paid
any particular attention to the etymology of the Scotish
language. The felicity of this translation has been very
wrarmly commended by another Scotish prelate, Dr Lesley,
the celebrated bishop of Ross; who, in enumerating its
various excellencies, has stated that it always renders one
verse by another. But this regularity of correspondence, for
which it has likewise been praised by Dempster, must not
be too literally understood ; and it may be proper to recol¬
lect that the verses of the two poets, although they might
be equal in number, could not be equal in length, as a
hexameter line may consist of seventeen, and cannot con¬
sist of few'er than thirteen syllables.
The bishop of Dunkeld’s version of the ^Tlneid seems
to have suggested a similar plan to the earl of Surrey,
who translated the second and fourth books into English.
In this translation he has exhibited the earliest specimen
of blank verse that occurs in the history of English poe¬
try. Dr Nott has remarked that “ we meet with so
many expressions which Surrey has evidently borrowed,
with so many lines adopted with hardly any other altera¬
tion than that which the difference of the dialect, and the
measure made necessary, and so many taken without any
alteration at all, that all doubt ceases. It becomes a mat¬
ter of certainty that Surrey must have read and studied
the Scottish translation before he began his own.”2 This
assertion he has verified by a long series of parallel pas¬
sages, which it is impossible to read without acquiescing
in his opinion.
The several books of Douglas’s translation are introdu¬
ced by prologues, which, in the opinion of Warton, are
often highly poetical, and shew that his proper walk was
original poetry. They have likewise received warm com
mendation from Hume of Godscroft, who was himself a
scholar and a poet. “ In his prologues before every book,”
he remarks, “ where he hath his liberty, he sheweth a
natural and ample vein of poesy, so pure, pleasant, and
judicious, that I believe there is none that hath written
before or since, but cometh short of him. And, in my
opinion, there is not such a piece to be found as his pro- Douglas,
logue to the eighth book, beginning Of drevilling and
dreams, &c. at least in our language.”
These are the only works of Bishop Douglas with which
we are now acquainted. On concluding his translation ot
Virgil, he avowed a resolution to devote his future days
to the service of the commonwealth and the glory ol God.
The earliest of his poetical performances appears to have
been a translation of Ovid De Remedio Amoris; but ot
this translation no copy is known to be extant.
I,o thus, followand the floure of poetry,
The battellis and the man translate haue I,
Quhilk zore ago in myne undantit zouth,
Unfructuous idilnes fleand, as I couth,
Of Ovideis Lufe the Remede did translate,
And syne of hie Honour the Palice wrate.
Bale mentions another of his compositions under the title
of “ Aurese Narrationeswhich Sage supposes to be the
short commentary noticed in the concluding address to
Lord Sinclair :
I haue also ane schorte commend compyld,
To expone strange historiis and termes wylde.
This comment, as the same biographer conjectures, may
have been merely a brief explanation of the classical my¬
thology. If we may rely on the authority of Bale and
Dempster, he likewise composed comedies ; but both these
writers are apt to multiply books as well as authors. An¬
other biographer is inclined to suppose that he may have
written the Flowers of the Forest, a song which displays
no small portion of pathetic simplicity. “ It may be con¬
jectured,” says Mr Scott, “ that he was the author of that
celebrated elegaic song, which describes the devastation
occasioned by the battle of Flowdon, in that part of the
country with which he had long been well acquainted.”3
It was published by Mr Lambe in the year 1774, and is
described by him as an old Scotish song;4 and Mr Ritson,
who thought it “ as sweet and natural a piece of elegaic
poetry as any language can boast,’ had no hesitation in
believing it to have been composed immediately after the
battle of Flodden-field ;5 a decision which sufficiently
evinces that, notwithstanding his confidence in his own
judgment, and his undisguised contempt for almost all his
predecessors, his critical opinions on such subjects were
very far from being infallible. According to a more au¬
thentic account, the tune and two detached verses of this
song are ancient; and all the others were composed by a
lady connected with the county of Roxburgh.6 The lan¬
guage and versification are evidently of a more recent date
than the year 1513 ; nor could such a composition be safely
referred to any period preceding the last century. (d. i.)
Douglas, the capital of the Isle of Man, situated on a
fine bay on the east coast of that island, in Lat. 54. 10. N.,
Long. 4. 27. W. Pop. (1851) 9880. In summer it is
much frequented as a watering-place by parties from Liver¬
pool and other places, and in consequence it has of late
years undergone considerable improvements; but many of
its old streets are irregular, narrow, and dirty. A fine
square, several handsome terraces, and numerous detached
villas, are among its recent improvements. Castle Mona,
a large and handsome building, formerly one of the seats of
1 See however the remarks of Francis Junius, which are contained in a letter published in “ Ihe Life, Diary, and Correspondence
of Sir William Dugdale,” p-383. Lond. 1827, 4to.
2 Nott’s Dissertation on the State of English Poetry before the Sixteenth Century, p. cciv.
3 J. Scott’s Life of Douglas (p. xxvi.), prefixed to his Select Works. Perth, 1787, 12mo.
4 History of the Battle of Floddon, with notes by Robert Lambe, Vicar of Norham upon Tweed, app. p. 129. Berwick upon Tweed,
1774, 12mo.
6 Ritson’s Ancient Songs, p- 117*
* Scott’s Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, vol. iii. p. 127—This lad” is elsewhere said to have been Jane Elliot, who was born
at Minto in the year 1726.
120
D 0 U
Douleia the Duke of Atholl, is now used as an hotel. Among the
II public buildings may be noticed the custom-house, court-
Douw- house, market-house, house of industry, odd-fellows’ hall,
; an(j public hospital. Douglas has an ancient parish church,
partially rebuilt in 1773, several chapels, and places of wor¬
ship for Catholics, Methodists, &c.; national, infant, and
other schools ; mechanics’ institute ; museum ; and several
libraries. It has some coasting trade and fisheries. Liver¬
pool, Glasgow, and Irish steamers, frequently touch here.
The harbour is dry at low water; but vessels drawing from
10 to 14 feet may enter, the former at high water neaps,
the latter at high water springs. The pier—520 feet in
length, and upwards of 40 in breadth—has a lighthouse at
its northern extremity.
DOULEIA (from SoiAos, a slave), in Antiquity, denoted
the condition of the subject allies of the Athenians; and
was also used to designate the servile class generally.
DOUNE, a village of Perthshire, Scotland ; situated on
the left bank of the Teith, 6 miles N.W. of Stirling. Pop.
(1851) 1459, mostly employed in the extensive cotton works
of Deanston, in the immediate vicinity. The ruins of Doune
Castle, a large and massive fortress, built about the four¬
teenth century, are situated on the point of a steep and
narrow elevation, washed on one side by the Teith, and on
the other by the Ardoch. It was anciently the seat of the
earls of Menteith; but about the beginning of the fifteenth
century it was forfeited to the crown, and became the fa¬
vourite residence of the dukes of Albany, who governed
Scotland during the captivity of James I. Queens Margaret
and Mary are also said to have frequently resided in this for¬
tress. It was held for Prince Charles in 1745 ; and here he
confined his prisoners taken at Falkirk, and among the rest
the author of the tragedy of Douglas.
DOUR, a town of Belgium, province of Hainault, and
arrondissement of Mons, 8 miles W.S.W. of the town of
that name. Pop. (1850) 6783, chiefly employed in the
coal mines and iron-works of the vicinity.
DOURO, a river of Spain. See Spain, and Portugal.
DOUW, Gerhard, a celebrated painter, was born at
Leyden in 1613, and received his first instructions in draw¬
ing and design from Bartholomew Dolendo, an engraver,
and from Peter Kouwhoorn, a painter on glass. At the
age of fifteen he became a disciple of Rembrandt; and in
that famous school he continued for three years.
From Rembrandt he learned the true principles of colour¬
ing, and obtained a complete knowledge of chiaroscuro ; but
to that knowledge he added a delicacy of pencil, and a pa¬
tience in working up his colours to the highest degree of
finish. He was more pleased with the early pictures of
Rembrandt than with those by which he was distinguished
in his more advanced age ; because the first seemed finished
with greater care and attention than his later works, which
displayed more boldness, freedom, and negligence—a style
that was quite contrary to the taste of Douw. But although
the manner of Gerhard Douw appears so different from that
of his master, yet it was to Rembrandt alone that he owed
that excellence in colouring by which he triumphed over all
the contemporary artists of his own country.
His pictures are usually of a small size, with figures so
exquisitely touched, so transparent, so wonderfully delicate,
as to excite astonishment as well as pleasure. He designed
every object after nature, and with an exactness so singular,
that each object appears a perfect transcript of nature in
respect to colour, freshness, and force. His general manner
of painting portraits was by the aid of a concave mirror, and
sometimes by looking at the object through a frame crossed
with many exact squares of fine silk thread. But this cus¬
tom is now abandoned, as the eye of a good artist seems a
more competent rule, though the use of the mirror is still
practised by some painters in miniature.
It is almost incredible what sums have been given, and
D O V
are still given, for the pictures of Douw, both in his own
and in other countries; for he was exceedingly careful in
giving them the highest degree ot finish, and patiently as- ^
siduous beyond example. Of that patience Sandrart gives
a very strong proof in a circumstance which he mentions
relative to this artist. Having once, in company with Bam-
boccio, visited Gerhard Douw, they could not forbear ad¬
miring the exquisite minuteness of a picture which he was
then painting, and in particular noticed a broom, at the same
time expressing their surprise at the excessive labour be¬
stowed on such an unimportant object; upon which Douw
told them he would spend three days more in working on
that broom before he should consider it entirely complete.
The same author relates that the wife of his great patron,
M. Spiering, sat to Douw five days for the finishing of
one of her hands. In consequence of his tedious style of
painting, few persons would sit to Douw for their portraits
and he therefore devoted his labours chiefly to works ot
fancy, in which he could introduce objects ot still life, and
employ as much time on them as suited his own inclination.
Houbraken states that M. Spiering allowed him a thousand
guilders a-year, and paid besides whatever he demanded for
his pictures, having purchased some of them for their weight
in silver; but Sandrart, with more probability, assures us
that the thousand guilders a-year were paid to Gerhard on
no other consideration than that the artist should give his
benefactor the option of every picture he painted, for which
he was immediately to receive the utmost he demanded.
This celebrated painter died in 1674, aged sixty-one.
DOVE. See Ornithology.
DOVE-TAILING, in Carpentry, a method of joining
together boards or timbers by cutting on the end of one
piece projections in the form of a dove’s tail spread, or a
wedge reversed, and inserting these projections into hollows
of a corresponding shape in the other piece. This forms
the strongest of all joints, because the tenons or projecting
pieces, from their form, cannot be drawn out.
DOVER (the ancient Dubris), a municipal and parlia¬
mentary borough, and one of the Cinque Ports of England,
in the county of Kent, 71 miles E.S.E. of London. It is
situated on the N.W. coast of the Straits of Dover, in a
deep valley formed by an opening in the chalk hills which
surround it in the form of an amphitheatre. On one ot
these hills, to the eastward of the town, and rising abruptly
to the height of 320 feet above the sea, stands the ancient
castle. The walls of this castle inclose an area of nearly
35 acres; containing towers and other buildings of various
ages from the time of the Romans to recent times, and hav¬
ing accommodation for a garrison of from 3000 to 4000
men. Other portions of the heights around the town are
also fortified. The town has been greatly extended of late
years. A continuous line of buildings now unite it with
the villages of Charlton and Buckland, which are included
within its boundaries. Between the east end of the town
and the castle cliffs is what may be called the new town,
where superior houses have been erected for the accommo¬
dation of visitors. The old part of the town is irregularly
built, and the streets are narrow and dirty. Dover has two
ancient parish churches, St Mary’s and St James’s, the for¬
mer having a Norman tower ; two recently built churches ;
a Roman Catholic, and several Dissenting chapels ; national,
free, and infant schools; reading-rooms, and libraries;
theatre ; assembly rooms; and public baths. Many at¬
tempts have been made to improve the harbour, but with
comparatively little success, from the constant accumulation
of sand and shingle at its mouth. The entrance is narrow,
and is between two piers. The vessels registered at the
port on 31st December 1853 were 70, of the aggregate
burden of 3926 tons : of these 48 vessels of 1369 tons were
under 50 tons each, and 1 was a steamer of 54 tons. The
vessels entered and cleared at the port during 1853 were
Dove
II
Dover.
t
Dover
I!
Dowleta-
bad.
D 0 W
D 0 W
121
as follows : Coasting trade, inwards, 443, tonnage 34,310 ;
outwards 104, tonnage 5348; colonial trade, inwards 3,
tonnage 252; outwards 1, tonnage 260; foreign trade,
sailing vessels, inwards 69, tonnage 5870; outwards 45,
tonnage 2097; steamers, inwards 90, tonnage 11,960 ; out¬
wards 1, tonnage 140. Dover is the principal station and the
seat of government of the Cinque Ports. I t is governed by a
mayor, 6 aldermen, and 18 councillors ; and returns 2 mem¬
bers to parliament. Pop. (1851) 22,244.
Dover, a town in the state of New Hampshire, North
America, and capital of the county of Strafford, is situated
on the W. side of Piscataqua river, and watered by its tri¬
butaries the Cocheco and the Black river ; 60 miles N.
of Boston. The Cocheco has here a sudden descent of
32j feet, producing a great water-power, and being at the
head of tide-water and 12 miles from the sea, sloops can
come up to within a short distance of the mills. It has
numerous and extensive manufactures, chiefly of cotton
goods; a considerable shipping; and is one of the most
flourishing towns in the state. Dover is the oldest town in
this state, having been settled in 1623. Pop. (1850) 8186.
Dover, the capital of the state of Delaware, and of the
county of Kent, is situated on high ground, between the two
principal branches of Jones’s Creek, ten miles above its en¬
trance into Delaware Bay. It is regularly laid out, with
wide streets crossing each other at right angles. The prin¬
cipal public building is the state house, an elegant and com¬
modious edifice. There is also a splendid monument
erected to the memory of Colonel John Haslett, who fell in
the battle of Princeston. Pop. 3932.
DOWAGER (Fr. douairiere, doiver, from Lat. doto,
to endow), a widow with a jointure ; a title more particularly
given to the widows of princes and persons of rank. Queen-
dowager is the designation of the widow of a king.
DOWEL, a wooden or iron pin or tenon, used for join¬
ing together two pieces of wood, &c. Corresponding holes
being made in the edge of each of the two pieces, one half
of the dowel is inserted into the hole in the one piece, and
the other piece is then driven home on it.
DOWER (Lat. tfos, and dWamw??.), that portion of lands
or tenements of a man which his widow enjoys during her
life, after the death of her husband ; and which, at her death,
descends to his heirs. It also signifies the property which
a woman brings to her husband in marriage, and likewise
any endowment or gift. It is sometimes written dowry.
DOWLAS, a kind of coarse strong linen cloth.
DO WLETABAD,a celebrated city and fortress of Hin¬
dustan, province of Hyderabad, deemed impregnable by the
natives. The fort stands on the summit of a mountain,
which is surrounded with several stone walls, the lowest of
which incloses the town. The two lower fortifications are
in this manner completely commanded by the upper. Like
all the other hill forts of India, it is unhealthy, but is still
considered as the key of the Deccan. This place, notwith¬
standing its strength, has been frequently taken. When the
Mohammedan powers carried their arms into this part of the
Deccan, about the year 1203, it was the residence of a
powerful rajah, and was plundered of immense riches. In
1306 it was reduced by Mallek Naib, the emperor of Delhi’s
general. In the early part of the fourteenth century, the
Afghan emperor Mohammed III. attempted to render this,
place, as its present name implies, the “ abode ofprosperity,”
and with this view he endeavoured to force the inhabitants
of Delhi to quit their habitations and to emigrate to the
Deccan; but he was unable to carry this violent scheme
into effect. About the year 1595 Dowletabad surrendered
to Ahmed Nizam, shah of Ahmednuggur ; and on the fall
of his dynasty it was taken possession of by Mallek Amber,
an Abyssinian slave. His successors reigned till 1634, when
it was taken by the Moguls ; and it is now comprehended in
the territories of the Nizam, but has much declined since
VOL. vm.
the foundation of Aurungabad in its vicinity. The district Down,
of Dowletabad is situated chiefly between the 19th and 20th
degrees of north latitude, and extends along the north side of
theGodavery. The city is in Lat. 19.57.; Long.75.18. (e.t.)
DOWN, a maritime county in the south-eastern part of
the province of Ulster, in Ireland; bounded N. by the
county of Antrim and Belfast Lough, E. and S. by the Irish
Sea, and W. by the county of Armagh. Down comprises
967 square miles, or 612,495 acres; of which 514,180 are
arable, 78,317 uncultivated, 14,355 in plantations, 2211 in
towns, and 3432 under water.
On the authority of Ptolemy, this county is supposed to
have been anciently inhabited by the tribes of the Vinderii
and Voluntii, but afterwards formed part of the ancient prin¬
cipality of Ulidia or Dalriada, from which colonies branched
into Scotland, where they afterwards united with the Scot¬
tish monarchy, and became historically more important than
the parent stock. After the arrival of the English, who, un¬
der the leadership of the celebrated John de Courcy, over¬
ran the district, it was parcelled out among the English fami¬
lies of White, Savage, Riddel, Poer, Sendall, Chamberlain,
Russell, Audley, Copeland, &c., descendants of some few
of which remain at the present day in the county. Down
formed two counties, Newtownards in the north and Down
in the south, from the period of the English settlement to
the Irish revolt in 1333, when the English settlers were
driven into the maritime baronies of Ards, Lecale, and
Mourne, of which they in part retained possession. The
remainder of the district fell into the hands of Irish families,
the O’Neills of Clandeboy, the MacArtans, MacRorys, and
MacGinnises, whose possessions, however, reverted to the
crown on the attainder of Shane O’Neill, in the latter half
of the sixteenth century ; but having afterwards submitted
to the government, they received back their former estates.
In 1602 the O’Neill estates were again forfeited, and granted
to Sir Hugh Montgomery and Mr Hamilton, who planted
Scottish colonies on the land. The estates of the remain¬
ing old Irish and Anglo-Norman families were mostly for¬
feited in the rebellion of 1641, or subsequently at the Re¬
volution.
The county is now divided into eleven baronies, Ards
Lower and Upper, Castlereagh Lower and Upper, Dufferin,
Iveagh Lower and Upper, Kinelearty, Lecale, Mourne, and
Newry lordships : these baronies are subdivided into 70
parishes, forming the diocese of Down, which includes all
the sea-coast and eastern part of the county, the greater
portion of that of Dromore, and the lordship of Newry,
which is exempt from episcopal jurisdiction, a privilege
which it enjoys from having appertained to a monastery be¬
fore the Reformation. On the dissolution of the monastery
the powers and privileges of the lord-abbot were trans¬
ferred to the temporal proprietor, Sir Nicholas Bagnall, to
whom a patent was granted by Edward VI. “on account
of his excellent services as marshal of Ireland.” The pro¬
prietor of the present patent, the Earl of Kilmorey, is en¬
titled the Lord Abbot, and is ex officio rector of Newry,
and, by his vicar-general and surrogate, grants probates of
wills, letters of administration, marriage licenses, &c., and
transacts the business of an ecclesiastical court, with as full
power as that of any other ecclesiastical court in Ireland.
The union workhouses are at Banbridge, Downpatrick,
Kilkeel, Newry, and Newtownards. Portions of the county
are also included in the neighbouring unions of Belfast,
Lisburn, and Lurgan. The net annual value of property
rated to the poor is L.637,989, and the amount of property
valued under the 6th & 7th Wm. IV., cap 84, amounts to
L.455,697. The county is within the military district of
Belfast. There are 24 coast-guard stations, with about 160
men and officers. The assizes are held at Downpatrick,
where the county prison and county infirndary are situated.
The district lunatic asylum is at Belfast, in the county of
Q
122
D 0 W N.
Down.
Antrim. There are savings-banks at Newry and Hills¬
borough, with deposits amounting to about L.45,000.
The chief towns are as follows: — Downpatrick (pop.
4098), of very ancient foundation, supposed to be the oldest
town in Ireland), and a parliamentary borough, situated
within a mile of Strangford Lough; Newtownards (pop.
9567), formerly a parliamentary borough, and in the neigh¬
bourhood of numerous religious foundations, now a flourish¬
ing town, belonging to the Marquis of Londonderry, whose
residence, Mount Stewart, is within three miles distance;
Banbridge (pop. 3301), the centre of the linen trade of
Ulster, standing on a hill on the left bank of the Bann, from
which, and the bridge by which it is crossed, the name ori¬
ginated; Donaghadee (pop. 2818), the nearest port to Scot¬
land, formerly a packet-station, now a trading-port and plea¬
sant sea-bathing place; Bangor (pop. 2850), a small an¬
cient seaport, with a good harbour, and fine beach adapted
for bathing; Rathfriland (pop. 2053); Portafeiry (p'T’j
2074); and Newry (pop. 13,491, of which number 3875
are in the county of Armagh), a place of considerable trade,
and with great natural advantages of situation.
The population of the county of Down, which Beaufort
in 1792, estimated as amounting to 201,500, has been found,
according to the parliamentary returns at various periods, to
have been as follows :—in 1821, 325,410; in 1831,352,012;
in 184*1, 361,446; and in 1851, 320,817.
In 1824-26 the number of children receiving education
in 550 schools was 13,456 boys and 8375 girls; the total
number amounting to 22,828, of whom 4347 w’ere Protes¬
tants of the Established Church, 6120 were Homan Catho¬
lics, and 11,615 Dissenters, chiefly Presbyterians; and
a remaining number of 411, whose religious persuasion was
not ascertained. In 1851, according to the census returns,
the state of education of the population, five years old and
upwards, was as follows :—
Ilural Civic
Districts. Districts.
Could read and write.. 107,597 16,731
Could read only  81,108 11,085
Could neither read 1 61)689 7>7Sq
nor write
Proper. Propor.
Total, per cent, per cent,
in 1851. in 1841.
124,328
92,193
69,475
44
31i
39J
33
24J 27J
The diocesan grammar-school of Down, at Downpatrick, is
now formed into a joint district school for Dowm and Dio-
more.
The Presbyterian form of worship predominates, espe¬
cially in the towns and low country. In the mountainous
part the Roman Catholic religion prevails to a great extent.
In 1834 the population, divided according to their religious
persuasion, was ascertained to consist of 27,662 Churchmen,
98,961 Presbyterians, 3530 other Protestant Dissenters, and
58,405 Roman Catholics.
Previous to the union with Great Britain, Down returned
fourteen members to the Irish parliament; two for the
county at large, and two for each of the boroughs of Ban¬
gor, Downpatrick, Hillsborough, Newry, Newtonards, and
Killileagh. Since the union it has been represented by four
members, two for the county, one for Downpatrick, and one
for Newry, the Reform act having made no change in the
number or distribution of the representatives.
So far as inequality of surface is essential to scenic beauty,
this county, presenting every variety of plain, hill, and
mountain, has strong claims to it. The plains are chiefly
confined to the vicinity of rivers, the hills occupy the greater
portion of the surface, and the mountains are accumulated
together in one immense mass in the southern barony of
Mourne. Slieve Donard, the highest summit of the
Mourne mountains, is 2796 feet above the level of the
sea, and, excepting Lugduff in Wicklow and several sum¬
mits near Killarney, it is not exceeded in height by any
other mountain in Ireland.
The Mourne Mountains and their subordinate branches
give rise to the four principal rivers. The Bann (lower) rises
near the Irish sea, and flows north-eastward by Banbridge 'v
and Portadown into Lough Neagh ; the Lagan rises on the
northern declivities of the Slieve Croob mountains, four
miles south of Ballinahinch, and flowing in various direc¬
tions to the boundary of the county, continues its course
through an eminently beautiful country to Belfast; the
Annacloy, or Ballinahinch river, rises near Hillsborough,
and discharges its waters into the southern extremity of
Strangford Lough, about a mile below Downpatrick; the
Newry Water is an insignificant stream, except where it is
affected by the influence of the tide, and would be unworthy
of notice but that it is the commencement of a water com¬
munication by canal with Lough Neagh. The Newry na¬
vigation or canal, which was the first completed in Ireland,
op'ens a water communication with the counties of Antrim,
Armagh, Derry, Down, and Tyrone ; and, by means of the
Ulster Canal (which connects Lough Erne and Lough
Neagh), Cavan, Fermanagh, and Monaghan export and im¬
port their merchandise through the port of Newry.
Lakes, properly so called, are numerous, but insignifi¬
cant in extent. Strangford Lough, with its numerous
islands, old castles, abbeys, and ornamented shores, is a
spacious gulf extending ten miles northwards into the land,
and affording a secure roadstead to large vessels in its inte¬
rior. Strangers, however, are unwilling to have recourse to
it, on account of the rapid current of the tide, which rushes
through the narrow strait between Portaferry and Strang¬
ford at the rate of eight or ten miles an hour, which, with
sunken rocks and shoals, renders the navigation dangerous.
This gulf is studded with numerous islands, some beauti¬
fully wooded, others affording rich pasturage. Bangor, Kil-
lough, and Ardglass, have each a harbour for fishing-boats
and small craft. An artificial harbour was constructed at
Donaghadee for the accommodation of the packet-boats to
Scotland ; but the introduction of steam navigation has
rendered it comparatively useless. Near the coast of the
Ards, a long narrow peninsula between Strangford Lough
and the sea, are the Green Island, Bird Island, and Burr
Island ; and at the entrance of Carrickfergus Bay is a
group of three, called the Copeland Islands, upon the lesser
of which stands a lighthouse. There is also a lighthouse at
Haulbowling Rock off Carlingford Bay, one at Ardglass Har¬
bour, one at St John’s Point near Ardglass, and another on
a sunken reef called the South Rock, near the northern
entrance of Strangford Lough. At the northern extremity
of the county is Belfast Lough ; and on the south, dividing
Down from Louth, is Carlingford Bay or Lough—-a highly
picturesque marine inlet, forming a perfectly safe harbour
of refuge, but obstructed by a bar at its entrance.
The mineral springs found here are of two qualities, sul-
phuro-chalybeate and purely chalybeate. The most cele¬
brated of the former kind is at the foot of Slieve Croob
Mountain, which rises to the height of 1800 feet—about
two miles from Ballinahinch. In appearance, taste, and
effects, it strongly resembles the waters of Aix-la-Chapelle.
It is used both externally and internally, and has been found
peculiarly effective in scorbutic affections. The town is
much frequented in summer by invalids. Chalybeate
springs are numerous, and widely scattered through the
county. On the sea-coasts are many places admirably
adapted for sea-bathing and summer residence. Dun-
drum, on the bay of the same name, is a small retired
w'atering-place, owned by the Marquis of Downshire;
Ardglass, formerly one of the chief seats of trade in Ul¬
ster, and a parliamentary borough, is delightfully situated,
and, besides being the chief fishing port on this coast,
ranks high as a bathing place ; Holywood, on the eastern
shore of Belfast Lough, is much frequented ; Warren-
point, at the head of Carlingford I.orurh. is much fre-
Dowd.
at
mipntpd hv
is
D 0 W N.
123
Down. Dundrum Bay, is also a fashionable marine summer resi-
-mJ dence ; Kilkeel, close by the open coast and backed by the
Mourne Mountains, is a thriving town and agreeable bath¬
ing place ; but above all others in attraction is Rosstrevor,
which is not exceeded in beauty of situation by any place in
Ireland. “Were such a bay lying upon English shores,”
says Mr Thackeray in his Irish Sketch-Book, “ it would be
a world’s wonder ; perhaps if it were on the Mediterranean or
the Baltic, English travellers would flock to it in hundreds.
The predominating soil is a loam of little depth, in most
places intermixed with considerable quantities of stones of
various sizes ; but differing materially in character accord¬
ing to the nature of the subsoil. Clay is mostly confined to
the eastern coast of the Ardes, and to the northern parts of
Castlereagh. Of sandy soil the quantity is small; it occurs
chiefly on the sea-coasts, especially near Dundrum. Moor
grounds are mostly confined to the skirts of the mountains.
Bogs, though frequent, are scarcely sufficient to form a sup¬
ply of fuel to the population. There are several quarries of
fine sandstone. The best is that on Scrabb Hill, near New-
townards, where a very close-grained, clear-coloured, and
hard and durable stone is raised. Limestone is not very
general. The quarries of Kilwarlin afford flags of large
dimensions, varying in hue from a clear stone colour to a
brownish red ; the former being superior in beauty and
hardness. Slates are raised in several parts, inferior to the
Welsh in lightness and colour; large blocks of a yellowish
magnesian limestone are found near Holywood. This
kind, however, is inferior to the white species as a manure.
Near Comber, on the shores of Strangford Lough, is a very
hard and sparkling kind of reddish granular limestone. But
the greatest magazine of this rock is in the vicinity of Moira.
It is supposed to be a continuation of that bed which is per¬
ceptible, with little interruption, from Magilligan in Lon¬
donderry, round the headlands of Antrim, to the range of
mountains that lie north of Lisburn, whence turning west¬
ward, it is lost in the acclivities that border the Lagan
between Moira and Magheralin. Here the stone lies
very near the surface. It is found in horizontal strata in¬
termixed with chert, in some cases in layers, in others in
detached pieces of different form and size, containing vari¬
ous kinds of shells and other marine exuviae. Granite oc¬
curs in many places in detached masses, but the great body
of it is confined to the southern and western regions, chiefly
in the Mourne Mountains, where it differs in mineral cha¬
racter from the Wicklow granite, in containing hornblende
and felspar of a reddish colour. Though it is here the
prevailing rock, it does not wholly exclude the schist or
slate, which is often seen in contact with it. In the granite
of Slieve Donard, the highest of the Mourne Mountains,
crystals of topaz and beryl are found. Indications of lead
have been discovered near Castlewellan, Killough, New-
townards, and Warrenpoint; and traces of copper in the
Mourne Mountains near Ilosstrevor.
The land is very unequally portioned out among the inhabitants;
the number of holdings in 1853 not exceeding 1 acre in extent be¬
ing 1793, and those above 1 acre 29,289, of which 5000 were be¬
tween 1 and 5 acres, 12,568 between 5 and 15, 7259 between 15
and 30, 2879 between 30 and 50, 1296 between 50 and 100, 207
between 100 and 200, 59 between 200 and 300, and 21 above 500
acres in extent. There are many landed proprietors, mostly resi¬
dent, each of whom holds large tracts in his own hands. Under
these is a numerous tenantry of every grade, from those who deem
themselves entitled to rank on nearly an equal footing in society
with the proprietors of the soil, to the holders of a few acres, who
depend on their manual labour for the support of their families.
The great bulk of the population is orderly and industrious. Their
dwellings are better constructed and furnished than those of a simi¬
lar class in most other parts of Ireland. The processes of agricul¬
ture, owing in a great degree to the example set by the resident
gentry, are as skilfully carried on as in any part of Ireland. The
crops chiefly cultivated are wheat, rye, barley, oats, peas, flax, and
potatoes. Barley is extensively grown, particularly in the light
soil of Lecale. Green crops are also in general use. Much atten¬
tion is paid to the culture of grass, particularly on the borders of Down,
the larger rivers, where extensive tracts of fine meadow land are
annually enriched, by the overflowing of the banks, with deposits
of the finer particles of mould washed down from the higher grounds.
The extent of land under crops in 1853 was 308,100 acres—viz. corn,
beans, and peas, 174,204; potatoes, 42,085; turnips, mangold-wurzel,
carrots, and other root crops, 28,126; cabbage, vetches, and other
green crops, 3353; flax, 26,957; and meadow clover and rape, 33,375
acres. The mean rate of produce per acre exceeds the average of
productiveness for all Ireland in beans, peas, potatoes, turnips,
mangold-wurzel, and cabbage; the cereal crops of the county being
below the average. The total produce of corn, beans, and peas in
1853 was 118,958 tons, or 823 lb. per head of the population, the
average for Ireland being 700 lb.; of potatoes 2,452,075 barrels
were grown in 1853, averaging 151 barrels per head, or 11 barrels
above the general average. In an inquiry instituted for the pur¬
pose of ascertaining the condition of the farms in the 32 counties of
Ireland, Down stands number six on the list; and in another as to
the comparative condition of the road sides, this county appears
third in order, and therefore may be considered as one of the best
cultivated and least neglected in Ireland.
Horned cattle are principally reared for dairies, and therefore
the same attention to figure and flesh is not paid as in some other
agricultural districts. The resident gentry are, however, laudably
emulous in the improvement of their respective stocks. The breed
of horses is also an object of much attention, and some of the best
racers in Ireland have been bred in this county. The native breed
of sheep, a small hardy race, is confined to the mountains. Many
of this breed are well made and finely woolled. The various other
kinds of sheep have been much improved by judicious crosses from
the best British breeds. Hogs are reared in great numbers, chiefly
for the Belfast market, where the large exportation occasions a con¬
stant demand for them—hams of very superior quality being pre¬
pared from them in that town. Rabbits also form a part of farm
stock in the sandy southern tracts,
In 1841 the live stock of the county consisted of 31,174 horses
and mules, 70,601 horned cattle, 25,530 sheep, 59,427 pigs, 279,696
head of poultry, and 260 asses; the estimated value of all being
L.817,917 ; while in 1852 on 29,595 holdings there were 31,453
horses, 1330 mules and asses, 119,309 cattle, 45,968 sheep, 54,254
pigs, 9702 goats, 402,963 head of poultry, of the total value of
L.1,163,308.
Manufactures, of which linen is the staple, are carried on largely
in the neighbourhood of Belfast and Newry, and several of the
smaller towns have risen to importance as places of manufacture.
The finer fabrics of linen are the chief articles of manufacture. In
1850 there were eleven flax mills in the county employing 4352
persons. The woollen manufacture is confined to a coarse cloth
wrought solely for home consumption.
The fisheries are by no means so extensive or flourishing as the
great extent of sea-board -would warrant. Belfast market is chiefly
supplied from Carrickfergus, yet fish of every description abound
on the coast of Down. The fishery districts of Donaghadee, Strang¬
ford, Newcastle, and Carlingford comprise 139 miles of maritime
boundaries, having, in 1853, 1468 registered fishing vessels, em¬
ploying 4642 men and boys. Shoals of herrings frequently go up
to Strangford Lough, but these are not so much esteemed as those
caught in the open sea. Smelts are taken in large quantities at
the entrance of the same lough. Shell-fish abound along the rocky
shores, particularly in the neighbourhood of the Copeland Islands.
Oysters of superior quality are dredged at Ringhaddy, Carlingford,
and Bangor; and mussels in inexhaustible numbers cover the shal¬
low banks that stretch out before Holywood.
Several remains of antiquity, coeval with the rudest ages of so¬
ciety, are to be found in this county. At Slidderyford, near Dun¬
drum, is a group of pillar stones, consisting of ten or twelve,
from eight to ten feet in height, forming a circle. A remarkable
cairn, on the summit of Slieve Croob, is nearly eighty yards in cir¬
cumference at the bottom and fifty at the top, forming a platform,
on which several cairns of various heights and dimensions are
erected. Another cairn near the village of Anadorn was found to
cover a cave containing ashes and a number of human bones. Se¬
veral cromlechs, or altars so called, also exist, the most remarkable
of which is in the Giant’s Ring, on the summit of a hill between
Lisburn and Belfast. It is formed of an unwrought stone seven
feet long by six and a half broad, resting in an inclined position on
several rude pillars from two to three feet high. It stands nearly
in the centre of an inclosure about one-third of a mile in circum¬
ference, formed of a rampart of earth about twenty feet high, slop¬
ing on each side, and broad enough at the top for two persons to
ride abreast. Near Downpatrick is a rath or mound of earth three
quarters of a mile in circumference, its exterior consisting of three
artificial ramparts, the largest of which is thirty feet broad. In its
vicinity are the ruins of Saul Abbey, said to have been founded by
124 I> 0 W
Down St Patrick; and Inch Abhey, founded by Sir John de Courcy in 1180.
|| The number of monastic ruins is also considerable. The most an-
n" cient and celebrated is the Abbey or Cathedral of Downpatrick sup-
posed to have been founded by St Patrick soon after his arrival here
in 432, and said to contain his remains, together with those of the
other favourite saints of the Irish, St Columb and St Bridget. It was
restored in 1790, when the adjoining round tower was taken down.
Beneath the foundation of the round tower a wall was found to pro¬
ceed to the main building of the abbey. Struel, or as it is some¬
times called, St Patrick’s Wells, to the east of Downpatrick, merits
notice from its connection with former religious observances. These
wells are four in number, each covered by a stone vault, and bav¬
in "the water conveyed from the others by subterraneous aqueducts.
Great numbers of people from various parts of Ireland resort to
this place on Midsummer eve, and on the Friday before Lammas,
to perform religious ceremonies, chiefly consisting of penances,
and to obtain relief from bodily complaints. . The ruins of many
castles, particularly upon the coast, are still visible. Amongst the
most remarkable is Greencastle, built on an islet in the barony of
Mourne, by De Burgo Earl of Ulster, and intended to maintain a
communication between the English settlers in this county and
those in the county of Louth. This castle was considered of much
importance; and in consequence of the rapid assimilation of manners
and the sympathy usually found to exist between the. natives and
the descendants of settlers, no person but one of English birth was
permitted to be its constable. (H-
Down, the fine feathers on the breasts of several birds,
particularly of the duck kind. I hat of the eidei duck is
the most valuable. These birds pluck the down from their
breasts and line their nests with it. Three pounds of this
down may be compressed into a size scarcely larger than
one’s fist; yet it is afterwards so dilatable as to fill a quilt
five feet square. That found in the nests, and termed live
down, is most valued; being much more elastic than that
plucked from the dead bird.
DOWNHAM, a market-town of England, county of
Norfolk, on the right bank of the Ouse, which is here crossed
by a stone bridge, 11 miles S. of Lynn. Pop. (1851) 2867.
The town is situated on an acclivity, the summit of which
is occupied by the parish church, an ancient Gothic edifice,
with a low embattled square tower surmounted with a spire.
The market is held on Saturday, and is noted for its supply
of fish and wild fowl.
DOWNPATRICK, a municipal and parliamentary bo¬
rough and market-town of Ireland, capital of the county of
Down,74 miles N.N.E. of Dublin. It is situated in thebottom
of a valley formed by hills of some elevation, near the S.W.
extremity of Strangford Lough, and is divided into the Eng¬
lish, Irish, and Scotch quarters. It consists of four main
streets meeting near the centre, the principal of which are
the Irish and English streets. In the former all business is
carried on; the latter is well built, and contains several neat
private residences. The principal buildings are the cathe¬
dral parish church, Roman Catholic chapel, two Presbyte¬
rian and three Methodist meeting-houses, diocesan school,
county court-house, prison, alms-houses, widows houses,
barracks, infirmary, and fever hospital. A small trade is
carried on at Strangford Lough by means of vessels of 100
tons, which discharge at Quoil quay, about a mile from
the town ; it is, however, projected to deepen the Quod
river, and make a harbour close to the town. 4 he linen
manufacture is carried on to a small extent, as well as brew¬
ing, tanning, and soap-making. Market-days Tuesday and
Saturday. Adjoining the town are the ruins of Inch Abbey,
a large rath in good preservation, and a race-course. Pop.
(1851) 4098. Downpatrick returns a member to parliament;
constituency (1853) 222. Previously to the Reform act it
was the most open borough in Ireland; as all the persons
who paid scot and lot, or boiled a pot, in the town, were
electors.
DOWNS, a bank or elevation of sand, which the sea
gathers and forms along its shores, and which serves it as a
barrier. The w ord is formed from the French dune, or the
Celtic dun, a mountain. Charles de Visch (Compend.
Clironolog. Exord. et Progress. Abbot. Clariss. B. Mar ice,
D R A
Downs
de Dunis) says, Vallem reperit arenarum collibus, quos in¬
voice Duynen vocant, undique cinctam. Draco.
It is also applied to a large open plain, primarily on ele- v ^
vated land. c
Downs is particularly applied to a famous roadstead tor
ships along the eastern coast of the county of Kent, from
Dover to the North Foreland, where both outward and
homeward bound ships frequently make some stay, and
squadrons of men-of-war rendezvous in time of war. It
affords excellent anchorage, and is defended by the castles
of Deal, Dover, and Sandwich.
DOWNTON, a town of Wiltshire, formerly a parlia¬
mentary borough, but disfranchised by the Reform act. It
is situated on the Avon, which is here divided into three
branches, each of which is crossed by a bridge, 6 miles
S.S.E. of Salisbury. It consists chiefly of one long irregu¬
larly built street. The principal building is the parish
church, a large cruciibrm edifice with a tower. The mar¬
ket formerly held here has long been discontinued. 1 op.
(1851) 2727.
DOWRY, the money or fortune which the wife brings
her husband in marriage. It is otherwise called marita-
giurn, or marriage goods, and is considered to differ fiom
dower; but this distinction is merely arbitrary. See
Dower. A1 . ,
DOXOLOGY, a hymn used in praise of the Almighty,
and distinguished by the title of greater and lesser. I he
lesser doxology was anciently only a single sentence, with-
out response, running in these words, “ Glory be to the
Father, and to the Son, and to the Floly Ghost, world with¬
out end, Amen.” Part of the latter clause, “ As it was in
the beginning, is now, and ever shall be,” was inserted some
time after the first composition. Some read this ancient
hymn, Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, with the
Holy Ghost; ” and others, “ Glory be to the Father in or
by the Son, and by the Holy Ghost.” This difference of
expression occasioned no dispute in the church till tlie time
of the Arian heresy ; but when the followers of Ai ius began
to make use of the latter as a distinguishing charactei of
their party, it was entirely laid aside by the Catholics, and
the use of it was enough to bring any one under suspicion
of heterodoxy. The doxology was used at the close of
every solemn office. The Western church repeated it at
the end of every psalm, and the Eastern church at the end
of the last psalm. Many of their prayers were also con¬
cluded with it, particularly the solemn thanksgiving or com-
secration prayer at the eucharist. It was also the oidinaiy
conclusion of their sermons. The greater doxology, or an¬
gelic hymn, was likewise of much consequence in the an¬
cient church. It began with these words, which the angels
sung at our Saviour’s birth, “ Glory be to God on high,
&c. It was chiefly used in the communion service, and in
private devotions. Both the doxologies have a place in the
Church of England, the former being repeated after every
psalm, and the latter used in the communion service.
DRABLER, in seamen’s language, a small sail or piece
of canvas laced to the bonnet of a sail to give it more drop.
DRABS, wooden boxes used in saltworks for holding the.
salt when taken out of the boiling pan. The bottoms of
the drabs are shelving or inclining, that the moisture may
drain off.
DRACHMA, an ancient Greek silver coin, in value about
9|d., or equivalent to the French franc. 4 he weight of
the Attic drachma was about 66 grains; and the Eginetan
was If of the Attic. An Alexandrian drachma weighing
126 grains has aiso been found. 44ie weight called drachm,
used by the modern apothecary, is equivalent to the eighth
part of an ounce, or 60 grains, or 3 scruples.
DRACO, the Athenian legislator, flourished b. c. 622.
See Attica.
Draco, in Astronomy. See Dragon.
D R A
Dracona- DRACONAKIUS, in Antiquity, a standard-bearer,
rius Several nations, as the Persians, Parthians, and Scythians,
Jl bore dragons on their standards ; and hence the standards
Drainage. j-}lemse[ves were called dracones, or dragons. The Romans
are generally supposed to have borrowed the same custom
from the Parthians ; though Casaubon thinks they took it
from the Daci, and Codin that they derived it from the
Assyrians.
The Roman dracones were figures of dragons painted in
red upon the flags, as appears from Ammianus Marcellinus ;
but amongst the Persians and Parthians they were, like the
Roman eagle, figures in full relievo.
DRACONTIC Month, the time of the revolution of
the moon from her ascending node, called caput draconis,
to her return thither.
DRAGOMAN, or Drogueman, an interpreter ; a term
of general use in the Levant and .throughout the East.
There are dragomans attached to the embassies and con¬
sulates of Christian nations residing at the Porte. The word
is formed from the Arabic targeman or targiman, of the
verb taragem, “he has interpreted.” From dragoman the
Italians formed dragomanno, and, with a nearer relation to
its Arabic etymology, turcimanno ; whence comes truche-
man, as well as dragoman and drogueman.
DRAGON (Lat. draco, Gk. Spanuv), a fabulous kind of
fiery winged serpent, or nondescript creature, much cele¬
brated in the romances of the middle ages. The dragon,
in heraldry, is borne in coats, crests, and supporters. Dragon
is also the name of a constellation in the northern hemi¬
sphere. See Astronomy. The name Draconidce is like¬
wise applied to a genus of small Saurian reptiles.
Dragon’s Head and Tail (caput et cauda draconis'), are
the nodes of the planets, or the two points in which the
ecliptic is intersected by the orbits of the planets, and par¬
ticularly that of the moon, making with it angles of 5 de¬
grees and 18 minutes. One of these points looks north¬
ward, the moon beginning then to have north latitude ; and
the other southward, where she commences south. Thus
her deviation from the ecliptic seems, according to the
fancy of some, to made a figure like that of a dragon, whose
belly is where she has the greatest latitude; the intersection
representing the head and tail, from which resemblance the
denomination arises. But these points abide not always in
one place, but have a motion of their own in the zodiac, and
retrograde 3 minutes 11 seconds per day, completing their
circle in 18 years 225 days; so that the moon can be but
twice in the ecliptic during her monthly period, and at all
other times she will have a latitude or declination from the
ecliptic. It is about these points of intersection that all
eclipses happen. They are usually denoted by these cha¬
racters, 9, dragon’s head, ts dragon’s tail.
Dragon’s Blood, a resinous substance much used for
tinging spirit and turpentine varnishes, for preparing gold
lacquer, staining marble, &c. It is the produce of several
D R A 125
trees,—as Calamus draco, Dracaena draco, Pterocarpus Dragonneu
draco, &c.; and is imported from the East Indies, Africa, Jl
and South America, in dark red lumps, in rolls, and in irre- DrainaSe-
gular cakes. When pulverized it is of a bright red colour.
Its solvents are alcohol, ether, and oils.
DRAGONNEE, in Heraldry, is said of a lion or other
beast of which the hinder half terminates like the hinder
part of a dragon.
DRAGOON, in military affairs. See Army.
DRAGOONING (Fr. dragonnade), abandoning to the
rage of soldiers ; one of the methods that have been used
for converting refractory heretics, and bringing them within
the pale of “ the true church.” The manner of dragooning
the French Protestants, after the revocation of the edict of
Nantz, under Louis XIV., is described as follows in a French
work translated in 1686. “ The troopers, soldiers, and dra¬
goons, went into the Protestants’ houses, where they marred
and defaced their household stuff, broke their looking glasses,
and other utensils and ornaments, let their wine run about
their cellars, and threw about their corn and spoiled it. And
as to those things which they could not destroy in this man¬
ner, such as furniture of beds, linen, wearing apparel, plate,
and the like, they carried them to the market-place, and
sold them to the Jesuits and other Roman Catholics. By
these means the Protestants in Montaubon alone were, in
four or five days, stripped of above a million of money. But
this was not the worst. They turned the dining-rooms of
gentlemen into stables for their horses ; and treated the
owmers of the houses where they quartered with the highest
indignity and cruelty, lashing them about from one to an¬
other, day and night, without intermission, not suffering
them either to eat or drink; and when they began to sink
under the fatigue and pains they had undergone, they laid
them on a bed, and when they thought them somewhat re¬
covered, made them rise, and repeated the same tortures.
When they saw the blood and sweat run down their faces
and other parts of their bodies, they drenched them with
water, and, putting over their heads kettle-drums turned
upside down, they made a continual din upon them till these
unhappy creatures lost their senses. When one party of
these tormenters were weary, they were relieved by another,
who practised the same cruelties with fresh vigour.”
DRAGUIGNAN, a town of France, capital of the de¬
partment of Var, as well as of a cognominal arrondissement,
situated in a fertile valley surrounded by vine and olive-
covered hills. The town is tolerably well built, and is orna¬
mented with numerous public fountains. The principal
buildings are the court-house, prison, clock-tower, and hos¬
pital. Draguignan has a public library of 15,000 vols., bo¬
tanic garden, natural history museum, communal college,
and a society of agriculture, besides manufactures of broad
cloths, silks, stockings, soap, leather, brandy, and earthen¬
ware. There are also several oil mills in the town. Pop.
(1851) 8009.
DRAINAGE.
^rainage Under this head we shall commence with the drainage of
wus. towns and other inhabited places, with more particular re¬
ference to the removal and discharge of cloacal and other
foul matters in a liquid state from human habitations.
We shall then notice the drainage of lands for agricultural
purposes, and the drainage of fens, marshes, &c.
The first of these subjects has been already referred to in
the supplement to Architecture (vol. iii.), and the remarks
made in that place may be taken as introductory to the
present article. For the drainage of fields for farming ope¬
rations, see also Agriculture.
It was there sho’wn that the removal of sullage by means
of sub-surface sewers, whereby it has acquired the name
of sewage, is of comparatively recent introduction. Towns
are commonly built upon sites of which the immediate
subsoil is percolable by liquids, and into which the ex¬
creta arising in and from human habitations have been de¬
jected into cesspools formed in it; and no volatile and
active gases are thrown out, under such circumstances, in
quantities sufficient to produce any sensibly injurious effect
upon the atmosphere. The gases which are evolved are
deadly; but are comparatively innocuous while undisturbed.
126
Drainage
of Towns.
D R A I
The foulness of old towns which stand upon dry sand or
gravel, or other percolable stratum of soil, may be referred
rather to accumulations in and about the buildings ol
such corruptible animal and vegetable refuse as may not
be thrown into the cesspool, and which cannot be made
to pass away by drains: so that, in truth, effective sca-
vengering is the first essential to wholesome ventilation,
when excreta are dejected upon or into a soil which will ab¬
sorb the liquids, and'such must be the case indeed whatever
system of sewering may be applied. It is not to be over-
looked, nevertheless, that such soils as allow the liquid parts
of excreta to pass away, do but filter them down into the
water, for the sake of which, probably, the site was origi¬
nally chosen, and that these liquid excreta are thus apt to
reappear in the wells, and to poison one of the supports
of life in another direction. But, however, disgusting this
idea mav be upon reflection, it does not always occur to the
mind; and it is not until the close crowding together of
human beings into the commonly small space which the ori¬
ginal site of an old town comprises, that any effect really
injurious to health can arise from that source ; nor is it, in¬
deed to the source referred to that the most disgusting ap¬
prehension is traced, but to the deposit of the mortal re¬
mains of humanity within the strata from which springs of
water are derived. Nor has the necessity of drainage, as a
means of relieving towns of sullage, and of the exhalations
consequent upon its exposure to heat and air, become re¬
cognised because of the defects of the system which re¬
tained the solids of human excreta within or immediately
about the buildings in a town situated upon a bed of dry
o-ravel, but because towns have outgrown their sites, and
extended their buildings to the clay which so commonly
occurs under beds of sand or of gravel. It has been seen
that London has in this manner outgrown the limits of the
gravel bed, and has been thrown upon the blue clay under¬
lying the fine stratum of gravel which forms the banks and
bed of the Thames in its course through London, and which
comes to the surface at from one to two miles inland on
each side of the river. No sooner was the clay touched by
buildings, than the necessity of providing for the immediate
removal of sullage became apparent; and in the endeavour
to secure such removal by drainage in places wheie drain¬
age is absolutely essential to allow of the occupation of the
site for human habitation at all, a system deficient in a most
important particular has been carried out to the seiious de¬
triment of those parts and places which had been already
closely built over, and the air of which is injured more by
the exhalations of the steaming sullage drain, than by anything
emitted from a close cesspool dry-steined in gravelly soil.
But sewering will not supersede the necessity of scaven-
gering, nor, indeed/ if due regard be paid to the wholesome¬
ness of the locality, ought sewering to be preferred to the diy
cesspool, where a dry cesspool is available to the effect al¬
ready indicated, unless provision be first made for scouring
the contents away, and for removing directly to the upper
air the gases which they will evolve in their passage.1
It is obviously esssential to the effectual relief of a town
by drainage, that no building in or out of which matters
requiring to be carried off by drains can arise, be built at so
low a level, with reference to the eventual removal from
the towm of such matters, that the perfect drainage of the
building cannot be effected by existing and available means
of discharge ; and no system of drainage can be carried out
in any town lying low with reference to the outfall, urdess
provision be made by authority to the effect that when ex¬
isting buildings cannot be otherwise fully relieved, artificial
means shall be employed to relieve the low-level sewers.
^ A G E.
It is further requisite to the effectual drainage of a town Drainag?
that there be such a supply of water to all buildings occu- of Towns,
pied for the purposes of life, that all matters entering their
drains may be attended or be followed by water enough to
carry the sullage onward without depositing in the drains,
and that there°be also such a supply of water to scour the
main drains or sewers, either in a constant flow or in fre¬
quent and copious flushes, as will prevent the sullage from
being arrested within them long enough either to deposit
filth or to throw off noxious gases.
The fall of drains and sewers ought to be greater, and
may be less, according to the provision available for scour¬
ing them, or of keeping up a current within them in any
case. Half an inch of fall in every ten feet is the slightest per¬
missible fall for a house-drain under the best circumstances;
that is to say, when the supply of water to the house is so
ample that the waste will certainly furnish a good scour
therefrom; but one, two, or even three inches of fall in
every ten feet in length of such a drain may be requisite
when the supply of water is scanty and the waste is likely
therefore to be slack.
A fall of one and a half inches in every 100 feet in
length is fall enough for a main drain or common sewer
when it has a well-formed and evenly-built concave bottom,
and when a constant flow of water, in quantity sufficient to
prevent the sullage from depositing any of its heavier mat¬
ters in the sewer, may be relied upon; but the fall should
be greater when mere flushes of water are to be used as a
means of carrying on the sullage. As regards size, house-
drains and town-drains,—or private drains and common
sewers, to use the terms more commonly applied to them,
—do not require to be of the large sizes of which they^ are
usually made for the mere reception and conveyance of the
sullage of the building, or of the town or district; but theie
are sufficient reasons why they should be made larger re¬
spectively than would be sufficient for those purposes alone.
It is a good general rule in all matters relating to con¬
structions, that every part of any work liable, in its use, to
derangement from any cause, be made accessible for the
purposes of repair or of renewal. This rule ought to be
especially adhered to in all matters relating to the drainage
of buildings ; whether it be of water, as liable to affect the
structure, or of sullage, as liable to affect the health and
comfort of the inhabitants; and what is true of a building is
true of aggregations of buildings in a town.
But, in providing for easy access to whatever pipes and
drains may occur inside a building, the arrangements to
secure that object should be made in such manner as to
occasion the smallest possible amount of inconvenience
within the building whenever occasion may arise for em¬
ploying them. And in like manner, as it regards the con¬
nexion of private or house drains with the main drains or
sewers,—and as to the building and the repair of the sewers
themselves, indeed,—arrangements should be devised to
such effect that all such works may be executed without in¬
terfering, or with the smallest possible amount of interfer¬
ence, with any public way, or with the convenience of the
public in the use of the public ways.
In providing for the relief of any place from superfluous
waters, the first thing to be secured is an outfall or place at
which they may be discharged, or otherwise so disposed of
that they shall not return. An outfall must, therefore, be
at a lower level than the place to be relieved, but it may
be either natural or artificial. A country like Holland, or
a place like the Isle of Dogs, east of London—the one
fronted by a tidal ocean, and the other almost girt around
1 In coal countries, where ash and cinder arise in large quantities in even the poorest dwellings, and go to the ash-pit or dust-bin with
animal and vegetable refuse, and excreta, the injury to the air of the locality from defective scavengering is not so great as it is in Lon¬
don, and other towns where coal is dear, and ash and cinder therefore scanty.
D R A I
Drainage by a tidal river—-finds natural vent for its superfluous waters
of Towns, at intervals, though at the expense of artificial works, and
'-msubject to whatever inconvenience may arise from the re¬
tention of the waters during the intermediate periods. The
outfalls obtained in these cases are not such as would be
chosen when better are obtainable, nor would such be re¬
jected when they present themselves at a level available to
the relief of the surface of a site, although they may not be
at a level low enough to relieve subterranean conduits of
whatever they may contain.
An outfall being obtained, whether it be natural or arti¬
ficial, means are to be devised for collecting the liquid waste
and bringing it together to the outfall for discharge. If this
be so much below the level of the area to be relieved as to
allow of fall enough in channels or other conduits,—and the
receptacle at the point of discharge be such as to allow of
such disposal,—the waste waters may be permitted to carry
with them not only matters in solution, as culinary and
cloacal refuse from the dwellings of men, but even the
muddy washings of the streets of a town. If, however, the
available outfall be not so low, or the eventual receptacle
be not of such a character as to admit matters liable to de¬
posit silt, prudence will dictate the propriety of keeping the
foul matters, though solved in water, from becoming en¬
tangled with what may check their course to the outfall,
and providing for the removal of the comparatively clean,
though heavy dirt, being the street washings, by another
channel. That is to say, a town situated on high ground
and near, for instance, to the sea, may be relieved of its
surface waters, the washings of its streets, and its sullage,
being its cloacal refuse, kitchen and washing waste, by the
same sewers without any inconvenience, and consequently
at less cost than a town can be relieved of its waste under
other and less advantageous circumstances, in respect of
relative level of outfall and area to berelievedv In the case
last supposed, a single system of sewers may suffice ; but in
the other case a double system ought to be formed, that the
heavy and insoluble washings of the street may not mingle
with and delay the solved and soluble domestic refuse.
Taking the more difficult case of a town of which the
available outfall for its sullage is low with relation to the
general area, the question naturally presents itself, what rate
cf fall is sufficient to secure relief, in the particular case con¬
templated, by or through the given outfall ? And the obvious
answer is, that the rate must depend upon the degree of
fluidity of the sullage, and the condition as to smoothness
or otherwise of the surface over which it is to run. Tar or
treacle will not run so fast upon a surface of glass as oil
will travel over a surface of lead laid at the same inclina¬
tion ; and water will make its way over a rough surface of
brickwork laid with a like fall more rapidly than either of
the viscid liquids can travel over the smoother surfaces as¬
signed to them. The rate of inclination proper for drains
or other conduits for the ready relief of a town of its liquid
waste depends, therefore, firstly, upon the degree of fluidity
of the waste, and, secondly, upon the condition as to smooth¬
ness of the surface over which it is to make its way to the
outfall. Hence the objects to be aimed at when the outfall
is bad, that is to say, high with reference to the area to be
relieved, are to bring the waste as nearly as may be to the
condition as to fluidity of unclogged water, and to provide
drains the inside surface of which shall offer the least pos¬
sible degree of resistance to the fluid by roughnesses or in¬
equalities of surface, especially as regards the transverse sec¬
tion of the drain. It is to be borne in mind, at the same
time, that although the fluidity of waste water, bearing sul¬
lage in solution, cannot be too perfect, having regard to the
more effectual removal of the solved foul matters, the rate
of fall may be too great for the conduits, whether they
are open channels or covered drains. Open channels may
be overfilled by a too rapid backwater, and the sullage
N A G E. 127
run over before it has time to reach the outfall, as rivers Drainage
are apt in their lower reaches to overflow by flushes of water Towns,
coming into them too rapidly from their upper and more
steeply inclined reaches; whilst in the case of barrelled or
tunnelled drains, the sullage wall be choked back to its
source when the structure of the drains is strong enough
to resist the pressure of the head that may be formed, or,
the structure being weak the drain gives way, and a filthy
bog is formed. Subterranean built drains, whether large
or small, when they are well built of brick or stone¬
work, and of substance enough to withstand the pressure of
the ground about them, are generally found to be strong
enough to resist whatever head may be formed by back¬
water hurrying down from upper reaches ; but drains com¬
posed of pipes of pottery, or other substance strong enough,
it may be, to bear the pressure of the ground, are weak at the
joints, which commonly give way to a comparatively slight
head of water acting within the drains, in which case the soil
in which the pipes are laid is softened by the ejected liquid,
the joints are drawn,and the above-stated result follows. But
every part in the length of a drain is low'er than the part
above, and is liable, therefore—irrespective of obstructions
arising from the casual presence within the drain, in any
part below, of foreign and uncontemplated substances—to be
exposed to pressure from a head of backwater sufficient to
destroy a weakly-built drain, or a pipe drain of which the
joints are so wreak as to be unable to withstand the pressure
of a head equal to that of the overflow level at which relief
may be obtained. But such relief to the insufficient or ill-
disposed drain is purchased by the inhabitants of the place
at which the overflow may occur at too high a price in an¬
noyance to be suffered; and to avoid this contingency, all
drains ought to be made large enough in every part to give
free passage onwards, and to the eventual outfall, of every¬
thing that can pass into them under the most exigent cir¬
cumstances possible in any case. And this consideration is
irrespective again of that which regards the larger drains or
common sewers under public ways, or near to heavy build¬
ings, or elsewhere, at a great depth in the ground, which are
with great advantage made larger than their purposes as
conduits for waste waters might require them to be made,
that there may be roomy access within them for workmen
to form inlets from branches, to amend possible defects in
the structure, or to remove casual obstructions.
It often happens that, as in the cases of much of the area
of Holland, and all the Isle of Dogs before alluded to—ex¬
cept, indeed, as to the sea and the river walls or embank¬
ments respectively—the waste waters accruing within the
area to be relieved between half, or even three-quarters ebb,
and quarter or half flood of the tide in either sea or river,
must be penned back in the sewers, or be lifted out by arti¬
ficial power applied through pumps; and under such circum¬
stances itis most important that nothing that can be deposited
by the still waters should pass into the sewers. For in such
case, it is no longer a removal of casual obstructions that
has to be provided for, but a certain and often-recurring ne¬
cessity of sending labourers into the sewers to collect and
remove deposits which must always be foul, having regard
to the company into which, when suspended, they had
travelled, and always, therefore, offensive, and probably
noxious upon being disturbed. No mere run of backwater
as a scour will remove such deposits, even if they are a
mere slime; but when they consist, as they commonly do,
of grit and cementitious matter, they are apt to form a con¬
crete that cannot be removed except by means which act
upon the substance of the sewer itself, and tend to wear it
out. The nidus of slime in sewers is soap-suds, a waste
that must be allowed to pass by house drains, and so into
and by the sewers ; but it is only under the circumstance
first above supposed that the washings of the streets of a
town ought to be permitted to pass into the sullage drains
D ft A I N A G E.
128
Drainage and sswers at all. It senrns certain, therefore, that as a
of Towns. ru]e? ti-,e drainage of towns should be effected by a double
system of drains—one part applied to the surface drainage
being the rainfall upon the roadways, carrying with it the
not necessarily offensive, but heavy and insoluble silt, the
result of the wear and tear of the road material, and tlm
droppings of graminivorous animals used in the service of
man—and the other part devoted to the relief of the par¬
ticular habitations of men of liquid refuse, and matters so¬
luble in water, but commonly offensive, and capable of be¬
coming noxious, and requiring, moreover, to be led to points
of discharge at or from which they may be dissipated. When
a single system adapted to the former purpose only has been
extended so as to include the latter, and a whole town has
become inextricably involved in the vicious mesh, the best
that can be done is to lead the commingled silt and sullage
together to points of temporary lull, where the sand, the
heaviest part of the silt, may deposit, and to draw offer pump
out, as the case may require, and lead to the eventual points
of discharge, the liquid sullage over it.
The practice of drainage, so far as regards the structure
of sewers and drains, is mere matter of construction, and is
both simple and easy. Drains as structures may be divided
into three classes—the tunnel sewer drain, the barrel drain,
and the pipe drain. There are varieties of each class, and
the classes continually blend one into another, but the
classes are, nevertheless, sufficiently distinct for general de¬
scription.
The tunnel sewer is built of brick-work or of masonry,
cylindrical or of some conic section in form transversely, and
of such size that men may pass into and through it. I he
barrel drain, smaller in size than the tunnel, is in like man¬
ner built, and the best and most available form is the egg
shape, with the small end downwards. The pipe drain is
formed of pipes or tubes laid together in short lengths, vari¬
ous expedients being employed for connecting the pipes by
tiieir ends.
The tunnel sewer (and by the term tunnel a drifted
or tunnelled work is not necessarily implied) though simple
in its form and of easy construction, is an important work
of hydraulic architecture, and as such must be dealt with
as a construction requiring to be laid or placed evenly upon
a well-resisting foundation, and to be either sustained with¬
in itself as a bridge or as a church must be, or be so laid in
the ground that it shall be pressed upon in every direction
with reference to the power its form and the mode of con¬
struction employed may give it of resisting pressure for the
security of its own structure.
The barrel drain must be laid, in like manner, on an un¬
yielding foundation, and be so placed within and under the
ground that the pressure upon it shall act in every direc¬
tion alike.
What is above referred to as a pipe drain, may be a con¬
structed barrel drain of the smallest size that can be built
with brick in the form of a cylinder ; but brick-built drains
of small size, that is to say, of less than fourteen or fifteen
inches internal diameter, will not be employed when pot-
pipe of fitting kind and quality can be obtained, unless tire
drain is near the surface, and under a roadway exposed to
heavy carriage traffic.
The use of tubes or pipes of pottery for drains is by no
means new, but the removal of cloacal refuse from the ha¬
bitations of man by underground conduits, whether as pipes
or otherwise, is of recent introduction into the general ser¬
vice of towns ; and of all the devices hitherto recurred to for
such purpose there is none equal to pot-pipe rendered in¬
absorbent by glazing. Such pipes may be made of suffi¬
cient strength to resist the dead pressure of the ground in
which they are, for the most part, laid up to a bore of twelve
or fifteen inches in diameter, and they may be and are made,
with ease and economy, in lengths of about two feet, which Drainage
length, indeed, cannot be much exceeded in practice. Elon- of Towns
gated drains of pot-pipe involve, therefore, a multiplicity of '' 
joints \ and as pot-pipe drains, as well as bi ick-bmlt drams,
are exposed to the intrusion of uncontemplated substances
which tend to obstruct the free passage through them of le¬
gitimate matters, whilst pottery is very liable to be broken
even in the laying and under the process of filling in over
them, it has been sought to make the joints in such manner
that they shall be water-tight, and at the same time easily
opened and easily re-made. The common practice is to make
them spigot and faucet fashion, or socketted, in rough resem¬
blance to the jointing of a flute, one end of every length of
pipe being widened out into a faucet or socket, and the other
adapted to run into the socket, as the spigot does into the fau¬
cet, the hollow way being preserved when the joint is made.
Such a joint in pot-pipes must be a loose one, and therefore
not water-tight; and if it be packed with a cementitious mor¬
tar, the adhesion of the mortar will prevent the separation
of the parts when occasion requires it, whilst in the rough
workmen’s hands the mortar is often pressed into the pipes,
and dries into a hard and obstructive ridge, where the way
should be smooth and free throughout. Mere plastic clay
is used therefore to pack the joints, it being a substance easily
softened and broken down into mud by the passing liquids ;
but it is also so weak against any force, that if from any
cause a head of water or other liquid is formed within a sock¬
etted pipe drain, the clay soon gives way, the joints are,
in technical phrase, blown ; and the liquid is not merely
let out, it is driven out into the soil in which the pipe is
embedded. But, as it has been already intimated, pot-pipe
is liable to be broken in laying the pipes—the liability arising
mainly out of the process of punning or ramming the ground
in, about, and over the pipes, after they have been placed and
the joints formed. The consciousness of this liability, and
of the equally mischievous result of ramming over and about
such a structure as a pot-pipe drain laid in the usual man¬
ner in and on the naked earth, leads to a mere filling in ot
the earth about the pipes, and over them to such a depth that
the rammer cannot be felt through the bed of earth, unless
it be felt through the agency ot a piece of gravel or a spall
of hard stone casually dropped in over a pipe, by which f rom
the blow above, a hole may be punched in the pipe, or the
pipe broken throughout, and in either case the newly-formed
drain is choked up, and made worse than useless. 1 he
more common case, however, is the blowing of the clay-
stopped joints and the softening of the loosely packed soil
about the drain, when the pipe sinks at the loosened joint,
which is thus drawn, and the drain is a drain no longer.
It is to be repaired—the floor must be taken up if the
course of the drain is within a building, or the pavement
above it if out of doors ; and the ground is to be dug
out along the line, until the point of failure be reached.
The already loosened lengths of pipe are pulled asunder,
or broken up if the small ends have been run too well up
in the sockets, the penned-back filth in the upper reach ob¬
tains vent, and it is either allowed to go on by the hitherto
unobstructed lower reach, carrying with it all of the sodden
clay that it can render liquid enough to flow, or the filthy
bog is baled out and carted away. The pipes have now to be
relaid ; but, as the joints are socketted, it is physically im¬
possible to make good (as it is technically termed) without
beginning at the beginning and taking up all the pipes above
the fault to get lengths enough in again. Belaid in the
same manner, the structure is liable to the same occurrence
again and again ; and whether the pipes are large or small,
if they are no larger in the bore than barely suffices for
the passage of the calculated waste, pipe drains laid upon
naked and soluble soil—the commonest kind of soil—and
jointed with soluble material, are all liable to the casualties
above described.
DRAINAGE.
Drainage The foregoing observations have reference to one great
of Towns, defect in the pot-pipe system of drainage, but that one is
^ —' in all essential particulars the result of a mistaken aim at
cheapness. Pottery, like all other substances produced by
or under the action of heat, is most liable to be defective
at such parts of the thing produced as are larger in any
particular direction. Socketted cast-iron pipes are liable
to be unsound in the sockets where the metal is of dif-
' ferent and unequal thickness and the body of greater ex¬
tent in circumference, because of the unequal cooling of the
metal; and socketted pot-pipes are liable to be unsound
in the sockets, because the whole body of the pipe cannot,
because of the socket, expand and again cool simultaneously
throughout. Simple hollow cylinders, whether of iron or
of pottery, are more likely, with the same care in the manu¬
facture, to be sound, than socketted pipes of either substance;
and for this reason, if for no other, pot-pipes should be simple
hollow cylinders, and some other expedient ought to be em¬
ployed for making the joints than that by which the pipe
is liable to be rendered both unsound in its manufacture,
and impracticable when the work requires to be repaired.
Expedients have been devised to this effect, and are gradu¬
ally making their way into use j1 while, at the same time,
the mischievous influence of a bad practice is shown by that
which is immediately superseding it—the practice of cutting
off half the round of the socket, so that any one length of
pipe may indeed be taken up and relaid without disturbing
any other length, but the effect of the operation upon the
pipe is that the part of the socket remaining detracts more
than the whole socket does from the soundness of the struc¬
ture of the pipe, and the upper half of every joint remains
uncovered.
But the soundest pipes jointed in the soundest man¬
ner will not produce a sound and certainly effective drain
without truth and stability in the construction of the drain.
The exclusive advocates of pot-pipe drains, which they en¬
deavour to distinguish by the term tubular, stigmatize brick-
built drains as sewers of deposit. This, however, is absurd,
since the same cause which renders brick-built drains occa¬
sionally faulty in their course does the same by the pipe
drain, with this difference against the latter, that whereas the
brick-built drain is of the same kind of structure through-
uut, and strong enough to bear the rude process of filling
in, and is essentially larger than the pipe, whereby a deposit
in a casually depressed part is not necessarily an impracti¬
cable obstruction to the course of the drain, nor is a head of
water above such a defect the certain means of destroying it.
The pipe is laid in lengths—weak in the joints—both weak
and fragile in its structure, and liable to the defects above de¬
scribed when defectively constructed. But all that either
brick-built sewers or pot-pipe drains require, when good ma¬
terials and skilful workmanship are employed, to make sound,
effective, and trustworthy conduits, free alike from liabi¬
lity to be choked or blown by water or by liquid waste, are
nn unyielding and even foundation, a firm seat, and truth in
the setting of the work. All this is easily attainable, and is
commonly attained in the modern practice of building sewers
of brickwork. The broader base afforded by brickwork will
find a resisting foundation upon a soil into which a mere
pipe of the same internal capacity would sink ; and a brick
structure will bear the ground to be forced in around and
above it by a process that pot-pipes of the strongest make
may not be exposed to. But if, instead of a false eco¬
nomy under the name of cheapness, true economy be em¬
braced, the trench in which a pipe drain is to be laid will
129
be dug out from six to twelve inches deeper than is re- Drainage
quired for the drain, and a layer of concrete of that thick- ° owns,
ness, and of the full breadth of the trench, placed in it, v " v y
and formed with the fall required for the inside of the drain.
This can be done under the eye, and will be open to the
correction, of the supervisor, as in building a brick-drain ;
and the pipes may be laid, and the joints formed, upon the
firm and evenly laid concrete with truth and certainty,
even though the joints be socketted. Concrete being filled
in under and about the pipes when so laid, up to half the
diameter of the round body, the ground may be filled in over
the drain, with confidence that it will possess the great re¬
quisites of truth and strength, with the peculiar excellence
which the pipe possesses of smoothness of surface in the
run of the drain. A pipe drain so laid will not be cheaper
than a drain of the same size of brickwork; but it will be
strong against everything short of crushing pressure. Light
weight is crushing pressure to pot-pipes, however, and pipes
of pottery may not, therefore, be laid under carriage roads,
nor anywhere else, indeed, of such large size as to break
under any dead weight that can come upon them, or under
any impact to which they may be exposed. I he strength
of the strongest pottery pipes is, nevertheless, but weakness
as compared with the thinnest brickwork in tubular drains.
In fine, with careful workmanship and a good foundation,
either brick and mortar, or sheet-iron collared pipes, will
make a good, lasting, and serviceable drain; whilst with care¬
less or bad workmanship, and an infirm bed, a brick drain
may be bad, but a pipe drain under the same circumstances
must be so.
But the best built and best laid and jointed sewers and
drains, of whatever materials or however put together, and
with the best outfall, are but the means by which the mate¬
rial parts of cloacal and other foul refuse in a liquid state
are made to pass away; the immaterial parts are not thereby
ejected. The hot waste-water of the scullery helps, by di¬
luting it, to hurry on the more sluggish matters which enter
the same drain from the cloaca; but the heat in the culinary
waste not only throws off in a gaseous form, and often en¬
veloped in steam, the sickening odour which the water has
taken out of the esculents boiled in it, but it induces the
evolution of faint but foul gases from the cloacal filth itself,
and these rise and run back to the highest attainable level,
and seek egress into the upper air. This is commonly ob¬
tained through some faulty sink, or by crannies in the drain
within the house from which the matters had proceeded,
the escape being aided powerfully by the kitchen, and in
wintertime by the focal, fires; and in the streets of sewered
towns the reeking stench rises through gully gratings ; or if
these are effectually trapped, then through holes made for
the purpose in the carriage-roadway, where, however, they
are very commonly clogged up with road stuff, which now
and then drops down into the sewer, and forms an obstruc¬
tion to the turbid stream there. By some or other of these
vents, however, the stench escapes from drains and sewers,
rises and mingles with the air, to be again inhaled by human
beings. And thus it is that the air is circulated and the
sewers ventilated in our best sewered towns !
Now, the course proper to be pursued is almost the reverse
of that commonly practised, from which the inhabitants of
sewered towns suffer in comfort and in health, more perhaps
than the inhabitants of unsewered towns, in which there is
commonly no such concentration of foulnesses. Give free¬
dom to the foul gases of the drains, as freedom is given to
the air which has served the purposes of combustion in the
1 The best expedient known to the present writer is one recently patented by Mr Jennings, a London manufacturer. Mr Jennings
makes the pipes simple hollow cylinders, and lays their ends upon half-round chairs, and covers the joint with a half-round saddle
which completes the circuit. The chair and saddle are both rebated, and form together a short length of pipe. Much depends upon the
strength and soundness of the chair; but these qualities being secured, the joints may be made upon them in mortar with, confidence.
This is better than the sheet-iron collar which the writer has heretofore advocated.
VOL. VIII.
R
130 D It A I
Agricul- chimney-grate. Make a flue for the foul air of the drain of
tural every house, at or near to its upper end, as a flue is made
Drainage, for the escape of the burnt air of the smokeless coke or char-
/ coal fire, as well as for the combined burnt air and dirty, but
harmless, smoke of the coal fire to pass off by, and both will
alike rise into the upper air, to be dissipated by the winds
of heaven and prepared by nature’s chemistry to reappear
as the course of nature prescribes.
A lofty shaft built at the head of every main line of sewer,
and provided with the means of securing an up-draught
through the shaft—means to which the wind wdll always
give effect in even the stillest weather—would give vent to
all the emanations which arise in the sewer itself; but to
assure this result there must be no trapping or flapping of
the inlets to the sewer—the air must be allowed to pass
down freely, which it will do, firstly, by its own gravity, and,
secondly, by the draught established in the sewer by the up¬
per draughting shaft and by the house drain flues. But the
mechanical details involved in the practice of drainage is
matter for technical and professional consideration.
The frequent and careful removal of all dirt and filth
from the surfaces of the streets by scavengering—the con¬
stant flow to an efficient outfall in subdrains of all liquid
waste and foul matters soluble in water, and rendered fluid
by a copious backwater, may make and keep a town clean ;
but neither a town as a whole, nor any place in a town,—be
it palace or cottage,—can be sweet and wholesome unless
the drains and sewers are swept by constant currents of air,
or, in other words, thoroughly ventilated from the lower in¬
to the upper air.—The metropolis of the British empire, the
home of the Sovereign, the seat of the Legislature, the place
of birth and the constant residence of more than a million
and a half of human beings who consider themselves high in
the scale of civilization, is but indifferently scavengered, is
drained and sewered upon a wholly defective system, and
its drains and sewers reek with filth and pour out under our
nostrils foul air for want of legitimate outfalls for the one,
and elevated outlets for the other.1 (w. n—G.)
AGRICULTURAL DRAINAGE.
To drain land is to rid it of its superfluous moisture. The
rivers of a country with their tributary brooks and rills are
the natural provision for removing the rain water which either
■flows directly from its surface, or which, after percolating
through porous strata to an indefinite depth, is again dis¬
charged at the surface by springs. The latter may thus be
regarded as the outlets of a natural underground drainage.
This provision for disposing of the water that falls from the
clouds is usually so irregular in its distribution, and so im¬
perfect in its operation, that it leaves much to be accom¬
plished by human labour and ingenuity. The art of the
drainer accordingly consists—
1st, In improving the natural outfalls by deepening,
straightening, or embanking rivers; and by supplementing
these, when necessary, by artificial canals and ditches ; and,
2d, In freeing the soil and subsoil from stagnant water,
by means of artificial underground channel.
Trunk The first of these operations, called trunk drainage, is
drainage, the most needful; for until it be accomplished there are ex¬
tensive tracts of land, and that usually of the most valuable
kind, to which the secondary process either cannot be ap¬
plied at all, or only with the most partial and inefficient re-
sidts. Very many of our British rivers and streams flow
with a sluggish and tortuous course through valleys of flat
alluvial soil, which, as the coast is approached, expand into
N A G E.
extensive plains, but little elevated above the level of the Agricul
sea. Here the course of the river is obstructed by shifting tural
shoals and sand banks, and by the periodic influx of the Draiaagts
tides. The consequence is, that immense tracts of valuable
land are at all times in a water-logged and comparatively
worthless state, and on every recurrence of a flood are laid
entirely under water. In a preceding volume (see Agri¬
culture) some account has already been given of the ex¬
tent of this evil, and of the efforts that have been successfully
devoted to its remedy. Some of these fen-lands and estuary
drainage works have been accomplished in the face of natural
obstacles of the most formidable character, and constitute
trophies of engineering talent of which the country may
well be proud. Great as the natural difficulties are which
have to be encountered in such cases, there are others of a
different kind which have often proved more impracticable.
It has been found easier to exclude the sea and restrain
land-floods, than to overcome the prejudices and reconcile
the conflicting interests of navigation companies, commis¬
sioners of sewers, owners of mills, and landed proprietors.
Although all these classes suffer the most serious losses and
inconveniences from the defective state of many of our rivers,
yet it is found extremely difficult to reconcile their conflict¬
ing claims, and to allocate to each their proper share of the
cost of improvements by which all are to benefit. A most
interesting and instructive illustration of the urgent neces¬
sity for improving the state of our rivers, of the difficulties
to be encountered in doing so, and of the incalculable bene¬
fits thus to be obtained, has been published in an essay on
Trunk Drainage by John Algernon Clarke, Esq., published
in vol. xv., part 1st, of the Journal of the Royal Agricul¬
tural Society of England. Mr Clarke, after some most im¬
portant observations on trunk drainage, describes in detail
works projected under powers granted in an act of parlia¬
ment, passed in 1852, “ constituting commissioners for the
improvement of the river Nene and the navigation thereof.”
There is not a district of the kingdom in which works
similar in kind are not absolutely indispensable, before ex¬
tensive tracts of valuable land can be rendered available for
profitable cultivation by means of underground drainage.
It is interesting to know that the necessity for trunk drain¬
age, and the means of accomplishing it, were distinctly set
before the public 200 years ago by a practical draining en¬
gineer, to whose writings the attention of the agricultural
community has been frequently directed of late by Messrs
Parkes, Gisborne, and others. From the third edition (1652)
of The Improver Improved, by Walter Blithe, the author
referred to, in which the true principles of land drainage
are stated as distinctly, and urged as earnestly, as by any
of our modern writers, we here quote the following re¬
marks :—
“ A strait watercourse, cut a considerable depth, in a thousand
parts of this nation, would be more advantageous than we are aware
of, or I will task myself here to dispute further. And though many
persons are interested therein, and some will agree, and others will
oppose; one creek lyeth on one side of the river, in one lord's ma¬
nor, and another lyeth on the other side, and divers men own the
same ; why may not one neighbour change with another, when both
are gainers? If not, why may they not he compelled for their own
good, and the commonwealth's advantage ? I daresay thousands of
acres ot very rich land may hereby be gained, and possibly as many
more much amended, that are almost destroyed ; but a law is want¬
ing herein for the present, which I hope will be supplied if it may
appear advancement to the public; for to private interests it is not
possible to be the least prejudice, when every man hath benefit, and
each man may also have an equall allowance if the least prejudiced.
“ But a word or two more, and so shall conclude this chapter—and
l!T t,hat 'vr.ll«r of th'! h»s “"“l attention to the means above indicated of ventilating house drains
"minaTv CriesSrSk- n-'Ilo ”? ‘•“T the T<”™ Commission in 1843, in his joint report Snder the pre-
andln his’n ae. at a M.J8 L.’” ho G.u,?eto «« proper Regulation of Buildings in Towns, otherwise Healthy Houses,” in 1848-49
to drains and sewer, at tw‘T o ,CrmiS5i°nT°f 8fT* M5M*- ^ h“! •«"•••<»/ «*t4 «* necessity of ventilation as applied
to arains and sewers, and pointed out the means above indicated of effectino* it. J
DRAINAGE.
Agricul- it is a little to further this improvement through a great destruc-
tural tion (as some may say); it is the removing or destroying of all such
Drainage, mills, and none else, as drown and corrupt more lands than them-
v v—n-^ selves are worth to the commonwealth, and they are such as are
kept up or dammed so high as that they boggyfie all the lands that
lye under their mill-head. Such mills as are of little worth, or are
by constant great charges maintained, I advise to be pulled down;
the advance of the land, when the water is let run his course, and
not impounded, will be of far greater value many times. But in
case the mills should be so necessary and profitable too, and far
more than the lands they spoil, I shall then advise, that under thy
mill-dam, so many yards wide from it as may prevent breaking
through, thou make a very deep trench all along so far as thy lands
are putrefied, and thereinto receive all the issuing, spewing water,
and thereby stop or cut off the feeding of it upon thy meadow, and
carry it away back into thy back-water or false course, by as deep
a trench, cut through the most low and convenient part of thy
meads. But put case that thou shouldst have no convenient fall on
that side thy mill-dam, then thou must make some course, or plant
some trough under thy mill-dam, and so carry it under into some
lower course that may preserve it from soaking thy meadows or
pastures under it; and by this means thou maist in a good measure
reduce thy land to good soundness, and probably wholly cure it,
and preserve thy mill also.”
It is painful to reflect, that after the lapse of two cen¬
turies, we should still see, as Blithe did, much “ gallant
land” ruined for want of those draining operations which he
so happily describes.
^round’ A clear outfall of sufficient depth being secured, the way
draining. *s °Pen for the application of underground draining. And
here it may be proper to state, that there is very little of
the land of Great Britain naturally so dry as not to be sus¬
ceptible of improvement by artificial draining ; for land is
not in a perfect condition with respect to drainage, unless
all the rain that falls upon it can sink down to the minimum
depth required for the healthy development of the roots of
cultivated crops, and thence find vent, either through a na¬
turally porous subsoil or by artificial channels. Much con¬
troversy has taken place as to what this minimum depth is.
Suffice it to say, that opinion is now decidedly in favour of
a greater depth than was considered necessary even a few
years ago, and that the best authorities concur in stating it
at from three to four feet. There are persons who doubt
whether the roots of our ordinary grain or green crops ever
penetrate to such a depth as has now been specified. A
careful examination will satisfy any one who makes it that
minute filamentary rootlets are sent down to extraordinary
depths, wherever they are not arrested by stagnant Mater.
It has also been questioned whether any benefit accrues to
crops from this deep descent of their roots. Some persons
have even asserted that it is only when they do not find
food near at hand that they thus wander. But it must be
borne in mind that plants obtain moisture as well as nourish¬
ment by means of their roots, and the fact is well known
that plants growing in a deep soil resting on a porous sub¬
soil seldom or never suffer from drought. It is instructive,
too, on this point, to observe the practice of the most skil¬
ful gardeners, and see the importance which they attach to
trenching, the great depth at which they often deposit ma¬
nure, and the stress which they lay upon thorough drainage.
On the other hand, it is well known that soils which soonest
become saturated, and run from the surface in wet weather,
are precisely those which parch and get chapped the soon¬
est in drought. The effectual way to secure our crops at
once from drowning and parching, is to put the land in a
right condition with respect to drainage.
All soils possess more or less the power of absorbing and
retaining water. Pure clays have it in the greatest degree,
and gritty siliceous ones in the smallest. In dry weather
this power of attracting moisture is constantly operating to
supply from below the loss taking place by evaporation at
the surface. In heavy rains, as soon as the entire mass has
drunk its fill, the excess begins to flow off below ; and
therefore a deep stratum, through which water can perco-
vol. vm.
131
late, but in which it can never stagnate—that is, never ex- Agricul-
ceed the point of saturation—is precisely that in which plants t“ral
are most secure from the extremes of drought and drowning. J,ra,nage*
If a perfect condition of the soil with respect to drainage ^
is of importance for its influence in preserving it in a right
condition as respects moisture, it is still more so for its ef¬
fects upon [{.^temperature. All who are conversant with rural
affairs are familiar M ith that popular classification of soils in
virtue of which such as are naturally dry are also invariably
spoken of as warm and early ; and conversely, that wet soils
are invariably described as being cold and late. This clas¬
sification is strictly accurate, and the explanation of it is
simple. An excess of water in soil keeps down its tempera¬
ture in various ways. In passing into the state of vapour it
rapidly carries off the heat M'hich the soil has obtained from
the sun’s rays. Water possesses also a high radiating power ;
so that, when present in the soil in excess, and in a stagnant
state, it is constantly carrying off heat by evaporation and
radiation. On the other hand, stagnant water conveys no
heat downwards ; for, although the surface is warmed, the
portion of water thus heated being lightest, remains floating
on the surface, and will give back its heat rapidly to the at¬
mosphere, but conveys none downwards. When the surface
of stagnant water becomes colder than the general mass, the
very opposite effect immediately ensues ; for as water cools
its density increases, and thus causes an instant sinking of
the portion that has been eooled, and a rising of a warm por¬
tion from below to take its place—this movement continu¬
ing until the wdiole has been lowered to 42°, at which point
water reaches its maximum density, after which it will freeze
at the surface if the cold be great enough. It is thus that
soil surcharged with water is kept at a lower temperature
than similar soil that has a sufficient natural or artificial
drainage.
But while the presence of stagnant water in a soil has
this injurious power of lowering its temperature, a very dif¬
ferent effect ensues when rain-water can sink freely into it
to a depth of several feet, and then find a ready exit by
drainage ; for in this case the rain-water carries down with
it the heat which it has acquired from the atmosphere and
from the sun-heated surface, and imparts it to the subsoil.
There is as yet a lack of published experiments to show the
ordinary increase of temperature at various depths and in
different soils, as the result of draining wet land. Those
conducted by Mr Parkes, in a Lancashire bog in June 1837,
showed, as the mean of 3d observations, that the drained
and cultivated soil at 7 inches from the surface was 10°
M'armer than the adjoining undrained bog in its natural
state at the same depth. It is understood that recent ex¬
periments conducted by the same gentleman on an extended
scale fully establish the fact that an increased temperature
of the soil is an unfailing accompaniment of thorough drain¬
ing. The importance of this result cannot well be over¬
rated. The temperature and other conditions of the atmo¬
sphere, which we call climate, are placed beyond human
control; but this power of raising the temperature of all
wet, and consequently cold soils, becomes tantamount in
some of its results to a power of improving the climate.
There are, accordingly, good grounds for stating that in
numerous cases grain crops have ripened sooner by 10 or
12 days than they would have done but for the draining of
the land on which they grew..
The points which we have thus briefly touched upon are
so essential to an intelligent appreciation of the subject, that
we have felt constrained to notice them, however meagrely.
But our space forbids more than a mere enumeration of
some of the many evils inseparable from the presence of
stagnant water in the soil, and of the benefits that flow from
its removal. Wet land, if in grass, produces only the coarser
grasses, and many sub-aquatic plants and mosses, which are
of little or no value for pasturage; its herbage is late of '
R*
1 .
132 D R A I
Agricul- coming in spring, and fails early in autumn; the animals
tural orazed upon it are unduly liable to disease, and sheep, espe-
Drainage. cja]jy^ to t]ie fatal rot. When used as arable land, tillage
operations are easily interrupted by rain, and the period
always much limited in which they can be prosecuted at
all; the compactness and toughness of such land renders
each operation more arduous, and more of them necessary
than in the case of dry land. The surface must necessarily
be thrown into ridges, and the furrows and cross-cuts duly
cleared out after each process of tillage, on which surface
expedients as much labour has probably been expended in
each thirty years* as would now suffice to make drains enough
to lay it permanently dry. With all these precautions, the
best seed-time is often missed, and this usually proves the
prelude to a scanty crop, or to a late and disastrous harvest.
The cultivation of the turnip and other root crops, which
require the soil to be wrought to a deep and free tilth, be¬
comes either altogether impracticable, and must be aban¬
doned for the safe but costly bare fallow, or is carried out
with great labour and hazard ; and the crop, when grown,
can neither be removed from the ground, nor consumed
upon it by sheep without damage by poaching. I he dung,
lime, and other manure, that is applied to such land, is in a
great measure wasted; and the breaking ot tbe subsoil and
general deep tillage, so beneficial in other circumstances, is
here positively mischievous, as it does but increase its power
of retaining water. Taking into account the excessive la¬
bour, cost, and risk, inseparable from the cultivation of wet
land, and the scanty and precarious character of the crops
so obtained, it would in many cases be wiser to keep such
lands in grass, than to prosecute arable husbandry under
such adverse circumstances. These very serious evils can
either be entirely removed, or, at the least, very greatly pal¬
liated by thorough draining. It often happens that natu¬
rally porous soils are so soaked by springs, or so water-logged
by resting upon an impervious subsoil, or, it may be, so
drowned for want of an outfall in some neighbouring river
or stream, that draining at once effects a perfect cure, and
places them on a par with the best naturally dry soils. In
the case of clay soils, the improvement effected by draining
is in some respects greater than in any other class, but still
it cannot change the inherent properties of clay. This has
sometimes been overlooked by sanguine improvers, who,
hastily assuming that their strong land, when drained, would
henceforward be as friable and sound as the more porous
kinds, have proceeded to treat it on this assumption, and
have found to their cost that clay, however well drained,
will still get into mortar and clods, if it is tilled or trodden
on too soon after rain. It is entirely owing to such rash and
unskilful management that an opinion has sometimes got
abroad that clay lands are injured by draining. They merely
retain the qualities peculiar to clay; and when they are
treated judiciously, show as good a comparative benefit from
draining as other soils. The only instances in which even
temporary injury arises from draining is in the case of some
peaty and fen lands, which are so loose, that they suffer from
drought in protracted dry weather. As such lands are
usually level and have water-courses near them, this in¬
convenience admits of an easy remedy by shutting up the
main outlets and then admitting water into the ditches.
The drains in this way become ready channels for apply¬
ing the needed moisture by a kind of subterraneous irri¬
gation.
The beneficial effects of thorough draining are of a very
decisive and striking kind. The removal of stagnant water
from a stratum of 4 feet in depth, and the establishing of a
free passage for rain-water and air from the surface to the
level of the drains, speedily effects most important changes
in the condition of the soil and subsoil. Ploughing and
other tillage operations are performed more easily than here¬
tofore, in consequence of a more friable state of the soil.
N A G E.
Moderate rains which formerly would have sufficed to arrest Agricul-
these operations do so no longer, and heavy falls of rain tural
cause a much shorter interruption of these labours than they ^rainaKe-
did when the land was in its natural state. Deep tillage, v'—
whether by the common or subsoil plough (which formerly
did harm), now aids the drainage, and is every way bene¬
ficial. Ridges and surface furrows being no longer needed,
the land can be kept flat with great benefit to crops, and
furtherance to field operations. An earlier seed-time and
harvest, better crops, a healthier live stock, and an improved
style of husbandry, are the usual and well known sequents
of judiciously conducted drainage operations. In short, the
most experienced and skilful agriculturists now declare with
one consent that good drainage is an indispensable prelimi¬
nary to good cultivation.
Although it has been reserved to the present times to Antiquity
see land draining reduced to a system based on scientific of lan.d
principles, or very great improvement effected in its details, clrainillg-
it is by no means a modern discovery. The Romans were
careful to keep their arable lands dry by means of open
trenches, and there are even some grounds for surmising
that they used covered drains for the same purpose. Indu¬
bitable proof exists that they constructed underground chan¬
nels by means of tubes of burned earthenware ; but it seems
more probable that these were designed to carry water to
their dwellings, &c., than that they were used simply as
drains. Recent inquiries and discoveries have also shown
that it is at least several centuries since covered channels
of various kinds were in use by British husbandmen for
drying their land. It is, at all events, two centuries since
Capt. Walter Blithe wrote as follows:—
“ Superfluous and venomous w^ater, which lyeth in the Blithe’s
earth and much occasioneth bogginesse, mirinesse, rushes, *rera2lse’
flags, and other filth, is indeed the chief cause of barrenesse ib0 ’
in any land of this nature. . . . Drayning is an ex¬
cellent and chiefest means for their reducement; and for the
depth of such draynes, I cannot possibly bound, because I
have not time and opportunity to take in all circumstances.
. . . And for thy drayning trench it must be made so
deepe that it goe to the bottome of the cold, spewing
moyst water, that feeds the flagg and the rush ; for the
wddenesse of it, use thine owne liberty, but be sure to make
it so wide as thou mayest goe to the bottome of it, which
must be so low as any moysture lyeth, which moysture
usually lyeth under the over and second swarth of the
earth, in some gravel or sand, or else, where some greater
stones are mixt with clay, under which thou must goe halfe
one spades graft deepe at least; yea, suppose this corrup¬
tion that feeds and nourisheth the rush or flagg should lie a
yard or foure foot deepe, to the bottome of it thou must
goe, if ever thou wilt drain it to purpose. . . . And
for the drayning trench be sure thou indeavour to carry it
as neare upon a straight line as possible. . . . To the
bottome where the spewing spring lyeth thou must goe, and
one spades depth or graft beneath, how deep so ever it be, if
thou wilt drayne thy land to purpose. I am forced to use re¬
petitions of some things, because of the suitableness of the
things to which they are applyed; as also because of the
slownesse of peoples apprehensions of them, as appears by
the non-practice of them, the which wherever you see drayn¬
ing and trenching you shall rarely find few or none of them
w rought to the bottome. . . . Go to the bottome of the
bog, and there make a trench in the sound ground, or else in
some old ditch, so low as thou verily conceivest thy selfe
assuredly under the level of the spring or spewing water,
and then carry up thy trench into thy bogg straight through
the middle of it, one foot under that spring ; . . . but
for these common and many trenches, oft times crooked
too, that men usually make in their boggy grounds, some
one foot, some two, never having respect to the cause or
matter that maketh the bogg to take that way, I say away
Agricul¬
tural
Drainage.
Elking-
ton’s sys¬
tem.
Smith of
Deanston:s
system.
DRAINAGE.
133
with them as a great piece of folly, lost labour, and spoyle.
. . . After thou has brought a trench to the bottom
of the bog, then cut a good substantial trench about thy
bog; and when thou hast so done make one work or two
just overthwart it, upwards and downwards, all under the
matter of the bog. Then thou must take good green
faggots, willow, alder, elme, or thorne, and lay in the bot-
tome of thy works, and then take thy turfe thou tookest up
in the top of thy trench, and plant upon them with the
green sward downwards ; or take great pebbles, stones, or
flint stones, and so fill up the bottome of thy trench about
fifteen inches high, and take thy turfe and p-lant it as afore¬
said, being cut very fit for the trench, as it may join close
as it is layd downe, and then having covered it all over with
earth, and made it even as thy other ground, waite and ex¬
pect a wonderfull effect through the blessing of God.”
These sagacious arguments and instructions were doubtless
acted upon by some persons in his own times and since ; but
still they had never attained to general adoption, and were
ultimately forgotten. Towards the close of last century,
Mr Elkington, a Warwickshire farmer, discovered and pro¬
mulgated a plan of laying dry sloping land that is drowned
by the outbursting of springs. When the higher lying por¬
tion of such land is porous, rain falling upon it sinks down
until it is arrested by clay or other impervious matter, which
causes it again to issue at the surface and wet the lower-
lying ground. Elkington showed that by cutting a deep
drain through the clay, aided when necessary by wells or
augur holes, the subjacent bed of sand or gravel in which a
body of water is pent up by the clay, as in a vessel, might
be tapped, and the water conveyed harmlessly in the co¬
vered drain to the nearest ditch or stream. In the circum¬
stances to which it is applicable, and in the hands of skilful
drainers, Elkington’s plan, by bringing into play the natural
drainage furnished by porous strata, is often eminently suc¬
cessful. His system was given to the public in a quarto
volume, edited by a Mr John Johnston of Edinburgh,
who does not seem to have shared the engineering talents
of the man whose discoveries he professes to expound.
During the thirty or forty years subsequent to the publi¬
cation of this volume, most of the draining that took place
was on this system, and an immense capital was expended
in such works with very varying results. Things continued
in this position until about the year 1823, when the late
James Smith of Deanston having discovered anew' those
principles of draining so long before indicated by Blithe,
proceeded to exemplify them in his own practice, and to
expound them to the public in a way that speedily effected
a complete revolution in the art of draining, and marked
an era in our agricultural progress. Instead of persisting
in fruitless attempts to dry extensive areas by a few dexter¬
ous cuts, he insisted on the necessity of providing every
field that needed draining at all with a complete system
of parallel underground channels, running in the line of
the greatest slope of the ground, and so near to each other
that the whole rain falling at any time upon the sur¬
face should sink down and be carried off by the drains.
The distances between drains he showed must be regulated
by the greater or less retentiveness of the ground operated
upon, and gave 10 feet as the minimum, and 40 feet as the
maximum of these distances. The depth which he pre¬
scribed for his parallel drains w'as 30 inches, and these were
to be filled with 12 inches of stones small enough to pass
through a 3-inch ring—in short, a new edition of Blithe’s
drain. A main receiving-drain was to be carried along the
lowest part of the ground with sub-mains in every subor¬
dinate hollow' that the ground presented. These receiving-
drains were directed to be formed with a culvert of stone
work, or of tiles, of waterway sufficient to contain the
greatest volume of water at any time requiring to be passed
Irom the area to which they respectively supplied the out¬
let. The whole cultivated lands of Britain being disposed Agricul-
in ridges which usually lie in the line of greatest ascent, it tlffal
became customary to form the drains in each furrow, or in rain'1Ke-
each alternate, or third, or fourth one, as the case might
require, or views of economy dictate, and hence the system
soon came to be popularly called furrow draining. From
the number and arrangement of the drains, the terms fre¬
quent and parallel were also applied to it. Mr Smith him¬
self more appropriately named it, from its effects, thorough
draining. The sound principles thus promulgated by him
were speedily adopted and extensively carried into practice.
The great labour and cost incurred in procuring stones in
adequate quantities, and the difficulty of carting them in
wet seasons, soon led to the substitution of tiles and soles
of burned earthenware. The limited supply and high price
of these tiles for a time impeded the progress of the new
system of draining; but the opportune invention by the
Marquis of Tweeddale of a tile-making machine, followed as
this was by a rapid succession of mpre perfect machines
for the same purpose, at once removed this impediment,
and gave a mighty stimulus to this fundamental agricultural
improvement. The substitution of cylindrical pipes for the
original horse-shoe tiles has still further aided the progress
of land-drainage, both by lowering the cost and increasing
the efficiency and permanency of such works.
The system introduced and so ably expounded by Smith
of Deanston has now virtually been adopted by all drainers.
Variations in matters of detail (having respect chiefly to the
depth and distance apart of the parallel drains) have indeed
been introduced; but the distinctive features of his system
(viz., provision for laying dry the entire area of land operated
upon to the minimum depth required for the healthy growth
of cidtivated crops, by a series of parallel drains running in
the line of the greatest slope of the ground) are now recog¬
nised and acted upon by all scientific drainers.
In setting about the draining of a field, or farm, or estate. Direction
the first point is to secure, at whatever cost, a proper outfall, of drains.
The lines of the receiving drains must next be determined,
and then the direction of the parallel drains. The former
must occupy the lowest part of the natural hollows, and
the latter must run in the line of the greatest ascent of the
ground. In the case of flat land, where a fall is obtained
chiefly by increasing the depth of the drains at their lower
ends, these lines may be disposed in any direction that is
found convenient; but in undulating ground a single field
may require several distinct sets of drains lying at different
angles, so as to suit its several slopes. When a field is
ridged in the line of the greatest ascent of the ground, there
is an obvious convenience in adopting the furrows as the
site of the drains ; but wherever this is not the case the drains
must be laid off to suit the contour of the ground, irrespec¬
tive of the furrows altogether. When parts of a field are
flat and other parts have a considerable acclivity, it is expe¬
dient to cut a receiving drain near to the bottom of the
slopes, and to give the flat ground an independent set of
drains. In laying off' receiving drains it is essential to give
hedge-rows and trees a good offing, lest the conduit should
be obstructed by roots. When a main drain is so placed
that parallel ones empty into it from both sides, care should
be taken that the inlets of the latter are not made exactly
opposite to each other. Indeed, we have found it expedient
in such cases to have two receiving drains parallel to each
other, each to receive the subordinate drains from its own
side only. As these receiving drains act also as ordinary
drains to the land through which they pass, no additional
cost is incurred by having two instead of one, provided they
are as far apart as the other drains in the field. Much of
the success of draining depends on the skilful planning of
these main drains, and in making them large enough to
discharge the greatest flow of water to which they may be
exposed. Very long main drains are to be avoided. Nu-
134
DRAINAGE.
Agricul¬
tural
Drainage.
Depth of
drains.
Distance
betwixt
drains.
merous outlets are also objectionable, from their liability to
obstruction. An outlet to an area of from ten to fifteen acres
is a good arrangement. These outlets should be faced with
mason-work, and guarded by iron gratings.
The depths of the parallel drains must next be determined.
In order to obtain proper data for doing so, the subsoil must
be carefully examined by digging test-holes in various places,
and also by taking advantage of any quarries, deep ditches,
or other cuttings in the proximity, that afford a good sec¬
tion of the ground. We have already expressed an opinion
that the drains should not be less than four feet deep ; but
it is quite possible that the discovery at a greater depth than
four feet of a seam of gravel, or other very porous material
charged with water, underlying considerable portions of
the ground, may render it expedient to carry the drains so
deep as to reach this seam. Such a seam, when furnished
with sufficient outlets, supplies a natural drain to the whole
area under which it extends. When such exceptional cases
are met with, they are precisely those in which deep drains,
at wide intervals, can be trusted to dry the whole area.
When the subsoil consists of a tenacious clay of consider¬
able depth, it is considered by many persons that a greater
depth than three feet is unnecessary. The greater depth is,
however, always to be preferred; for a drain of four feet,
if it works at all, not only does all that a shallower one can
do, but frees from stagnant water a body of subsoil on which
the other has no effect at all. It has indeed been alleged
that such deep drains may get so closed over by the clay
that water will stand above them. If the surface of clay
soil is wrought into puddle by improper usage, water can
undoubtedly be made to stand for a time over the shallow¬
est drains as easily as over the deepest. But the contrac¬
tion which takes place in summer in good alluvial clays gra¬
dually establishes fissures, by which water reaches the
drains. In such soils it is usually a few years before the
full effect of draining is attained. This is chiefly due to the
contraction and consequent cracking of clay soils in summer
just referred to, and partly, as Mr Parkes thinks, to the
mining operations of the common earth-worm. Both of
these natural aids to drainage operate with greater force with
drains 4 feet deep than when they are shallower. The
tardy percolation of water through clay soils seems also a
reason why in such cases it should get the benefit of a
greater fall, by making the drain deep. Draining is always
a costly operation, and it is therefore peculiarly needful to
have it executed in such a way that it shall be effectual
and permanent. We advocate a minimum depth of 4 feet,
because of our strong conviction that such drains carefully
made will be found to have both these qualities. And this
opinion is the result of dear-bought experience, for we have
found it necessary in our own case to re-open a very con¬
siderable extent of 30-inch drains in consequence of their
having totally failed to lay the land dry, and to replace them
by 4-feet ones, which have proved perfectly efficacious. In
doing this we have seen a 30-inch drain opened up and found
to be perfectly dry, and yet when the same trench was deep¬
ened to 4 feet there was quite a run of water from it. We
earnestly dissuade all parties who are about to undertake
drainage works from giving ear to representations about the
sufficiency and economy of shallow" drains. These, doubt¬
less, cost somewhat less to begin with, but in thousands of
cases they fail to accomplish the desired end, and the un-
fortunate owners, after all their outlay, are left to the miser¬
able alternative of seeing their land imperfectly drained, or
of executing the works anew, and thus losing the whole cost
of the first and inefficient ones. The extreme reluctance
wit i which the latter alternative is necessarily regarded will
undoubtedly operate for a long time in keeping much land
t iat has been hastily and imperfectly drained from partici¬
pating in the benefits of thorough drainage. The distance
apart at which the drains should be cut must be determined
by the nature of the subsoil. In the most retentive clays
it need not be less than 18 feet. On the other hand, this
distance cannot safely be exceeded in the case of any sub¬
soil in which clay predominates, although it should not be
of the most retentive kind. In all parts of the country in¬
stances abound in which drains cut in such subsoils, from
24 to 30 feet apart, have totally failed to lay the land dry.
When ground is once pre-occupied by drains too far apart,
there is no remedy but to form a supplementary one betwixt
each pair of the first set; and thus, by exceeding the proper
width at first, the space betwixt the drains is unavoidably re¬
duced to 12 or 15 feet, although 18 feet would originally
have sufficed. It is only with a decided porosity in the sub¬
soil, and in proportion to the degree of that porosity, that
the space betwixt drains can safely be increased to 24, or
30, or 36 feet. In those exceptional cases in which drains
more than 36 feet apart prove effectual, their success is due
to the principle on which Elkington’s system is founded. A
few years ago an opinion obtained currency, that as the
depth of drains was increased their width apart might with
safety be increased in a corresponding ratio. And hence it
came to be confidently asserted, that with a depth of 5 or
6 feet a width of from 40 to 60 feet might be adopted with
a certainty of success, even in the case of retentive soils.
We believe that experience has already demonstrated the
unsoundness of this opinion. At all events, in recommend¬
ing a minimum depth of 4 feet, we do so on the ground that
(other things being equal) the whole benefits of drainage
are more fully and certainly secured by drains of this depth
than by those of 2^ or 3 feet. In ordinary cases an in¬
crease of depth does not compensate for an increase of the
width apart of the drains.
Cylindrical pipes with collars are undoubtedly the best
draining material that has yet been discovered. The collars
referred to are simply short pieces of pipe, just so wide in
the bore as to admit of the smaller pipes which form the
drain passing freely through them. In use, one of these
collars is so placed as to encase the ends of each contiguous
pair of tubes, and thus forms a loose fillet around each join¬
ing. The ends of these pipes being by this means se¬
curely kept in contact, a continuous canal for the free
passage of water is infallibly insured; the joinings are
guai-ded against the entrance of mud or vermin, and yet
sufficient space is left for the admission of water. Pipes
of all diameters, from 1 inch to 16 inches, are now to be
had ; those from 1 to 2 inches in the bore are used for sub¬
ordinate drains ; the larger sizes for sub-main and main
receiving drains. Collars are used with the smaller sizes
only, large pipes not being so liable to shift their position as
small ones. In constructing a drain it is of much impor¬
tance that the bottom be cut out just wide enough to admit
the pipes and no more. Pipes, when thus accurately fitted
in, are much less liable to derangement than when laid in
the bottom of a trench several times their width, and into
w hich a mass of loose
earth must necessari¬
ly be returned. This
accurate fitting is
now quite practicable
in the case of soils
tolerably free from
stones from the ex¬
cellence of the drain¬
ing tools that have
lately been intro¬
duced. The following
cut represents the
most important of
these tools.
c and e are long Fig. i
tapering spades for digging out the middle and bottom spits,
Agricul¬
tural
Drainage!
Pipes and
collars of
earthen-
DRAINAGE.
isr
Agricul- a, d, and / recurved scoops for clearing out the debris,
tural and b a pipe-layer, by means of which a workman standing
Drainage. at )-]ie margin of a drain hooks up a pipe and collar, and
deposits them easily and accurately in the deep narrow
trench.
How to If a quicksand is encountered in constructing a drain, it
deal with a will be found expedient to put a layer of straw in the bot-
quicksand. tom 0f the trench, and then, instead of the ordinary pipe
and collar, to use at such a place a double set of pipes—one
within the other—taking care that the joinings of the inner
set are covered by the centres of the outer ones. By such
precautions the water gets vent, and the running sand is
excluded from the drain. When a brook has been diverted
from its natural course for mill-power or irrigating pur¬
poses, it often happens that portions of land are thereby
deprived of the outfall required to admit of their being
drained to a proper depth. In such cases it is frequently
practicable to obtain the needed outlet by carrying a main
drain through below the water-course, by using at that point
a few yards of cast-iron pipe, and carefully filling up the
trench with clay puddle, so that there may be no leakage
from the water-course into the drain. While this is adoing
the water must either be turned off or carried over the tern- Agricul-
porary gap in a wooden trough. tai al
The cost of draining is so much influenced by the ever- Drainage,
varying price of labour and materials, and by the still more v"—
varying character of the land to be operated upon, that it is CoBt of
impossible to give an estimate of the cost that will admit 0f tlrainin£-
general application. The following tabular data, taken
chiefly from Mr Bailey Denton’s valuable treatise, are
presented to aid those who wish to form such an estimate :—
Table I.—Showing the number of rods of Drain per acre
at given distances apart, and the number of Pipes of
given lengths required per acre.
18
21
24
27
30
Rods per
146§
125f
110
97J
88
Twelve-
inch Pipes.
2420
2074
1815
1613
1452
Thirteen-
inch Pipes.
2234
1915
1676
1489
1340
Fourteen-
inch Pipes.
2074
1778
1555
1383
1244
Fifteen-
inch Pipes-
1936
1659
1452
1290
1161
Table II.—Showing the Cost of Draining per acre at different intervals between the Drains.
Fowler’s
steam
draining
apparatus.
Labour, cutting and filling in at fid. per rod 
Material, pipes for minor drains, 18s. per 1000 
Haulage, two miles, and delivery in fields at 2s. fid. per 1000.
Pipe-laying and finishing, Id. per rod 
Superintendence, foreman 
Extra for mains, 
Iron-outlet pipes, and masonry, and extra labour 
Total.
Add for collars, if used.
Eighteen
feet apart.
L. s.
3 13
2 5
0 6
0 12
0 5
0 2
0 1
6 1
2 10
8 8 11
Twenty-one
feet apart.
L. s. d.
3 2 10
1 19 2
0 5
0 10
0 5
0 2
0 1
6 6 5
0 19 7
7 6 0
Twenty-
four feet
apart.
L s. d.
2 15 0
1 14
0 4
0 9
0 5
0 2
0 1
5 11 8
0 17 1
6 8 9
Twenty-
seven feet
apart.
L. s. d.
2 8 11
1 10 6
0 4 3
0 8 2
0 5 0
0 2 0
0 16
5 0 4
0 15 3
5 15 7
Thirty feet
apart.
L. s. d.
2 4 0
7
3
7
5
2
1
4 11 0
0 13 8
5 4 8
Various attempts have from time to time been made to
lower the cost of draining land by the direct application of
animal or steam power to the work of excavation. The
most successful of these attempts is the steam-draining ap¬
paratus invented by Mr John Fowler of Bristol, usually
called Fowler’s draining plough. A six-horse portable
steam-engine is anchored in one corner of the field to be
drained. It gives motion to two drums, to each of which a
rope, 500 yards long, is attached, the one uncoiling as the
other is wound up. These ropes pass round blocks which
are anchored at each end of the intended line of drain, and
are attached one to the front and the other to the hind end
of the draining apparatus. This consists of a framework, in
which is fixed, at any required depth not exceeding 3^ feet,
a strong coulter terminating in a short horizontal bar of
cylindrical iron, with a piece of rope attached to it, on which
a convenient number of drain pipes are strung. This frame
being pulled along by the engine, the coulter is forced
through the soil at a regulated depth, and deposits its string
of pipes with unerring accuracy, thus forming, as it proceeds,
a perfect drain. The supply of pipes is kept up by means
of holes previously dug in the line of the drain, at distances
corresponding to the length of the rope on which they are
strung. This machine was subjected to a very thorough
trial at the meeting of the Royal Agricultural Society of
England, at Lincoln, in 1854, on which occasion a silver
medal and very high commendation were awarded to it.
In March 1855 it was publicly stated that five of these im¬
plements are now at work in different parts of England, and
that already 10,000 acres of land have been drained by
means of them. At the Lincoln trial it was satisfactorily
proved that this implement could work at a depth of 3^ feet.
As it moved along, the soil on either side, to the width of 2
or 3 feet, seemed to be loosened. It is therefore probable
that this implement, or at least one propelled on the same
principle, may yet be used as a subsoil disintegrator.
A great stimulus has recently been given to the improve- Land
ment of land by the passing of a series of acts of parliament, draining
which have removed certain obstacles which effectually hin-coinPaniea
dered the investment of capital in works of drainage and
kindred ameliorations. By the first of these acts, passed in
1846, a sum of L.4,000,000 of the public money was autho¬
rized to be advanced to landowners to be expended in drain¬
ing their lands. The Inclosure Commissioners were charged
with the allocation of this money, and the superintendence
u
132* D R A
Drake, of its outlay. The most important provisions of this act are,
 J that it enables the possessors of entailed estates (equally with
others) to share in the benefits of this fund—that it provides,
on terms very favourable to the borrower, for the repayment
of the money so advanced by twenty-two annual instalments
—that before sanctioning the expenditure of these funds on
drainage works, the commissioners must have a report from
a qualified inspector, to the effect that they are likely to
prove remunerative—and finally, that the works must be
performed according to specifications prepared by the inspec¬
tor, and approved by the commissioners, who have seldom
allowed of a less depth of drain than 3^ feet. By the end
of the year 1854 the whole of this money was allocated, and
more than half of it actually expended. Scottish landowners
were so prompt to discern, and so eager to avail themselves
of this public fund, that more than half of it fell to their
share. The great success of this measure, and the rapid
absorption of the fund provided by it soon led to further
legislative acts, by which private capital has been rendered
available for the improvement of land, by draining and
otherwise, on conditions similar to those just enumerated.
These acts are—
\st, The Private Money’s Drainage Act (12th and 13th
Viet., cap. 100), limited to draining only.
2<i, The West of England, or South- West Land Drain¬
ing Company’s Act (11th and 12th Viet., cap. 142), for the
purpose of draining, irrigation and warping, embanking, re¬
claiming and inclosing, and road-making.
Zd, The General Land-Drainage and Improvement
D R A
Company's Act (12th and 13th Viet, cap. 91), for the pur- Drake,
poses of draining, irrigating and warping, embanking, re- v^*-ra**
claiming and inclosing, road-making, and erecting farm-
buildings.
Ath, The Lands Improvement Company's Act (16th and
17th Viet., cap. 154), for the same purposes as the above,
with the addition of planting for shelter. This company’s
powers extend to Scotland.
By these acts ample provision is made for rendering the
dormant capital of the country available for the improve¬
ment of its soil. To the owners of entailed estates they
are peculiarly valuable, from the power which they give to
them of charging the cost of draining, &c., upon the inheri¬
tance. If such owners apply their own private funds in
effecting such improvements, they are enabled, through the
medium of these companies, to take a rent-charge on their
estates for the repayment of money which they so expend,
over which they retain personal control, so that they can
bequeath as they choose the rent-charge payable by their
successor. Besides their direct benefits, these drainage acts
have already produced some very important indirect fruits.
They have led to many improvements in the manner of
accomplishing the works to which they relate, to the wide
and rapid dissemination of such improved modes of drain¬
ing, &c., and, in particular, they have had the effect of creat¬
ing, or at least of greatly multiplying and accrediting, a
staff’ of skilful and experienced draining engineers, of whose
services all who are about to engage in draining and simi¬
lar works will do well to avail themselves. (j. w—n.)
DRAKE, Sir Francis, a celebrated English admiral,
was born near Tavistock, Devonshire, in 1545. His father
who had been bred a sailor, obtained a naval chaplaincy
from Queen Elizabeth, and was afterwards vicar of Upnor
church, on the Medway. Young Drake was educated at
the expense and under the care of Sir John Hawkins,
who was his kinsman; and, at the age of eighteen, he had
risen to be purser of a ship trading to Biscay. At twenty
he made a voyage to Guinea; and at twenty-two he was
made captain of the Judith. In that capacity he was in
the harbour of San Juan de Ulloa, in the Gulf of Mexico,
where he behaved most gallantly in the actions under Sir
John Hawkins, and returned with him to England, having
acquired great reputation, though with the loss of all the
money which he had embarked in the expedition. Having
next projected an attack against the Spaniards in the West
Indies to indemnify himself for his former losses, he set
sail in 1572, with two small ships named the Pasha and the
Swan. He was afterwards joined by another vessel; and
with this small squadron he took and plundered the Spanish
town of Nombre de Dios. With his men he penetrated
across the isthmus of Panama, and committed great havoc
among the Spanish shipping. In these expeditions he was
much assisted by a nation of Indians, who were then en¬
gaged in a desultory warfare with the Spaniards. Plaving
embarked his men and filled his ships with plunder, he
bore away for England, where he arrived in August 1573.
His success and honourable demeanour in this expedition
gained him high reputation; and the use which he made of his
riches served to raise him still higher in popular esteem.
Having fitted out three frigates at his owm expense, he sailed
with them to Ireland; and there, as a volunteer, under Wal¬
ter earl of Essex, the father of the famous but unfortunate
earl, performed many glorious actions. After the death of his
patron he returned to England, where Sir Christopher Hat¬
ton introduced him to Queen Elizabeth, and procured him
a favourable reception at court. In this way he acquired
the means of undertaking that grand expedition which has
immortalized his name. The first proposal he made was
to undertake a voyage into the South Seas through the
Straits of Magelhaens; an achievement which no English¬
man had hitherto ever attempted. This project having been
well received at court, the queen furnished him with means;
and his own fame quickly drew together a sufficient force.
The fleet with which he sailed on this enterprise consisted
only of five small vessels, and their united crews mustered
only 166 men. Having sailed on the 13th Dec. 1577, he
on the 25th fell in with the coast of Barbary, and on the
29th with Cape Verde. On the 18th March he passed the
equinoctial, made the coast of Brazil on the 5th of April,
and entered the river Plata, where he parted company with
two of his ships ; but having met them again, and taken
out their provisions, he turned them adrift. On the 29th
May he entered the port of St Julian’s, where he continued
two months for the sake of laying in a stock of provisions.
On the 20th Aug. he entered the Straits of Magelhaens,
and on the 25th Sept, passed them, having then only his
own ship. On the 25th Nov. he arrived at Macao, which
he had appointed as the place of rendezvous in the event of
his ships being separated ; but Captain Winter, his vice-
admiral, had repassed the straits and returned to Eng¬
land. He thence continued his voyage along the coast of
Chili and Peru, taking all opportunities of seizing Spanish
ships, and iittacking them on shore, till his men were sa¬
tiated with plunder; and then coasted along the shores of
America, as far N. as Lat. 48., in an unsuccessful endeavour
to discover a passage into the Atlantic. Having landed,
however, he named the country New Albion, and took pos¬
session of it in the name of Queen Elizabeth. Having
careened his ship, he set sail from thence on the 29th Sept.
1579 for the Moluccas. On the 13th Oct. he fell in wfith
certain islands inhabited by the most barbarous people he
had met with in all his voyage. On the 4th Nov. he got
sight of the Moluccas; and, arriving at Ternate, was ex¬
tremely well received by the king of that place, who appears
from the most authentic relations of this voyage to have
been a wise and politic prince. On the 10th Dec. he made
the Celebes, where his ship unfortunately struck upon a
D E A
Drama, rock, but was taken off without much damage. On the
16th March he arrived at Java, whence he intended to have
directed his course to Malacca ; but he found himself ob¬
liged to alter his purpose, and to think of returning home.
On the 25th March 1580 he put this design in execution ;
and on the 15th June he doubled the Cape of Good Hope,
having then on board only fifty-seven men and three casks
of water. On the 12th July he passed the line, reached the
coast of Guinea on the 16th, and there watered. On the
11th Sept, he made the island of Terceira, and on the 3d
Nov. he entered the harbour of Plymouth. This voyage
round the world was thus performed in two years and about
ten months. Shortly after his arrival, the queen paid a visit
to Deptford, went on board his ship, and there, alter dinner,
conferred upon him the honour of knighthood; at the same
time declaring her entire approbation of all that he had done.
She likewise gave directions for the preservation of his ship,
that it might remain a monument of his own and his country’s
glory. In 1585 he sailed with a fleet to the West Indies,
and took the cities of St Jago, St Domingo, Carthagena, and
St Augustine. In 1587 he went to Lisbon with a fleet of
thirty sail; and having received intelligence of a great fleet
being assembled in the bay of Cadiz, and destined to form
part of the Armada, he with great courage entered the port
and there burnt upwards of 10,000 tons of shipping; a feat
which he afterwards jocosely called “ singeing the king of
Spain’s beard.” In 1588, when the Spanish Armada was ap¬
proaching our shores, Sir Francis Drake was appointed vice-
admiral under Lord Howard, and made prize of a very large
galleon, commanded by Don Pedro de Valdez, who was re¬
puted the projector of the invasion. This affair deserves to
be particularly stated. On the 22d of July, Sir Francis, ob¬
serving a great Spanish ship floating at a distance from both
fleets, sent his pinnace to summon the commander to yield.
Valdez replied, with much Spanish solemnity, that they were
four hundred and fifty strong, that he himself was Don Pe¬
dro, and stood much upon his honour; and thereupon pro¬
pounded several conditions upon which he was willing to
yield. But the vice-admiral replied, that he had no leisure
to parley ; that if the Don thought fit instantly to yield, he
might ; if not, he should soon find that Drake was no
coward. Pedro, hearing the name of Drake, immediately
yielded, and with forty-six of his attendants came on board
the admiral’s ship.
It deserves to be noticed that Drake’s name is men¬
tioned in the singular diplomatic communication from the
King of Spain which preceded the Armada:—
Te veto ne pergas bello defendere Belgas;
Quas Dracus eripuit nunc restituantur oportet;
D R A
Quas pater evertitjubeo te condere cellas:
Religio Pap?e fac restituatur ad unguem.
To these the queen made this extempore response :
Ad Graecas, bone rex, fiant mandata kalendas.
In 1589, Sir Francis Drake commanded the fleet sent to
restore Dom Antonio, king of Portugal, the land forces
being under the orders of Sir John Norris ; but they had
hardly put to sea when the commanders differed, and thus
the attempt proved abortive. But as the war with Spain
continued, a more formidable expedition was fitted out, un¬
der Sir John Hawkins and Sir Francis Drake, against their
settlements in the West Indies, than had hitherto been un¬
dertaken during the whole course of it. Here, however,
the commanders again disagreed about the plan; and the
result in like manner disappointed public expectation.
These disasters were keenly felt by Drake, and were the
principal cause of his death, which took place on board his
own ship, near the town of Nombre de Dios, in the West
Indies, Jan. 28, 1595.
DRAKENBORCH, Arxold, a celebrated scholar
and editor, was a native of Utrecht, where he was born
January 1, 1684. Having studied belles-lettres under
Graevius and Burmann, and law under Cornelius Van
Eck, he succeeded Professor Burmann in 1716, and con¬
tinued to hold his professorship till his death in 1748, in
the sixty-fourth year of his age. LI is earliest work was
a dissertation entitled Disputatio philologico-historica de
Prcefecto urbis, in 4to, and its intrinsic merit caused it
to be reprinted at Frankfort, in 1752, by Professor Uhl,
accompanied with a life of its learned author. Llis next
work, entitled Disputatio de officio prafectorurn prcetorio,
was published in 1707 ; and ten years afterwards he gave
to the world his edition of Silius Italicus, in seventeen
books, 4to. In order to render this edition as perfect as
possible, nothing was omitted; and many historical sub¬
jects were engraved for the purpose of elucidating the text,
to which his own copious and learned annotations greatly
contributed. But his splendid edition of Livy, Lugd. Ba-
tav. 1738 and 1746, 7 tom., with a life of that eminent his¬
torian, is that on which his fame as a scholar chiefly rests.
The preface to this work is replete with erudition, and gives
a particular account of all the literary men who have at dif¬
ferent periods commented on the works of Livy. His edi¬
tion is based on that of Gronovius ; but he made many im¬
portant alterations on the authority of manuscripts which it
is probable Gronovius had either never seen, or not taken
the pains to consult. Upon the whole, this edition of Livy
is one of the most elaborate, interesting and instructive,
ever given to the world.
133*
Draken-
borch
II
Drama.
DRAMA.
A drama (we adopt Dr Johnson’s definition, with some
little extension) is a poem or fictitious composition in
dialogue, in which the action is not related, but repre¬
sented.
A disposition to this fascinating amusement, considered
in its rudest state, seems to be inherent in human nature.
It is the earliest sport of children to take upon themselves
some fictitious character, and sustain it to the best of their
skill, by such appropriate gesture and language as their
youthful fancies suggest, and such dress and decoration
as circumstances place within their reach. The infancy
of nations is as prone to this pastime as that of indivi¬
duals. When the horde emerges out of a nearly brutal
state, so far as to have holidays, public sports, and general
rejoicings, the pageant of their imaginary deities, or of
their fabulous ancestors, is usually introduced as the most
pleasing and interesting part of the show. But however
general the predisposition to the assumption of fictitious
character may be, there is an immeasurable distance be¬
twixt the rude games in which it first displays itself, and
that polished amusement which is numbered among the
fine arts, which poetry, music, and painting have vied to
adorn, and to whose service genius has devoted her most
sublime efforts; whilst philosophy has stooped from her
loftier task, to regulate the progress of the action, and
give probability to the representation and personification
of the scene.
The history of Greece—of that wonderful country, whose Outline,
days of glory have left such a never-dying blaze of ra¬
diance behind them—the history of Greece affords us the
means of correctljr tracing the polished and regulated
drama, the subject of severe rule, and the vehicle for ex.
134* D R A M A.
Drama, pressing the noblest poetry, from amusements as rude in
their outline as the mimic sports of children or of savages.
The history of the Grecian stage is that of the dramatic
art in general. They transferred the drama, with their
other literature, to the victorious Romans, with whom it
rather existed as a foreign than flourished as a native art.
Like the other fine arts, the stage sunk under the decay
of the empire, and its fall was accelerated by the intro¬
duction of the Christian religion. In the middle ages dra¬
matic representation revived, in the shape of the homely
Mysteries and Moralities of our forefathers. The revival
of letters threw light upon the scenic art, by making us
acquainted with the pitch of perfection to which it had
been carried by the genius of Greece. With this period
' commences the history of the modern stage, properly so
called. Some general observations on the drama, and its
present state in Britain, will form a natural conclusion to
the article.
Rise of the The account which we have of the origin of Grecian
Grecian theatrical representations, describes them as the fantastic
diama. orgies of shepherds and peasants, who solemnized the rites
of Bacchus by the sacrifice of a goat, by tumultuous dances,
and by a sort of masquerade, in which the actors were
disguised like the ancient Morrice-dancers of England, or
the Guisards of Scotland, who have not as yet totally dis¬
used similar revels. Instead of masks, their faces were
stained with the lees of wine, and the songs and jests cor¬
responded in coarseness to the character of the satyrs and
fawns, which they were supposed to assume in honour of
their patron Bacchus. Music, however, always formed a
part of this rude festivity, and to this was sometimes added
the recitations of an individual performer, who, possessed
of more voice or talent than his companions, was able to
entertain an audience for a few minutes by his own indi¬
vidual exertions.
Out of such rude materials, Thespis is supposed to have
been the first who framed something like an approach to
a more regular entertainment. The actors under this, the
first of theatrical managers, instead of running about wild
among the audience, were exalted upon a cart, or upon a
scaffold formed of boards laid upon tressels. In these im¬
provements Thespis is supposed to have had the aid of
one Susarion, whose efforts were more particularly directed
to the comic drama. But their fortunes have been un¬
equal, for whilst the name of Thespis is still united with
every thing dramatic, that of Susarion has fallen into obli¬
vion, and is only known to antiquaries.
The drama in Greece, as afterwards in Britain, had
scarcely begun to develope itself from barbarism, ere, with
the most rapid strides, it advanced towards perfection.
Thespis and Susarion flourished about four hundred and
forty or fifty years before the Christian era. The battle
of Marathon was fought in the year 490 before Christ;
and it was upon iEschylus, one of the Athenian generals
on that memorable occasion, that Greece conferred the
honoured title of the Father of Tragedy. We must ne¬
cessarily judge of his efforts by that which he did, not by
that which he left undone; and if some of his regulations
may sound strange in modern ears, it is but just to com¬
pare the state in which he found the drama, with that
in which he left it.
iEschylus was the first, who, availing himself of the in¬
vention of a stage by Thespis, introduced upon the boards
a plurality of actors at the same time, and converted into
action and dialogue, accompanied or relieved at intervals
by the musical performance of the chorus, the dull mono¬
logue of the Ihespian orator. It was iEschylus, also, who
mtroduced the deceptions of scenery, stationary indeed,
and therefore very different from the decorations of our
stage, but still giving a reality to the whole performance, Drama,
which could not fail to afford pleasure to those who beheld
for the first time an effort to surround the player, while
invested with his theatrical character, with scenery which
might add to the illusions of the representations. But this
was not all. A theatre, at first of wood, but afterwards of
stone, circumscribed, whilst it accommodated, the specta¬
tors, and reduced a casual and disorderly mob to the qua¬
lity and civilization of a regular and attentive audience.
The most remarkable effect of the tragedy of iEschylus
was the introduction of the chorus in a new character,
which continued long to give a peculiar tone to the Gre¬
cian drama, and to make a striking difference betwixt
that original theatre and those which have since arisen
in modern nations.
The chorus who sung hymns in favour of Bacchus, the
musical part, in short, of the entertainment, remained in
the days of Thespis, as it had been in the rude village
gambols which he had improved, the principal part of the
dramatic entertainment. The intervention of monologue,
or recitation, was merely a relief to the musicians and a
variety to the audience. iEschylus, whilst he assigned a
part of superior consequence to the actor in his improved
dialogue, new-modelled the chorus, which custom still
enjoined as a necessary and indispensable branch of the
performance. They were no longer a body of vocal mu¬
sicians, whose strains were as independent of what was
spoken by the personages of the drama, as those of our
modern orchestra when performing betwixt the acts. The
chorus assumed from this time a different and com¬
plicated character, which forms a marked peculiarity in
the Grecian drama, distinguishing it from the theatrical
compositions of modern Europe.
The chorus, according to this new model, was composed
of a certain set of persons, priests, captive virgins, ma¬
trons, or others, usually of a solemn and sacred charac¬
ter, the contemporaries of the heroes who appeared on
the stage, who remained upon the scene to celebrate in
hymns set to music the events which had befallen the
active persons of the drama; to afford them alternately
their advice or their sympathy; and, at least, to moralize,
in lyrical poetry, on the feelings to which their history
and adventures, their passions and sufferings, gave rise.
The chorus might be considered as, in some degree, the
representatives of the audience, or rather of the public, ,
on whose great stage those events happen in reality
which are presented in the mimicry of the drama. In the
strains of the chorus, the actual audience had those feel¬
ings suggested to them as if by reflection in a mirror,
which the events of the scene ought to produce in their
own bosom ; they had at once before them the action of
the piece, and the effect of that action upon a chosen band
of persons, who, like themselves, were passive spectators,
whose dignified strains pointed out the moral reflections
to which the subject naturally gave rise. The chorus
were led or directed by a single person of their number,
termed the coryphaeus, who frequently spoke or sung
alone. They were occasionally divided into two bands,
who addressed and replied to each other. But they al- ?
ways preserved the character proper to them, of specta¬
tors, rather than agents in the drama.
Ihe number of the chorus varied at different periods,
often extending to fifty persons, and sometimes restricted
to halj that number; but it is evident that the presence
of so many persons on the scene, officiating as no part of
the dramatis persona, but rather as contemporary specta¬
tors, involved many inconveniences and inconsistencies.
I hat which the hero, however agitated by passion, must
naturally have suppressed within his own breast, or ut¬
tered in soliloquy, was thus necessarily committed to the
D R A M A. 135
Drama, confidence of fifty people, less or more. And when a deed
'‘-'•'Y'*-'' of violence was to be committed, the helpless chorus,
instead of interfering to prevent the atrocity to which the
perpetrator had made them privy, could only, by the rules
of the theatre, exhaust their sorrow and surprise in dithy-
rambics. But still the union which JEschylus accomplished
betwixt the didactic hymns of the chorus and the events
which were passing upon the stage, was a most important
improvement upon the earlier drama. By this means the
two unconnected branches of the old Bacchanalian revels
were combined together; and we ought rather to be sur¬
prised that iEschylus ventured, whilst accomplishing such
an union, to render the hymns sung by the chorus subor¬
dinate to the action or dialogue, than that he did not take
the bolder measure of altogether discarding that which,
before his time, was reckoned the principal object of a
religious entertainment.
Grecian The new theatre and stage of Athens were reared, as
theatre, we have seen, under the inspection of iEschylus. He also
of actin0,6 *ntro^uce^ dresses in character for his principal actors, to
0 which were added embellishments of a kind which mark
the wide distinction betwixt the ancient and modern
stage. The personal disguise which had formerly been
attained by staining the actor’s face, was now, by what
doubtless was considered as a high exertion of ingenuity,
accomplished by the use of a mask, so painted as to
represent the personage whom he performed. To aug¬
ment the apparent awkwardness of this contrivance, the
mouths of these masks were frequently fashioned like
the extremity of a trumpet, which, if it aided the actor’s
voice to reach the extremity of the huge circuit to which
he addressed himself, must still have made a ridiculous
appearance upon the stage, had not the habits and expec¬
tations of the spectators been in a different tone from
those of a modern audience. The use of the cothurnus
or buskin, which was contrived so as to give to the per¬
former additional and unnatural stature, would have fallen
under the same censure. But the ancient and modern
theatres may be said to resemble each other only in name,
as will appear from the following account of the Grecian
stage, abridged from the best antiquaries.
The theatres of the Greeks were immensely large in
comparison to ours; and the audience sat upon rows of
benches, rising above each other in due gradation. In
form they resembled a horse-shoe. The stage occupied a
platform, which closed in the flat end of the building, and
was raised so high as to be on a level with the lowest row
of benches. The central part of the theatre, or what we
call the pit, instead of being filled with spectators, accord¬
ing to modern custom, was left for the occasional occupa¬
tion of the chorus, during those parts of their duty which
did not require them to be nearer to the stage. This
space was called the orchestra, and corresponded in
some measure with the open space which, in the modern
equestrian amphitheatres, is interposed betwixt the au¬
dience and the stage, for the display of feats of horse¬
manship. The delusion of the scene being thus removed
to a considerable distance from the eye of the spectator,
was heightened; and many of the objections offered to
the use of the mask and the buskin were lessened or
totally removed. When the chorus did not occupy the
orchestra, they ranged themselves beside the thymele,
a sort of altar, surrounded with steps, placed in front of
their stage orchestra. From this, as a post of observation,
they watched the progress of the drama, and to this point
the actors turned themselves when addressing them. The
solemn hymns and mystic dances of the chorus, perform¬
ed during their retreat into the orchestra, formed a sort of
interludes, or interruptions of the action, similar in effect
to the modern division into acts. But, properly speaking,
there was no interruption of the representation from be- Drama,
ginning to end. The piece was not, indeed, constantly
progressive; but the illusion of the scene was always be¬
fore the audience, either by means of the actors them¬
selves or of the chorus. And the musical recitation and
character of the dances traced by the chorus in their in¬
terludes, were always in correspondence with the charac¬
ter of the piece, grave, majestic, and melancholy ; in tra¬
gedy, gay and lively; in comedy, and during the repre¬
sentation of satirical pieces, wild, extravagant, and bor¬
dering on buffoonery. The number of these interludes,
or interruptions of the action, seems to have varied from
three to six, or even more, at the pleasure of the author.
The music was simple and inartificial, although it seems
to have produced powerful effects on the audience. Two
flute-players performed a prelude to the choral hymns, or
directed the movement of the dances, which in tragedy
were a solemn, slow, modulated succession of movements,
very little resembling anything termed dancing among the
moderns.
The stage itself was well contrived for the purposes of
the Greek drama. The front wras called the logeum, and
occupied the full width of the flat termination of the thea¬
tre, contracted, however, at each extremity by a wall,
which served to conceal the machinery necessary for the
piece. The stage narrowed as it retired backwards; and
the space so restricted in breadth w'as called the prosce¬
nium. It was terminated by a flat decoration, on which
was represented the front of a temple, palace, or whatever
else the poet had chosen for his scene. Suitable decora¬
tions appeared on the wings, as in our theatres. There
were several entrances, both by the back scene and in
front. These were not used indiscriminately, but so as
to indicate the story of the piece, and render it more
clear to apprehension. Thus, the persons of the drama
who were supposed to belong to the palace or temple in
the flat scene, entered from the side or the main door, as
befitted their supposed rank; those who were inhabitants
of the place represented, entered through a door placed
at the side of the logeum; while those supposed to come
from a distance were seen to traverse the orchestra, and
to ascend the stage by a stair of communication, so that
the audience were made spectators, as it were, of their
journey. The proscenium was screened by a curtain,
which was withdrawn when the piece commenced. The
decorations could be in some degree altered, so as to
change the scene; though this, we apprehend, was sel¬
dom practised. But machinery for the ascent of phan¬
toms, the descent of deities, and similar exhibitions, were
as much in fashion among the Greeks as on our own mo¬
dern stage; with better reason, indeed, for we shall pre¬
sently see that the themes which they held most proper
to the stage called frequently for the assistance of these
mechanical contrivances.
In the dress and costume of their personages the Greeks
bestowed much trouble and expense. It was their object
to disguise as much as possible the mortal actor who was
to represent a divinity or an hero; and while they hid his
face and augmented his height, they failed not to assign
him a mask and dress in exact conformity to the popu¬
lar idea of the character represented ; so that, seen across
the orchestra, he might appear the exact resemblance of
Hercules or of Agamemnon.
The Grecians, but in particular the Athenians, became
most passionately attached to the fascinating and splen¬
did amusement which iEschylus thus regulated, which So¬
phocles and Euripides improved, and which all three, with
other dramatists of inferior talents, animated by the full
vigour of their genius. The delightful climate of Greece
permitted the spectators to remain in the open air (for
DRAMA.
136
Drama, there was no roof to their huge theatres) for whole days,
during which several plays, high monuments ot poetical
talent, were successively performed before them. The en¬
thusiasm of their attention may be judged of by what hap¬
pened during the representation of a piece written by He¬
gemon. It was while the Athenians were thus engaged
that there suddenly arrived the astounding intelligence of
the total defeat of their army before Syracuse. The thea¬
tre was filled with the relations of those who had fallen;
there was scarcely a spectator, who, besides sorrowing as a
patriot, was not called to mourn a friend or relative. But,
spreading their mantles before their faces, they command¬
ed the representation to proceed; and thus veiled, con¬
tinued to give it their attention to the conclusion. Na¬
tional pride, doubtless, had its share in this singular con¬
duct, as well as fondness for the dramatic art. Another
instance is given of the nature and acuteness of their feel¬
ings, when the assembly of the people amerced Phrynicus
in a fine of a thousand drachmae, because, in a comedy
founded upon the siege of Miletos, he had agitated their
feelings to excess, in painting an incident which Athens
lamented as a misfortune dishonourable to her arms and
her councils.
The price of admission was at first one drachma ; but
Pericles, desirous of propitiating the ordinary class ot citi¬
zens, caused the entrance-money to be lowered to two oboli,
so that the meanest Athenian had the ready means of in¬
dulging in this luxurious mental banquet. As it became
difficult to support the expense of the stage, for which
such cheap terms of admission could form no adequate
fund, the same statesman, by an indulgence yet more pe¬
rilous, caused the deficiency to be supplied from the trea¬
sure destined to sustain the expense of the war. It is a
sufficient proof of the devotion of the Athenians to the
stage, that not even the eloquence of Demosthenes could
tempt them to forego this pernicious system. He touch¬
ed upon the evil in two of his orations ; but the Athenians
were resolved not to forego the benefits of an abuse which
they were aw^are could not be justified, and they passed a
law making it death to touch upon that article of reforma¬
tion.
It must not be forgotten, that the Grecian audience en¬
joyed the exercise of critical authority, as well as of clas¬
sical amusement, at their theatre. They applauded and
censured, as at the present day, by clapping hands and
hissing. Their suffrage at those tragedies acted upon the
solemn feasts of Bacchus, adjudged a laurel crown to the
most successful dramatic author. This faculty was fre¬
quently abused; but the public, on sober reflection, sel¬
dom failed to be ashamed of such acts of injustice, and
faithful, upon the whole, to the rules of criticism, evinced
a fineness and correctness of judgment, which never des¬
cended to the populace of any other nation.
Peculiar To this general account of the Grecian stage, it is pro¬
character per to add some remarks on those peculiar circumstances
of the Gre-from which it derives a tone and character so different
ciandrama.frorn 0f t]ie moc[ern drama; circumstances affecting
at once its style of action, mode of decoration, and gene¬
ral effect on the feelings of the spectators.
The Grecian drama, it must be remembered, derived
its origin from a religious ceremony; and, amid all its
refinement, never lost its devotional character, unless it
shall be judged to have done so in the department of sa¬
tirical comedy.
When the audience was assembled, they underwent a
religious lustration, and the archons or chief magistrates
paid their public adoration to Bacchus, still regarded as
the patron of the theatrical art, and whose altar was al¬
ways placed in the theatre.
The subject of the drama was frequently religious. In
tragedy especially, Sophocles and Euripides, as well as Drama,
iEschylus, selected their subjects from the exploits of the s—
deities themselves, or of the demigods and heroes whom
Greece accounted to draw an immediate descent from the
denizens of Olympus, and to whom she paid nearly equal
reverence. The object of the tragic poets was less to
amuse and interest their audience by the history of the
human heart, or soften them by the details of domestic
distress, than to elevate them into a sense of devotion or
submission, or to astound and terrify them by the history
and actions of a race of beings before whom ordinary mor¬
tality dwindled into pigmy size. This they dared to at¬
tempt ; and, what may appear still more astonishing to the
mere English reader, this they appear in a great measure
to have performed. Effects were produced upon their au¬
dience which we can only attribute to the awful impression
communicated by the idea of the immediate presence of
the divinity. The emotions excited by the apparition of
the Eumenides or furies, in iEschylus’s tragedy of that
name, so appalled the audience that females are said to -
have lost the fruit of their womb, and children to have
actually expired in convulsions of terror. These effects
may have been exaggerated ; but that considerable incon¬
veniences occurred from the extreme horror with which
this tragedy impressed the spectators, is evident from a
decree of the magistrates, limiting the number of the
chorus, in order to prevent in future such tragical con¬
sequences. It is plain that the feeling by which such im¬
pressions arose must have been something very different
from what the spectacle of the scene alone could possibly
have produced. The mere sight of actors disguised in
masks, suited to express the terrific yet sublime features
of an antique Medusa, with her hair entwined with ser¬
pents,—the wild and dishevelled appearance, the sable and
bloody garments, the blazing torches, the whole apparatus,
in short, or properties as they are technically called, with
which the classic fancy of iEschylus could invest those ter¬
rific personages,—nay more, even the appropriate terrors
of language and violence of gesture with which they were
bodied forth, must still have fallen far short of the point
which the poet certainly attained, had it not been for the.
intimate and solemn conviction of his audience that they
were in the performance of an act of devotion, and to a
certain degree in the presence of the deities themselves.
It was this conviction, and the solemn and susceptible
temper to which it exalted the minds of a large assembly,
which prepared them to receive the electric shock pro¬
duced by the visible representation of those terrible be¬
ings, to whom, whether as personifying the stings and
terrors of an awakened conscience, or as mysterious and
infernal divinities, the survivors of an elder race of deities,
whose presence was supposed to strike awe even into Jove
himself, the ancients ascribed the task of pursuing and
punishing atrocious guilt.
It was in consistency with this connection betwixt the
drama and religion of Greece, that the principal Grecian
tragedians thought themselves entitled to produce upon the
stage the most sacred events of their mythological history.
It might have been thought that in doing so they injured
the effect of their fable and action, since suspense and
uncertainty, so essential to the interest of a play, could ■
not be supposed to exist where the immortal gods, beings
controlling all others, and themselves uncontrolled, were
selected as the agents in the piece. But it must be re¬
membered, that the synod of Olympus, from Jove down¬
wards, were themselves but limitary deities, possessing
indeed a certain influence upon human affairs, but unable
to stem or divert the tide of fate or destiny, upon whose
dark bosom, according to the Grecian creed, gods as well
as men were embarked, and both sweeping downwards to
DRAMA. 137
Drama, some distant yet inevitable termination of the present sys-
tern of the universe, which should annihilate at once the
race of divinity and of mortality. This awful catastrophe
is hinted at not very obscurely by Prometheus, who, when
chained to his rock, exults, in his prophetic view, in the
destruction of his oppressor Jupiter; and so far did iEs-
chylus, in particular, carry the introduction of religious
topics into his drama, that he escaped with some difficulty
from an accusation of having betrayed the Eleusinian
mysteries.
Where the subject of the drama was not actually taken
from mythological history, and when the gods themselves
did not enter upon the scene, the Grecian stage was, as
we have already hinted, usually trod by beings scarcely
less awful to the imagination of the audience ; the heroes
namely of their old traditional history, to whom they at¬
tributed an immediate descent from their deities, a frame
of body and mind surpassing humanity, and after death
an exaltation into the rank of demigods.
It must be added, that, even when the action was laid
among a less dignified set of personages, still the altar was
present on the stage; incense frequently smoked; and
frequent prayers and obtestations of the deity reminded
the audience that the sports of the ancient theatre had
their origin in religious observances. It is scarcely neces¬
sary to state how widely the classical drama, in this re¬
spect, differs in principle from that of the modern, which
pretends to be nothing more than an elegant branch of
the fine arts, whose end is attained when it supplies an
evening’s amusement, whose lessons are only of a moral
description, and which is so far from possessing a religious
character, that it has with difficulty escaped condemna¬
tion as a profane, dissolute, and antichristian pastime.
From this difference of principle there flows a difference
of practical results, serving to account for many circum¬
stances which might otherwise seem embarrassing.
The ancients, we have seen, endeavoured by every
means in their power, including the use of masks and of
buskins, to disguise the person of the actor; and, at the
expense of sacrificing the expression of his countenance,
and the grace, or at least the ease, of his form, they re¬
moved from the observation of the audience every associ¬
ation which could betray the person of an individual play¬
er, under the garb of the deity or hero he was designed
to represent. To have done otherwise would have been
held indecorous, if not profane. It follows, that as the
object of the Athenian and of the modern auditor in at¬
tending the theatre was perfectly different, the pleasure
which each derived from the representation had a distinct
source. Thus, for example, the Englishman’s desire to
see a particular character is intimately connected with
the idea of the actor by whom it is performed. He does
not wish to see Hamlet in the abstract, so much as to see
how Kemble performs that character,1 and to compare him
perhaps with his own recollections of Garrick in the same
part. He comes prepared to study each variation of the
actor’s countenance, each change in his accentuation and
deportment; to note with critical accuracy the points
which discriminate his mode of acting from that of others ;
and to compare the whole with his own abstract of the
character. The pleasure arising from this species of cri¬
tical investigation and contrast is so intimately allied with
our ideas of theatrical amusement, that we can scarce ad¬
mit the possibility of deriving much satisfaction from a
representation sustained by an actor whose personal ap- Drama,
pearance and peculiar expression of features should be
concealed from us, however splendid his declamation, or
however appropriate his gesture and action. But this
mode of considering the drama, and the delight which we
derive from it, would have appeared to the Greeks a fool¬
ish and profane refinement, not very different in point of
taste from the expedient of Snug the joiner, who intimat¬
ed his identity by letting his natural visage be seen un¬
der the mask of the lion which he represented. It was
with the direct purpose of concealing the features of the
individual actor, as tending to destroy the effect of his
theatrical disguise, that the mask and buskin were first
invented, and afterwards retained in use. The figure was
otherwise so dressed as to represent the deity or demigod,
according to the statue best known, and adored with most
devotion, by the Grecian public. The mask was, by artists
who were eminent in the plastic art, so formed as to per¬
fect the resemblance. Theseus or Hercules stood before
the audience in the very form with which painters and
statuaries had taught them to invest the hero, and there
was certainly thus gained a more complete scenic decep¬
tion than could have been obtained in our present mode.
It was aided by the distance interposed betwixt the audi¬
ence and the stage; but, above all, by the influence of
enthusiasm acting upon the congregated thousands, whose
imaginations, equally lively and susceptible, were prompt
to receive the impressions which the noble verse of their
authors conveyed to their ears, and the living personifica¬
tion of their gods and demigods placed before their eyes.
It is scarcely necessary to add, that, while these obser¬
vations plead their apology for the mask and the buskin
of the ancients, they leave, where it stood before, every
objection to those awkward and unseemly disguises, con¬
sidered in themselves, and without reference to the pecu¬
liar purpose and tendency of the ancient theatre. In fact,
the exquisite pleasure derived from watching the elo¬
quence of feature and eye, which we admire in an accom¬
plished actor, was not, as some have supposed, sacrificed
by the ancients for the assumption of these disguises.
They never did, and, according to the plan of their thea¬
tres, never could, possess that source of enjoyment. The
circuit of the theatre was immense, and the eyes of the
thousands whom it contained were so far removed from
the stage, that, far from being able to enjoy the minute
play of the actor’s features, the mask and buskin were
necessary to give distinction to his figure, and to convey
all which the ancients expected to see, his general resem¬
blance, namely, to the character he represented.
The style of acting, so far as it has been described to
us, corresponded to the other circumstances of the repre¬
sentation. It affected gravity and sublimity of movement
and of declamation. Rapidity of motion and vivacity of
action seem to have been reserved for occasions of parti¬
cular emotion; and that delicacy of bye-play, as well as
all the aid which look and slight jesture bring so happily
to the aid of an impassioned dialogue, were foreign to
their system. The actors, therefore, had an easier task
than on the modern stage, since it is much more easy to
preserve a tone of high and dignified declamation, than to
follow out the whirlwind and tempest of passion, in which
it is demanded of the performer to be energetic without
bombast, and natural without vulgarity.
The Grecian actors held a high rank in the republic,
1 It is proper to state here, once for all, that, contrary to our usual practice, this article is reprinted as it originally appeared in the
Supplement to the fourth, fifth, and sixth editions of this work, without any of those adaptations which the course of time and change
of circumstances render necessary in ordinary cases. We have deemed this homage due to the genius and fame of the illustrious
author (Sir Walter Scott), whose splendid view of the origin and progress of the dramatic art we have accordingly presented to the
reader exactly as it proceeded from his own hand, leaving every contemporaneous allusion and illustration untouched.
VOL. VIII.
s
138 DRAMA.
Drama, and those esteemed in the profession were richly recom-
pensed. Their art was the more dignified, because the
poets themselves usually represented the principal cha¬
racter in their own pieces ; a circumstance which corro¬
borates what we have already stated concerning the com¬
parative inferiority of talents required in a Grecian actor,
who was only expected to move with grace and declaim
with truth and justice. His disguise hid all personal im¬
perfections ; and thus a Grecian poet might aspire to be¬
come an actor without that extraordinary and unlikely
union of moral and physical powers which would be ne¬
cessary to qualify a modern dramatist to mount the stage
in person, and excel at once as a poet and as an actor.
Principal It is no part of our present object to enter into any mi-
tragic nute examination of the comparative merits of the three
Athens ^ £reat tragethans of Athens, iEschylus, Sophocles, and Eu¬
ripides. Never, perhaps, did there arise, within so short
a space, such a succession of brilliant talents. Sophocles
might, indeed, be said to be the contemporary of both his
rivals, for his youthful emulation was excited by the suc¬
cess of iEschylus, and the eminence of his latter years
was disturbed by the rivalry of Euripides, whom, however,
he survived. To iEschylus, who led the van in the dra¬
matic enterprise, as he did in the field of Marathon, the
sanction of antiquity has ascribed unrivalled powers over
the realms of astonishment and terror. At his summons,
the mysterious and tremendous volume of destiny, in
which are inscribed the doom of gods and men, seemed
to display its leaves of iron before the appalled spectators;
the more than mortal voices of Deities, Titans, and de¬
parted Heroes, were heard in awful conference; heaven
bowed, and its divinities descended; earth yawned, and
gave up the pale spectres of the dead, and the yet more
undefined and grisly forms of those infernal deities who
struck horror into the gods themselves. All this could
only be dared and done by a poet of the highest order,
confident, during that early age of enthusiasm, that he
addressed an audience prompt to kindle at the heroic
scene which he placed before them. It.followed almost
naturally, from his character, that the dramas of iEschy-
lus, though full of terrible interest, should be deficient in
grace and softness; that his sublime conciseness should
deviate sometimes into harshness and obscurity; that,
finding it impossible to sustain himself at the height to
which he had ascended, he should sometimes drop, “ flut¬
tering his pinions vain,” into great inequalities of compo¬
sition ; and, finally, that his plots should appear rude and
inartificial, contrasted with those of his successors in the
dramatic art. Still, however, iEschylus led not only the
way in the noble career of the Grecian drama, but out¬
stripped, in point of sublimity at least, those by whom he
was followed.
Sophocles, who obtained from his countrymen the title
of the Jbee of Attica, rivalled iEschylus when in the pos¬
session of the stage, and obtained the first prize. His
success occasioned the veteran’s retreat to Sicily, where
he died, commanding that his epitaph should make men¬
tion of his share in the victory of Marathon, but should
contain no allusion to his dramatic excellencies. His more
fortunate rival judiciously avoided the dizzy and terrific
path which AEschylus had trode with so firm and daring a
step, it was the object of Sophocles to move sorrow and
compassion, rather than to excite indignation and terror.
He studied the progress of action with more attention than
iEschylus, and excelled in that modulation of the story
by which interest is excited at the beginning of a drama,
maintained in its progress, and gratified at its conclusion.
His subjects are also of a nature more melancholy and
jess sublime than those of his predecessor. He loved to
paint heroes rather in their forlorn than in their triumph¬
ant fortunes, aware that the contrast offered new sources Drama,
of the pathetic to the author. Sophocles was the most
fortunate of the Greek tragedians. He attained the age
of ninety-one years ; and, in his eightieth, to vindicate
himself from a charge of mental imbecility, he read to the
judges his (Edipus Coloneus, the most beautiful, at least
the most perfect, of his tragedies. He survived Euripides,
his most formidable rival, of whom also we must say a
few words.
It is observed by Schlegel, that the tone of the trage¬
dies of Euripides approaches more nearly to modern taste
than to the stern simplicity of his predecessors. The pas¬
sion of love predominates in his pieces, and he is the first
tragedian who paid tribute to the passion which has been
too exclusively made the moving cause of interest on the
modern stage,—the first who sacrificed to
Cupid, king of gods and men.
The dramatic use of this passion has been purified in
modern times, by the introduction of that tone of senti¬
ment which, since the age of chivalry, has been a princi¬
pal ingredient in heroic affection. This was unknown to
the ancients, in whose society females, generally speaking,
held a low and degraded place, from which few individuals
emerged, unless those who aspired to the talents and vir¬
tues proper to the masculine sex. Women were not for¬
bidden to become competitors for the laurel or oaken
crown offered to genius and to patriotism; but antiquity
held out no myrtle wreath as a prize for the domestic vir¬
tues peculiar to the female character. Love, therefore,
in Euripides, does not always breathe purity of sentiment,
but is stained with the mixture of violent and degrading
passions. This, however, was the fault of the age rather
than of the poet, although he is generally represented as
an enemy of the female sex; and his death was ascribed
to a judgment of Venus.
When blood-hounds met him by the way,
And monsters made the bard their prey.
This great dramatist was less happy than Sophocles in
the construction of his plots; and, instead of the happy
expedients by which his predecessor introduces us to the
business of the drama, he had too often recourse to the
mediation of a prologue, which came forth to explain in de¬
tail the previous history necessary to understand the piece.
Euripides is also accused of having degraded the cha¬
racter of his personages, by admitting more alloy of human
weakness, folly, and vice, than was consistent with the
high qualities of the heroic age. iEschylus, it was said,
transported his audience into a new and more sublime
race of beings; Sophocles painted mankind as they ought
to be, and Euripides as they actually are. Yet the vari¬
ety of character introduced by the latter tragedian, and
the interest of his tragedies, must always attract the mo¬
dern reader, coloured as they are by a tone of sentiment,
and by his knowledge of the actual business, rules, and
habits of actual life, to which his predecessors, living, as
they did, in an imaginary and heroical world of their own,
appear to have been strangers. And although the judg¬
ment of the ancients assigned the pre-eminence in trage¬
dy to iEschylus or Sophocles, yet Euripides has been found
more popular with posterity than either of his two great
predecessors.
The division betwixt tragedy and comedy, for both Grecian
sprung from the same common origin, the feasts, namely,come(^Jr-
in honour of Bacchus, and the disguises adopted by his
worshippers, seems to have taken place gradually, until the
jests and frolics, which made a principal part of these revels,
were found misplaced when introduced with graver mat-
DRAMA.
139
Drama, ter, and were made by Susarion, perhaps, the subject of a
separate province of the drama. The Grecian comedy was
divided into the ancient, the middle, and the modern style
of composition.
Ancient The ancient and original comedy was of a kind which
comedy, may, at first sight, appear to derogate from the religious
purposes which we have pointed out as the foundation of
the drama. They frequently turn upon parodies, in which
the persons and adventures of those gods and heroes who
were the sublime subjects of the tragic drama, are intro¬
duced for the purpose of buffoon-sport and ridicule, as in
Carey’s modern farces of Midas and the Golden Pippin.
Hercules appears in one of those pieces astonishing his
host by an extravagant appetite, which the cook in vain
attempts to satiate, by placing before him, in succession,
all the various dishes which the ancient kitchen afforded.
In another comedy, Bacchus, in whose honour the so¬
lemnity was instituted, is brought in only in order to ridi¬
cule his extreme cowardice.
At other times, allowing a grotesque fancy its wildest
range, the early comic authors introduced upon the stage
animals, and even inanimate things, as part of their dra¬
matis personae, and embodied forth on the stage the fan¬
tastic imaginations of Lucian in his True History. The
golden age was represented in the same ridiculous and
bizarre mode of description as the Pays de la Cocagne of
the French minstrels, or the popular ideas oiLubber-land 'xw
England; and the poets furnished kingdoms of birds, and
worlds, in the moon.
Had the only charm of these entertainments consisted
in the fantastic display with which the eyes of the spec¬
tators were regaled at the expense of the over-excited
imagination of the poet, they would soon have fallen into
disuse; for the Athenians were too acute and judicious
critics to have been long gratified with mere extravagance.
But these grotesque scenes were made the medium for
throwing the most bold and daring ridicule upon the mea¬
sures of the state, upon the opinions of individuals, and
upon the religion of the country.
This propensity to turn into ridicule that which is most
serious and sacred, had probably its origin in the rude
gambols of the sylvan deities who accompanied Bacchus,
and to whose petulant and lively demeanour rude jest was
a natural accompaniment. The audience, at least the
more ignorant part of them, saw these parodies with
pleasure, which equalled the awe they felt at the per¬
formance of the tragedies, whose most solemn subjects
were thus burlesqued; nor do they appear to have been
checked by any sense that their mirth was profane. In
fact, when the religion of a nation comes to consist chiefly
in the practice of a few' unmeaning ceremonies, it is often
found that the populace, with whatever inconsistence, as¬
sume the liberty of profaning them by grotesque parodies,
without losing their reverence for the superstitions which
they thus vilify. Customs of a like tendency were com¬
mon in the middle ages. The festival of the Ass in
France, of the Boy-Bishop in England, of the Abbot of
Unreason in Scotland, and many other popular practices
of the same kind, exhibited, in countries yet Catholic,
daring parodies of the most sacred services and ceremo¬
nies of the Roman church. And as these were practised
openly, and under authority, without being supposed to
shake the people’s attachment to the rites which they thus
ridiculed, we cannot wonder that similar profanities w ere
well received among the Pagans, whose religion sat very
loosely upon them, and w ho professed no fixed or neces¬
sary articles of faith.
It is probable that, had the old Grecian comedy conti¬
nued to direct its shafts of ridicule only against the inha¬
bitants of Olympus, it would not have attracted the coer¬
cion of the magistracy. But its province was far more ex- Drama,
tensive, the poets claiming the privilege of laying their
opinions on public affairs before the people in this shape.
Cratinus, Eupolis, and particularly Aristophanes, a daring,
powerful, and apparently unprincipled writer, converted
comedy into an engine for assailing the credit and charac¬
ter of private individuals, as well as the persons and poli¬
tical measures of those who administered the state. The
doctrines of philosophy, the power of the magistrate, the
genius of the poet, the rites proper to the deity, were al¬
ternately made the subject of the most uncompromising
and severe satire. It was soon discovered that the more
directly personal the assault could be made, and tbe more
revered or exalted the personage, the greater was the ma¬
lignant satisfaction of the audience, who loved to see wis¬
dom, authority, and religious reverence brought down to
their own level, and made subjects of ridicule by the
powers of the merciless satirist. The use of the mask
enabled Aristophanes to render his satire yet more point¬
edly personal; for, by forming it so as to imitate, probably
with some absurd exaggeration, tbe features of the object
of his ridicule, and by imitating the dress and manner of
the original, the player stepped upon the stage a walking
and speaking caricature of the hero of the night, and was
usually placed in some ludicrous position, amidst the fan¬
ciful and whimsical chimeras with which the scene was
peopled.
In this manner Aristophanes ridiculed with equal free¬
dom Socrates, the wisest of the Athenians, and Cleon, the
demagogue, when at the height of his power. As no one
durst perform the latter part, for fear of giving offence to
one so powerful, the author acted Cleon himself, with his
face smeared with the lees of wine. Like the satire of
Rabelais, the political and personal invective of Aristo¬
phanes was mingled with a plentiful allowance of scurril
and indecent jests, which were calculated to insure a fa¬
vourable reception from the bulk of the people. He re-
sembjes Rabelais also in the wild and fanciful fictions
which be assumes as the vehicle of his satire; and his
comedy of the Birds may even have given hints to Swift,
when, in order to contrast the order of existing institutions
with those of an Utopian and fantastic fairy land, he car¬
ries Gulliver among giants and pigmies. Yet though his
indecency, and the offensive and indiscriminate scurrility
of his satire, deserve censure;—though he merits the blame
of the wise for his attack upon Socrates, and of the learn¬
ed for his repeated and envenomed assaults on Euripides,—
Aristophanes has nevertheless added one deathless name
to the deathless period in which he flourished; and, from
the richness of his fancy, and gaiety of his tone, has de¬
served the title of the Father of Comedy. When the style
of his sarcasm possessed the rareness of novelty, it was
considered of so much importance to the state, that a
crown of olive was voted to the poet, as one who had
taught Athens the defects of her public men. But unless
angels were to write satires, ridicule cannot be considered
as the test of truth. The temptation to be witty is just
so much the more resistless, that the author knows he will
get no thanks for suppressing the jest which rises to his
pen. As the public becomes used to this new and piquant
fare, fresh characters must be sacrificed for its gratifica¬
tion. Recrimination adds commonly to the contest, and
those who were at first ridiculed out of mere wantonnesa
of wdt, are soon persecuted for resenting the ill usage;
until literature resembles an actual personal conflict, where
the victory is borne away by the strongest and most sa¬
vage, who deals the most desperate wounds with the least
sympathy for the feeling of his adversary.
The ancient comedy was of a character too licentious
to be long tolerated. Two or three decrees having been
140
Drama.
Middle
comedy.
New co¬
medy.
DRAMA.
in vain passed, in order to protect the citizens against
libels of this poignant description, the ancient comedy was
finally proscribed by that oligarchy which assumed the
government of Athens upon the downfall of the popular
government towards the end of the Peloponnesian war.
By order of these rulers, Anaxander, an actor, was pu¬
nished capitally for parodying a line of Euripides, so as
to infer a slight of the government. He was starved to
death, to which, as an appropriate punishment, the public
has since his time often indirectly condemned both actors
and dramatists. Aristophanes, who was still alive, bowed
to the storm, and relinquished the critical and satirical
scourge which he had hitherto exercised in the combined
capacity of satirist, reformer, and reviewer; and the use
of the chorus was prohibited to comic actors, as it seems
to have been in their stanzas chiefly that the offensive
satire was invested. To this edict Horace alludes in the
well known lines:
Successit vetus his comcedia, non sine multa
Laude : sed in vitium libertas excidit, et vim
Dignam lege regi. lex est accepta, chorusque
Turpiter obticuit, sublato jure nocendi.1
In the middle comedy, Thalia and her votaries seemed
to have retraced their steps, and, avoiding personal satire,
resorted once more to general subjects ol burlesque lail-
lery. We learn from history, real or fabulous, or from the
works of the elder poets, that these plays had the fanciful
wildness without the personal satire of the ancient comedy;
for the authors were obliged to take care that there was
no “ offence” in their pleasantry. At most, they only ven¬
tured to touch on matters of instant interest in the way of
inuendo, under feigned titles and oblique hints, and had
no longer the audacity to join men s vices or follies to
their names. Aristophanes re-cast several of his pieces in
this manner. But the same food, without the poignant
seasoning to which the audience had been accustomed,
palled on their taste, and this cast of pieces soon gave
place to that which the ancients cailed the New Comedy,
so successfully cultivated by Menander and others.
Notwithstanding what modern critics have said to the
contrary, and particularly the ingenious Schlegel, the new
tone which comedy thus assumed seems more congenial
to true taste as well as to public decorum, and even to the
peace and security of the community, than that of Aris¬
tophanes, whose satiric wit, like a furious bull, charged
upon his countrymen without respect or distinction, and
tossed and gored whatever he met with in his way.
The new comedy had for its object the ludicrous inci¬
dents of private life (celebrare domestica J'dctu, says Ho¬
race) ; to detail those foibles, follies, and whimsical acci¬
dents, which are circumstances material and serious to the
agents themselves, but, as very usually happens on the
stage of the world, matters only of ludicrous interest to
the on-lookers. The new comedy admitted also many inci¬
dents of a character not purely ludicrous, and some which,
calling forth pathetic emotion, approached more nearly to
the character of tragedy than had been admitted in the
ancient comedies of Aristophanes, and in this rather re¬
sembled what the French have called Tragedie Bourgeoise.
It is scarce necessary to remark, that the line cannot be
always distinctly drawn betwixt the subjects which excite
mirdi and those which call forth sympathy. It often hap¬
pens that the same incident is at once affecting and ludi- Drama,
crous, or admits of being presented alternately in either
point of view. In a drama, also, which treats of the faults
and lighter vices, as well as of the follies of mankind, it is
natural that the author should sometimes assume the high
tone of the moralist. In these cases, to use the language
of Horace, comedy exalts her voice, and the offended fa¬
ther, the pantaloon of the piece, swells into sublimity of
language. A pleasant species of composition was thus
attained, in which wit and humour were relieved by
touches both of sentiment and moral instruction. The
new comedy, taken in this enlarged point of view, formed
the introduction to the modern drama; but it was neither
so comprehensive in its plan, nor so various in character
and interest.
The form which the Greeks, and in imitation of them General
the Romans, adopted, for embodying their comic effusions, character
was neither extended nor artificial. To avoid the c,1.arge °omejytew
of assaulting, or perhaps the temptation to attack private •r’
persons, the actors in their drama were rather painted as
personifications of particular classes of society, than living
individual characters. The list of these personages was
sufficiently meagre. The principal character, upon whose
devices and ingenuity the whole plot usually turns, is the
Geta of the piece, a witty, roguish, insinuating, and ma¬
lignant slave, the confident of a wild and extravagant son,
whom he aids in his pious endeavours to cheat a suspicious,
severe, and griping father. Vv hen to these three are add¬
ed a wily courtezan, a procuress, a stolen virgin, who is
generally a mute or nearly such, we have all the stock-
characters which are proper to the classic comedy. Upon
this limited scale of notes the ancients rung their changes,
relieving them occasionally, however, by the introduction
of a boastful soldier, a boorish clown, or a mild and good-
natured old man, to contrast with the irascible Chremes
of the piece, the more ordinary representative of old age.
The plot is in general as simple as the cast of the cha¬
racters. A father loses his child, who falls into the hands
of a procuress or slave merchant. The efforts of the
youth, who falls in love with this captive, to ransom her
from her captivity, are seconded by the slave, who aids
him in the various devices necessary to extort from his
father the funds necessary for the purchase, and their
tricks form the principal part of the intrigue. W hen it is
necessary that the play shall close, the discovery of the
girl’s birth takes place, and the young couple are married.
The plots are indeed sometimes extended or enlarged by
additional circumstances, but very seldom by any novelty
of character or variety of general form.
It is a necessary consequence, that the ancient comic
authors were confined within a very narrow compass. The
vast and inexhaustible variety of knavery, folly, affecta¬
tion, humour, &c. as mingled with each other, or as mo¬
dified by difference of age, sex, temper, education, pro¬
fession, and habit of body, are all within the royalty of
the modern comic dramatist, and he may summon them
up, under what limitations and in what circumstances he
pleases, to play their parts in his piece. The ancients
were much more limited in their circle of materials, and,
perhaps, we must look for the ruling cause once more in
the great size of their theatres, and to the use of the
mask, which, though it easily presented the general or
generic character of the personage introduced, was inca-
1 The ancient comedy next play’d its part,
Well-famed, at first, for spirit and for art:
But Liberty o’erleaping decent awe.
Satiric rage required restraint from law ;
The edict spoke, dishonour’d silence bound
The chorus, and forbade their ancient right to wound.
DRAMA.
141
Drama, pable of the endless variety which can be given to ridicule
of a more minute, refined, and personal kind, by the flex¬
ible organs of a modern actor.
But besides this powerful reason for refraining from
any attempt to draw characters distinguished by peculiar
habits, there is much reason to think that the mode of
life pursued by the ancient Athenians was unfavourable
to the formation of whimsical, original, or eccentric cha¬
racters. Citizens of the same state, they lived much to¬
gether, and the differences of ranks did not make the
same distinction in taste and manners as in modern Eu¬
rope Their occupation, also, was the same. They were
all public men, and had a common interest in the manage¬
ment of the state ; and it probably followed that, in men
whose pursuits were all bent the same way, the same ge¬
neral similarity of manners might be found to exist, which
is remarked in those who follow the same profession. The
differences of youth and age, of riches and poverty, of
good or bad temper, &c. must have been much modified
in Attica, where all free citizens were, to a certain degree,
on a level—discussed the same topics of state, and gave
the same vote to forward them—enjoyed, without restric¬
tion, the same public amusements; and where the same
general cast of manners might descend to the lowest of
the citizens, for the very reason that even a poor herb-
woman understood the delicacy of the Attic dialect so
perfectly, as to distinguish a stranger by the first words he
addressed to her.
The chorus, silenced, as we have seen, owing to the li¬
cense of the old comedy, made no appendage to that which
was substituted in its place. The exhibition of the Gre¬
cian comedy did not, in other respects, in so far as we
know, materially differ from that of the tragedy. Instead
of the choral interludes, the representation was now divid¬
ed, by intervals of cessation, into acts, as upon the modern
stage. Arid the number five seems to have been fixed
upon as the most convenient and best adapted for the pur¬
poses of representation. The plot, as we have seen, and
the distinct and discriminated specification of character,
were, in either case, subordinate considerations to the
force of style and composition. It follows, of consequence,
that we can better understand and enjoy the tragedies
than the comedies of the ancients. The circumstances
which excite sublime or terrific sensations are the same,
notwithstanding the difference of age, country, and lan¬
guage. But comic humour is of a character much more
evanescent. The force of wit depends almost entirely
upon time, circumstance, and manners, insomuch that a
jest which raises inextinguishable laughter in a particular
class of society, appears flat or disgusting if uttered in
another. It is, therefore, no wonder that the ancient co¬
medy, turning upon manners so far removed from our own
time, should appear to us rather dull and inartificial. The
nature of the intercourse between the sexes in classic
times was also unfavourable for comedy. The coquette, the
fine lady, the romp, all those various shades of the female
character which occupy so many pleasant scenes on the
modern stage, were totally unknown to ancient manners.
The wife of the ancient comedy was a mere household
drudge, the vassal, not the companion, of an imperious
husband. The young woman whose beauty is the acting
motive of the intrigue, never evinces the slightest intel¬
lectual property of any kind. And the only female cha¬
racter admitting of some vivacity is that of the courtezan,
whose wit as well as her charms appeared to have been
professional.
After subtracting the large field afforded by female art
or caprice, female wit, or folly, or affection, the realm of
the ancient comedy will appear much circumscribed ; and
we have yet to estimate a large deduction to be made on
account of the rust of antiquity, and the total change of
religion and manners. It is no w'onder, therefore, that the
wit of Plautus and Terence should come forth diminished
in weight and substance, after having been subjected to
the alembic of modern criticism. That which survives the
investigation, however, is of a solid and valuable character.
If these dramas do not entertain us with a display of the
specific varieties of character, they often convey maxims
evincing a deep knowledge of human passion and feeling ;
and are so admirably adapted to express, in few and pithy
words, truths which it is important to remember, that
even the Apostle Paul himself has not disdained to quote
a passage from a Grecian dramatist. The situation, also,
of their personages is often truly comic; and the modern
writers who have borrowed their ideas, and arranged them
according to the taste of their own age, have often been
indebted to the ancients for the principal cause of their
success.
Drama.
Having dwelt thus long upon the Grecian drama, we Roman
are entitled to treat with conciseness that of Rome, which, drama,
like the other fine arts, that people, rather martial than
literary, copied from their more ingenious neighbours.
The Romans were not, indeed, without a sort of rude
dramatic representation of their own, of the same nature
with that which, as we have already noticed, usually arises
in an early period of society. These were called Fabulce.
Atellance; farces, for such they were, which took their
name from Atella, a town belonging to the Osci, in Italy.
They were performed by the Roman youth, who used to
attack each other with satirical couplets during the inter¬
vals of some rude game, in which they seem to have re¬
presented the characters of fabulous antiquity. But, 361
years before the Christian era, the Romans, in the time
of a great pestilence, as we learn from Livy, introduced a
more regular species of theatrical entertainment, in order
to propitiate the deities by a solemn exhibition of public
games; after which, what had hitherto been matter of
mere frolic and amusement, assumed, according to the
historian, the appearance of a professional art; and the
Roman youth, who had hitherto appeared as amateur per¬
formers, gave up the stage to regular performers.
These plays continued, however, to be of a very rude
structure, until the Grecian stage was transplanted to
Rome. Livius Andronicus, by birth a Grecian, led the
way in this improvement, and is accounted her first dra¬
matist.
Seneca the philosopher is the only Roman tragedian
whose works have reached our time. But his tragedies
afford no very favourable specimen of Roman art. They
are in the false taste which succeeded the age of Augus¬
tus, and debased the style of composition in that of Nero;
bombastic, tedious, and pedantic ; treating, indeed, of Gre¬
cian subjects, but not with Grecian art.
By a singular contrast, although we have lost the more
valuable tragedies of Rome, we have been compelled to
judge of the new Greek comedy through the medium of
the Latin translations. Of Menander we have but a few
fragments, and our examples of his drama are derived ex¬
clusively from Plautus and Terence. Of these, the for¬
mer appears the more original, the latter the more ele¬
gant author. The comedies of Plautus are much more
connected with manners, much more full of what may
be termed drollery and comic situation, and are believed
to possess a greater portion of Roman character. The
Romans, indeed, had two species of comedy, the Palliata,
where the scene and dress were Grecian ; the Togata,
where both were Roman. But besides this distinction,
even the Mantled, or Grecian comedy, might be more or
less of a Roman cast; and Plautus is supposed to have
142
D R A M A.
Drama.
a much stronger national tone into his plays than
can be traced in those of Terence. They are also of a
ruder cast, and more extravagant, retaining, perhaps, a
larger portion of the rough horse-play peculiai to the Fa-
bula; Atellanai. Terence, on the contrary, is elegant, re¬
fined, and sententious ; decorous and regular in the con¬
struction of his plots ; exhibiting more of wit in his dia¬
logue, than of comic force in his situations; grave often
and moral, sometimes even pathetic ; and furnishing, upon
the whole, the most perfect specimens of the Grecian
comedy, both in action and character.
The alterations which the Romans made in the practice
of the theatrical art do not seem to have been of great
consequence. One circumstance, however, deserves no¬
tice. The orchestra, or, as we should say, the pit of the
theatre, was no longer left vacant for the occasional occu¬
pation of the chorus, but was filled with the senators,
knights, and other more respectable citizens. The stage
was thus brought more near to the eye of the higher class
of the audience. It would also seem that the theatres
were smaller; for we read of two so constructed that
each turned upon a pivot, so that, when placed back to
back, they were separate theatres, yet were capable of
being wheeled round, with all the audience, so as to bring
their oblong ends together, then forming a single amphi¬
theatre, in which the games of the circus succeeded to
dramatic representation. It is not easy to conceive the
existence of such machinery; but the story, at any rate,
seems to show that their theatres must have been greatly
smaller than those of Greece, to admit the supposition of
such an evolution as being in any degree practicable.
This diminution in the size of the house, and the occupa¬
tion of the orchestra by the most dignified part of the au¬
dience, may have afforded a reason why masks were, at
least occasionally, disused on the Roman stage. I hat
they were sometimes disused is certain ; for Cicero men¬
tions Roscius Gallus as using a mask to conceal a defor¬
mity arising from the inequality of his eyes, which implies
plainly that other comedians played with their faces dis¬
closed. It is therefore probable that the imperfections of
the mask were felt so soon as the distance was diminish¬
ed between the performer and the spectators ; and we
may hazard a conjecture that this disguise was first laid
aside in the smaller theatres.
Degrada- But the principal change introduced by the Romans
tion of the into the drama, and which continues to affect it in every
theatrical COuntry of Europe, respected the status or rank of the ac-
profession. tors jn society. \\re iiave seen that Athens, enthusiastic
in her attachment to the fine arts, held no circumstances
degrading which were connected with them. iEschylus
and Sophocles were soldiers and statesmen, yet lost no¬
thing in the opinion of their countrymen by appearing on
the public stage. Euripides, who was also a person of
consequence, proved that “ love esteems no office mean ;
for he danced in a female disguise in his own drama, and
that not es the Princess Nauticlea, but as one of her
handmaidens, or, in modern phrase, as a figurante. Ihe
Grecians, therefore, attached no dishonour to the person
of the actor, nor esteemed that he who contributed to
giving the amusement of the theatre was at all degraded
beneath those who received it. It was otherwise in Rome.
The contempt which the Romans entertained for players
might be founded partly upon their confounding this ele¬
gant amusement with the games of the circus and amphi¬
theatre, performed by gladiators and slaves, the meanest,
in short, of mankind. Hence, to use the words of St Au¬
gustine, “ the ancient Romans, accounting the art of
stage-playing and the whole scene infamous, ordained that
this sort of men should not only want the honour of other
citizens, but also be disfranchised and thrust out of their
Drama.
tribe, by a legal and disgraceful censure, which the cen¬
sors were to execute ; because they would not suffer their
vulgar sort of people, much less their senators, to be de¬
famed, disgraced, or defiled with stage-players which
act of theirs he styles “ an excellent true Roman pru¬
dence, to be enumerated among the Romans’ praises.”
Accordingly, an edict of the praetor stigmatized as in¬
famous all who appeared on the stage, either to speak or
act; but it is remarkable that from this general proscrip¬
tion the Roman youth were excepted ; and they continu¬
ed to enact the Fabulcc Atellance, namely, the farces or
drolleries of ancient Italian origin, without incurring any
stigma. This exception seems to indicate that the edict
originated in the national pride of the Romans, and their
contempt for Grecian literature, and for foreigners of
every description. Under any other view it is impossible
they should have preferred the actors in these coarse
farces, who, by the bye, are supposed to have been the
originals of no less persons that Harlequin and Punchi¬
nello, to those who possessed taste and talents sufficient
to execute the masterly scenes borrowed from the Gre- ^
cian drama.
Injustice, however, and we call that law unjust which
devotes to general infamy any profession of which it
nevertheless tolerates the practice, is usually inconsist¬
ent. Several individual play-actors in Rome rose to high
public esteem, and to the enjoyment of great wealth.
Roscius was the friend and companion of Piso and of
Sylla, and, what was still more to his credit, of Cicero
himself, who thus eulogises the scenic art, while comme¬
morating the merit of his deceased friend : Quis nostrum
tarn animo agresti ac duro fuit, ut Roscii morte nuper non
commoveretur ? qui quum esset senex mortuus, tamen, prop¬
ter excellentem artem ac venustateyn, videbatur omnino mori
non debuisse.
Paris, another Roman actor, reached a height of cele¬
brity as distinguished as Roscius, and exercised, as many
of his profession have since done, an arbitrary authority
over the unfortunate dramatic authors. It is recorded by
the satirist that Statius the epic poet might have starved
had he not given up to this favourite of the public, upon
his own terms doubtless, the manuscript of an unacted
performance. Paris was put to death by Domitian out of
jealousy.
If the actors rose to be persons of importance in Rome,
the dramatic critics were no less so. They had formed a
code of laws for the regulation of dramatic authors, to
which the great names of Aristotle and Horace both con¬
tributed their authority. But these will be more properly
treated of when we come to mention their adoption by the
French stage.
Having thus hastily given some account of the ancient Decay and
stage, from its rise in Greece to its transportation to Rome,
we have only to notice the circumstances under which it °[enteslaage.
expired.
Christianity from its first origin was inimical to the insti¬
tution of the theatre. The fathers of the church inveigh
against the profaneness and immodesty of the theatre. In
the treatise of Tertullian, De Spectaculis, he has written
expressly upon the subject. The various authorities on
this head have been collected and quoted by the enemies
of the stage, from Prynne down to Collier. It ought,
however, to be noticed, that their exprobationof the theatre
is founded, first, upon its origin, as connected with heathen
superstition ; and secondly, on the beastly and abominable
license practised in the pantomimes, which, although they
made no part of the regular drama, were presented never¬
theless in the same place, and before the same audience.
“ We avoid your shows and games,” says Tertullian, “ be-
DRAM A. 143
Drama, cause we doubt the warrant of their origin. They savour
of superstition and idolatry, and we dislike the entertain¬
ment, as abhorring the heathen religion on which it is found¬
ed.” In another place he observes, the temples were unit¬
ed to theatres, in order that superstition might patronize
debauchery ; and that they were dedicated to Bacchus and
to Venus, the confederate deities of lust and intemperance.
It was not only the connection of the theatre with
heathen superstition that offended the primitive church,
but also the profligacy of some of the entertainments which
were exhibited. There cannot be much objected to the
regular Roman dramas in this particular, since even Mr
Collier allows them to be more decorous than the British
stage of his own time ; but, as we have already hinted, in
the Ludi Scenici, the intrigues of the gods and the heroes
were represented upon the stage with the utmost gross¬
ness. I hese obscene and scandalous performances thus
far coincided with the drama, that they were acted in the
same theatres, and in honour of the same deities, and
both were subjected to the same sweeping condemnation.
, -fhey were not, however, absolutely or formally abolished,
even when Christianity became the religion of the state.
Tertullian and St Augustin both speak of the scenic re¬
presentations of their own day, under the distinct charac¬
ters of tragedy and comedy ; and although condemned by
the church, and abhorred by the more strict Christians,
there is little doubt that the ancient theatre continued to
exist until it wras buried under the ruins of the Roman
empire.
Modern Drama.
Dramatic The same proneness to fictitious personification, which
represen- vve have remarked as a propensity common to all countries,
themid ’ntrotluce^’ during the dark ages, a rude species of drama
die ages. most nations of Europe. Like the first efforts
of the ancients in that art, it had its foundation in religion ;
with this great difference, that as the rites of Bacchus be¬
fore, and even after the improvements introduced by Thes¬
pis, were well enough suited to the worship of such a
deity, the religious dramas, mysteries, or whatever other
name they assumed, were often so unworthy of the Chris¬
tian religion, on which they were founded, that their be¬
ing tolerated can be attributed only to the gross ignorance
of the laity, and the cunning of the Catholic priesthood,
who used them, with other idle and sometimes indecorous
solemnities, as one means of amusing the people’s minds,
and detaining them in contented bondage to their spiritual
superiors.
In the empire of the East, religious exhibitions of a
theatrical character appear to have been instituted about
the year 990, by Theophylact, patriarch of Constantinople,
with the intention, as Warton surmises, of weaning the
minds of the people from the Pagan revels, by substituting
Christian spectacles, partaking of the same spirit of license.
His contemporaries give him little credit for his good in¬
tentions. “ Theophylact,” says Cedrenus, as translated
by Warton, “ introduced the practice, which prevails to
this day, of scandalizing God and the memory of his saints,
on the most splendid and popular festivals, by indecent
and ridiculous songs, and enormous shoutings, even in the
midst of those sacred hymns which we ought to offer to
divine grace for the salvation of our souls. But he having
collected a company of base fellows, and placing over them
one Euthynicus, surnamed Casnes, whom he also appoint¬
ed the superintendent of his church, admitted into the
sacred service diabolical dances, exclamations of ribaldry,
and ballads borrowed from the streets and brothels.” The
irregularities of the Greek clergy, who, on certain holi¬
days, personated feigned characters, and entered even the
choir in masquerade, are elsewhere mentioned. (Warton’s
History of English Poetry, vol. ii. p. 370.) These pas- Drama,
sages do not prove that actual mysteries or sacred dramas
were enacted on such occasions; but probably the inde¬
cent revels alluded to bore the same relation to such re¬
presentations, as the original rites of Bacchus to the more
refined exhibitions of Thespis and Susarion.
There has been some dispute among theatrical antiqua¬
ries, in which country of Europe dramatic representations
of a religious kind first appeared. The liberal and ingeni¬
ous editor of the Chester Mysteries has well remarked, in
his introduction to that curious and beautiful volume, that
a difficulty must always attend the inquiry, from the doubts
that exist, whether the earliest recorded performances of
each country were merely pantomimes, or were accom¬
panied with dialogue.
The practice of processions and pageants with music,
in which characters, chiefly of sacred writ, were present¬
ed before the public, is so immediately connected with
that of speaking exhibitions, that it is difficult to discri¬
minate the one from the other.
We are tempted to look first to Italy; as it is natural
that the tragic art should have revived in that country in
which it was last exercised, and where traditions, and
perhaps some faint traces, of its existence were still pre¬
served.
“ The first speaking sacred drama,” says Mr Walker,
“ was Della Passione di nostro Signor Giesu Christo, by
Giuliano Dati, bishop of San Leo, who flourished about
the year 1445.” (Walker’s Essay on the Revival of the
Drama in Italy, p. 6.) This elegant author does, indeed,
show that Italian scholars, and particularly Mussato, the
Paduan historian, had composed two Latin dramas upon
something like the classical model about the year 1300.
Yet, although his play upon the tyranny and death of
Ezzlino obtained him both reputation and honour, it does
not appear to have been composed for the stage, but rather
to have been a dramatic poem, since the progress of the
piece is often interrupted by the poet speaking in his own
person.
The French drama is traced by M. Legrand as high
as the thirteenth century; and he has produced one curi¬
ous example of a pastoral entitled Un Jeu. He mentions
also a farce, two devotional pieces, and two moralities, to
each of which he ascribes the same title. It may be sus¬
pected that these are only dialogues recited by the tra¬
velling minstrels and troubadours, such as Petrarch ac¬
knowledges having sometimes composed for the benefit of
the strolling musicians. Such were probably the spec¬
tacles exhibited by Philip the Fair in 1313, on account of
the honour of knighthood conferred on his children. Ri-
coboni, anxious for the honour of Italy, denies to these
amusements the character of a legitimate drama ; with
what justice we have no information that can enable us to
decide.
Amidst this uncertainty, it is not unpleasant to record
the fair claim which Britain possesses to be one of the
earliest, if not the very first nation in which dramatic
representation seems to have been revived. The Chester
Mysteries, called the Whitsun Plays, appear to have been
performed during the mayoralty of John Arneway, who
filled that office in Chester from 1268 to 1276. The very
curious specimen of these mysteries, which has been of
late printed for private distribution by Mr Markland of
the Temple, furnishes us with the banes or proclamation,
containing the history and character of the pageants
which it announces.
Jieverende lordes and ladyes all,
That at this tyme here assembled bee,
By this messauge understande you shall.
That sometymes there was mayor of this citie.
144
Drama.
  V '
3loralities,
DRAMA.
Sir John Arnway, Knyghte, who most worthilye
Contented hymselfe to sett out an playe
The devise of one Done Rondali, moonke of Chester Abbey.
This moonke, moonke-like in scriptures well seene,
In storyes travelled with the best sorte ;
In pagentes set fourth, apparently to all eyne,
The Olde and Newe Testament with livelye comforte;
Intermynglinge therewith, onely to make sporte,
Some things not warranted by any writt,
Which to gladd the hearers he woulde men to take yt.
This matter he abrevited into playes twenty-foure,
And every playe of the matter gave but a taste,
Leavinge for better learninge scircumstances to accomplishe,
For his proceedinges maye appeare to be in haste:
Yet all together unprofitable his labour he did not waste,
For at this daye, and ever, he deserveth the fame
Which all monkes deserves professinge that name.
This worthy Knihte Arnway, then mayor of this citie,
This order toke, as declare to you I shall.
That by twentye-fower occupations, artes, craftes,or mistenes,
These pagentes shoulde be played after breeffe rehearsall;
For every pagente a cariage to be provyded withall,
In which sorte we purpose this Whitsontyde,
Our pageants into three partes to devyde.
I. Now you worshippfull Tanners that ofcustome olde
The fall of Lucifer did set out,
Some writers awarrante your matter, therefore be boulde
Lustelye to playe the same to all the rowtte:
And yf any thereof stand in any double.
Your author his author hath, your she we let bee,
Good speech, fyne players, with apparill comelye.
Chester Mysteries.
Such were the celebrated Mysteries of Chester. To
Mr Markland’s extracts from them is prefixed a curious
dissertation upon their age and author. They were so
highly popular, as to be ranked, in the estimation of the
vulgar, with the ballads of Robin Hood; fora character in
one of the old moralities is introduced as boasting,
I can rhimes of Robin Hood, and Randal of Chester,
But of our Lord and our Lady I can nought at all.
The poetical value of these mysteries is never consider¬
able, though they are to be found among the dramatic an¬
tiquities of all parts of Europe. It was, however, soon
discovered that the purity of the Christian religion was
inconsistent with these rude games, in which passages
from scripture were profanely and indecently mingled
with human inventions of a very rude, and sometimes an
indecorous character. To the Mysteries, therefore, suc¬
ceeded the Moralities, a species of dramatic exercise,
which involved more art and ingenuity, and was besides
much more proper for a public amusement, than the imi¬
tations or rather parodies of sacred history, which had
hitherto entertained the public.
■ These Moralities bear some analogy to the old or ori¬
ginal comedy of the ancients. They were often founded
upon allegorical subjects, and almost always bore a close
and poignant allusion to the incidents of the day. Public
reformation w'as their avowed object, and, of course, satire
was frequently the implement which they employed. Ur
Percy, however, remarks that they were of two characters,
serious and ludicrous ; the one approaching to the tragedy,
the other to the comedy of classical times; so that they
brought taste as it were to the threshold of the real drama.
The difference between the Catholic and reformed religion
was fiercely disputed in some of these dramas; and in
Scotland, in particular, a mortal blow was aimed at the
superstitions of the Roman church, by the celebrated Sir
David Lindsay, in a play or morality acted in 1539, and
entitled The Satire of the Three Estates. The objects of
this drama were entirely political, although it is mixed
with some comic scenes, and introduced by an interlude,
in coarseness altogether unmatched. The spirit ot Aris-
tophanes, in all its good and evil, seems to have actuated
the Scottish king-at-arms. It is a singular proof of the
liberty allowed to such representations at the period, that
James V. and his queen repeatedly witnessed a piece, in
which the corruptions of the existing government and re¬
ligion were treated with such satirical severity. Ihe plsy,
as acted, seems to have differed in some respects from the
state in which it exists in manuscript.
In a letter to the Lord Privy Seal of England, dated
26th January 1540, Sir William Eure (envoy from Henry
VIII.) gives the following account of the play, as it had
then been performed “ in the feast of Ephipanie at
Lightgowe, before the king, queene, and the whole coun-
saile, spirituall and temporall. In the firste entres come
in Solace (whose parte was but to make mery, sing bal¬
lets with his fellowes, and drinke at the interluydes of
the play), whoe showed firste to all the audience the play
to be played. Next come in a king, who passed to his
throne, having nae speche to thende of the play, and then
to ratify and approve, as in parliament, all things done by
the rest of the players, which represented The Three
Estates. With hym came his cortiers, Placebo, Pic-
thank, and Flatterye, and sic alike gard ; one swering
he was the lustiest, starkeste, best proportionit, and most
valyeant man that ever w as; ane other swere he was the
beste writh long-bowe, crosse-bowe, and culverin, and so
fourth. Thairafter there come a man armed in harness,
with a swerde drawn in his hande, a Bushop, a Burges-
man, and Experience, clede like a Doctor; who set
them all down on the deis under the King. After them
come a poor man, who did go up and down the scaffolde,
making a hevie complainte that he was hereyet, throw
the courtiers taking his fewe in one place, and his tackes
in another; wherthrough he had sceyled his house, his
wyfe and childrene beggyng thair brede, and so of many
thousands in Scotland; saying thair was no remedy to be
gotten, as he was neither acquainted with controller nor
treasurer. And then he looked to the king, and said he
was not king in Scotland, for there was ane other king
in Scotland that hanged Johne Armstrang, with his fel¬
lowes, Sym the Laird, and mony other mae ; but he had
lefte ane thing undone. Then he made a long narracione
of the oppression of the poor, by the taking of the corse-
presaunte heists, and of the berrying of poor men by the
consistorye lawe, and of many other abusions of the Spi¬
rituality and Church. Then the Bushop raise and re¬
buked him. Then the Man of Armes alledged the con-
traire, and commanded the poor man to go on. The poor
man proceeds with a long list of the bishop’s evil practices,
the vices of cloisters, &c. This is proved by Experience,
who, from a New Testament, shows the office of a bushop.
The Man of Armes and the Burges approve of all that
was said against the clergy, and alledge the expediency of
a reform, with the consent of parliament. The Bushop
dissents. The Man of Armes and the Burges said they
were two, and he but one, wherefore their voice should
have most effect. Thereafter the king, in the play, rati¬
fied, approved, and confirmed all that was rehersed.”
The other nations of Europe, as well as England, had
their mysteries and moralities. In France, Boileau, fol¬
lowing Menestrier, imputes the introduction of these spec¬
tacles to travelling bands of pilgrims.
Chez nos divots ayeux, le theatre abhorrd
I ut long-temps dans la France un plaisir ignor^ ;
Des pelerins dit-on, une troupe grossiere
En public a Paris y monta la premiere;
Et sottement zelee en sa simplicite
Joiia les saints, la Yierge, et Dieu par piete.
L'Art Poetique, chant, iii-
DRAM A.
145
Drama. In Spain the Autos Sacramentales, which are analogous
to the mysteries of the middle ages, are still presented
without shocking a nation whose zeal is stronger than their
taste ; and, it is believed, such rude and wild plays, found¬
ed on scripture, are also occasionally acted in Flanders.
In the History of the Council of Constance, we find that
mysteries were introduced into Germany by the English,
about 1417, and were first performed to welcome the Em¬
peror Sigismund, on his return from England ; and, from
the choice of the subjects, we should almost suppose that
they had transferred to that country the Chester Mysteries
themselves. “ Les Anglois,” says the historian, “ se sig-
nale ent entre les autres par un spectacle nouveau, ou au
moms inusite jusques alors en Allemagne. Ce fut une
comedie sacree, que les eveques Anglois firent representer
devant I’empereur, le Dimanche 31 de Janvier, sur la
Naissance du Sauveur, sur 1’Arrivee des Mages, et sur la
Massacre des Innocens.” (Hist, du Concile de Constance,
par L’Enfant, lib. v.) The character of these rude drama¬
tic essays renders them rather subjects for the antiquary
than a part of a history of the regular dramatic art.
Latin We may also pass over, with brief notice, the Latin
plays. plays which, upon the revival of letters, many of the
learned composed in express imitation of the ancient Gre¬
cian and Latin productions. We have mentioned those
of Mussato, who was followed by the more celebrated Ca-
raro, in the path which he had opened to fame. In other
countries the same example was followed. These learned
prolusions, however, were only addressed to persons of
letters, then a very circumscribed circle, and, when acted
at all, were presented at universities or courts on solemn
public occasions. They form no step in the history of the
drama, unless that, by familiarizing the learned with the
form and rules of the ancient classical drama, they gra¬
dually paved the way for the adoption of the same regu¬
lations into the revived vernacular drama, and formed a
division amongst the theatres of modern Europe, which
has never yet been reconciled.
Historical While the learned laboured to revive the classical dra-
plays. 1Tia jn a]i itg purity, the public at large, to which the trea¬
sures of the learned languages were as a fountain sealed,
became addicted to a species of representation which
properly neither fell under the denomination of comedy
or tragedy, but was named History or Historical Drama.
Charles Verardo, who, about 1492, composed a drama of
this sort, in Latin, upon the expulsion of the Moors from
Granada, claims, for this production, a total emancipation
from the rules of dramatic criticism.
Itequirat autem nullus hie comcedise,
Leges ut observantur, aut tragedise;
Agenda nempe est historia non tabula.
“ Let none expect that in this piece the rules of comedy
or of tragedy should be observed ; we mean to act a his¬
tory, not a fable.” From this expression it would seem
that, in a historical drama, the author did not think him¬
self entitled to compress or alter the incidents as when
the plot was fabulous, but was bound, to a certain extent,
to conform to the actual course of events. In these his¬
tories, the poet embraced often the life and death of a
monarch, or some other period of history, containing se¬
veral years of actual time, which, nevertheless, were made
to pass before the eyes of the audience during the two or
three hours usually allotted for the action of a play. It is
not to be supposed that, with so fair a field open before
them, and the applause of the audience for their reward,
the authors of these histories should long have confined
themselves to the matter of fact contained in records.
~ They speedily innovated or added to their dramatic chro¬
nicles without regard to the real history. To those who
plead for stage plays, that they elucidate and explain Drama,
many dark and obscure histories, and fix the facts firmly
in the minds of the audience, of which they had other¬
wise but an imperfect apprehension, the stern Prynne re¬
plies with great scorn, “ that play-poets do not explain,
but sophisticate and deform, good histories, with many
false varnishes and playhouse fooleriesand that “ the
histories are more accurately to be learned in the origi¬
nal authors who record them, than in derivative playhouse
pamphlets, which corrupt them.” (Prynne’s Histrio-Mas-
tix, p. 940.)
The dramatic chronicles, therefore, were a field in
which the genius of the poet laboured to supply, by cha¬
racter, sentiment, and incident, the meagre detail of the
historian. They became so popular in England, that, dur¬
ing the short interval betwixt the revival of the stage and
the appearance of Shakspeare, the most part of the Eng¬
lish monarchs had lived and died upon the stage; and it
is well known that almost all his historical plays were
newr written by him, upon the plan of old dramatic chro¬
nicles which already existed.
But the miscellaneous audience which crowded to the
vernacular theatre at its revival in Europe, were of that
rank and intellect which is apt to become tired of a se¬
rious subject, and to'demand that a lamentable tragedy
should be intermingled with very pleasant mirth. The
poets, obliged to cater for all tastes, seldom failed to in¬
sert the humours of some comic character, that the low
or grotesque scenes in which he was engaged might serve
as a relief to the graver passages of the drama, and gra¬
tify the taste of those spectators who, like Christofero
Sly, tired until the fool came on the stage again. Hence
Sir Philip Sidney’s censure on these dramatists, “ how
all their plays be neither right tragedies nor right come¬
dies, mingling kings with clowns ; not because the mat¬
ter so carrieth it, but to thrust in the clown, by head and
shoulders, to play a part in magestical matters, with nei¬
ther decency nor discretion, so that neither the admira¬
tion and commiseration, nor the right sportfulness, is by
their mongrel tragi-comedy attained.” (Defence of Poesie.
Sidney’s Arcactia, edit. 1627, p. 563.) “ If we mark them
well,” he concludes, “ funerals and hornpipes seldom match
daintily together.”
The historical plays led naturally into another class, Romantic
which may be called Romantic Dramas, founded upon po- drama,
pular poems or fictitious narratives, as the former were on
real history. Some of these were borrowed from foreign
nations, ready dramatized to the hand of the borrower ;
others were founded on the plots which occurred in the
almost innumerable novels and romances which we had
made our own by translation. “ I may boldly say it,” says
Gosson, a recreant play-wright, who attacked his former
profession, “ because 1 have seen it, that the Pcdace of
Pleasure, the Golden Asse, the Ethiopian History, Amadis
of Fraunce, the Round Table, Bawdie Comedies in Latin,
French, Italian, and Spanish, have been thoroughly ran¬
sacked to furnish the playhouse in London.” But it was
not to be supposed that the authors would confine them¬
selves to stricter rules in pieces founded upon Italian and
Spanish novels, or upon romances of chivalry, than they
had acted upon in the histories. Every circumstance
which tended to loosen the reins of theatrical discipline
in the one case, existed in the other; and, accordingly,
comedies of intrigue, and tragedies of action and show,
everywhere superseded, at least in popular estimation, the
severe and simple model of the classical drama.
It happened that in England and Spain, in particu¬
lar, the species of composition which was most indepen¬
dent of critical regulation was supported by the most bril-
146 DRAMA.
Drama. Hant display of genius. Lopez de Vega and Calderon
-*~Y^**' rushed on the stage with their hasty and high-coloured,
but glowing productions, fresh from the mint of imagina¬
tion, and scorning that the cold art of criticism should
weigh them in her balance. The taste of the Spaniards
has been proverbially inclined to the wild, the romantic,
and the chivalrous ; and the audience of their bards would
not have parted with one striking scene, however inartifi-
cially introduced, to have gained for their favourites the
praise of Aristotle and all his commentators. Lopez de
Vega himself was not ignorant of critical rules; but he
pleads the taste of his countrymen as an apology for ne¬
glecting those restrictions which he had observed in his
earlier studies.
Yet true it is I too have written plays,
The wiser few, who judge with skill, might praise ;
But when I see how show and nonsense draws
The crowds, and, more than all, the fair’s applause ;
Who still are forward with indulgent rage
To sanction every monster of the stage ;
I, doom’d to write the public taste to hit,
Resume the barbarous dress ’twas vain to quit;
I lock up every rule before I write,
Plautus and Terence banish from my sight,
Lest rage should teach these injured wits to join,
And their dumb books cry shame on works like mine.
To vulgar standards, then, I frame my play,
Writing at ease, for, since the public pay,
’Tis just, methinks, we by their compass steer,
And write the nonsense that they love to hear.
Lord Holland’s Life of Lope de Vega, p. 103.
The Spanish comedies of intrigue also went astray, as
far as their romantic tragedies, from the classical path. In
fact, these new representations were infinitely more cap¬
tivating from their vivacity, novelty, and, above all, from
their reflecting the actual spirit of the time, and holding
the mirror up to nature, than the cold imitations which the
learned wrote in emulation of the classic drama. The one
class are existing and living pictures of the times in which
the authors lived ; the others, the cold resurrection of the
lifeless corpses which had long slumbered in the tomb of
antiquity. The spirit of chivalry, which so long lingered
in Spain, breathes through the wild and often extravagant
genius of her poets. The hero is brave and loyal, and
true to his mistress :
A knight of love who never broke a vow.
Lovers of this description, in whose minds the sexual
passion is sublimated into high and romantic feeling,
make a noble contrast with the coarse and licentious
Greek or Roman, whose passion turns only on the difficul¬
ty of purchasing his mistress’s person, but who never con¬
ceives the slightest apprehension concerning the state of
her affections.
That the crowd might have their loud laugh, a grazioso
or clown, usually a servant of the hero, is in the Spanish
drama uniformly introduced to make sport. Like Kemp or
Tarletun, famous in the clown’s part before the time of
Shakspeare, this personage was permitted to fill up his
part with extemporary jesting, not only on the performers,
but with the audience. This irregularity, with others,
seems to have been borrowed by the English stage from
that of Spain, and is the license which Hamlet condemns
in his instructions to the players : “ And let those that be
your clowns speak no more than is set down for them ; for
there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some
quantity of barren spectators to laugh too, though, in the
mean time, some necessary question of the play be then to
be considered ; that’s villainous, and shows a most pitiful
ambition in the fool that uses it.”
I he bald simplicity of the ancient plots was, in like
manner, contrasted to disadvantage with the intricacies, Drama,
involutions, suspense, and bustle of Spanish intrigue upon
the stage. Hence the boast of one of their poets, thus
translated by Lord Holland :
Invention, interest, sprightly turns in plays,
Say what they will, are Spain’s peculiar praise;
Her’s are the plots which strict attention seize,
Full of intrigue, and yet disclosed with ease.
Hence acts and scenes her fertile stage affords,
Unknown, unrivall’d, on the foreign boards.
Life of Lope de Vega, p. 100.
While we admire the richness of fancy displayed in the
Spanish pieces, it is impossible, in an age of refinement,
to avoid being shocked by their wilful and extravagant ne¬
glect of every thing which can add probability to the ac¬
tion of their drama. But the apology for this license is
well pleaded by Lord Holland.
“ Without dwelling on the expulsion of the chorus (a
most unnatural and inconvenient machine), the moderns,
by admitting a complication of plot, have introduced a
greater variety of incidents and character. The province
of invention is enlarged ; new passions, or at least new
forms of the same passions, are brought within the scope
of dramatic poetry. Fresh sources of interest are opened,
and additional powers of imagination called into activity.
Can we then deny what extends its jurisdiction, and en¬
hances its interest, to be an improvement in an art whose
professed object is to stir the passions by the imitation of
human actions? In saying this I do not mean to justify
the breach of decorum, the neglect of probability, the ana¬
chronisms, and other extravagancies of the founders of the
modern theatre. Because tlK? first disciples of the school
were not models of perfection, it does not follow that the
fundamental maxims were defective. The rudeness of
their workmanship is no proof of the inferiority of the ma¬
terial ; nor does the want of skill deprive them of the me¬
rit of having discovered the mine. The faults objected to
them form no necessary part of the system they introdu¬
ced. Their followers in every country have either com¬
pletely corrected or gradually reformed such abuses.
Those who bow not implicitly to the authority of Aris¬
totle, yet avoid such violent outrages as are common in
our early plays. And those who pique themselves on the
strict observance of his laws, betray, in the conduct, the
sentiments, the characters, and the dialogue of their pieces
(especially of their comedies), more resemblance to the
modern than the ancient theatre; their code may be
Grecian, but their manners, in spite of themselves, are
Spanish, English, or French. They may renounce their
pedigree, and even change their dress, but they cannot
divest their features of a certain family-likeness to their
poetical progenitors.”
In France the irregularities of the revived drama were
of a lower complexion; for, until her stage was refined
by Corneille, and brought under its present strict regime,
it was adorned by but little talent ; a circumstance
which, amongst others, may account for the ease with
which she subjected herself to critical rules, and assumed
the yoke ot Aristotle. Until she assumed the Grecian
forms and restrictions, there is but little interesting in the
history of her stage.
England adopted the historical and romantic drama with
ardour, and in a state scarce more limited by rules than
that ot Spain herself. Her writers seem early to have
lansacked Spanish literature ; for the union of the coun¬
tries during the short reign of Mary, nay even their wars
under Elizabeth and Philip, made them acquainted with
each other. I he Spaniards had the start in the revival
of the drama. Ferrex and Perrex, our earliest tragedy,
was first presented in 1561 ; and Gammer Gurtoris
D R A M A.
147
Drama. Needle, our first comedy, in 1575; whereas Lopez de Ve-
ga, who was not by any means the earliest Spanish dra¬
matist, died in 1562, leaving the stage stocked with his
innumerable productions, to which his contemporaries had
not failed to add their share. Thus, as soon as the stage
of Britain was so far advanced as to be in a capacity of
borrowing, that of Spain offered a fund to which her au¬
thors could have recourse ; and, in fact, the Spanish dra¬
ma continued to be a mine in which the British poets
collected materials, often without acknowledgment, during
all the earlier part of her dramatic history. From this
source, as well as from the partialities of the audience,
arose that early attempt at show and spectacle, at com¬
bats and marvellous incidents, which, though with very
poor means of representation, our early dramatic poets
loved to produce at the Bull or the Fortune playhouses.
The extravagance of their plots, and the poor efforts by
which our early dramatists endeavoured to represent show
and procession, did not escape the censure of Sir Philip
Sidney, who, leaning to the critical reformation which was
already taking place in Italy, would gladly have seen our
stage reduced to a more classical model.
“ It is faultie,” says that gallant knight, “ both in
place and time, the two necessarie companions of all cor-
porall actions. For the stage should alway present but
one place; and the uttermost time presupposed in it
should bee, both by Aristotle's precept and common rea¬
son, but one day ; there are both many dayes and many
places inartificially imagined. But if it be so in Gorboduke,
how much more in all the rest ? where you shall have Asia
of the one side, and Affricke of the other, and so many
other under kingdomes, that the plair, when he comes in,
must ever begin with telling where hee is, or else the tale
will not be conceived. Now shall you have three ladies
walke to gather flowers, and then wee must beleeve the
stage to be a garden. By and by wee heare newes of
shipwracke in the same place, then wee are to blame it we
accept it not for a rocke. Upon the backe of that comes
out a hideous monster with fire and smoke, and then the
miserable beholders are bound to take it for a cave ; while,
in the mean time, two armies flie in, represented with some
swordes and bucklers, and then what hard heart will not
receive it for a pitched field ? Now of time they are
much more liberall; for ordinarie it is, that two young
princes fall in love. After many traverses shee is got with
childe, delivered of a faire boy; he is lost, groweth a man,
falleth in love, and is readie to get another childe, and all
this in two houres space ; which how absurd it is in sense,
even sense may imagine, and art hath taught, and all an¬
cient examples justified, and at this day the ordinary play¬
ers in Italy will not err in.”
Italian Italy, referred to by Sir Philip Sidney as the cradle of
tragedy, the reformed drama, had had her own age of liberty and
confusion ; her mysteries, her moralities, her historical and
her romantic dramas. But the taste for the ancient and
classical stage was still rooted in the country where it
had flourished, and Trissino is acknowledged as the fa¬
ther of the regular drama. The Sop/wtiisba of this learn¬
ed prelate is praised by Voltaire as the first regular tra¬
gedy which Europe had seen after so many ages of bar¬
barism. Pope has added his tribute.
When learning, after the long Gothic night,
Fair o’er the western world renewed its light,
With arts arising, Sophonisba rose,
The tragic muse returning wept her woes;
With her the Italian scene first learned to glow.
And the first tears for her were taught to flow.
This tragedy was represented at Rome in the year 1515.
The Greek model is severely observed, and the author
has encumbered his scene with a chorus. It has some ^Dra™-
poetic beauties, and is well calculated to recommend the
new or rather revived system on which it was written. La
Losmonda of Rucelleri was written about the same time
with Sophonisba; and, after these pieces, tragi-comedies,
histories, and romantic dramas, were discarded, and suc¬
ceeded by tragedies upon a regular classical model; writ¬
ten in verse, having five acts, and generally a chorus.
Notwithstanding their rigorous attention to the ancient
model, the modern tragic poets of Italy have not been
very successful in arresting the attention of their country¬
men. They are praised rather than followed; and the
stern, unbending composition of Alfieri, while it has
given a tone of rude and stoical dignity to his dramas, has
failed in rendering them attractive. They frequently
please in the closet; but the audience of modern days re¬
quires to be kept awake by something more active, more
bustling, more deeply interesting, than the lessons of the
schools; and a poet of high fancy has written in some
measure in vain, because he has mistaken the spirit of
his age. The tragic actors, also, whatever excellence
they may attain to in their art, do not attract the same
consideration, attention, and respect, as in France or Eng¬
land ; and they who are the direct authors of a pleasure
so nearly connected with our noblest and best feelings,
occupy a rank subordinate to the performers at the opera.
It is only as a modification of the drama that we here Opera,
propose to touch upon that entertainment of Italian
growth, but known by importation in every civilized king¬
dom of Europe. These kingdoms have often rivalled each
other in the rewards held forth to musical performers,
and encouraged their merit by a degree of profusion,
which has had the effect of rendering the professors petu¬
lant, capricious, and unmanageable. Their high emolu¬
ments are not granted, or their caprices submitted to,
without a degree of pleasure in some degree correspond¬
ing to the expense and the sufferance ; and it is in vain for
the admirers of the legitimate drama to pretend that such
is not obtained. Voltaire has with more justice confess¬
ed, that probably the best imitation of the ancient stage
was to be found in the Italian tragic opera. The recita¬
tive resembled the musical declamation ot the Athenians,
and the choruses, which are frequently introduced, when
properly combined with the subject, approach to those of
the Greeks, as forming a contrast, by the airs which they
execute, to the recitative, or modulated dialogue of the
scene. Voltaire instances the tragic operas of Metastasio
in particular, as approaching in beauty of diction, and truth
of sentiment, near to the ancient simplicity ; and finds an
apology even for the detached airs, so fatal to probability,
in the beauty of the poetry and the perfection of the mu¬
sic. And although, as a critic and man of cultivated
taste, this author prefers the regular, noble, and severe
beauties of the classic stage, to the effeminate and mere¬
tricious charms of the opera, still he concludes that, with
all its defects, the sort of enchantment which results from
the brilliant intermixture of scenery, chorus, dancing, mu¬
sic, dress, and decoration, subjects even the genius of cri¬
ticism ; and that the most sublime tragedy, and most art¬
ful comedy, will not be so frequently revisited by the same
individual as an indifferent opera. We may add the ex¬
perience of London to the testimony of this great critic ;
and, indeed, were it possible that actors could frequently
be procured, possessed ot the powers of action and of
voice which were united in Grassini, it would be impos¬
sible to deny to the opera the praise of being an amuse¬
ment as exquisite in point of taste as fascinating from
show and music. But as the musical parts of the enter¬
tainment are predominant, every thing else has been too
often sacrificed to the caprice of a composer, wholly igno-
D R A M A.
143
Drama, rant in every art save his own; and the mean and paltry
 Y~'w' dialogue, which is used as a vehicle for the music, is be¬
come proverbial to express nonsense and inanity.
Italian The Italian comedy, as well as their tragedy, boasts its
comedy, regular descent from classical times. Like the comedy
of Menander, it introduces dramatis persona whose cha¬
racters are never varied, and some of whom are supposed
to be directly descended from the ancient Mimi of the
Atellan Fables. Such an origin is claimed for the ce¬
lebrated Harlequin, and for the no less renowned Punci-
nello, our English Punch, both of whom retain the cha¬
racter of jesters, cowards, wags, and buffoons, proper to
the Sannio of the Romans. It is believed of these wor¬
thies that they existed before the time of Plautus, and
continued to play their frolics during the middle ages,
when the legitimate drama was unknown. For the former
fact, sculpture, as well as tradition, is appealed to by Ita¬
lian antiquaries, who have discovered the representation
of these grotesque characters upon the Etruscan vases.
In support of the latter averment, the grave authority of
Saint Thomas Aquinas is appealed to, who, we rejoice to
find, thought Harlequin and Punch no unlawful company
in fitting time and place. “ Ludus,” says that eminent
person, with more consideration for human infirmity than
some saints of our own day, “ est necessarius ad conversa-
tionem vita hum once: ad omnia autem qua sunt utilia con-
versationi humana, deputaripossunt aliqua officia licita: et
idea etiam ojficium histrionum quod ordinatur ad solatium
hominihus exhibendum, non est secundum se illicitum, nec
sunt histriones in statu peccati, dummodo moderate ludo
utantur ; id est, non utendo aliquibus illicitis verbis velfac-
tis, ad Indian, et non adhibendo ludum ueyotiis et tempori-
bus iudebitis, unde Mi qui moderate eis suhvenhuit, non pec¬
cant, sed juste faciunt mercedem ministerii eorum eis tribu-
endo. Et licet D. August, super Joan, died quod donare
res suas histrionibus, vitium est immune, hoc intelligi debet
de Mis qui dant histrionibus qui in ludo utuntur illicitis, vel
de Mis qui superfine sua in tales consumunt, non de Mis
histrionibus qui moderate ludo utunturT
Saint Anthony gives his sanction to Saint Thomas on
this point: “ Histrionatus ars quia deservit humana recre-
ationi qua necessaria est vita hominis secundum D. Tho-
mam, de se non est illicita et de ilia arte vivere non est pro¬
hibitum." (S. Antonius in 3 part. Sua Summa, tit. iii.
cap. 4.) Saint Anthony, indeed, adds the reasonable re¬
striction, that no clergyman should play Flarlequin, and
that Punch should not exhibit in the church.
Under this venerable authority these Mimi went on and
flourished. Other characters enlarged their little drama.
The personages appeared in masks. “ Each of these,” says
Mr Walker, “ was originally intended as a kind of charac¬
teristic representation of some particular Italian district or
town. Thus Pantalone was a Venetian merchant; Dot-
tore, a Bolognese physician ; Spaviento, a Neapolitan brag¬
gadocio ; Pullicinella, a wag of Apulia; Giangurgolo and
Coviello, two clowns of Calabria ; Gelsomino, a Roman
beau ; Beltrame, a Milanese simpleton; Brighella, a Fe-
rarese pimp; and Arlecchino, a blundering servant of Ber¬
gamo. Each of these personages was clad in a peculiar
dress, each had his peculiar mask, and each spoke the
dialect of the place he represented. Besides these, and
a few other such personages, of which at least four were
introduced in each play, there were the Amorosos or In-
namoratos; that is, some men and women who acted se¬
rious parts, with Smeraldina, Colombina, Spilletta, and
other females, who played the parts of servettas or wait¬
ing-maids. All these spoke Tuscan or Roman, and wore
no masks.” (Essay on the Revival of the Drama in Italy,
p. 249.)
The pieces acted by this class of actors were called
Commedia dell arte, and were congenial to the taste of Drama,
the Italians, with whom gesticulation and buffoonery are 'w^
natural attributes. Their drama was of the most simple
kind. Each of the actors was already possessed of his
dramatic character, which was as inalienable as his dress,
and was master of the dialect he was to use, and had his
imagination and memory stored with all the characteris¬
tic jests, or lazzi as they were termed, peculiar to the per¬
sonage he represented. All that the author had to do was
to invent the skeleton of a plot which should bring his cha¬
racters into dramatic situation with respect to each other.
The dialogue suited to the occasion was invented by the
players, just as ours invest their parts with the proper ges¬
tures and actions. This skeleton had the name of scenario,
and was filled up by the performers, either impromptu or
in consequence of previous arrangement and premedita¬
tion. This species of comedy was extremely popular,
especially among the lower class of spectators. It was
often adopted as an amusement in good society, and by
men of genius; and Flamineo de la Scala has left about
fifty such scenarios adapted for representation. The fa¬
shion even found its way into England, and probably the
part of Master Punch, who first appeared in the character
of the Vice of the English morality, was trusted to the
improvisatory talents of the actor. Mr dlsraeli, a curious
as well as elegant investigator of ancient literature, has
shown that at least one scheme of a Commedia dell' arte
has been preserved to us. It is published in the Variorum
edition of Shakspeare, but remains unexplained by the
commentators. Such comedies, it is evident, could re¬
quire no higher merit in the composer than the imagining
and sketching a few comic situations; the dialogue and
diction was all entrusted to the players.
The Italians, however, became early possessed of a re¬
gular comedy, which engrossed the admiration of the more
cultivated classes of society. Bibbiena’s comedy, entitled
La Calandra, is composed in imitation of Terence and
Plautus. It was first acted in 1490. La Calandra is re¬
markable, not only for being the first Italian comedy, but
also for the perfection of scenic decoration with which it
was accompanied in the representation. It was followed
by the productions of Ariosto and Trissino, and other
authors in the same line. But it appears, from the efforts
used to support this style of drama, that it did not take
kindly root in the soil, and lacked that popularity which
alone can nurse it freely. Various societies were formed
under the whimsical titles of Gli Intronati, Gli Insensati,
and so forth, for the express purpose of bringing forward
the regular drama; exertions which would certainly have
been unnecessary had it received that support and encou¬
ragement which arises from general popularity.
Goldoni, in a later age, at once indulged his own fanci¬
ful genius and his natural indolence, by renouncing the
classical rules, and endeavouring to throw into the old and
native Italian Mascherata the variety and attributes of the
proper comedy. He adopted Harlequin and the rest of
his merry troop in the characters which they held, and
endeavoured to enlist them in the more regular service of
the drama, just as free corps and partizans are sometimes
new-modelled into battalions of the line. This ingenious
and lively writer retained all the license of the Commedia
dell' arte, and all the immunities which it claimed from
regular and classical rules; but instead of trusting to the
extempore jests and grotesque wit of the persons whom
he introduced, he engaged them in dialogues, as well as
plots, ot his own invention, which often display much hu¬
mour and even pathos. It required, however, the rich¬
ness ol a fancy like Goldoni’s to extract novelty and in¬
terest from a dramatic system in which so many of the
actors held a fixed and prescriptive character, hardly
DRAMA. 149
Drama, admitting of being varied. Accordingly, we do not find
'-v-'w' that the Italian stage is at present in a more flourishing
condition than that of other modern nations.
French The revival of the regular drama in France was attend-
drama. ed with important consequences, owing to the nature of
her government, the general use of her language through¬
out Europe, and the influence which, from her situation,
she must necessarily hold over other nations. It is the
boast of Paris that the regular classical drama, banished
from every other stage, found a safe and honourable re¬
fuge on her own. Yet France has reluctantly confessed
that she also had her hour of barbarism. Her earlier
drama was borrowed, like that of other countries, from
Spain, who, during the whole of the sixteenth and great
part of the seventeenth century, held such a formidable
predominance in the European republic. While the clas¬
sical stage was reviving in Italy, and the historical and
romantic drama was flourishing in Spain, France was torn
to pieces by civil discord. The first French tragedy com¬
posed upon a regular plan was that of Mairet, imitated
from the Sophonisba of Trissino ; and Riccoboni boasts
with justice, that whoever shall compare the Italian tra¬
gedy of the sixteenth century with that of the French of
the same period, will find the latter extravagant and irre¬
gular, and the former already possessed of gravity, dig¬
nity, and regularity. The French, like the English, date
the excellence of their stage from one great author; and
the illustrious name of Pierre Corneille affords to their
dramatic history the mighty landmark which Shakspeare
gives to our own.
Cardinal Richelieu, who had succeeded in establishing
upon a broad basis the absolute power of the French mo¬
narch, was not insensible to the graces and ornaments
which the throne derived from being surrounded by the
muses. He was himself fond of poetry, and even a com¬
petitor for the honours of the buskin. He placed himself
at the head of five dramatic writers, to whom on that ac¬
count the public gave the title of Zes Cinq Auteurs. All
these are deservedly forgotten excepting Corneille, of
whose successful talent the cardinal had the meanness to
evince no ordinary degree of jealousy. The malevolence
of that minister was carried so far that he employed the
French Academy, whose complaisance must be recorded
to their shame, to criticise severely the Cid, the first, and
perhaps the finest, of Corneille’s tragedies. Scudery, a
favourite of the cardinal, buoyed by Richelieu’s favour,
was able for some time to balance Corneille in the opinion
of the public ; but his name is now scarcely known by any
other circumstance than his imprudent and audacious
rivalry. This great man was not only surrounded by the
worst possible models, but unfortunately the authors of
these models were also favourites of the public and of the
all-powerful cardinal; yet Corneille vanquished the taste
of his age, the competition of his rivals, and the envy of
Richelieu.
Corneille, like his predecessors, and like Routrou in par¬
ticular, borrowed liberally from the Spanish theatre; but
his own taste, regulated probably upon his situation, dic¬
tated an adherence to the classical model. The French
stage arose, it must be remembered, under the protection
of an absolute monarch, for whose amusement the poet
laboured, and in whose presence the drama was performed.
It followed, as a natural consequence, that a more strict
etiquette was exacted upon the scene than had hitherto
been supposed applicable to a merely popular amusement.
A departure from regularity in tragedy was no longer a
bold flight. A violation of decorum in comedy was no
longer a broad jest. When the audience was dignified by
the presence of the monarch, the former became an im¬
pertinence, and the latter a gross and indecent insult. The Drama,
muse of comedy was therefore bound over for her good
behaviour; and even her grave sister was laid under such
rules and restrictions as should insure the decorum and
dignity of her scene.
It was at this period that those classical fetters which k reneh
are framed on the three unities were fashioned into form,^^^^n“
and imposed on the French drama. These are acknow-
ledged by Corneille, in his Essay upon Dramatic Poetry,
in the following short but emphatic sentence: “ II faut
observer les unites d’action, de lieu, et de jour ; personne
nen doute.” The rule, as thus emphatically admitted by
the fiery Corneille, was equally binding upon the elegant
Racine, and has fettered the French stage until the pre¬
sent day. “ La Motte,” says Voltaire, “ a man of wit and
talent, but attached to paradoxes, has written in our time
against the doctrine of the unities; but that literary he¬
resy had no success.”
Upon these rules, adopted by the very first writer of
eminence for the French stage, and subscribed to by all
succeeding dramatists, depends the principal and long-
disputed difference betwixt the drama of France and those
countries in which her laws of taste have been received,
and the stages of Spain, England, and modern Germany,
where those critical maxims have been controverted. In
other words, the unities proper to the classical drama have
been found inapplicable to plays of a historical or roman¬
tic plan. It is therefore necessary to examine with accu¬
racy the essence and effect of those laws so often disputed
with more obstinacy than liberality.
The arbitrary forms to which the French thus subjected Examina-
their theatre are, in their general purport, founded on goodfi°n of this
and sound rules of the critical art. But, considered ju. doctrine,
daically and literally, the interpretation put upon those
unities by the French critics must necessarily lay the
dramatic author under restraints equally severe and un¬
necessary, without affording any corresponding addition
to the value of his work. The pedantry by which they
are enforced reminds one of the extreme, minute, rigor¬
ous, and punctilious discipline to which some regiments
have been subjected by a pedantic commanding officer,
which seldom fails to lower the spirit and destroy the
temper of the soldier, without being of the slightest ser¬
vice to him in the moment of danger or the day of battle.
The first dramatic unity is that of action, and, rightly
understood, it is by far the most important. A whole,
says Aristotle, is that which has a beginning, middle, and
end. In short, one strong concentrated interest, upon
which all subordinate incidents depend, and to which they
contribute, must pervade the piece. It must open with the
commencement of the play, evolve itself, and be progres¬
sive with its progress—must be perpetually in sight, and
never stationary, until at length it arrives at a catastrophe,
by which it is ended and extinguished. In this rule, ab¬
stractedly considered, there is nothing but what is con¬
sistent with good sense and sound criticism. The period
allowed lor dramatic representation is not long, and will
not admit of the episodical ornaments which may be hap¬
pily introduced into epic poetry. And as the restlessness
or impatience of a theatrical audience is always one of its
marked characteristics, it has been observed, that neither
the most animated description, nor the most beautiful
poetry, can ever reconcile the spectators to those inartifi¬
cial scenes in which the plot or action of the piece stands
still that the performers may say fine things. The intro¬
duction of an interest, separate and distinct from the main
action of the play, has a still worse effect; it diminishes
the effect of the whole, and divides the attention of the
audience; as a pack of hounds, when in full pursuit, are
impeded and puzzled by starting a fresh object of chase.
150
Drama.
DRAM A.
Yet even this rule must be liberally considered if we
would allow dramatic authors that fair room and exercise
for their <TemuSj which ^ives rise to the noblest displays of
genius in the art. Modern dramatists are no longer, it
must be remembered, limited to the simple and surer uni¬
formity of the ancient drama, which fixed on one single
event as its object, made it the subject of the moral re¬
flections of the chorus, managed it by the intervention of
three or at most five persons, and consequently presented
a picture so limited in size and subject that there was no
difficulty in avoiding the intermixture of a foreign inte¬
rest. The modern taste has opened the stage to a wider
range of topics, which are at the same time more compli¬
cated in detail, depending on the agency of a variety of
performers, and on the result of a succession of events.
Such dramas have indeed an unity of action peculiar to
themselves, which should predominate over and absorb
every other. But although, like the oak, it should predo¬
minate over all the neighbouring underwood, its dignity
is not injured by the presence and vicinity of that which
it overshadows. On the contrary, a succession of events
tending to the same end, if they do not divert the atten¬
tion from the principal interest, cannot fail, by their va¬
riety and succession, to keep it fixed upon the business of
the scene.
To take an example. In the tragedy of Macbeth a
chain of varied and important events are introduced, any
one link of which might be hammered out into a drama
on the severe and simple model of the drama of ancient
Greece. There is the murder of Duncan, that of Banquo,
and the dethronement and death of the tyrant; all which
are events complete of themselves, independent of each
other, and yet included within one tragedy of five acts.
But, nevertheless, this is never felt as a deficiency in the
performance. It is to the character of Macbeth, to his
ambition, guilt, remorse, and final punishment, that the
mind attaches itself during the whole play; and thus the
succession of various incidents, unconnected excepting by
the relation they bear to the principal personage, far from
distracting the attention of the audience, continues to
sharpen and irritate curiosity till the curtain drops oyer
the fallen tyrant. This is not, indeed, an unity of action
according to the rule of Aristotle, or the observance of
the French theatre. But, in a lighter point of view, it
has all the advantage which could possibly be derived
from the severest adherence to the precept of Aristotle,
with this additional merit, that the interest never stag¬
nates in declamation, or is suspended by unnecessary dia¬
logue.
It would in fact be easy to show that the unity of ac¬
tion, in its strict sense, may frequently be an unnatural as
well as a cumbrous restraint on the genius of the poet.
In the course of nature, an insulated action seldom exists
of a nature proper to transfer to the stage. If, indeed,
the play is founded on some single mythological fable, or
if the scene is laid in some early stage of society, when
man as yet remained separated from his kind, and con¬
nected only with his petty tribe or family, the subject of
a plot may be chosen where the agency of a very few per¬
sons, and these naturally connected together, may, with¬
out foreign or extraneous assistance, afford matter for a
tragedy. But in the actual course of the peopled world,
men are so crowded together, and their movements de¬
pend so much upon impulses foreign to themselves, that
the action must often appear multiplied and complicated,
and all that the author can do is to preserve the interest
uniform and undivided. Its progress may be likened to
that of a brook through beautiful scenery. A judicious
improver of the landscape would be certainly desirous to
make its course visible, but not to cut off its beautiful un¬
dulations, or to compel it into a straight channel. He V™™-
would follow the course of nature, and neither affect to
conceal the smaller rills by which the stream was fed, nor
bring them so much in view as to deprive the principal
object of its consequence. We admit the difficulty inse¬
parable from the dramatic art, and must grant that the
author runs some risk of losing sight of the main inteiest
of the piece, by dwelling upon the subordinate accesso¬
ries ; but we contend that the attention of the audience is
still more likely to be fatigued by a bald and simple plot,
to which, during the course of five acts, there must be¬
long much speaking and little progress. And, in point of
common sense and common feeling, that piece must al¬
ways present unity of action which has unity of interest
and feeling; which fixes the mind of the audience upon
one train of thought and passion, to which every occur¬
rence in the drama verges ; and which is consummated and
wound up by the final catastrophe.
The second dramatic unity is that of time, about which
the critics of various nations have disagreed. If taken in
its strict and proper sense, it means that the time sup¬
posed to be consumed in the action represented, should
not exceed that which is occupied by the actual repre¬
sentation. But even Aristotle extends the duration of
the action to one revolution of the sun, and Corneille ex¬
tends it to thirty hours, which is to the actual period of
representation as ten to one. Boileau, a supeieminent
authority, thus lays down the rule for the unities of time
and place:
Que le lieu de la scene y soil fixe & marque.
Un Itimeur, sans peril, deA les Pirenees, ^
Sur la scene en un jour renferme des anndes.
La souvent le Hdros d’un spectacle grossier.
Enfant au premier acte, est Barbon au dernier,
Mais nous, que la liaison a se regies engage,
Nous voulons qu’avec art Paction se menage :
Qu’en un lieu, qu’en un jour, un seul fait accompli
Tienne jusqu’a la fin le Theatre rempli.
It has been triumphantly remarked, that in thus yield¬
ing up the strict letter of the precept, in allowing the
three hours employed in acting a play to be multiplied
into twenty-four or thirty, the critics have retained
nearly all the inconvenience of this famous rule, while
they sacrificed its principle, and any advantage attached
to its observance. The only benefit supposed to be at¬
tached to this unity is that of probability. We shall not
at present inquire whether this is worth preserving at the
cost of imposing heavy restrictions on dramatic genius.
But granting the affirmative, probability is as much vio¬
lated by squeezing the events of twenty-four hours into a
period of only three, as if the author had exercised the
still greater license of the English and Spanish theatres.
There is no charm in the revolution of the sun, which cir¬
cumscribes within that particular period the events of a
drama. When the magic circle drawn around the author
by the actual date of representation is once obliterated,
the argument grounded upon probability falls; and he may
extend his narrative unconfined by any rule, except what
may be considered as resolving itself into the unity of ac¬
tion. A wmek, a month, a year, years may be included
in the course of the drama, provided alwaj's the poet has
power so to rivet the attention of the audience on the
passing scene, that the lapse of time shall pass unregarded.
There must be none of those marked pauses wdiich force
upon the spectators’ attention the breach of this unity.
Still less ought the judicious dramatist to permit his piece
to embrace such a space of time as shall necessarily pro¬
duce the change on the persons of the characters ridi¬
culed by Boileau. The extravagant conduct of the plot
in the Winter s Tale has gone far to depreciate that dra-
D R A M A. 151
Drama, ma, which, in passages of detached beauty, is inferior to
none of Shakspeare’s, in the opinion of the best judges.
It might perhaps be improved in acting, by performing
the three first acts as a play, and the fourth and fifth as
an afterpiece. Yet, even as it is now acted, who is it
that, notwithstanding the cold objection arising out of the
breach of unity, witnesses without delight the exquisite
contrast betwixt the court and the hamlet, the fascinat¬
ing and simple elegance of Perdita, or the witty rogueries
of Autolycus? The poet is too powerful for the critic,
and we lose the exercise of our judgment in the warmth
of our admiration.
I he faults of Shakspeare or of his age we do not, how¬
ever, recommend to the modern dramatist, whose mo¬
desty will certainly place him in his own estimation far
beneath that powerful magician whose art could fascinate
us even by means of deformity itself. But if for his own
sake the author ought to avoid such gross violations of
dramatic rule, the public, for theirs, ought not to tie him
down to such severe limitations as must cramp, at least,
if they do not destroy, his power of affording them plea¬
sure. If the whole five acts are to be compressed within
the space of twenty-four hours, the events must, in the
general case, be either so much crowded upon each other
as to destroy the very probability which it is the purpose
of this law to preserve; or many of them being supposed
to have happened before the commencement of the piece,
must be detailed in narrative, which never fails to have a
bad effect on the stage.
The same objections apply to the rigid enforcement of
the third unity, that of place; and indeed the French au¬
thors have used respecting it the license of relaxing? in
practice, the severity of their theory. They have fre¬
quently infringed the rule which they affirm to be invio¬
lable; and their flexible creed permits the place to be
changed, provided the audience are not transported out
of the city where the scene is laid. This mitigation of
doctrine, like that granted in the unity of time, is a vir¬
tual resignation of the principle contended for. Let us
examine, however, upon what that principle is founded.
The rule which prohibits the shifting the scene during
the period of performance, was borrowed by the French
from the ancients, without considering the peculiar cir¬
cumstances in which it arose. First, we have seen al¬
ready, that during the ancient drama, there was no divi¬
sion into acts, and that the action was only suspended
during the songs of the chorus, who themselves repre¬
sented a certain class of personages connected with the
scene. The stage, therefore, was always filled; and a
supposed change of place would have implied the violent
improbability that the whole chorus were transported,
while in the sight of the spectators, and employed in the
discharge of their parts, to the new scene of action. Se¬
condly, there is evidence that in the Eumenides of iEs-
chylus, and the Ajax of Sophocles, the scene is actually
changed, in defiance of the presence of the chorus; and
a much greater violation of probability is incurred than
could have taken place in a modern theatre, where, be¬
fore every change of scene, the stage is emptied of the
performers. Thirdly, the ancients were less hardly press¬
ed by this rule than the modern writers. From the ex¬
tent of their theatres and the size of their stages, the
place of action was considerably larger, and might be held
to include a wider extent, than ours. The climate of
Greece admitted of* many things being transacted with
propriety in the open air; and, finally, they had a contri¬
vance for displaying the interior of a house or temple to
the audience, which, if not an actual change of scene, was
adapted to the same purpose.
If this long litigated question, therefore, is to be dis¬
posed of by precedent, we have shown that the rule of Drama,
the ancients was neither absolute, nor did the circum-
stances of their stage correspond with those of ours ;
to which it may be added, that the simple and inarti¬
ficial structure of their plots seldom required a change of
scene. But surely it is of less consequence to examine
the practice of the ancients, than to consider how far it is
founded upon truth, good taste, and general effect. Grant¬
ing, therefore, that the supposed illusion, which trans¬
ports the spectator to the actual scene of action, really
exists, let us inquire whether, in sacrificing the privilege
of an occasional change of scene, we do not run the risk
of shocking the spectator, and disturbing his delightful
dreams, by other absurdities and improbabilities, attend¬
ant necessarily on a scrupulous adherence to this re¬
striction.
If the action is always to pass in the scene, some place
of general resort must be adopted, a hall, anti-room, or the
like. It can seldom be so fortunately selected but that
much must be necessarily discussed there, which, in or¬
der to preserve any appearance of probability, should be
transacted elsewhere; that many persons must be intro¬
duced whose presence must appear unnatural; and that
much must be done there which the very circumstances
of the piece render totally absurd. Dennis has applied
these observations with great force, and at the same time
with great bitterness, in his critique upon Cato, which
Johnson has quoted at length in his Life of Addison. The
scene, it must be remembered, is laid, during the whole
drama, with scrupulous attention to the classical rule, in
the great hall of Cato’s palace at Utica. Here the con¬
spirators lay their plots, the lovers carry on their intrigues ;
and yet Sempronius, with great inconsistency, disguises
himself as Juba to obtain entrance into this vestibule,
which was common to all. Here Cato retires to moralize,
and chides his son for interrupting him ; and although he
retires to stab himself, it is to this place that he is brought
back to die. All this affords a striking proof how genius
and taste can be fettered and embarrassed by a too pe¬
dantic observance of rules. Let no one suppose that the
inconveniences arising from the rigid observance of the
unity of place, occur in the tragedy of Cato alone; they
might in that case be attributed to the inexperience or
want of skill in the author. The tragedies of Corneille
and Racine afford examples enough that the authors found
themselves compelled to violate the rules of probability
and common sense, in order to adhere to those of Aris¬
totle. In the tragedy of Cinna, for example, the scene is
laid in the emperor’s cabinet; and in that very cabinet,
compelled, doubtless, by the laws of unity, Amelia shouts
forth aloud her resolution to assassinate the emperor. It
is there too that Maximus and Cinna confide to each other
all the secrets of their conspiracy; and it is there where,
to render the impropriety more glaring, Cinna suddenly
reflects upon the rashness of his own conduct:
Amis, dans ce palais on pent nous dcouter;
Et nous parlons peut-etre avec trop d’imprudence,
Dans un lieu si mal propre a notre confidence.
It would be an invidious, but no difficult task, to show
that several of the chefs d'oeuvres of the French drama are
liable to similar objections; and that the awkward dilem¬
mas in which the unity of place involves them, is far more
likely to destroy the illusion of the performance, than the
mere change of scene wrould have done. But we refer the
reader to the Dramaturgie of Lessing upon this curious
topic.
The main question yet remains behind, namely, whe¬
ther such an illusion is actually produced in the minds of
the audience by the best-acted play, as induces them to
152
Drama.
DRAMA.
suppose themselves witnessing a reality;—an illusion, in municate, as well as colours and words can do, the same
short so complete, as to suffer from the occasional exten- sublime sensations which had dictated his own composi-
sion of time or change of place in the course of the piece? tions. The tragedian attempts to attain this object stilt
We do not hesitate to say that no such impression was more forcibly, because his art combines those ot the poet,
ever produced on a sane understanding; and that the Pa- orator, and artist, by storming as it were the imagination
risian critic, in whose presence the unities are never vio- at once through the eye and the ear. undoubtedly a
lated, no more mistakes Talma for Nero, than a London drama with such advantages, and with those of dresses
citizen identifies Kemble with Coriolanus, or Kean with and costume, approaches more nearly to actual reality,
Richard III.1 The ancients, from the distance of the stage, and therefore has a better chance of attaining its object,
and their mode of dressing and disguising their charac- especially when addressing the sluggish and ineJt armies
ters, might certainly approach a step nearer to reality; of the multitude ; although it may remain a doubtful ques-
and producing on their stage the very images of the dei- tion whether, with all these means and appliances, minds
ties they worshipped, speaking the language which they of a high poetic temperature may not receive a more hve-
accounted proper to them, it is highly probable that, to ly impression from the solitary perusal than from the re¬
minds capable of high excitation, there might be a shade presentation of one of Shakspeare s plays. Rut, to t ie
of this illusion in their representations. The solemn dis- most ignorant spectator, however unaccustomed to the
tance of the stage, the continuous and uninterrupted ac- trick of the scene, the excitement which his fancy re-
tion, kept the attention of the (ireeks at once more close- ceives falls materially short of actual mental deiusion.
ly riveted, and more abstracted from surrounding circum- Even the sapient Partridge himself never thought of being
Drama.
ly . . .
stances. But in the modern theatre, the rapid succession
of intervals for reflection, the well-known features of the
actors, the language which they speak differing frequent¬
ly from that which belongs to the age and country where
the scene is laid, interrupt at every turn every approxi¬
mation to the fantastic vision of reality into which those
writers who insist upon the strict observance of the uni- as described by an excellent judge of human nature, ex¬
ties suppose the audience to be lulled. To use the nerv- hibit, probably, the highest point of illusion to which thea-
ous words of Johnson, “ It is false that any representa- trical exhibition can conduct a rational being. In an
tion is mistaken for reality; that any dramatic fable in its agony of terror which made his knees knock against each
materiality was ever credible, or for a single moment was other, he never forgets that he.is only witnessing a play
ever credited.” There is a conventional treaty between The presence of Mrs Millar and his master assures him
the author and the audience, that upon certain supposi- against the reality of the apparition; yet he is no more
tions being granted by the latter, his powers of imagina- able to subdue his terrors by this comfortable reflection,
tion shall be exerted for the amusement of the spectators, than we have been to check our tears, although well
The postulates which are demanded, even upon the French aware that the Belvidera with whose sorrows we sympa-
’ ■ ■ 11 — -c-- —j:  .u:—j vvas no other than our own inimitable Mrs Sid-
startled at the apparition of the king of Denmark, which
he knew to be only a man in a strange dress; it was the
terror so admirably expressed by Garrick, which commu¬
nicated itself to his feelings, and made him reverse the
case of the fiends, and tremble without believing. In
truth, the effects produced upon this imaginary character.
theatre, and under the strictest model, are of no ordinary
magnitude. Although the stage is lighted with lamps,
the spectator must say with the subjugated Catherine
I grant it is the sun that shines so bright.
thized
dons. With all our passions and all our sympathies, we
are still conscious of the ideal character of that which ex¬
cites them; and it is probably this very consciousness of
the unreality of scene that refines our sorrows into a me-
The painted canvass must pass for a landscape; the lancholy yet delicious emotion, and extracts from it that
well-known faces of the performers for those of ancient bitterness necessarily connected with a display of similar
Greeks, or Romans, or Saracens; and the present time for misery in actual life.
many ages distant. He that submits to such a convention If, therefore, no illusion subsists of a character to be^
ought not scrupulously to limit his own enjoyment; that affected by a change of scene, or by the prolongation of
which is supposed Rome in one act, may in"the next be the time beyond the rules of Aristotle, the very founda-
fancied Paris; and as for time, it is, to use the words of tion of these unities is undermined ; but, at the same time,
Dr Johnson, “ of all modes of existence, most obsequious every judicious author will use liberty with prudence,
to imagination ; a lapse of years is as easily conceived as If we are inclined to ascend to the origin of these cele-
a passage of hours. In contemplation we easily contract brated rules, we ought not to be satisfied with the ipse
the time of real actions, and therefore willingly permit it dixit of a Grecian critic, who wrote so many centuries
to be contracted when we only see their imitation.” ago, and whose works have reference to a state of drama-
If dramatic representation does not produce the im- tic composition which has now no existence. Upon the
pression of reality, in what, it may be asked, consists its revival of letters, indeed, the authority of Aristotle was
power? We reply, that its effects are produced by the considered as omnipotent; but even Boileau remonstrated
powerful emotions which it excites in the minds of the against his authority, when weighed with that of reason
spectators. The professors of every fine art operate their and common sense,
impressions in the same manner, though they address
themselves to different organs. The painter exhibits his
scene to the eye, the orator pours his thunder upon the
ear, the poet awakens the imagination of his reader by
written description; but each has the same motive, the
hope, namely, of exciting in the reader, hearer, or specta¬
tor, a tone of feeling similar to that which existed in his
own bosom, ere it was bodied forth by his pencil, tongue, or
pen. It is the artist’s object, in short, to tune the reader’s
Un pedant envieux de sa vaine science,
Tout herisse de Grec, tout bouffi d’arrogance,
Et qui de niille auteurs retenus mot pour mot,
Dans la teste entassez, n’a souvent fait qu’un sot,
Croit qu’un livre fait tout, et que sans Aristote
La raison ne voit goutte, et le bon sens radote.
The opinions of Aristotle must be judged of according
to the opportunities and authorities which lay open before
him ; and from the high critical judgment he has display-
imagination to the same pitch with his own; and to com- ed, we can scarce err in supposing he would have drawn
1 See note to page 147.
I) R A M A. 153
Drama, different results in different circumstances. Dr Drake,
whose industry and taste have concentrated so much cu¬
rious information respecting Shakspeare and his age, has
quoted upon this topic a striking passage from Mr Mor¬
gan’s Essay on the Character of Falstaff.
Speaking, says Dr Drake, of the magic influence which
our poet almost invariably exerts over his auditors, Mr
Morgan remarks, that “ on such an occasion, a fellow like
Eyyner,1 * waking from his trance, shall lift up his consta¬
ble’s staff, and charge this great magician, this daring
practiser of arts inhibited, in the name of Aristotle to sur¬
render; whilst Aristotle himself, disowning his wretched
officer, would fall prostrate at his feet and acknowledge
his supremacy.— O supreme of dramatic excellence!
might he say, not to me be imputed the insolence of fools.
The bards of Greece were confined within the narrow circle
of the chorus, and hence they found themselves constrain¬
ed to practise, for the most part, the precision, and copy
the details, of nature. I followed them, and knew not that
a larger circle might be drawn, and the drama extended
to the whole reach of human genius. Convinced, I see that
a more compendious nature may be obtained; a nature of
effects only, to which neither the relation of places, or con¬
tinuity of time, are always essential. Nature, condescend¬
ing to the faculties and apprehensions of man, has drawn
through human life a regular chain of visible causes and
effects. But poetry delights in surprise, conceals her steps,
seizes at once upon the heart, and obtains the sublime of
things without betraying the rounds of her ascent. True
poetry is magic, not nature ; an effect from causes hidden
or unknown. To the magician I prescribed no laws; his
law and his power are one; his power is his law. If his
end is obtained, who shall question his course? Means,
whether apparent or hidden, are justified in poesy by suc¬
cess ; but then most perfect and most admirable when
most concealed.
“ Yes, continues Mr Morgan, whatever may be the ne¬
glect of some, or the censure of others, there are those
who firmly believe that this wild, this uncultivated barba¬
rian, as he has been called, has not yet obtained one half
of his fame; and who trust that some new Stagyrite will
arise, who, instead of pecking at the surface of things, will
enter into the inward soul of his compositions, and expel,
by the force of congenial feelings, those foreign impurities
which have stained and disgraced his page. And as to
those spots which still remain, they may perhaps become
invisible to those who shall seek them through the medium
of his beauties, instead of looking for those beauties, as is
too frequently done, through the smoke of some real or
imputed obscurity. When the hand of time shall have
brushed off his present editors and commentators, and when
the very name of Voltaire, and even the memory of the
language in which he has written, shall be no more, the
Appalachian Mountains, the banks of the Ohio, and the
plains of Sciola, shall resound with the accents of this bar¬
barian. In his native tongue he shall roll the genuine pas¬
sions of nature ; nor shall the griefs of Lear be alleviated,
or the charms and wit of Rosalind be abated, by time^
In adopting the views of those authors who have plead¬
ed for the liberty of the poet, it is not our intention to
deny that great advantages may be obtained by the ob¬
servance of the unities ; not considering them as in them¬
selves essential to the play, but only as points upon which
the credibility and intelligibility of the action in some sort
depends. We acknowledge, for example, that the author
would be deficient in dramatic art, who should divide the
interest of his piece into two or more separate plots, in- Drama,
stead of combining it in one progressive action. We con-
fess, moreover, that the author, who more violently ex¬
tends the time, or more frequently changes the place of
representation, than can be justified by the necessity of the
story, and vindicated by his exertion of dramatic force,
acts unwisely, in so far as he is likely to embarrass a great
part of the audience, who, from imperfect hearing or slow¬
ness of comprehension, may find it difficult to apprehend
the plot of his play. The latitude which we are disposed
to grant is regulated by the circumstances of the case,
the interest of the plot, and, above all, the talents of the
author. He that despises the praise of regularity which
is attainable by study, cannot reckon on the indulgence of
the audience, unless on the condition of indemnifying them
by force of genius. If a definitive rule were to be adopted,
we should say that it would certainly be judicious to place
any change of place or extension of time at the beginning
of a new act; as the falling of the curtain and cessation of
the action has prepared the audience to set off, as it were,
upon a new score. But we consider the whole of these
points of propriety as secondary to the real purposes of
the drama, and not as limitary of that gifted genius who
can, in the whirlwind of his scene, bear the imagination of
his audience along with him over the boundaries of place,
While panting time toils after them in vain.
It is not upon the observance of the unities alone that French no
the French found their pretensions to a classical theatre, tions of
They boast also to have discarded that intermixture oftraffi‘co-
tragic and comic scenes, which was anciently universal1110 'V‘
upon the Spanish and English stages.
If it had been only understood by this reformation, that
the French condemned and renounced that species of
tragi-comedy which comprehended two distinct plots, the
one of a serious, the other of a humorous character, and
these two totally unconnected, we give them full credit
for their restriction. Dryden, in the Spanish Friar, and
other pieces; and Southern, both in Oronoko and Isabella,
as well as many other authors of their age, have in this
particular transgressed unpardonably the unity of action.
For, in the cases wre have quoted, the combination of the
two plots is so slight, that the serious and comic scenes
separated, might each furnish forth a separate drama; so
that the audience appear to be listening, not to one play
only, but to two dramatic actions independent of each
other, although contained in the same piece. So far, there¬
fore, we heartily agree in the rule which excludes such an
unhappy interchange of inconsistent scenes, moving upon
opposite principles and interests.
When, however, the French critics carry this rule far¬
ther, and proscribe the appearance of comic or inferior
characters, however intimately connected with the tragic
plot, we would observe, in the first place, that they run
the risk of diminishing the reality of the scene; and se¬
condly, that they exclude a class of circumstances essen¬
tial to its beauty.
On the first point it must be observed, that the rule
which imposes upon valets and subordinate personages the
necessity of talking as harmonious verse and as elegant
poetry as their masters, entirely ruins the probability of
the action. Where all is elegant, nothing can be sublime;
where all is ornamented, nothing can be impressive ; where
all is tuned to the same smooth falsetto of sentiment, no¬
thing can be natural or real. By such an assimilation of
manners and language, we stamp fiction on the very front
VOL. VIII.
1 liymer was a calumniator of Shakspeare.
1 Shakspeare and his Times, by Nathan Drake, M.D. p. 553, 554, vol. ii.
L
of our dramatic representation. The touches of nature
which Shakspeare has exhibited in his lower and gayer
characters, like the chastened back-ground of a landscape,
increase the effect of the principal group. The light and
fanciful humour of Mercutio serves, for example, to en¬
hance and illustrate the romantic and passionate character
of Romeo. Even the doating fondness and silly peevish¬
ness of the nurse tends to relieve the soft and affectionate
character of Juliet, and to place her before the audience
in a point of view which those who have seen Miss O’Neil
perform Juliet know how to appreciate. A contrast is ef¬
fected which a French author dared not attempt, but of
which every bosom at once acknowledges the power and
the truth. Let us suppose that the gay and gallant Mer¬
cutio had as little character as the walking confident of a
French hero, who echoes the hexameters of his friend in
hexameters of a lower level; or let us suppose the nurse
of Juliet to be a gentle Nora, as sublime in white linen
as her principal in white satin; and let the reader judge
whether the piece would gain in dignity any thing pro¬
portioned to what it must lose in truth and interest. The
audience at once sympathizes with the friendship of Romeo
and Mercutio, rendered more natural and more interest¬
ing by the very contrast of their characters; and each
spectator feels as a passion, not as a matter of reflection,
that desire of vengeance which impels Romeo against
Tibalt; for we acknowledge as an amiable and interesting
individual the friend whom he has lost by the sword of
Capulet. Even the anilities of the nurse give a reality to
the piece, which, whatever French critics may pretend, is
much more seriously disturbed by inconsistency of man¬
ners, than by breach of their dramatic unities. “ God
forbid,” says Mr Puff, in the Critic, “ that, in a free coun¬
try, all the fine words in the language should be engrossed
by the higher characters of the piece.” The French cri¬
tics did not carry their ideas of equality quite so far, but
they tuned the notes of their subalterns just one pitch
lower than those of their principal characters, so that their
language, similar in style, but lower in sentiment and dic¬
tion, presents still that subordinate resemblance and cor¬
respondence to that of their superiors, which the worsted
lace upon the livery of a servant bears to the embroidery
upon the coat of his master.
It is not to mere expression that these remarks are
confined; for if we consult the course of human life, we
shall find that mirth and sorrow, and events which cause
both, are more nearly allied than perhaps it is altogether
pleasing to allow. Considered relatively to a spectator, an
incident may often excite a mingled emotion, partaking at
once of that which is moving and that which is ludicrous;
and there is no reader who has not, at some period of his
life, met with events at which he hesitated whether to
laugh or to cry. It remains to be proved why scenes of
this dubious yet interesting description should be exclud¬
ed from the legitimate drama, while their force is acknow¬
ledged in that of human life. We acknowledge the difficulty
of bringing them upon the scene with their full and cor¬
responding effect. It was perhaps under this persuasion
that the fool, whose wild jests were too much the result of
habit and practice to be subdued even by the terrors of
the storm, has been banished from the terrific scene of
King Lear. But, in yielding to this difficulty, the terrible
contrast has been thus destroyed, in which Shakspeare
exhibited the half perceptions of the natural fool, as con¬
trasted with the assumed insanity of Edgar, and the real
madness of the old king. They who prefer to this living
variety of emotion the cold uniformity of a French scene
of passion, must be numbered among those who read for
the pleasure of criticism, and without hope of partaking
the enthusiasm of the poet.
While we differ from French criticism respecting the Dram*
right to demand an accurate compliance with the unities, v—
and decline to censure that casual intermixture of comic
character which gives at once reality and variety to the
drama, we are no less disposed to condemn the imperti¬
nent love scenes which these authors have, as a matter of
etiquette, introduced into all their tragedies, however alien
from the passion on which they are grounded. The French
drama assumed its present form under the auspices of
Louis XIV. who aimed at combining all the characters of
a hero of romance. The same spirit which inspired the
dull monotony of the endless folios of Scudery and Cal-
prenede, seemed to dictate to Corneille, and even to Ra¬
cine, those scenes of frigid metaphysical passion which en¬
cumber their best plays. We do not dispute the deep in¬
terest which attaches to the passion of love, so congenial
to the human breast, when it forms the groundwork of
the play; but it is intolerably nauseous to And a dull love
tale mingled as a indispensable ingredient in every dra¬
matic plot, however inconsistent with the rest of the
piece. The Amoitreux and Amoureuse of the piece come
regularly forth to recite their common-places of gallantry,
in language as cold as it is exaggerated, and as inconsis¬
tent with passion and feeling as with propriety and com¬
mon sense. Even the horrid tale of (Edipus has the mis¬
placed garnishment of a love intrigue between Theseus,
brought there for no other purpose, and a certain Dirce,
whom, in the midst of the pestilence, he thus gallantly
compliments:
Quelque ravage affreux qu’etale ici la peste.
L’absence aux vrais amans est encore plus funeste.
The predominance of a passion which expresses itself so
absurdly is all that the French have condescended to adopt
from the age of chivalry, so rich in more dramatic stores;
and they have borrowed it in all its pedantry, and without
its tenderness and fire. Riccoboni has probably alleged
the true reason for the introduction of these heavy scenes
of love intrigue, which is, that at little expense of labour
to the author, they fill up three quarters of the action of
his play. We quote from the French version, as that im¬
mediately before us, and most generally intelligible : “ Par
exemple, oions de Nicomede les dix scenes de Laodice,
de l (Edipe les dix scenes de Dirce, de Polieucte les
scenes d'amour de Severe, de la Phedre de Monsieur
Racme les six scenes dAricie, et nous verrons que non
seulement V action ne sera point interrompue, mais quelle en
sera plus vice; en sorte que Von verra manifestement, que
ces scenes de tendresses iiont servi qua ralentir Taction de
la piece, d la refroidir, et d rendre le heros moins grand. Si
apres ces deux meilleurs tragedies de la France, on examine
tons les autres, on connoitra bien mieux cette verite. Lorsque
Vamour fait le sujet de la tragedie, ce sentiment, si inte-
ressant par lui-meme, occupe le scene avec raison; Jaime
Vamour de Piiedre, mais de Phedre seule.” Under th is thral¬
dom the fetters of the French stage long laboured, not¬
withstanding the noble example of Athalie, the chef
d’oeuvre of Racine. By the example of Voltaire, in one or
two of his best pieces, they have of late ventured occa¬
sionally to discard their uninteresting Cupid, whose ap¬
pearance on the stage as a matter of course and of cere-
mony, produced as Tittle effect as when his altar and god¬
head are depicted on the semicircle of a fan.
We have already observed, that the refined, artificial,
and affected character of the French tragedy, arose from
its immediate connection with the pleasures and with the
presence of an absolute sovereign. From the same cir¬
cumstance, however, the French stage derived several ad¬
vantages. A degree of discipline, unknown in other thea¬
tres, was early introduced among the French actors; and
those of a subordinate rank, who, on the English stage,
DRAMA.
155
Drama.
Corneille.
N1
sometimes exhibit intolerable, contemptuous, and wilful
negligence, become compelled, on that of France, to pay
the same attention to their parts as their superiors, and to
exert what limited talents they possess in the subordinate
parts to which they are adapted. The effect of this com¬
mon diligence upon the scene, is a general harmony and
correspondence in its parts, which never fails to strike a
stranger with admiration.
The royal protection, also, early produced on the Pari¬
sian stage an improved and splendid style of scenery, de¬
coration, and accompaniments. The scenes and machi¬
nery which they borrowed from Italy, they improved with
their usual alert ingenuity. They were still further im¬
proved under the auspices of Voltaire, who had the sole
merit of introducing natural and correct costume. Before
his time the actors, whether Romans or Scythians, ap¬
peared in the full dress of the French court; and Augus¬
tus himself was represented in a huge full-bottomed wig,
surmounted by a crown of laurel. The strict national cos¬
tume introduced by Voltaire is now observed. That au¬
thor has also the merit of excluding the idle crowd of cour¬
tiers and men of fashion who thronged the stage during
the time of representation, and formed a sort of semicircle
round the actors, leaving them thus but a few yards of an
area free for performance, and disconcerting at once the
performers and the audience, by the whimsical intermix¬
ture of players and spectators. The nerves of those pe¬
dants who contended most strenuously for the illusion of
the scene, and who objected against its being interrupted
by an occasional breach of the dramatic unities, do not
appear to have suffered from the presence of this singular
chorus.
It was not decoration and splendour alone which the
French stage owed to Louis XIV. Its principal obligation
was for that patronage which called forth in its service the
talents of Corneille and Racine, the Homer and the Vir¬
gil of the French drama. However constrained by pedan¬
tic rules; however held back from using that infinite va¬
riety of materials which national and individual character
presented to them ; however frequently compelled by sys¬
tem to adopt a pompous, solemn, and declamatory style
of dialogue; these distinguished authors still remain the
proudest boast of the classical age of France, and a high
honour to the European republic of letters. It seems pro¬
bable that Corneille, if left to the exercise of his own judg¬
ment, would have approximated more to the romantic
drama. The Cid possesses many of the charms of that
species of composition. In the character of Don Gourmaz,
he has drawn a national portrait of the Spanish nobility,
for which very excellence he was subjected to the censure
of the academy, his national court of criticism. In a ge¬
neral point of view, he seems to have been ambitious of
overawing his audience by a display of the proud, the
severe, the ambitious, and the terrible. Tyrants and con¬
querors have never sat to a painter of greater skill; and
the romantic tone of feeling which he adopts in his more
perfect characters is allied to that of chivalry. But Cor¬
neille was deficient in tenderness, in dramatic art, and in
the power of moving the passions. His fame, too, was in¬
jured by the multiplicity of his efforts to extend it. Critics
of his own nation have numbered about twenty of his
dramas which have little to recommend them; and no
foreign reader is very likely to verify or refute the cen¬
sure, since he must previously read them to an end.
Racine, who began to write when the classical fetters
were clenched and riveted upon the French drama, did
not make that effort of struggling with his chains which
we observe in the elder dramatist: he was strong where
Corneille evinced weakness, and weak in the points where
his predecessor showed vigour. Racine delineated the
passion of love with truth, softness, and fidelity; and his Drama,
scenes of this sort form the strongest possible contrast
with those in which he, as well as Corneille, sacrificed to
the dull Cupid of metaphysical romance. In refinement
and harmony of versification, Racine has hitherto been
unequalled ; and his Athalie is, perhaps, likely to be ge¬
nerally acknowledged as the most finished production of
the French drama.
Subsequent dramatists, down to the time of Voltaire, Voltaire,
were contented with imitating the works of these two great
models, until the active and ingenious spirit of that cele¬
brated author seems tacitly to have meditated further ex¬
perimental alterations than he thought it prudent to de¬
fend or to avow. His extreme vivacity and acute intellect
were mingled, as is not unfrequent in such temperaments,
with a certain nervous timidity, which prevented him from
attempting open and bold innovation, even where he felt
compliance with existing rules most inconvenient and dis¬
piriting. He borrowed, therefore, liberally from Shak-
speare, whose irregularities were the frequent object of his
ridicule ; and he did not hesitate tacitly to infringe the
dramatic unities in his plays, while in his criticism he holds
them up as altogether inviolable. While he altered the
costume of the stage, and brought it nearer to that of na¬
tional truth, he made one or two irresolute steps towards
the introduction of national character. If we were, in¬
deed, to believe the admirers of Corneille, little remained
to be done in this department; he had already, it is said,
taught his Romans to speak as Romans, and his Greeks as
Greeks ; but of such national discrimination foreigners are
unable to perceive a trace. His heroes, one and all, talk
like men of no peculiar character or distinct age and na¬
tion, but, like the other heroes of the French dramatic
school, are “ all honourable men,” who speak in high,
grave, buskined rhimes, where an artificial brilliancy of
language, richness of metaphor, and grandeur of sentiment,
are substituted for that concise and energetic tone of dia¬
logue, which shows at once the national and individual
character of the personage who uses it. In Mahomet, Al-
zire, and one or two other pieces, Voltaire has attempted
some discrimination of national character; the ground¬
work, however, is still French ; and, under every disguise,
whether of the turban of the Ottoman, the feathery crown
of the savage, or the silk tunic of the Chinese, the charac¬
ter of that singular people can be easily recognized. Vol¬
taire probably saw the deficiency of the national drama
with his usual acuteness ; but, like the ancient philoso¬
phers, he contentedly joined in the idolatry which he de¬
spised.
It seems, indeed, extremely doubtful whether the French
tragedy can ever be brought many steps nearer to nature.
That nation is so unfortunate as to have no poetical lan¬
guage ; so that some degree of unnatural exaltation of
sentiment is almost necessary to sustain the tone of tra¬
gedy at a pitch higher than that of ordinary life. The peo¬
ple are passionately fond of ridicule ; their authors are
equally afraid of incurring it: they are aware, like their
late ruler, that there is but one step betwixt the sublime
and the ridiculous; and they are afraid to aim at the
former, lest their attempt, falling short, should expose
them to derision. They cannot reckon on the mercy or
enthusiasm of their audience ; and while they banish com¬
bats and deaths, and even violent action of any kind, from
the stage, this seems chiefly on account of the manifest
risk that a people, more alive to the ludicrous than the
lofty, might laugh when they should applaud. The drunken
and dizzy fury with which Richard, as personated by
Kean, continues to make the motion of striking after he
has lost his weapon, would be caviare to the Parisian par¬
terre. Men must compound with their poets and actors.
156
I) R A
A.
French
comedy.
\S
Drama, and pardon something.like extravagance, on the score of
enthusiasm. But if they are nationally dead to that enthu¬
siasm, they resemble a deaf man listening to eloquence,
who is more likely to be moved to laughter by the ges¬
tures of the orator, than to catch fire at his passionate
declamation.
Above all, the French people are wedded to their own
opinions. Each Parisian is, or supposes himself, master
of the rules of the critical art; and whatever limitations
it imposes on the author, the spectators receive some
indemnification from the pleasure of sitting in judgment
upon him. To require from a dancer to exhibit his agi¬
lity without touching any of the lines of a diagram chalked
on the floor, would deprive the performance of much ease,
strength, and grace; but still the spectator would feel a
certain interest in watching the dexterity with which the
artist avoided treading on the interdicted limits, and a
certain pride in detecting occasional infringements. In
the same manner, the French critic obtains a triumph
from watching the transgressions of the dramatic poet
against the laws of Aristotle ; equal, perhaps, to the more
legitimate pleasure he might have derived from the unfet¬
tered exercise of his talents. Upon the whole, the French
tragedy, though its regulations seem to us founded in
pedantry, and its sentiments to belong to a state of false
and artificial refinement, contains, nevertheless, passages
of such perfect poetry and exquisite moral beauty, that
to hear them declaimed with the art of Talma, cannot but
afford a very high pitch of intellectual gratification.
The French comedy assumed a regular shape about the
same period with the tragedy; and Moliere was in his
department what Corneille and Racine were in theirs ; an
original author, approached in excellence by none of those
that succeeded him. The form which he assumed for a
model was that of the comedy of Menander, and he has
copied pretty closely some pieces from the Latin stage.
Moliere was endowed by nature with a rich fund of comic
humour, which is nowhere more apparent than in those
light pieces which are written upon the plan of the Italian
masked comedy. In these he has introduced the jealous
old pantaloon, the knavish and mischievous servant, and
some of its other characters. In his regular comedy he
soared to a higher pitch. Before his time the art had
sought its resources in the multiplicity and bustle of in¬
trigue, escape, and disguise,—of, at best, in a comic dia¬
logue, approaching to mere buffoonery. Moliere’s satire
aimed at a nobler prey; he studied mankind for the pur¬
pose of attacking those follies of social life which are best
exposed by ridicule. The aim of few satirists has been
so legitimate, or pursued with such success. Female va¬
nity, learned pedantry, unreasonable jealousy, the doating
and disgraceful passions of old men, avarice, coquetry,
slander, the quacks who disgrace medicine, and the knaves
who prostitute the profession of the law, were the marks
at which his shafts were directed.
Moliere’s more regular comedies are limited by the law
of unities, and finished with great diligence. It is true,
the author found it sometimes necessary tacitly to elude
the unity of place, which he durst not openly violate ; but,
in general, he sacrifices probability to system. In the
Ecole des Femmes, Arnolph brings his wife into the street,
out of the room in which his jealousy has imprisoned her,
in order to lecture her upon the circumspection due to
her character; which absurdity he is guilty of, that the
scene may not be shifted from the open space before his
door to her apartment. In general, however, it may be
noticed, that the critical unities impose much less hard¬
ship upon the comic than upon the tragic poet. It is much
more easy to reconcile the incidents of private life to the
unities of time and place, than to compress within their
limits the extensive and prolonged transactions which com¬
prehend the revolution of kingdoms and fate of monarchs.
What influence, however, these rules do possess, must
operate to cramp and embarrass the comic as well as the
tragic writer; to violate and disunite those very probabi¬
lities which they affect to maintain ; and to occasion a
thousand real absurdities rather than grant a conventional
license, which seems essential to the freedom of the drama.
The later comic authors of France seem to have aban¬
doned the track pointed out by Moliere, as if in despair
of approaching his excellence. Their comedy, compared
with that of other nations, and of their great predecessor,
is cramped, and tame, and limited. In this department,
as in tragedy, the stage experienced the inconvenience
arising from the influence of the court. The varied and
unbounded field of comic humour which the passions and
peculiarities of the lower orders present, was prohibited,
as containing subjects of exhibition too low and vulgar for
a monarch and his courtiers; and thus the natural, fresh,
and varied character of comedy was flung aside, while the
heartless vices and polished follies of the great world were
substituted in its place. Schlegel has well observed, that
the object of French comedy “ is no longer life, but so¬
ciety; that perpetual negotiation between conflicting va¬
nities which never ends in a sincere treaty of peace ; the
embroidered dress, the hat under the arm, and the sword
by the side, essentially belong to them ; and the whole of
the characterization is limited to the folly of the men and
the coquetry of the women.”
It is scarcely in nature that a laughter-loving people
should have remained satisfied with an amusement so dull
and insipid as their regular comedy. A few years pre¬
ceding the revolution, and while the causes of that event
were in full fermentation, the Marriage of Figaro ap¬
peared on the stage. It is a comedy of intrigue ; and the
dialogue is blended with traits of general and political
satire, as well as with a tone of licentiousness, which was
till then a stranger to the French stage. It was received
with a degree of enthusiastic and frantic popularity which
nothing but its novelty could have occasioned, for there is
little real merit in the composition. Frederick of Prussia,
and other admirers of the old theatrical school, were great¬
ly scandalized at so daring an innovation on the regular
French comedy. The circumstances which followed have
prevented Beaumarchais’ example from being imitated;
and the laughers have consoled themselves with inferior
departments of the drama. Accordingly, we find the
blank supplied by farces, comic operas, and dramatic va¬
rieties, in which plots of a light, flimsy, and grotesque cha¬
racter are borne out by the comic humour of the author
and comic skill of the actor. Brunet, a comedian of extra¬
ordinary powers in this cast of interludes, has at times
presumed so far upon his popularity as to season his farce
with political allusions. It will scarce be believed that
he aimed several shafts at Napoleon when in the height
of his power. The boldness as well as the wit of the
actor secured him the applause of the audience ; and such
a hold had Brunet of their affections, that an imprisonment
of a few hours was the greatest punishment which Bona¬
parte ventured to inflict upon him. But whatever be the
attachment shown to the art in general, the French, like
ourselves, rest the character of their theatre chiefly upon
the ancient specimens of art; and the regular tragedy, as
well as comedy, seems declining in that kingdom.
As the drama of France was formed under the patro- English
nage of the monarch, and bears the strongest proofs of its drama,
courtly origin, that of England, which was encouraged by
the people at large, retains equally unequivocal marks of
its popular descent. Its history must naturally draw to
D R A M A. 157
Drama, some length, as being that part of our article likely to be
most interesting to the reader. In part, however, we
have paved the way for it by the details common to the
rise of dramatic art in the other nations of Europe. We
shall distinguish the English drama as divided into four
periods, premising that this is merely a general, and not a
precise division. The taste which governed each period,
and the examples on which it is grounded, will usually be
found to have dawned in the period preceding that in
which it was received and established.
I. From the revival of the theatre until the great civil
war.
II. From the Restoration to the reign of Queen Anne.
III. From the earlier part of the last century down to
the present reign.
IV. The present state of the British drama.
First pe- I. The drama of England commenced, as we have al-
riod of the ready observed, upon the Spanish model. Ferrex and
English Perrex was the first composition approaching to a regular
drama. tragedy, and it was acted before Queen Elizabeth, upon
the 18th day of January 1561, by the gentlemen of the
Inner Temple. It partakes rather of the character of a
historical than of a classical drama, although more nearly
allied to the latter class than the chronicle plays which
afterwards took possession of the stage. We have al¬
ready recorded Sir Philip Sidney’s commendation of this
play, which he calls by the name of Gorboduc, from one
of the principal characters. Acted by a learned body,
and written in great part by Lord Sackville, the principal
author of the Mirror for Magistrates, the first of English
tragedies assumed in some degree the honours of the
learned buskin ; but although a chorus was presented ac¬
cording to the classical model, the play was free from the
observance of the unities, and contains many irregulari¬
ties severely condemned by the regular critics.
English comedy, considered as a regular composition,
is said to have commenced with Gammer Gurton s Needle.
This “ right pithy, pleasant, and merry comedy,” was the
supposed composition of John Still, Master of Arts, and
afterwards Bishop of Bath and Wells. It was acted in
Christ-Church College, Cambridge, in 1575. It is a piece
of low humour, the whole jest turning upon the loss and
recovery of the needle with which Gammer Gurton was
to repair the breeches of her man Hodge; but, in point
of manners, it is a great curiosity, as the curta suppellex
of our ancestors is scarcely anywhere so well described.
The popular characters also, the Sturdy Beggar, the Clown,
the Country Vicar, and the Shrew of the sixteenth cen¬
tury, are drawn in colours taken from the life. The unity
of time, place, and action, are observed through the play
with an accuracy of which France might be jealous. The
time is a few hours ; the place, the open square of the
village before Gammer Gurton’s door ; the action, the
loss of the needle; and this, followed by the search for
and final recovery of that necessary implement, is inter¬
mixed with no other thwarting or subordinate interest,
but is progressive from the commencement to the conclu¬
sion.
It is remarkable that the earliest English tragedy and
comedy are both works of considerable merit; that each
partakes of the distinctive character of its class ; that the
tragedy is without intermixture of comedy, the comedy
without any intermixture of tragedy.
These models were followed by a variety of others, in
which no such distinctions were observed. Numerous
theatres sprung up in different parts of the metropolis,
opened upon speculation by distinct troops of performers.
Their number shows how much they interested public
curiosity; for men never struggle for a share in a losing
profession. They acted under licenses, which appear to
have been granted for the purpose of police alone, not of Drama,
exclusive privilege or monopoly ; since London contained,
in the latter part of the sixteenth century, no fewer than
fourteen distinct companies of players, with very consider¬
able privileges and remunerations. (See Drake s Shak-
speare and his Times, vol. ii. p. 205.)
The public, therefore, in the widest sense of the word,
was at once arbiter and patron of the drama. The com¬
panies of players who traversed the country might indeed
assume the name of some peer or baron, for the sake of
introduction or protection ; but those of the metropolis
do not, at this early period of our dramatic history, ap¬
pear to have rested in any considerable degree upon learned
or aristocratic privilege. Their license was obtained from
the crown, but their success depended upon the voice of
the people ; and the pieces which they brought forward
were, of course, adapted to popular taste. It followed
necessarily that histories and romantic dramas were the
favourites of the age. A general audience in an unlearned
age requires rather amusement than conformity to rules,
and is more displeased with a tiresome uniformity than
shocked with the breach of all the unities. I he players
and dramatists, before the rise of Shakspeare, followed,
of consequence, the taste of the public, and dealt in the
surprising, elevating, and often bombastic incidents of tia-
gedy, as well as in the low humour and grotesque inci¬
dent of the comic scene. Where these singly were found
to lack attraction, they mingled them together, and dashed
their tragic plot with "an under-intrigue of the lowest buf¬
foonery, without any respect to taste or congruity.
The clown was no stranger to the stage ; he interfered,
without ceremony, in the most heart-rending scenes, to
the scandal of the more learned spectators.
Now lest such frightful shows of fortune’s fall,
And bloody tyrant’s rage, should chance appall
The death-struckjmdience, ’midst the silent rout
Comes leaping in^klf-misformed lout.
And laughs and P*s, and frames his mimic face,
And jostles straight into the prince’s place ;
Then doth the theatre echo all aloud *
With gladsome noise of that applauding crowd,
A goodly hotchpotch, where vile russettings *
Are matched with monarchs and with mighty kings.
An ancient stage-trick, illustrative of the mixture of
tragic and comic “action in Shakspeare’s time, was long
preserved in the theatre. Henry IV. holding council be¬
fore the battle of Shrewsbury, was always represented as
seated on a drum ; and when he rose and came forward,
the place was occupied by Falstaff, which seldom failed
to produce a laugh from the galleries. The taste and
judgment of the author himself was very different. Dur-
ing°the whole scene Falstaff gives only once, and under
irresistible temptation, the rein to his petulant wit, and it
is instantly checked by the prince, to whom, by the way,
and not to the king, his words ought to be addressed.
The English stage might be considered as equally with- Shakspeare
out rule and without model when bhakspeaie aiose. Ihe
effect of the genius of an individual upon the taste of a
nation is mighty ; but that genius, in its turn, is formed
according to the opinions prevalent at the period when it
comes into existence. Such was the case with Shakspeare.
With an education more extensive, and a taste refined by
the classical models, it is probable that he also, in admiia-
tion of the ancient drama, might have mistaken the form
for the essence, and subscribed to those lules which had
produced such masterpieces of art. Fortunately foi the
full exertion of a genius as comprehensive and versatile
as intense and powerful, Shakspeare had no access to any
models of which the commanding merit might have con¬
trolled and limited his own exertions. He followed the
158
Drama.
Jonson
D RAMA.
path which a nameless crowd of obscure writers had trod- he seems adequate to expressing them. He laboured in
den before him; but he moved in it with the grace and the mine of the classics, but overloaded himselr with the
majestic step of a being of a superior order, and vindi- ore, which he could not or would not refine. His Coto-
cated for ever the British theatre from a pedantic restric- line and Scjanus are laboured translations from Cicero,
tion to classical rule. Nothing went before Shakspeare Sallust, and Tacitus, which his own age did not endure,
which in any respect was fit to fix and stamp the charac- and which no succeeding generation will probably be
ter of a national drama; and certainly no one will succeed much tempted to revive. With the stern superiority o
him capable of establishing by mere authority a form more learning over ignorance, he asserted himself a better judge
restricted than that which Shakspeare used. of his own productions than the public which condemned
Such is the action of existing circumstances upon genius, him, and haughtily claimed the laurel which the public
and the re-action of genius upon future circumstances, suffrage often withheld; but the world has as yet shown
Shakspeare and Corneille were each the leading spirit of no disposition to reverse the opinion of their predecessoi s.
his age; and the difference between them is well marked In comedy Jonson made some efforts partaking of the
by the editor of the latter. “ Corneille est inegal comme character of the older comedy of the Grecians. In ns
Shakspeare, et plein de genie comme lui; metis le genie de Tale of a Tub he follows the path of Aristophanes, and
Corneille etoit d celui de Shakspeare cequun seigneur est a lets his wit run into low buffoonery, that he might bring
l egard d un homme de peuple ne avec le meme esprit que upon the stage Inigo Jones, his personal enemy. \n Cyn-
lui” This distinction is strictly accurate, and contains a thias Revels and the Staple of News, we find him intro-
compliment to the English author which, assuredly, the ducing the dull personification of abstract passions and
critic did not intend to make. Corneille wrote as a cour- qualities, and turning legitimate comedy into an allegoii-
tier, circumscribed within the imaginary rules and cere- cal mask. What interest can the reader have in such cha-
monies of a court, as a chicken is by a circle of chalk racters as the three Penny boys, and their transactions
drawn round it. Shakspeare, composing for the amuse- with the Lady Pecunia? Some of Jonson s more legiti-
ment of the public alone, had within his province, not mate comedies may be also taxed here with filthiness of
only the inexhaustible field of actual life, but the whole language, of which disgusting attribute his works exhibit
ideal world of fancy and superstition; more favourable to more instances than any English writer of eminence ex-
the display of poetical genius than even existing realities, cepting Swift. Let us, however, be just to a master-spi-
Under the circumstances of Corneille, Shakspeare must rit of his age. The comic force of Jonson was strong,
have been restricted to the same dull, regular, and unva- marked, and peculiar; and he excelled even Shakspeare
ried system. He must have written, not according to the himself in drawing that class of truly English characters,
dictates of his own genius, but in conformity to the man- remarkable for peculiarity of humour ; that is, for some
dale oi'some intendant des menus plaisirs; or of some mi- mode of thought, speech, and behaviour, superinduced
nister of state, who, like Cardinal Richelieu, thought he upon the natural disposition by profession, education, or
could write a tragedy because he could govern a kingdom, fantastical affectation of singularity. In blazoning these
It is not equally clear to what height Corneille might forth with their natural attributes and appropriate lan-
have ascended had he enjoyed the national immunities of guage, Ben Jonson has never been excelled, and his
Shakspeare. Each pitched down a land-mark in his art. works everywhere exhibit a consistent and manly moral,
The circle of Shakspeare was so extended, that it is with resulting naturally from the events of the scene,
advantage liable to many restrictions; that of Corneille It must also be remembered, that although it was Jon-
included a narrow limit, which his successors have deem- son’s fete to be eclipsed by the superior genius, energy,
ed it unlawful to extend. and taste of Shakspeare, yet those advantages which ena-
It is not our intention, within the narrow space to bled him to maintain an honourable though an unsuccess-
which our essay is necessarily limited, to enlarge upon ful struggle, were of high advantage to the drama. Jon-
the character and writings of Shakspeare. We can only son was the first who showed by example the infinite su-
notice his performances as events in the history of the periority of a well-conceived plot, all the parts of which
theatre—of a gigantic character indeed, so far as its dig- bore upon each other, and forwarded an interesting con-
nity, elevation, and importance are considered ; but, in re- elusion over a tissue of detached scenes,.following without
spect of the mere practice of the drama, rather fixing and necessary connection or increase of interest. The plot of
sanctioning, than altering or reforming those rules and the Fox is admirably conceived; and that of the Alchy-
forms which he found already established. This vve know mist, though faulty in the conclusion, is nearly equal to it.
for certain, that those historical plays or chronicles, in In the two comedies of Every Man in his Humour and
which Shakspeare’s muse has thrown a never-fading light Every Man out of his Humour, the plot deserves much
upon the history of his country, did, almost every one of less praise, and is deficient at once in interest and unity
them, exist before him in the rude shape of dry dialogue of action; but in that of the Silent Woman nothing can
and pitiful buffoonery, stitched into scenes by the elder exceed the art with which the circumstance upon which
playwrights of the stage. His romantic dramas exhibit the conclusion turns is, until the very last scene, conceal-
the same contempt of regularity which was manifested by ed from the knowledge of the reader, while he is tempted
Marlow and other writers ; for where there was abuse or to suppose it constantly within his reach. In a word, Jon-
extreme license upon the stage, the example of Sh-ak- son is distinguished by his strength and stature, even in
speare may be often quoted as its sanction, never as tend- those days when there were giants in the land, and affords
ing to reform it. In these particulars the practice of our a model of a close, animated, and characteristic style of
immortal bard was contrasted with that of Ben Jonson, a comedy, abounding in moral satire, and distinguished at
severe and somewhat pedantic scholar; a man whose mind once by force and art, which was afterwards more culti-
was coarse, though capable both of strength and elevation, vated by English dramatists, than the lighter, more wild,
and whose strong perception of comic humour was tine- and more fanciful department in which Shakspeare moved,
tured with vulgarity. beyond the reach of emulation.
Jonson’s tragic strength consists in a sublime, and some- The general opinion of critics has assigned genius as
times harsh, expression of moral sentiment; but displays the characteristic of Shakspeare, and art as the appropri-
little of tumultuous and ardent passion, still less of ten- ate excellence of Jonson; not surely that Jonson was de-
derness or delicacy; although there are passages in which ficient in genius, but that art was the principal character-
DRAMA.
159
Drama, istic of his laborious scenes. We learn from his own con-
fession, and from the panegyrics of his friends, as well as
the taunts of his enemies, that he was a slow composer.
The natural result of laborious care is jealousy of fame;
for that which we do with labour, we value highly when
achieved. Shakspeare, on the other hand, appears to
have composed rapidly and carelessly, and sometimes
even without considering, while writing the earlier acts,
how the catastrophe was to be huddled up, in that which
was to conclude the piece. We may fairly conclude him
to have been indifferent about fame, who would take so
little pains to win it. Much perhaps might have been
achieved by the union of these opposed qualities, and by
blending the art of Jonson with the fiery invention and
fluent expression of his great contemporary. But such
an union of opposite excellencies in the same author was
hardly to be expected; nor perhaps would the result
have proved altogether so favourable as might at first
view be conceived. We should have had more perfect
specimens of the art, but they must have been much
fewer in number; and posterity would certainly have
been deprived of that wild luxuriance of dramatic excel¬
lencies and poetic beauties, which, like wild flowers upon
a common field, lie scattered profusely among the unacted
plays of Shakspeare.
Massinger. Although incalculably superior to his contemporaries,
Shakspeare had successful imitators, and the art of Jonson
was not unrivalled. Massinger appears to have studied
the works of both with the intention of uniting their ex¬
cellencies. He knew the strength of plot; and although
his plays are altogether irregular, yet he well understood
the advantage of a strong and defined interest; and in un¬
ravelling the intricacy of his intrigues, he often displays
the management of a master. Art, therefore, not perhaps
in its technical, but in its most valuable sense, was Mas¬
singer’s as well as Jonson’s ; and, in point of composition,
many passages of his plays are not unworthy of Shakspeare.
Were we to distinguish Massinger’s peculiar excellence,
we should name that first of dramatic attributes, a full
conception of character, a strength in bringing out, and
consistency in adhering to it. He does not, indeed, al¬
ways introduce his personages to the audience in their
own proper character; it dawns forth gradually in the pro¬
gress of the piece, as in the hypocritical Luke, or in the
heroic Marullo. But, upon looking back, we are always
surprised and delighted to trace from the very beginning,
intimations of what the personage is to prove as the play
advances. There is often a harshness of outline, how¬
ever, in the character of this dramatist, which prevents
their approaching to the natural and easy portraits be¬
queathed us by Shakspeare.
Beaumont Beaumont and Fletcher, men of remarkable talent,
andFletch-seemed to have followed Shakspeare’s mode of composi-
er* tion rather than Jonson’s, and thus to have altogether ne¬
glected that art which Jonson taught, and which Massin¬
ger in some sort practised. They may, indeed, be rather
said to have taken for their model the boundless license
of the Spanish stage, from which many of their pieces are
expressly and avowedly derived. The acts of their plays
are so detached from each other, in substance and consis¬
tence, that the plot scarce can be said to hang together at
all, or to have, in any sense of the word, a beginning, pro¬
gress, and conclusion. It seems as if the play began be¬
cause the curtain rose, and ended because it fell, the au¬
thor, in the mean time, exerting his genius for the amuse¬
ment of the spectators, pretty much in the same manner
as in the Scenario of the Italians, by the actors filling up,
with their extempore wit, the scenes chalked out for them.
To compensate for this excess of irregularity, the plays of
Beaumont and Fletcher have still a high poetical value.
If character be sometimes violated, probability discarded, Drama,
and the interest of the plot neglected, the reader is, on
the other hand, often gratified by the most beautiful de¬
scription, the most tender and passionate dialogue, a dis¬
play of brilliant wit and gaiety, or a feast of comic hu¬
mour. These attributes had so much effect on the pub¬
lic, that, during the end of the seventeenth and the be¬
ginning of the eighteenth centuries, many of Beaumont
and Fletcher’s plays had possession of the stage, while
those of Shakspeare were laid upon the shelf.
Shirley, Ford, Webster, Decker, and others, added per-Shirley
formances to the early treasures of the English drama, antl others,
which abound with valuable passages. There never, pro¬
bably, rushed into the lists of literary competition toge¬
ther a band more distinguished for talent. If the early
drama be inartificial and unequal, no nation at least can
show so many detached scenes, and even acts, of distin¬
guished poetical merit. One powerful cause seems to
have produced an effect so marked and distinguished, to
wit, the universal favour of a theatrical public, which daily
and nightly thronged the numerous theatres then open in
the city of London.
In considering this circumstance, it must above all be Cause of
remembered that these numerous audiences crowded, not the abun-
to feast their eyes upon show and scenery, but to see and ^n^ea^c
hear the literary production of the evening. The scenes
which the stage exhibited were probably of the most pal-this period,
try description. Some rude helps to the imagination of
the audience might be used by introducing the gate of a
castle or town ; the monument of the Capulets, by sinking
a trap-door, or by thrusting in a bed. The good-natured
audience readily received these hints, with that conven¬
tional allowance which Sir Philip Sidney had ridiculed, and
which Shakspeare himself has alluded to when he appeals
from the poverty of theatrical representation to the excit¬
ed imagination of his audience.
 Can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France ? Or may we cram
Within this wooden O, the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt ?
O, pardon ! since a crooked figure may
Attest, in little space, a million ;
And let us, ciphers to this great account,
On your imaginary forces work ;
Suppose, within the girdle of these walls,
Are now confined two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder ;
Printing their proud hoofs i’ the receiving earth.
For ’tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there ; jumping o’er times;
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass  
Such were the allowances demanded by Shakspeare and
his contemporaries from the public of their day, in con¬
sideration of the imperfect means and appliances of their
theatrical machinery. Yet the deficiency of scenery and
show, which, when existing in its utmost splendour, divides
the interest of the piece in the mind of the ignorant, and
rarely affords much pleasure to aspectatorof taste, may have
been rather an advantage to the infant drama. The specta¬
tors having nothing to withdraw their attention from the im¬
mediate business of the piece, gave it their full and unin¬
terrupted attention. And here it may not be premature
to inquire into the characteristical difference between the
audiences of the present day, and those earlier theatrical
ages, when the drama boasted not only the names of Shak¬
speare, of Massinger, of Jonson, of Beaumont and Fletcher,
of Shirley, of Ford, and others of subordinate degree ; the
meanest of whom shows occasionally more fire than warms
whole reams of modern plays. This will probably be found
160 DRAMA.
Drama, to rest on the varied and contrasted feelings with which and interests him in the business of each scene, however
the audience of ancient and that of modern days attend the disconnected from the others. His eyes are riveted to
progress of the scene. the stage, his ears drink in the accents of the speakers,
Nothing, indeed, is more certain than that the general and he experiences in his mature age, what we have all felt
cast of theatrical composition must receive its principal in childhood, a sort of doubt whether the beings and
Drama.
bent and colouring from the taste of the audience:
The drama’s laws, the drama’s patrons give ;
For those who live to please, must please to live.
But though this be an undeniable, and in some respects a
melancholy truth, it is not less certain that genius, labour¬
ing in behalf of the public, possesses the power of re-ac-
tion, and of influencing in its turn that taste to which it
is in some respects obliged to conform ; while, on the other
hand, the playwright, who aims only to catch the passing
plaudit and the profit of a season, by addressing himself
exclusively to the ruling predilections of the audience, w - - ,
degrades the public taste still farther by the gross food bounds of critical nicety, and even of common taste and
which he ministers to it, unless it shall be supposed that decorum. But these eccentricities were atoned for by a
thousand beauties, to which, fettered by the laws or the
classic drama, the authors would hardly have aspired, or,
aspiring, would hardly have attained. All of us know and
business of the scene be real or fictitious. In this state
of delightful fascination, Shakspeare and the gigantic dra¬
matic champions of his age found the British public at
large ; and how they availed themselves of the advantages
which so favourable a temper afforded them, their works
will show so long as the language of Britain continues to
be read. It is true that the enthusiastic glow of the pub¬
lic admiration, like the rays of a tropical sun darted upon
a rich soil, called up in profusion weeds as well as flowers;
and that, spoiled in some degree by the indulgent accep¬
tation which attended heir efforts, even our most admired
writers of Elizabeth’s age not unfrequently exceeded the
he may contribute involuntarily to rouse it from its dege¬
neracy, by cramming it even to satiety and loathing. 1 his
action, therefore, and re-action of the taste of the age on t „
dramatic writing, and vice versa, must be both kept in feel how much the exercise of our powers, especially those
view when treating of the difference betwixt the days of which rest on keen feeling and self-confidence, is depen-
Shakspeare and our own. dent upon a favourable reception from those for whom
Perhaps it is the leading distinction betwixt the ancient they are put in action. Every one has observed how a
and modern audiences, that the former came to listen and cold brow can damp the brilliancy of wit and fetter the
to admire ; to fling the reins of their imaginations into the flow of eloquence ; and how both are induced to send foith
hands of the authors and actors, and to be pleased, like the sallies corresponding in strength and fire, upon being re¬
reader to whom Sterne longed to do homage, “ they knew
not why, and cared not wherefore.” The novelty of dra¬
matic entertainments (for there elapsed only about twenty
years betwixt the date of Gammer Gurton s Needle, account-
ceived by the kindred enthusiasm of those whom they
have addressed. And thus, if we owe to the indiscrimi¬
nate admiration with which the drama was at first received,
the irregularities of the authors by whom it was practised,
ed the earliest English play, and the rise of Shakspeare) we also stand indebted to it, in all probability, for many
must have had its natural effect upon the audience. The sun of its beauties, which became of rare occurrence, when,
of Shakspeare arose almost without a single gleam of in- by a natural, and indeed a necessary change, satiated ad-
tervening dawn; and it was no wonder that the audience, miration began to give way to other fefelings.
introduced to this enchanting and seductive art at once, When a child is tired of playing with a new toy, its
under such an effulgence of excellence, should have been next delight is to examine how it is constructed ; and, in
more disposed to wonder than to criticise; to admire, or like manner, so soon as the first burst of public admiration
rather to adore, than to measure the height or ascertain is over with respect to any new mode of composition, the
the course of the luminary which diffused such glory next impulse prompts us to analyse and to criticise what
around him. The great number of theatres in London, was at first the subject of vague and indiscriminate wonder,
and the profusion of varied talent which was dedicated to In the first instance, the toy is generally broken to pieces;
this service, attest the eagerness of the public to enjoy in the other, while the imagination of the authors is sub-
the entertainments of the scene. The ruder amusements jected to the rigid laws of criticism, the public generally
of the age lost their attractions ; and the royal bear-ward lose in genius what they may gain in point of taste. The
of Queen Elizabeth lodged a formal complaint at the feet author who must calculate upon severe criticism turns his
of her majesty, that the play-houses had seduced the au- thoughts more to avoid faults than to attain excellence,
dience from his periodical bear-baitings. This fact is „ as he who is afraid to stumble must avoid rapid motion,
worth a thousand conjectures ; and we can hardly doubt The same process takes place in all the fine arts ; their first
that the converts, transported by their improving taste
from the bear-garden to the theatre, must, generally speak¬
ing, have felt their rude minds subdued and led captive
by the superior intelligence, which not only placed on the
stage at pleasure all ranks, all ages, all tempers, all pas¬
sions of mere humanity, but extended its powers beyond
the bounds of time and space, and seemed to render visi¬
ble to mortal eyes the secrets of the invisible world. We
may, perhaps, form the best guess of the feelings of Shak-
speare’s contemporary audience, by recollecting the emo¬
tions of any rural friend, of rough but sound sense and
ardent feelings, whom we have had the good fortune to
conduct to a theatre for the first time in his life. It may
be well imagined that such a spectator thinks little of the
three dramatic unities, of which Aristotle says so little,
and his commentators and followers talk so much ; and that
the poet and the performers have that enviable influence
over his imagination, which transports him from place to
place at pleasure, crowds years into the course of hours,
productions are distinguished by boldness and irregulari¬
ty ; those which succeed, by a better and more correct
taste, but also by inferior and less original genius.
The original school founded by Shakspeare and Ben
Jonson, continued by Massinger, Beaumont and Fletcher,
Shirley, Ford, and others, whose compositions are distin¬
guished by irregularity as well as genius, was closed by
the breaking out of the great civil war in 1642. The stage
had been the constant object of reprobation and abhor¬
rence on the part of the puritans, and its professors had
no favour to expect at their hands if victorious. We read,
therefore, with interest, but without surprise, that almost
all the actors took up arms in behalf of their old master
King Charles, in whose service most of them perished.
Robinson, a principal actor at the Blackfriars, was killed
by Harrison in cold blood, and under the application of a
text of scripture,—“ Cursed is he that doeth the work of
the Lord negligently.” A few survivors endeavoured oc¬
casionally to practise their art in secrecy and obscurity,
Second pe¬
riod of the
English
drama.
Introduc¬
tion of the
neroic
plays.
DRAMA. 161
but were so frequently discovered, plundered and strip- vagant. In point of system it was stated, that a heroic Drama,
ped by the soldiers, that “ Enter the red-coat. Exit hat and play should be an imitation of a heroic poem. The laws
cloak," was too frequent a stage direction. Sir William of such compositions did not, it was said, dispense with
Davenant endeavoured to evade the severe zealots of the those of the elder drama, but exalted them, and obliged
time, by representing a sort of opera, said to have been the poet to draw all things as far above the ordinary pro-
the first drama in which moveable scenery was introduced portion of the stage, as the stage itself is beyond the com-
upon the stage. Even the cavaliers of the more grave mon words and actions of human life. The effects which
sort disapproved of the revival of these festive entertain- a heroic play, constructed upon such an overstrained mo¬
ments during the unstable and melancholy period of the del, produced, is well described by Mrs Evelyn, wife of
interregnum. “ I went,” says the excellent Evelyn, in the author of that name already quoted, in a letter to Mr
his Diary, 5th May 1658, “ to see a new opera after the Bohun, written in 1671. “ Since my last to you I have
Italian way; in recitation, music, and scenes, much in- seen the Siege of Grenada, a play so full of ideas, that the
ferior to the Italian composure and magnificence ; but it most refined romance I ever read is not to compare with it.
was prodigious that in such a time of public consternation, Love is made so pure, and valour so nice, that one would
such a variety should be kept up or permitted, and be- imagine it designed for an Utopia rather than our stage,
ing engaged with company, could not decently resist the I do not quarrel with the poet, but admire one born in the
going to see it, though my heart smote me for it.” Da- decline of morality should be able to feign such exact vir-
venant’s theatrical enterprise, abhorred by the fanaticism tue; and as poetic fiction has been instructive in former
of the one party, and ill adapted to the dejected circum- ages, I wish this the same event in ours. As to the strict
stances of the other, was not probably very successful. law of comedy, I dare not pretend to judge. Some think
II. With royalty the stage revived in England. But the division of the story not so well as if it could all have
the theatres in the capital were limited to two, a restric- been comprehended in the day of action. Truth of history,
tion which has never since been extended. This was exactness of time, possibilities of adventures, are niceties
probably by the advice of Clarendon, who endeavoured, which the ancient critics might require; but those who
though vainly, to stem at all points the flood of idle gaiety have outdone them in fine notions may be allowed the
and dissipation which broke in after the Restoration. The liberty to express them their own way, and the present
example of France might reconcile Charles to this exer- world is so enlightened that the old dramatique must bear
tion of royal authority. With this restoration of the drama, no sway. This account perhaps is not enough to do Mr
as well as of the crown, commences the second part of Driden right, yet is as much as you can expect from the
English dramatic history. leisure of one who has the care of a nursery.” (See
Charles II. had been accustomed to enjoy the foreign Evelyn’s Works.') This ingenious lady felt what, over¬
stage during his exile, and had taste enough to relish its awed by the fashion of the moment, she has intimated
beauties. It is probable, however, that his judgment was rather than expressed; namely, that the heroic drama,
formed upon the French model, for few of the historical or notwithstanding the fine poetry of which it may be made
romantic dramas were revived at the restoration. So early the vehicle, was overstrained, fantastical, and unnatural,
as 26th of November 1662, the Diary of Evelyn contains In comedy, also, there was evinced, subsequent to the
this entry : “ I saw Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, played ; Restoration, a kindred desire of shining in dialogue rather
but now the old plays began to disgust this refined age, than attempting the humorous delineation of character of
since his majesty has been so long abroad.” Dryden, which Shakspeare, Jonson, and the earlier schools, had
Howard, and others, who obtained possession of the stage, set the example. The comic author no longer wrote to
introduced what was for some time called Heroic Plays, move the hearty laugh of a popular assembly, but to please
written in couplets, and turning upon the passions of love a fashionable circle, “ the men of wit and pleasure about
and honour. In the dialogue, these pieces resembled that town,” with whom wit and raillery is always more pre-
of the French stage, where the actors declaim alternately vailing than humour. As in tragedy, therefore, the au-
in the best language and in the finest thoughts which thors exhausted trope and figure, and reduced to logic the
the poet can supply, but without much trace of natural language of heroic passion; so in comedy, a succession of
passion or propriety of character. But though French in smart jests, which neither serve to advance the action of
dialogue and sentiment, the heroic plays were English in the piece, nor display the character of the speaker, was
noise and bustle, and the lack of truth and nature was bandied to and fro upon the stage.
supplied by trumpets and tempests, victories and proces- Satire is the appropriate corrective of extravagance in Heroic
sions. An entertainment of a character so forced and composition; and the of the Duke of Bucking-PlaJs su-
unnatural was obviously of foreign growth, and flowed ham, though it can scarcely be termed a work of uncom-{,ers1ede(1
from the court. Dryden himself has assured us “ that mon power, had yet the effect of holding up to public ri-j^ crama8
the favour which heroic plays had acquired upon the stage dicule the marked and obvious absurdities of the revived natural^
was entirely owing to the countenance which they had re- drama in both its branches. After the appearance of this structure,
ceived at court; and that the most eminent persons for satire, a taste too extravagant for long endurance was
wit and humour in the royal circle had so far honoured banished from the theatre ; both tragedy and comedy
them, that they judged no way so fit as verse to entertain retraced their steps, and approached more nearly to the
a noble audience, or express a noble passion.” In these field of human action, passion, and suffering; and, down
pieces the unities were not observed; but in place of the to the revolution, a more natural style of drama occupied
classical restrictions, there were introduced certain roman- the stage. It was supported by men of the highest ge-
tic whimsical limitations of the dramatic art, which, had nius, who, but for one great leading error, might perhaps
they been adopted, must soon have destroyed all its pow- have succeeded in giving to the art its truest and most
ers of pleasing. The characters were avowedly formed energetic character. The talents of Otway, in his scenes
upon the model of the French romance, where honour was of passionate affection, rival at least, and sometimes excel,
a sort of insane gasconading extravagance, and who seem those of Shakspeare. More tears have been shed, proba¬
te have made a vow never to speak or think of any thing bly, for the sorrows of Belvidera and Monimia than for
but love, and that in language sometimes ingeniously me- those of Juliet and Desdemona. The introduction of
taphysical, sometimes puerile to silliness, sometimes mad actresses upon the stage was scarcely known before the
even to raving, but always absurd, unnatural, and extra- Restoration, and it furnished the poets of the latter period
vol. vm. v 1
162
Drama.
Gross im¬
morality
of the
drama.
D R A M A.
with appropriate representatives for their female charae- at court, at which I was present; though very seldom now
ters. This more happy degree of personification, as it going to the public theatres, for many reasons, as they
Lu-eatly increased the perfection of the scene, must have are now abused to an atheistical liberty, bom and inde-
animated in proportion the genius of the author. A mark- cent women now, and never till now, are permitted to ap¬
ed improvement, therefore, may be traced in love scenes, pear and act, who, inflaming several young noblemen and
and, indeed, in all those wherein female characters are gallants, became their misses, and some their wives : wit-
introduced; that which was to be spoken by a fitting re- ness the Earl of Oxford, Jir R. Howard, r. Rupert, tie
presentative was of course written with more care, as it was Earl of Dorset, and another greater person than any o
acted with greater effect. This was an advantage, and a them, who fell into their snares, to the reproach o t leir
great one, possessed by the theatre succeeding the Resto- noble families, and ruin of both body and soul. e e se-
ration. Great dramatic force and vigour marked the dra- where repeatedly expresses his gnef and disgust at t ie
matic compositions of this age. It w'as not, indeed, equal pollution and degeneracy or the stage. (Eve yn s °r iS'
to that of Shakspeare, either in point of the talent called vol. i. p. 392.) In a letter to Lord Cornbury (son o t ie
forth, or the quantity of original poetry given to the pub- great Clarendon), he thus expresses himself: In tie
lie; but Otway, and even Lee, notwithstanding his bom- town of London there are more wretched and indecent
bastic rant, possessed considerable knowledge of dramatic plays permitted than in all the woild besides; an^ a s
art and stage-effect. Several plays of this period have shortly after, “ If my Lord Chancellor would but be in-
kept possession of the stage; less perhaps on account of strumental in reforming this one exorbitancy, it would
intrinsic merits, than because some of the broad errors of gain both the king and his lordship multitudes of b ess-
the earlier age had been removed, and a little more art ings. You know, my lord, that I (who have wiitten plays,
had been introduced in th^ combination of the scenes, and am a scurvy poet too sometimes) am far from purita-
and disentanglement of the plot. The voice of criticism nisme ; but 1 would have no reproach left our adversaiies,
was frequently heard; the dramatic rules of the ancients in a theme which may so conveniently be reformed. Plays
were known and quoted; and though not recognized in are now with us become a licentious exercise, and a vice,
their full extent, had nevertheless some influence in re- and neede severe censors, that should look as well to their
gulating the action of the drama. morality as to their lines and numbers. And, at the ha-
In one heinous article, however, the poets of this age zard of multiplying quotations, we cannot suppress the
sinned at once against virtue, good taste, and decorum; following:—1st March 1671. “ I walked with him (the
and endangered, by the most profligate and shameless in- king) through St James s Park to the gaiden, where I
decency, the cause of morality, which has been often con- both heard and saw a very familiar discourse betwixt
sidered as nearly allied with that of the legitimate drama. (*. e. the king) and Mrs Nelly (Gwyn), as they called an
In the first period of the British stage, the actors were impudent comedian, she looking out of her terrace at the
men of decent character, and often acquired considerable top of the wall, and [the king] standing in the green
independence. The women’s parts were acted by boys, walk under it. I was heartily sorry at this scene."
Hence, although there were too many instances of low The foul stain, so justly censured by a judge so compe-
and licentious dialogue, there were few of that abominable tent and so moderate as Evelyn, was like that of the le-
species which addresses itself, not to the fancy, but to prosy in the Levitical law, which sunk into and pervaded
the passions, and is seductive, instead of being ludicrous, the very walls of the mansion ; it became the leading cha-
Had Charles II. borrowed from the French monarchs the racteristic of the English theatre, of its authors, and of its
severe etiquette of their court, when he introduced into players. It was, however, especially in comedy that this
England something resembling the style of their plays, he vice was most manifest; and, to say truth, were not the
would have asserted what was due to his own dignity, and eyes of antiquaries, like the ears of confessors, free from
the cause of sound morals and good manners, by prohibit- being sullied by the impurities committed to them, the
ing this vulgar and degrading license, which in itself was comedies of this period, as well as the comic scenes intro-
insulting to the presence of a king. It was, however, duced to relieve the tragedies, are fitter for a brothel
this prince’s lot, in the regulation of his amusements, as than for the library of a man of letters,
well as in his state government, to neglect self-respecta- It is a pity that we are under the necessity of drawing
bility. In his exile he had been “ merry, scandalous, the character of the drama at this age from a feature so
and poor;” had been habituated to share familiarly coarse coarse and disgusting. Unquestionably, as the art in other
jests and loose pleasures with his dissolute companions; respects made progress, it might, but for this circum-
and unfortunately he saw no reason for disusing the li- stance, have reached an uncommon pitch of perfection,
cense to which he had accustomed himself, when it was The comedies of Congreve contain probably more wit than
equally destructive to his own character and to decorum, was ever before embodied upon the stage; each word was
What had been merely coarse was, under his influence, a jest, and yet so characteristic, that the repartee of the
rendered vicious and systematic impurity. Scenes, both servant is distinguished from that of the master; the jest
passionate and humorous, were written in such a style of the coxcomb from that of the humorist or fine gentle-
as if the authors had studied whether the grave seduc- man of the piece. Llad not Sheridan lived in our own
tion of the heroic, or the broad infamy of the comic scenes, time, we could not have conceived the possibility of rival-
should contain the grossest insult to public decency. The ling the comedies of Congreve. This distinguished au-
female performers were of a character proper to utter thor understood the laws of composition, and combined
whatever ribaldry the poet chose to put into their mouths ; his intrigue with an art unusual on the British stage. Nor
and as they practised what they taught, the king himself, was he without his rivals, even where his eminence was
and the leading courtiers, formed connections which gave most acknowledged. Vanburgh and Farquhar, inferior to
the actress a right to be saucy in their presence, and to Congreve in real wit, and falling into the next period,
reckon upon their countenance when practising in public were perhaps his equals in the composition of acting plays,
the effrontery which marked their intercourse in private Like other powerful stimulants, the use of wit has its
life. How much this shocked the real friends of Charles, is bounds, which Congreve is supposed sometimes to have
shown by its effects upon Evelyn, whose invaluable Diary exceeded. His dialogue keeps the attention too much
we have already quoted : “ This night was acted my Lord upon the stretch, and, however delightful in the closet,
Brqghill’s tragedy called Mustapha, before their majesties fatigues the mind during the action. When you are per-
DRAM A.
163
Drama, petually conscious that you lose something by the slight-
est interruption of your attention, whether by accident or
absence of mind, it is a state of excitement too vivid and
too constant to be altogether pleasant; and we feel it
possible that we might sometimes wish to exchange a
companion of such brilliant powers, for one who would af¬
ford us more repose and relaxation.
The light, lively, but somewhat more meagre dialogue
of the latter dramatists of the period, and of that which
succeeded, was found sufficient to interest, yet was not
so powerful as to fatigue the audience. Yanburgh and
Farquhar seemed to have written more from the portraits
of ordinary life ; Congreve from the force of his own con¬
ception. The former, therefore, drew the characters of
men and women as they found them; selected, united,
and heightened for the purpose of effect, but without
being enriched with any brilliancy foreign to their nature.
But all the personages of Congreve have a glimpse of his
own fire, and of his own acuteness. He could not entire¬
ly lay aside his quick powers of perception and reply, even
when he painted a clown or a coxcomb; and all that can
be objected, saving in a moral sense, to this great author,
is his having been too prodigal of his wit; a faculty used
by most of his successors with rigid economy.
That personification of fantasy or whim called charac¬
ters of humour, which Ben Jonson introduced, was re¬
vived during this period. Shadwell, now an obscure name,
endeavoured to found himself a reputation, by affecting to
maintain the old school, and espousing the cause of Ben
Jonson against Dryden and other innovators. But al¬
though there was considerable force of humour in some
of his forgotten plays, it was Wycherly upon whom fell
the burthen of upholding the standard of the Jonsonian
school. The Plain Dealer is indeed imitated from Mo-
liere; but the principal character has more the force of a
real portrait, and is better contrasted with the perverse,
bustling, masculine, petty-fogging, and litigious character
of Widow Blackacker, than Alceste is with any of the
characters in the Misanthrope. The other plays of this
author are marked by the same strong, masculine, and
forcible painting, which approaches more to the satire of
Jonson, than to the ease of Vanburgh, the gaiety of Far¬
quhar, or the wit of Congreve. Joining, however, the
various merits of these authors, as belonging to this pe¬
riod, they form a galaxy of comic talent scarce to be
matched in any other age or country; and which is only
obscured by those foul and impure mists which their pens,
like the raven wings of Sycorax, had brushed from fern
and bog.
Morals repeatedly insulted long demanded an avenger;
and he arose in the person of Jeremy Collier. It is no
disgrace to the memory of this virtuous and well-meaning
man, that, to use the lawyer’s phrase, he pleaded his cause
too high ; summoned unnecessarily to his aid the artillery
with which the Christian fathers had fulminated against
the heathen drama ; and pushing his arguments to extre¬
mity, directed it as well against the use as against the abuse
of the stage. Those who attempted to reply to him
availed themselves, indeed, of the weak parts of his argu¬
ments ; but, upon the main points of impeachment, the
poets stood self-convicted. Dryden made a manly and
liberal submission, though not without some reflections
upon the rudeness of his antagonist’s attacks. “ I shall
say the less of Mr Collier, because in many things he has
taxed me justly; and I have pleaded guilty to all thoughts
and expressions of mine which can be truly accused of
obscenity, profaneness, or immorality, and retract them.
If he be my enemy, let him triumph; if he be my friend,
as I have given him no occasion to be otherwise, he will
be glad of my repentance. It becomes me not to draw
my pen in the defence of a bad cause, when I have so Drama,
often drawn it for a good one. Yet it were not difficult to
prove, that in many places he has perverted my meaning
by his glosses, and interpreted my words into blasphemy
and bawdry, of which they were not guilty; besides, that
he is too much given to horse-play in his raillery, and
comes from battle like a dictator from the plough. I will
not say, ‘ the zeal of God’s house has eaten him up;’
but I am sure it has devoured some part of his good man¬
ners and civility.” Congreve, less prudent, made an an¬
gry and petulant defence, yet tacitly admitted the charge
brought against him, by retrenching in the future editions
of his plays, passages of grossness and profaneness, which
the restless antiquary still detects in the early copies.
And, on the whole, Collier’s satire was attended with such
salutary effects, that men started at the mass of impu¬
dence and filth which had been gradually accumulated
in the theatre during the last reigns; and if the Augean
stable was not sufficiently cleansed, the stream of public
opinion was fairly directed against its conglomerated im¬
purities. Since that period, indecency, that easy substi¬
tute for wit and pleasantry, has been gradually banished
from the drama, where the conversation is now (accord¬
ing to Sheridan) at least always moral, if not entertaining.
During the second period of the British drama, great
improvement was made in point of art. The principles of
dramatic composition were more completely understood,
and the poets themselves had written so much upon the
subject, that, as Dryden somewhere complains, they had
taught their audience the art of criticising their perform¬
ances. They did not, however, so far surrender the li¬
berties and immunities of their predecessors, as to receive
laws from the French critics. The rules of the unities
were no further adopted by Otway, Congreve, and the
writers of the time, than their immediate purpose admit¬
ted. It was allowed on all hands that unnecessary and
gross irregularities were to be avoided, but no precise
rule was adopted. Poets argued upon the subject accord¬
ing to caprice, and acted according to convenience. Gross
and palpable extensions of time, and frequent changes of
place, were avoided; and, unless in tragi-comedies, au¬
thors studied to combine the intrigue of their play into one
distinct and progressive action. The genius by which this
art was supported was neither so general nor so profuse
as that which decorated the preceding period. It was
enough, however, to support the honour of the drama;
and if the second period has produced fewer master¬
pieces of talent, it has exhibited more plays capable of
being acted.
III. In the third period of dramatic history, the critics Third pe-
began to obtain an authority for which they had long riod o!'the
struggled, and which might have proved fatal to the liber-
ties of the stage. It is the great danger of criticism, when<lra!,ia-
laying down abstract rules without reference to any ex¬
ample, that these regulations can only apply to the form,
and never to the essence, of the drama. They may as¬
sume that the plot must be formed on a certain model,
but they cannot teach the spirit which is to animate its
progress. They cannot show how a passion should be
painted, but they can tell to a moment when the curtain
should be dropped. The misfortune is, that, while treat¬
ing of these subordinate considerations, critics exalt them
to an undue importance in their own minds and that of
their scholars. What they carve out for their pupils is a
mere dissection of a lifeless form ; the genius which ani¬
mated it escapes, as the principle of life glided from the
scalpel of those anatomists who sought to detect it in the
earlier days of that art. Rymer had, as early as 1688,
discovered that our poetry of the last age was as rude as
its architecture. “ One cause thereof,” he continues,
K54 DRAMA.
Drama. « might be, that Aristotle’s Treatise of Poetry has, been so success was contagious. South erne and Rowe may j36
little studied amongst us; it was, perhaps, commented considered as belonging to the same school; although the
upon b}' all the great men in Italy, before we well knew former admired Shakspeare, and the latter formed him-
(on this side of the Alps) that there was such a book in self, in some degree, on the model of Otway, iransla-
being.” Accordingly, Rymer endeavours to establish what tions of French tragedies became every day more re-
he calls the Rule of Reason over Fancy, in the contrivance quent; and their diction and style of dialogue was imitat-
and economy of a play. “ Those who object to this sub- ed upon the British stage. The language of tiagedy no
jugation,” he observes, “ are mere fanatics in poetry, and longer expressed human passion, or intimated w lat t ie
will never be saved by their good works.” The species of persons of the drama actually felt, but described anc e-
reason, however, to which Rymer appeals, resembles, in bated alternately what they ought to feel; and soun ing
its occult nature, that which lies hidden in the depths of sentences, and long similes, exhibiting an active ancy
municipal law, and which is better known to the common and a cold imagination, supplied at once the place of force
class of mankind under the name of Authority. Because and of pathos.
Aristotle assigns Pity and Terror as the objects of tragedy, I he line between comedy and tragedy was now sti ict y
Rymer resumes the proposition, that no other source of drawn. The latter was no longer permitted to show that
passion can be legitimate. To this he adds some arbitrary strain of heroic humour which exhibits itself in the
rules, of which it would be difficult to discover the ratio- racter of balconbridge, Plotspur, and Henry V., as well as
nale. It was the opinion, we are told, of the ancients, Mercutio. All was to be cold and solemn, and in the same
“ that comedy (whose province was humour and ridicu- key 01 dull, grave state.. Neithei was comedy relieved
lous matter only) was to represent worse than the truth, by the touches of pathetic tenderness, and even sublimity,
history to describe the truth, but tragedy was to invent which are to be found in the romantic plays of the earlier
things better than the truth. Like good painters, they period. lo compensate the audience for the want of this
must design their images like the life, but yet better and beautiful variety of passion and feeling, Southeine, as Ot-
more beautiful than the life. The malefactor of tragedy way had done before him, usually introduces a few scenes
must be a better sort of malefactor than those that live in of an under-plot, containing the most wretched and inde-
the present age : For an obdurate, impudent, and impeni- cent farce, which was so slightly and awkwardly dove-
tent malefactor, can neither move compassion nor terror, tailed into the original tragedy, that they have since been
nor be of any imaginable use in tragedy.” It would be cancelled as impertinent intrusions, without being so much
difficult to account for these definitions upon any logical as missed. Young, Thomson, and others who followed the
principle, and impossible for an admirer of the drama to same wordy and declamatory system of composition, con-
assent to a rule which would exclude from the stage lago tributed rather to sink than to exalt the character of the
and Richard III. It is equally difficult to account for the stage. The two first were both men of excellent genius,
rationale of the following dogmas : “ If I mistake not, in as their other writings have sufficiently testified; but, as
poetry no woman is to kill a man, except her quality gives dramatists, they wrought upon a false model, and their
her the advantage above him ; nor is a servant to kill his productions are of little value.
master ; nor a private man, much less a subject, to kill a It is a remarkable instance of the decay of dramatic art
king, nor on the contrary. Poetical decency will not suf- at this period, that several of the principal authors of the
fer death to be dealt to each other by such persons, whom time felt themselves at liberty to write imitations of old
the laws of duel allow not to enter the lists together.” plays belonging to the original school, by way of adapting
(Rymer s View of the Tragedies of the Last Age.) Though them to the taste of their own age. The Fair Penitent
for these and similar critical conceits it would be difficult of Rowe is well known as a poor imitation of Massinger’s
to find any just principle, nevertheless, Rymer, Dennis, Fatal Dowry. It does not greatly excel the original in
and other critics, who, mixing observations founded on the management and conduct of the piece; and, in every
sound judgment and taste, with others which rested mere- thing else, falls as far beneath it as the baldest translation
ly upon dauntless assertion, or upon the opinions of Aris- can sink below the most spirited original,
totle, began thereby to extend their authority, and pro- It would appear that the players of this period had
duce a more than salutary influence upon the drama. It adopted a mode of acting correspondent to the poetical
is true, that both of the aristarchs whom we have named taste of the' time. Declamation seems to have been more
were so ill advised as themselves to attempt to write plays, in fashion in the school of Booth and Betterton than that
and thereby most effectually proved that it was possible vivacity of action that exhibits at once with word, eye,
for a drama to be extremely regular, and at the same and gesture, the immediate passion which it is the actor’s
Unfavour- time intolerably dull. Gradually, however, their precepts, part to express. “ I cannot help,” says Cibber, “ in re-
able influ- in despite of their example, gained influence over the gard to truth, remembering the rude and riotous havock
ence of dra-stage. They laid down rules in which the audience were we made of all the late dramatic honours of the theatre:
matic criti-taught to regard the trade of a connoisseur as easy and all became at once the spoil of ignorance and self-con-
cism* soon learned; and the same quantity of technical jargon ceit. Shakespeare was defaced, and tortured in every
which, in the present day, constitutes a judge of painting, signal character; Hamlet and Othello lost, in one hour, all
was, in the beginning of the eighteenth century, suffi- their good sense, their dignity, and fame; Brutus and
cient to elevate a templar into a dramatic critic. The Cassius became noisy blusterers, with bold unmeaning
court of criticism, though self-constituted, was sufficiently eyes, mistaken sentiments, and turgid elocution.” (Cib-
formidable, since they possessed the power of executing ber’s Memoirs.)
their own decrees. Many authors made their submission ; A singular attempt to deviate from the prevailing tasteLilloen-
amongst others, Congreve humbled himself in the iT/oMT-w- in tragedy was made by Lillo, with the highly laudable deavours
ing Bride; and Addison, with anxious and constitutional purpose of enlarging the sphere of dramatic utility. HetoenlarSe
timidity, sacrificed to the unities in his celebrated tragedy conceived that plays founded upon incidents of private ^ sphe^
of Cato. Being in form and essence rather a French than life might carry more immediate conviction to the mindot ra^ ^
an English play, it is one of the few English tragedies of the hearers, and be the means of stifling more vices in
which foreigners have admired. It was translated into the bud, than those founded on the more remote and
Italian, and admired as a perfect model by Riccoboni, al- grander events of history. Accordingly, he formed his
though his taste condemns the silly love intrigue. Its plots from domestic crimes, and his characters never rose
DRAMA.
165
Drama, above the ranks of middle life. Lillo had many requisites
for a tragedian; he understood, either from innate taste
or critical study, the advantage to be derived from a con¬
sistent fable; and, in the tragedy of the Fatal Curiosity,
he has left the model of a plot, in which, without the help
of any exterior circumstances, a train of events operating
upon the characters of the dramatic persons produce a
conclusion at once the most dramatic and the most hor¬
rible that the imagination can conceive. Neither does it
appear that, as a poet, Lillo was at all inferior to others
of his age. He possessed a beautiful fancy ; and much of
his dialogue is as forcibly expressed as it is well conceiv¬
ed. On some occasions, however, he sinks below his sub¬
ject ; and on others, he appears to be dragged down to the
nether sphere in which it is laid, and to become cold and
creeping, as if depressed with the consciousness that he
was writing upon a mean subject. George Barnwell ex
rises above an idle and profligate apprentice ; Milwood’s
attractions are not beyond those of a very vulgar woman
of the town; Thoroughgood, as his name expresses, is
very worthy and very tiresome ; and there is, positively,
nothing to redeem the piece, excepting the interest aris¬
ing from a tale of horror, and the supposed usefulness of
the moral. The Fatal Curiosity is a play of a very dif¬
ferent cast, and such as might have shaken the Grecian
stage even during the reign of terror. But the powers of
the poet prove unequal to the concluding horrors of his
scene. Old Wilmot’s character, as the needy man who
had known better days, exhibits a mind naturally good,
but prepared for acting evil, even by the evil which he
has himself suffered, and opens in a manner which excites
the highest interest and expectation. But Lillo was un¬
able to sustain the character to the close. After disco¬
vering himself to be the murderer of his son, the old man
falls into the common cant of the theatre ; he talks about
computing sands, increasing the noise of thunder, adding
water to the sea, and fire to iEtna, by way of describing
the excess of his horror and remorse; and becomes as
dully desperate, or as desperately dull, as any other de¬
spairing hero in the last scene of a fifth act.
During this third period of the drama, comedy under¬
went several changes. The department called genteel
comedy, where the persons as well as the foibles ridiculed
were derived chiefly from high life, assumed a separate
and distinct existence from that which ransacked human
nature at large for its subject. Like the tragedy of the
period, this particular species of comedy was borrowed
from the French. It was pleasing to the higher classes,
because it lay within their own immediate circle, and
turned upon the topics of gallantry, persiflage, affectation,
and raillery. It was agreeable to the general audience,
who imagined they were thereby admitted into the pre¬
sence of their betters, and enjoyed their amusement at
their expense. The Careless Husband of Cibber is, per¬
haps, the best English play on this model. The general
fault to which they are all liable is their tendency to
lower the tone of moral feeling; and to familiarize men, in
the middling, with the cold, heartless, and selfish system
of profligate gallantry practised among the higher ranks.
We are inclined to believe that, in a moral point of view,
genteel comedy, as it has been usually written, is more
■prejudicial to public morals, than plays the tendency of
which seems at first more grossly vicious. It is not so
probable that the Beggar s Opera has sent any one from
the two-shilling gallery to the highway, as that a youth
entering upon the world, and hesitating between good and
evil, may be determined to the worse course by the gay
and seductive example of Lovemore or Sir Charles Easy.
At any rate, the tenderness with which vices are shaded
off into foibles familiarizes them to the mind of the hearer,
Genteel
comedv.
and gives a false colouring to those crimes which should Drama,
be placed before the mind in their native deformity. But
the heaviness of this class of plays, and the difficulty of
finding adequate representatives for those characters which
are really well drawn, are powerful antidotes to the evil
which we complain of. That which is dully written, and
awkwardly performed, will not find many imitators.
The genteel comedy being a plant of foreign growth, Comedy of
never obtained exclusive possession of the English stage, intnSue*
any more than court dresses have been adopted in our
private societies. The comedy of intrigue, borrowed,
perhaps, originally from the Spaniards, continued to be
written and acted with success. Many of Cibber’s pieces,
of Centlivre’s, and others, still retain their place on the
stage. This is a species of comedy easily written, and
seen with pleasure, though consisting chiefly of bustle and
complicated incident; and requiring much co-operation of
the dress-maker, scene-painter, and carpenter. After all
the bustle, however, of surprise, and disguise, and squab¬
ble ; after every trick is exhausted, and every stratagem
played oft’, the writer too often finds himself in a labyrinth
from which a natural mode of extrication seems altoge¬
ther impossible. Hence the intrigue is huddled up at
random ; and the persons of the drama seem, as if by com¬
mon consent, to abandon their dramatic character before
throwing off their stage-dresses. The miser becomes ge¬
nerous ; the peevish cynic good humoured; the libertine
virtuous; the coquette is reformed; the debauchee is re¬
claimed ; all vices natural and habitual are abandoned by
those most habitually addicted to them: a marvellous re¬
formation, which is brought about entirely from the con¬
sideration that the play must now be concluded. It was
when pressed by this difficulty that Fielding is said to
have damned all fifth acts.
The eighteenth century, besides genteel comedy, and Engbsh
comedy of intrigue, gave rise to a new species of dramatic
amusement. The Italian opera had been introduced into
this country at a great expense, and to the prejudice, as it
was supposed, of the legitimate drama. Gay, in aiming at
nothing beyond a parody of this fashionable entertainment,
and making it the vehicle of some political satire against
Sir Robert Walpole’s administration, unwittingly laid the
foundation of the English opera. The popularity of his
piece was unequalled; partly owing to its peculiar hu¬
mour, partly to its novelty, partly to the success of the
popular airs, which every body heard with delight, and
partly to political motives. The moral tendency of the
Beggars Opera has been much questioned ; although, in
all probability, the number of highwaymen is not more in¬
creased by the example of Macheath, than that of mur¬
derers is diminished by the catastrophe of George Barn¬
well. Many years ago, however, an unhappy person, ra¬
ther from a perverted and most misplaced ambition, than
from the usual motives of want and desperation, chose,
though in easy circumstances, and most respectably con¬
nected, to place himself at the head of a band of thieves
and housebreakers, whose depredations he directed and
shared. On the night on which they committed the
crime for which he suffered, and when they were equip¬
ped for the expedition, he sung to his accomplices the
chorus of the Beggar s Opera,, “ Let us take the road.”
But his confederates, professional thieves, and who pur¬
sued, from habit and education, the desperate practices
which Mr B adopted from an adventurous spirit of
profligate quixotry, knew nothing at all of Gay or the
Beggars Opera; and, in their several confessions and
testimonies, only remembered something of a flash-song,
about “ turning lead to gold.” This curious circumstance,
while it tends to show that the drama may affect the weak
part of a mind, predisposed to evil by a diseased imagina-
166
D R A M A.
Drama.
■Fourth
period of
the Eng¬
lish drama.
Revival of
the plays
of Shak-
sneare.
T ragedy
of this
period
tion, proves the general truth of what Johnson asserts in
the Life of Gay] that “ highwaymen and housebreakers
seldom mingle in any elegant diversions ; nor is it possible
for any one to imagine that he may rob with safety be¬
cause he sees Macheath reprieved on the stage.”
This play is now chiefly remarkable as having given
rise to the English opera. In this pleasing entertainment,
it is understood that the plot may be light and the cha¬
racters superficial, provided that the music be good and
adapted to the situation, the scenes lively and possessed
of comic force. Notwithstanding the subordinate nature
of this species of composition, it approaches, perhaps, more
closely to the ancient Grecian drama than any thing
which retains possession of our stage. The subjects, in¬
deed, are as totally different as the sublime from the light
and the trivial. But, in the mixture of poetry and music,
and in the frequent introduction of singing characters un¬
connected with the business of the piece, and therefore
somewhat allied to the chorus, the English opera has
some general points of resemblance with the Grecian tra¬
gedy. This species of dramatic writing was successfully
practised by Bickerstaff, and has been honoured by the
labours of Sheridan.
IV. With the fourth era of our dramatic history com¬
menced a return to a better taste, introduced by the cele¬
brated David Garrick. The imitations of French tragedy,
and the tiresome uniformity of genteel comedy, were ill
adapted to the display of his inimitable talent. And thus,
if the last generation reaped many hours of high enjoy¬
ment from the performances of this great actor, the pre¬
sent is indebted to him for having led back the public
taste to the dramas of Shakspeare.
The plays of this great author had been altogether for¬
gotten, or so much marred and disguised by interpolations
and alterations, that he seems to have arisen on the Bri¬
tish stage with the dignity of an antique statue disencum¬
bered from the rubbish in which it had been enveloped
since the decay of the art. But, although Garrick show¬
ed the world how the characters of Shakspeare might be
acted, and so far paved the way for a future regeneration
of the stage, no kindred spirit arose to imitate his tone of
composition. His supremacy was universally acknowledg¬
ed ; but it seemed as if he was regarded as an object of ado¬
ration, not of imitation ; and that authors were as much
interdicted the treading his tragic path, as the entering his
magic circle. It was not sufficiently remembered that the
faults of Shakspeare, or rather of his age, are those into
which no modern dramatist is likely to fall; and that he
learned his beauties in the school of nature, which is ever
open to all who profess the fine arts. Shakspeare may,
indeed, be inimitable, but there are inferior degress of ex¬
cellence, which talent and study cannot fail to attain ; and
the statuary were much to blame who, in despair of mo¬
delling a Venus like that of Phidias, should set himself to
imitate a Chinese doll. Yet such was the conduct of the
dramatists of Britain long after the supremacy of Shak¬
speare had been acknowledged. He reigned a Grecian
prince over Persian slaves ; and they who adored him
did not dare attempt to use his language. The tragic
muse appeared to linger behind the taste of the age, and
still used the constrained and mincing measure which she
had been taught in the French school. Hughes, Cumber¬
land, and other men of talent, appeared in her service ;
but their model remained as imperfect as ever ; and it was
not till our own time that any bold efforts were made to
restore to tragedy that truth and passion, without which
declamation is only rant and impertinence. Horace Wal¬
pole, however, showed what might be done by adopting a
more manly and vigorous style of composition ; and Home
displayed the success of a more natural current of passion.
The former, chusing a theme not only totally unfit for re- Drama,
presentation, but from which the mind shrinks in private
study, treated it as a man of genius, free from the tram¬
mels of habit and of* pedantry. His characters in the
Mysterious Mother do not belong to general classes, but
have bold, true, and individual features; and the language
approaches that of the first age of the English drama. The
Douglas of Home is not recommended by this species of
merit. In diction and character it does not rise above
other productions of the period. But the interest turns
upon a passion which finds a response in every bosom ; for
those who are too old for love, and too young for ambition,
are all alike awake to the warmth and purity of maternal
and filial affection. The scene of the recognition of Dou¬
glas’s birth possesses a power over the affections, which,
when supported by adequate representation, is scarcely
equalled in the circle of our drama. It is remarkable
that the ingenious author was so partial to this theatrical
situation, as to introduce it in several of his other trage¬
dies.
The comedy of the fourth period is chiefly remarkable Comedy
for exhibiting The Rivals and the School for Scandal, of this
Critics prefer the latter, whilst the general audience reap, Perio<^
perhaps, more pleasure from the former; the pleasantry
being of a more general cast, the incident more complicat¬
ed and varied, and the whole plot more interesting. In
both these plays, the gentlemanlike ease of Farquhar is
united with the wit of Congreve. Indeed, the wit of
Sheridan, though equally brilliant with that of his celebrat¬
ed predecessor, flows so easily, and is so happily elicited
by the line of the dialogue, that, in admiring its sparkles,
we never once observe the stroke of the flint which pro¬
duces them. Wit and pleasantry seemed to be the natu¬
ral atmosphere of this extraordinary man, whose history
was at once so brilliant and so melancholy. Goldsmith
was, perhaps, in relation to Sheridan what Vanburgh was
to Congreve. His comedies turn on an extravagance of
intrigue and disguise, and so far belong to the Spanish
school. But the ease of his humorous dialogue, and the
droll yet true conception of the characters, make suffi¬
cient amends for an occasional stretch in point of probabi¬
lity. If all who draw on the spectators for indulgence
were equally prepared to compensate by a corresponding
degree of pleasure, they would have little occasion to com¬
plain. The elder Colman’s Jealous Wife, and some of his
smaller pieces, are worthy, and it is no ordinary compli¬
ment, of being placed beside these masterpieces. We
dare not rank Cumberland so high, although two or three
of his numerous efforts retain possession of the stage.
The Wheel of Fortune was certainly one of the best act¬
ing plays of its time, but it was perhaps chiefly on account
of the admirable representative which the principal cha¬
racter found in Mr John Kemble.
The plays of Foote, the modern Aristophanes, who ven¬
tured, by his powers of mimicking the mind as well as the
external habits, to bring living persons on the stage, be¬
long to this period, and make a remarkable part of its dra¬
matic history. But we need not dwell upon it. Foote
was an unprincipled satirist; and while he affected to be
the terror of vice and folly, was only anxious to extort for¬
bearance-money from the timid, or to fill his theatre at
the indiscriminate expense of friends and enemies, virtu¬
ous or vicious, who presented foibles capable of being
turned into ridicule. It is a just punishment of this course
of writing, that Foote’s plays, though abounding in comic
and humorous dialogue, have died with the parties whom
he ridiculed. When they lost the zest of personality, theii
popularity, in spite of much intrinsic merit, fell into utter
decay.
Meantime dramatic composition of the higher class seem-
DRAM A.
167
Drama.
The drama
receives a
new im¬
pulse from
Germany.
General
character
of the
German
drama.
ed declining. Garrick in our fathers’ time, Mrs Siddons
in ours, could neither of them extract from their literary
admirers any spark of congenial fire. No part written for
either of these astonishing performers has survived the
transient popularity which their talents could give to al¬
most any thing. The truth seems to be, that the French
model had been wrought upon till it was altogether worn
out; and a new impulse from some other quarter—a fresh
turning up of the soil, and awakening of its latent energies
by a new mode of culture—was become absolutely neces¬
sary to the renovation of our dramatic literature. Eng¬
land was destined to receive this impulse from Germany,
where literature was in the first luxuriant glow of vegeta¬
tion, with all its crop of flowers and weeds rushing up to¬
gether. There was good and evil in the importation de¬
rived from this superabundant source. But the evil was
of a nature so contrary to that which had long palsied our
dramatic literature, that, like the hot poison mingling with
the cold, it may in the issue bring us nearer to a state of
health.
The affectation of Frederic II. of Prussia, and of other
German princes, for a time suppressed the native litera¬
ture, and borrowed their men of letters from France, as
well as their hair-dressers,—their dramas as well as their
dressed dishes. The continental courts, therefore, had no
share in forming the national drama. To the highest circle
in every nation that of France will be most acceptable,
not only on account of its strict propriety and conformity
to les convenances, but also as securing them against the
risk of hearing bold and offensive truths uttered in the
presence of the sovereign and the subject. But the bold,
frank, cordial, and rough character of the German people
at large did not relish the style of the French tragedies
translated for their stage; and this cannot be wondered
at, when the wide difference between the nations is con¬
sidered.
The natural character of the Germans is diametrically
opposite to that of the French. The latter are light al¬
most to frivolity, quick in seeing points of ridicule, slowly
awakened to those of feeling. The Germans are of an ab¬
stracted, grave, and somewhat heavy temper; less alive to
the ridiculous, more easily moved by an appeal to the
passions. That which moves a Frenchman to laughter,
affects a German with sorrow or indignation; and in that
which touches the German as a source of the sublime or
pathetic, the quick-witted Frenchman sees only subject of
laughter. In their theatres the Frenchman comes to judge,
to exercise his critical faculties, and to apply the rules
which he has learned, fundamentally or by rote, to the
performance of the night. A German, on the contrary,
expects to receive that violent excitation which is most
pleasing to his imaginative and somewhat phlegmatic cha¬
racter. While the Frenchman judges of the form and
shape of the play, the observance of the unities, and the
denouement of the plot, the German demands the power¬
ful contrast of character and passion—the sublime in tra¬
gedy and the grotesque in comedy. The former may be
called the formalist of dramatic criticism, keeping his eye
chiefly on its exterior shape and regular form ; the latter
is the fanatic, who, disregarding forms, requires a deep
and powerful tone of passion and of sentiment, and is often
content to surrender his feelings to inadequate motives.
From the different temper of the nations, the merits
and faults of their national theatres became diametrically
opposed to each other. The French author is obliged to
confine himself, as we have already observed, within the
circle long since described by Aristotle. He must attend
to all the decorum of the scene, and conform to every re¬
gulation, whether rational or arbitrary, which has been
entailed on the stage since the days of Corneille. He
must never so far yield to feeling as to lose sight of grace Drama,
and dignity. He must never venture so far in quest of
the sublime, as to run the risk of moving the risible facul¬
ties of an audience, so much alive to the ridiculous, that
they will often find or make it in what is to others the
source of the grand or the terrible. The Germans, on the
contrary, have never subjected their poets to any arbitrary
forms. The division of the empire into so many indepen¬
dent states has prevented the ascendency of any general
system of criticism ; and their national literature was not
much cultivated, until the time when such authority had
become generally unpopular. Lessing had attacked the
whole French theatrical system in his Dramaturgic with
the most bitter raillery. Schiller brought forward his
splendid dramas of romance and of history. Goethe
crowded the stage with the heroes of ancient German
chivalry. No means of exciting emotion were condemned
as irregular, providing emotion was actually excited. And
there can be no doubt that the license thus given to the
poet, the willingness with which the audience submitted
to the most extravagant postulates on their part, left them
at liberty to exert the full efforts of their genius.
Lessing, Schiller, and Goethe, became at once the fa¬
thers and the masters of the German theatre ; and it must
be objected to these great men, that, in the abundance of
their dramatic talent, they sometimes forgot that their
pieces, in order to be acted, must be adapted to the capa¬
bilities of a theatre ; and thus wrote plays altogether in¬
capable of being represented. Their writings, although
affording many high examples of poetry and passion, are
marked with faults which the exaggeration of their fol¬
lowers has often carried into total extravagance. The
plays of chivalry and of history were followed by an in¬
undation of imitations, in which, according to Schlegel,
“ there was nothing historical but the names and external
circumstances ; nothing chivalrous but the helmets, buck¬
lers, and swords ; and nothing of old German honesty but
the supposed rudeness. The sentiments were as modern
as they were vulgar ; from chivalry pieces, they were con¬
verted into cavalry plays, which certainly deserve to be
acted by horses rather than men.” (Schlegel on the Drama.')
It is not the extravagance of the apparatus alone, but
exaggeration of character and sentiment, which have been
justly ascribed as faults to the German school. The au¬
thors appear to have introduced too harshly, brilliant
lights and deep shadows; the tumid is too often substi¬
tuted for the sublime ; and faculties and dispositions the
most opposed to each other are sometimes described as
existing in the same person.
In German comedy the same faults predominate in a
much greater degree. The pathetic comedy, which might
be rather called domestic tragedy, became, unfortunately,
very popular in Germany; and found a champion in Kot¬
zebue, who carried its conquests over all the Continent.
The most obvious fault of this species of composition is
the demoralizing falsehood of the pictures which it offers
to us. The vicious are frequently presented as objects
less of censure than of sympathy; sometimes they are
selected as objects of imitation and praise. There is an
affectation of attributing noble and virtuous sentiments
to the persons least qualified by habit or education to en¬
tertain them ; and of describing the higher and better edu¬
cated classes as uniformly deficient in those feelings of
liberality, generosity, and honour, which may be consider¬
ed as proper to their situation in life. This contrast may
be true in particular instances, and being used sparingly,
might afford a good moral lesson ; but, in spite of truth
and probability, it has been assumed, upon all occasions, by
these authors, as the groundwork of a sort of intellectual
jacobinism ; consisting, as Mr Coleridge has well express-
D R A M A
168
Drama, ed it, “ in the confusion and subversion of the natural
v>—order of things, their causes and their effects; in the ex¬
citement of surprise, by representing the qualities of libe¬
rality, refined feeling, and a nice sense of honour in per¬
sons and in classes of life where experience teaches us
least to expect them ; and in rewarding with all the sym¬
pathies that are the dues of virtue, those criminals whom
law, reason, and religion, have excommunicated from our
esteem.”
The German taste was introduced upon the English
theatre within these twenty years. But the better pro¬
ductions of her stage have never been made known to us;
for, by some unfortunate chance, the wretched pieces of
Kotzebue have found a readier acceptance or more willing
translators, than the sublimity of Goethe, the romantic
strength of Schiller, or the deep tragic pathos of Lessing.
They have tended, however, wretched as the model is, to
introduce on our stage a degree of sentiment, and awaken
among the audience a strain of sensibility, to which we
were previously strangers.
George Coleman’s comedy of John Bull is by far the
best effort of our late comic drama. The scenes of broad
humour are executed in the best possible taste ; and the
whimsical, yet native characters, reflect the manners of
real life. The sentimental parts, although one of them in¬
cludes a finely wrought up scene of paternal distress, par¬
take of the falsetto of German pathos. But the piece is
both humorous and affecting ; and we readily excuse its
obvious imperfections, in consideration of its exciting our
laughter and our tears.
Joanna Whilst the British stage received a new impulse from a
BailUe. country whose literature had hitherto scarce been known
to exist, she was enriched by productions of the richest
native genius. A retired female, thinking and writing in
solitude, presented to her countrymen the means of re¬
gaining the true and manly tone of national tragedy. She
has traced its foundation to that strong instinctive and
sympathetic curiosity, which tempts men to look into the
bosoms of their fellow-creatures, and to seek, in the dis¬
tresses or emotions of others, the parallel of their own
passions. She has built on the foundations which she laid
bare, and illustrated her precepts by examples which will
long be an honour to the age in which they were pro¬
duced and admired, yet its disgrace, when it is consider¬
ed that they have been barred their legitimate sphere of
influence upon the public taste.
Maturin, Besides this gifted person, the names of Coleridge, of
Coleridge, Maturin, and other men of talents, throng upon our recol¬
and others. jectjon . anc[ there is one who, to judge from the dramatic
sketch he has given us in Manfred, must be considered
as a match for iEschylus, even in his sublimest moods of
horror. It is no part of our plan, however, to enter upon
the criticism of our contemporaries.1 Suffice it to say, that
the age has no reason to apprehend any decay of drama¬
tic talent.
Neither can our actors be supposed inadequate to the
representation of such pieces of dramatic art as we judge
our authors capable of producing. We have lost Mrs
Siddons and John Kemble, but we still possess Kean,
Young, and Miss O’Neil; and the stage has to boast other
tragic performers of merit. In comedy perhaps it was
never more strong. In point of scenery and decoration,
our theatres are so amply provided, that they may rather
seem to exceed than to fall short of what is required to
form a classical exhibition.
Where then are we to look for that unfortunate coun¬
terbalance, which confessedly depresses the national dra- Drama,
ma, in despite of the advantages we have enumerated ? '
We apprehend it will be found in the monopoly Possessed
by two large establishments, which, unhappily for the pro-^ m()no_
gress of national taste, and, it is said, without any equiya-poly pos_
lent advantage to the proprietors, now enjoy the exclusive sessed by
privilege of dramatic representation. It must be distinctly the London
understood, that we attribute these disadvantages to thetheatres-
system itself, and by no means charge them upon those
who have the administration of either theatre. The pro¬
prietors have a right to enjoy what the law invests in
them; and the managers have probably discharged their
duty to the public as honourably as circumstances would
admit of; but the system has led into errors which affect
public taste, and even public morals. We shall briefly
consider it as it influences, 1st, the mode of representation ;
Zdly, the theatrical authors and performers; and, 3c%,
the quality and composition of the audience.
The first inconvenience arises from the great size of
the theatres, which has rendered them unfit for the legi¬
timate purposes of the drama. The persons of the per¬
formers are, in these huge circles, so much diminished,
that nothing short of the mask and buskin could render
them distinctly visible to the audience. Show and ma¬
chinery have therefore usurped the place of tragic poetry ;
and the author is compelled to address himself to the
eyes, not to the understanding or feelings, of the specta¬
tors. This is of itself a gross error. Every thing beyond
correct costume and theatrical decorum is foreign to the
legitimate purposes of the drama, as tending to divide the
attention of the audience; and the rivalry of the scene-
painter and the carpenter cannot be very flattering to any
author or actor of genius. Besides, all attempts at deco¬
ration, beyond what the decorum of the piece requires,
must end in paltry puppet-show exhibition. The talents
of the scene-painter and mechanist cannot, owing to the
very nature of the stage, make battles, sieges, &c. any
thing but objects of ridicule. Thus we have enlarged our
theatres, so as to destroy the effect of acting, without car¬
rying to any perfection that of pantomime and dumb show.
Secondly, The monopoly of the two large theatres has
operated unfavourably both upon theatrical writers and
performers. The former have been in many instances, if
not absolutely excluded from the scene, yet deterred from
approaching it, in the same manner as men avoid attempt¬
ing to pass through a narrow wicket, which is perpetually
thronged by an importunate crowd. Allowing the mana¬
gers of these two theatres, judging in the first and in the
last resort, to be possessed of the full discrimination ne¬
cessary to a task so difficult; supposing them to be at all
times alike free from partiality and from prejudice ; still
the number of plays thrust upon their hands must prevent
their doing equal justice to all, and must frequently de¬
ter a man of real talents, either from pride or modesty,
from entering a competition clogged with delay, solicita¬
tion, and other circumstances, hand subeunda ingenio suo.
It is unnecessary to add, that increasing the number of
theatres, and diminishing their size, would naturally tend
to excite a competition among the managers, whose inte¬
rest it is to make experiments on the public taste; and
that this would infallibly secure any piece of reasonable
promise a fair opportunity of being represented. It is by
such a competition that genius is discovered; it is thus
that horticulturists raise whole beds of common flowers,
for the chance of finding among them one of those rare
varieties which are the boast of their art.
1 This and other similar expressions, which now excite a
note, page 147.
melancholy interest, are suffered to remain, for the reason stated in the
D R A
Drammen The exclusive privilege of the regular London theatres
II is equally, or in a greater degree, detrimental to the per-
Dran. former; for it is with difficulty that he fights his way to a
v'—V'-'' London engagement; and when once received, he is too
often retained for the mere purpose of being laid aside,
or shelfed as it is technically called; that is, rendered a
weekly burden upon the pay-list of the theatre, without
being produced above four or five times in the season to
exhibit his talents. Into this system the managers are
forced, from the necessity of their situation, which com¬
pels them to enlist in their service every performer who
seems to possess buds of genius, although it ends in their
being so crowded together that they have no room to
blossom. In fact, many a man of talent thus brought
from the active exercise of a profession, to be paid for
remaining inactive in obscurity in London, and supported
by what seems little short of eleemosynary bounty, either
becomes careless of his business or disgusted with it; and,
at any rate, stagnates in that mediocrity to which want of
exercise alone will often condemn talent.
Thirdly, and especially, the magnitude of these theatres
has occasioned them to be destined to company so scan¬
dalous, that persons not very nice in their taste of society
must yet exclaim against the abuse as a national nuisance.
We are aware of the impossibility of excluding a certain
description of females from public places in a corrupt
metropolis like London ; but in theatres of moderate size,
frequented by the better class, these unfortunate persons
rivould feel themselves compelled to wear a mask at least
of decency. In the present theatres of London, the best
part of the house is openly and avowedly set off for their
reception ; and no part of it that is open to the public
at large is free from their intrusion, or at least from the
open display of the disgusting improprieties to which their
neighbourhood gives rise. And these houses, raised at
an immense expense, are so ingeniously misconstructed,
that in the private boxes you see too little of the play,
and in the public boxes greatly too much of a certain de¬
scription of the company. No man of delicacy would wish
the female part of his family to be exposed to such scenes ;
no man of sense would wish to put youth of the male sex
in the way of such temptation. This evil, if not altoge¬
ther arising from the large size of the theatres, has been
so incalculably increased by it, that, unless in the case of
strong attraction, prostitutes and their admirers usually
form the principal part of the audience. We censure, and
with justice, the corruption of morals in Paris. But in
no public place in that metropolis is vice permitted to bear
so open and audacious a front as in the theatres of Lon¬
don. Barefaced vice is never permitted to insult decency.
Those who seek it must go to the haunts to which it is
limited. In London, if we would enjoy our most classical
public amusement, we are braved by her on the very
threshold.
We notice these evils, without pretending to point out
the remedy. If, however, it were possible so to arrange
interests, that the patents of the present theatres should
D R A 169
cover four, or even six, of smaller size, dedicated to the Dran.
same purpose, we conceive that more good actors would
be found, and more good plays written ; and, as a neces¬
sary consequence, that good society would attend the the¬
atre in sufficient numbers to enforce respect to decency.
The access to the stage would be rendered easy to both
authors and actors ; and although this might give scope to
some rant and false taste, it could not fail to call forth
much excellence, that must otherwise remain latent or re¬
pressed. The theatres would be relieved of the heavy ex¬
pense at present incurred, in paying performers who do %
not play; and in each maintaining three theatrical corps
for the separate purposes of tragedy, comedy, and musical
pieces; only one of which can be productive labourers on
the same evening, though all must be supported and paid.
According to our more thrifty plan, each of these compa¬
nies would be earning at the same time the fruits of their
professional industry. The hours of representation, in one
or more of these theatres, might be rendered more con¬
venient to those in high life, whilst the middling classes
might enjoy a rational and classical entertainment after
the business of the day.
Such an arrangement might indeed be objected to by
those who entertain a holy horror of the very name of a
theatre, and who imagine impiety and blasphemy are in¬
separable from the drama. We have no room left to ar¬
gue with such persons, or w'e might endeavour to prove
that the dramatic art is in itself as capable of being di¬
rected either to right or wrong purposes, as the art of
printing. It is true, that even after a play has been
formed upon the most virtuous model, the man who is en¬
gaged in the duties of religion will be better employed
than he who is seated in a theatre, and listening to it.
To those abstracted and enrapt spirits, who feel or suppose
themselves capable of remaining constantly involved in
heavenly thoughts, any sublunary amusement may justly
seem frivolous. But the mass of mankind are not so
framed. The Supreme Being, who claimed the seventh
day as his own, allotted the other six days of the week
for purposes merely human. When the necessity of daily
labour is removed, and the call of social duty fulfilled,
that of moderate and timely amusement claims its place,
as a want inherent in our nature, io relieve this want,
and fill up the mental vacancy, games are devised, books
are written, music is composed, spectacles and plays are
invented and exhibited. And if these last have a moral
and virtuous tendency; if the sentiment expressed tend
to rouse our love of what is noble, and our contempt ot
what is mean; if they unite hundreds in a sympathetic
admiration of virtue, abhorrence of vice, or derision of
folly ; it will remain to be shown how far the spectator
is more criminally engaged, than if he had passed the
evening in the idle gossip of society, in the feverish
pursuits of ambition, or in the unsated and insatiable
struggle after gain—the graver employments of the pre¬
sent life, but equally unconnected with our existence here¬
after. (w. s—TT.)
DRAMMEN, a seaport-town of Norway, stiff of Agger-
huus, situated on both sides of the Drammen, near its mouth
in the Christiania fiord, 24 miles S.W. of Christiania. It
consists of three ports, Brognaes on the northern, and
Stroemsoe and Tangen on the southern bank of the river.
It is a place of extensive trade, and exports more timber
(chiefly logs) than any other town in Norway. The chief
manufactures are spirits, sailcloth, ropes, tobacco, leather,
oil, and carriages. Pop. about 9000.
DRAN, Henri FEAN901S le, a celebrated French sur-
VOL. VIII.
geon, born at Paris in 1685, was the son of a surgeon of
the same name, who, while serving with the army, had been
distinguished for practical dexterity in the treatment of
gunshot wounds. Young Le Dran entered on the surgical
career under the auspices and direction of his father, and
early attained to eminence in his profession. He became
surgeon-major and demonstrator of anatomy at La Charite,
member of the royal academy of surgery, consulting sur¬
geon of the camps and armies of the king, and associate of
the Royal Society of London. Apart from his professional
170 D I? A
Drawing, pursuits, almost no particulars of his life have been pre-
v . -> served. He died at Paris on the 17th October 1770, at
the advanced age of eighty-five. Le Dran was the author
of a variety of works on surgery, of which we shall here
subjoin a very brief account. 1. Parallels des differentes
manieres de tirer la Pierre hors de la Vessie, Paris, 1730,
1740, 8vo, with plates; translated into German, Berlin,
1737, 8vo, and into English, London, 1738, 8vo. Le Dran,
in this work, condemns the small, and shows himself a par-
tizan of the large apparatus; recommending, however, that
the incision should be made a little lower than Collot had
been accustomed to make it, and that it should be of an
extent sufficient to prevent the dilaceration of the bladder.
He approves of the high operation only in the case where
the bladder is sound and the calculus very voluminous. In
order to obviate the too frequent lesion of the rectum in
using the staff described by Albinus for the lateral ope¬
ration of Ran, Le Dran invented a new staff, which en¬
abled him to avoid such a casualty, and contributed ma¬
terially to his success. 2. Observations de Chirurgerie,
auxquelles on a joint plusieurs Pejlexions en faveur des
Etudiants, Paris, 1731, 2 vols. 12mo: translated into Ger¬
man, Nuremberg, 1738, 8vo, and into English, 1739, 8vo.
This collection is rich in facts well chosen, and reported
with candour and precision. The author does not dissemble
his faults, and speaks of his success without ostentation. 3.
Traitedes operations de Chirurgerie, Paris, 1731 and 1742,
8vo; London, 1749, 8vo, with additions by Cheselden.
This work, in which the author ascribes an imaginary in¬
fluence to the animal spirits, is nevertheless valuable, as
containing an accurate description of a great number of
operations, and many practical facts alike curious and in¬
teresting. If a new method is spoken of, he never fails to
indicate the author of the discovery. 4. Reflexions pra¬
tiques sur les plaies d?armes d feu, Paris, 1737, 1 740, 1759,
12mo ; Amsterdam, 1745, 12mo : Nuremberg, in German,
1740, 8vo. To the excellent precepts of Ambroise Pare,
the author has here added the fruits of his own experience ;
and he has contributed to check in some cases the use,
BRA
then too exclusive, of the seton. He has also advocated Drastic
the method of large incisions, and justly proscribed the ap- ||
plication of sindons or pledgets of linen soaked with brandy, r)rawing'
in the first dressing of gunshot wounds. 5. Suite du Pa-
rallele de la Taille, Paris, 1756, 8vo. 6. Consultations sur
la plupart des Maladies qui sont du ressort de la Chirur¬
gerie, Paris, 1765, 8vo. 7. Traits economique de VAnato¬
mic du corps humain, Paris, 1768, 12mo. This work is
full of superannuated hypotheses and material omissions.
8. Recit dune guerison singuliere du plomb fondu dans la
Vessie, and Lettre sur la dissolution du plomb dans cet or¬
gans, Paris, 1749. Here Le Dran gives an account of his
experiments for dissolving lead by means of mercury, and
evinces great credulity in attributing to mercury certain
imaginary qualities. Besides the works above enumerated,
a great number of interesting observations by Le Dran may
be found in the Memoires of the Academy. (j. b—e.)
DRASTIC (SpacrriKos, from Spaw, to accomplish), an epi¬
thet applied to medicines that are potent in operation ; as
a drastic cathartic.
DRAVE (German Drau), a river in the Austrian do- ,
minions, one of the principal affluents of the Danube. It
rises on what is called the Toblachheath in the Pusterthal
of Tyrol, not far from Innichen, and after a course of nearly
400 miles falls into the Danube some miles E. of Eszec.
It flows at first E.N.E. to Linz, where it receives the Isel;
thence its course is generally E.S.E. passing through Ca-
rinthia and Styria, and afterwards forming the boundary
between Croatia and Sclavonia on the S. and Hungary on
the N. The principal towns on its banks are Linz, Villach,
Marburg, Pettau, and Fridau. Its principal affluents are,
on the left, the Isel, Moll, Liser, Gurk, Lavant, and Mur;
and on the right the Gail. Its course is rapid; and its bed,
though rocky, is navigable for flat-bottomed boats to Villach.
DRAWBACK, in Commerce, a certain amount of du¬
ties or customs paid back or remitted to an importer of
foreign goods on their exportation ; or a certain amount of
excise paid back or allowed on the exportation of some
home manufactures. See Commerce.
DRAWING.
Drawing is the art of representing forms upon a flat sur¬
face, by means of any sort of instruments, such as pencils,
chalks, and the like. It is also a word used to denote the
forms or contours of the figures in compositions, or in
sculpture generally. Thus we say that the drawing in a
picture, or the drawing of a statue, or any other figure,
is of a high or an inferior kind, good or bad.
History. This art is well known to be of the most remote antiquity,
and it has been in use amongst the most barbarous and
most civilized nations for a variety of purposes. The hiero¬
glyphic figures, whether carved or painted, upon the an¬
cient Egyptian obelisks and temples, the ornaments of the
same description upon their buildings and sarcophagi, to¬
gether with the like productions amongst the Mexicans,
prove the ancient origin of the art. Some of the purest and
best of the Egyptian sculptures, and particularly the figures
of the harpers, described and illustrated by Bruce the tra¬
veller, exhibit a knowledge and correctness of taste in the
art far surpassing what is usually admitted, and show that
the Greek school in this, as well as in their other acquire¬
ments, was greatly indebted to the Egyptians for pointing
out the road to that excellence of form and dignity of cha¬
racter and expression which their matchless works possess.
Greece Although examples of drawings by the Greeks have not
and Rome, come down to us, their magnificent statues assure us that
their proficiency in the art must have been of the highest
order ; and certain expressions of Pliny, in describing their
pictures, evidently indicate that the Greeks must have at¬
tained to the utmost excellence in drawing, at the period
of their glory as a nation. It is not our intention to load
this article with ancient historical information respecting
the fine arts, otherwise many curious anecdotes might be
introduced ; but we cannot pass over the mention of Alex¬
ander’s emotion on seeing a picture of Palamedes when
betrayed by his friends, which forcibly reminded the hero
of his own treatment of Aristonicus; nor can we refrain
from noticing the picture of Agamemnon and Iphigenia
by Timanthes, so highly extolled by Cicero, Quintilian, Va¬
lerius Maximus, and Pliny, as satisfactory proofs of the
excellence of the ancients in drawing and painting, as
well as in their scupltures and architecture. From the
emotions which the higher excellencies of the pictures by
the Greek artists produced in these gifted men, a fair in¬
ference may be drawn as to the perfection to which the
art must have attained at the period of Grecian glory;
and consequently drawing, even in the confined sense of
the word, must have also been in a corresponding state
of advancement. Their principal schools were at Sicyon,
Rhodes, Athens, and Corinth ; and when Greece was sub¬
dued by the Romans, the conquerors, alive to the bene¬
fits to be derived from the sciences and arts, encouraged
the cultivation of them in their own capital, to which the
D R A W I N G.
Drawing. Greek artists resorted, and laid the foundation of the Ro-
man school.
Revival From the conquests of Alaric and Attila in the fifth cen-
ofthe tury, the arts lay prostrate and neglected, until their re¬
fine arts, vival about the year 1450 at Florence, where Dominico
Ghirlandaio, the master of Michel Angelo, practised paint¬
ing with considerable reputation, which his pictures show
he well merited.
Michel We have now arrived at the golden age of the arts
Angelo. amongst the moderns, for Michel Angelo must be admit¬
ted to have been the first to discover and practise them
with the classical discernment and skill which ultimately
led him to the highest eminence amongst his contempo¬
raries as a painter, a sculptor, an architect, and engineer,
and deservedly placed his reputation on a level with the
greatest names of antiquity. Till his time painters were
considered as mere mechanics or labourers, and their
employment was almost entirely confined to making re¬
presentations of saints, and other figures used by the
superstitious of the age. It was at this period, and sur¬
rounded by the wretched examples of such artists as Ci-
mabue, Giotto, and others, that Michel Angelo, upon ex¬
amining the torso of the Belvidere, instantly abandoned
the barbarous taste and style of his master, and bound¬
ed into that sublime path which has been the admira¬
tion of all. “ The poetry of the art,” says Sir Joshua Rey¬
nolds, “ he possessed in the most eminent degree ; and the
same daring spirit which first urged him to explore the
unknown regions of the imagination, impelled him forward
in his career beyond those limits which his followers, des¬
titute of the same incentives, had not strength to pass. He
was the bright luminary from whom painting has borrowed
a new lustre, under whose hands it assumed a new appear¬
ance, and became another and superior art.”
Raffaelle Raffaelle Santio, the pupil of Pietro Perugino, was born
Santio. on Goocl Friday in the year 1483, and died on Good Fri¬
day in the year 1520, so that he only lived thirty-seven
years. He must be admitted to have surpassed all the
moderns in drawing and painting, though his design does
not possess those sublime conceptions to be found in the
works of his rival Michel Angelo. Generally speaking,
the choice of his subjects is simple and pleasing, for he
cared not to grapple with those severe attitudes and ex¬
pressions to be found in the works of his gifted contempo¬
rary ; but his compositions are invariably correct and har¬
monious, and his drawing careful, elegant, and pure. It
is to his school that we would recommend the student to
look for those examples which will be of the greatest prac¬
tical benefit to him in drawing; a circumstance which
ought to be his first and principal aim.
It is not the proper place here to enter into the history
of painting in Italy after its revival by the two great mas¬
ters whose names and characteristic excellencies we have
just mentioned. This we reserve for the article Painting ;
and we now proceed to explain the practical details of the
management and manipulation of drawing in its various
styles.
Drawing, as we have already stated, is that part of the
art which represents the forms of objects upon a flat sur¬
face, and maybe divided into outlining and shading; and
as the chief attributes of almost all objects are embraced
in the correctness of their forms, the student of art should
labour with the utmost pains and assiduity in order to
acquire severe accuracy in his outline, without which the
most dexterous shading and finishing will be worse than
thrown away.
In whatever department the genius of the student may
lead him to practise, habits of correctness will be most
successfully cultivated by drawing the human figure, the
knowledge of which is the basis of all true excellence.
171
The study ought to be begun by copying the most simple Drawing,
parts, such as we have exhibited in Plates CCVII., CCVIII.,
CCIX., CCX. ; and the greatest anxiety to attain ac¬
curacy in the gentle undulations of form ought to be
evinced. We would recommend that perspective should
be studied at the earliest stage of the pupil’s practice. By
means of a knowledge of its rules, which are simple, much
time will be spared to the student, and excellence more
speedily acquired than when directed only by his eye in
the practice of drawing, whatever the object may be-
Although it matters little what the instrument may be Drawing
which is used in the practiceof drawing,yet, upon the whole, in chalk,
we would recommend black and white chalks as the most
to be preferred. They are easily procured, and conve¬
nient for use. They are usually fixed in an instrument of
brass or steel, as represented below, the white chalk being
placed at the one end, and the black at the other.
The paper should be slightly tinged with colour, so that
the white chalk which is put upon the lights may tell pro¬
perly. Crayon paper is the best. The outline being care¬
fully made, first with charcoal as slightly as possible, and
then corrected and smoothed with the black chalk, the
shading may be executed as the taste of the student in¬
clines. It may either be done with careful hatchings at
particular angles, or in one solid smooth mass, or by a
combination of both, which is probably the most advis¬
able mode of practice. Too much attention to elaborate
hatchings may divert the attention of the student from
the more essential excellencies of the outline, and proper
balance of light and shade; and a too careless manner in
using his materials may lead to equal disadvantages, for
in art, as in every thing else, carelessness in the beginning
can never lead to excellence in the end. Much time
in laying in the shadows may be spared by using an in¬
strument called a stump, made of a piece of chamois lea¬
ther rolled up in a cylindrical form, in a tight manner,
tied round with thread, and shaped to a blunt point, as
represented below.
A little chalk-powder may be dusted upon the shadow if
extensive, and rubbed in writh the instrument above de¬
scribed, and afterwards the part finished up with the
chalk. The white chalk should not be used until the
drawing is completed with the black, otherwise it is apt
to get injured by admixture, which in no instance should
be the case, for there ought always to be a space between
the two chalks occupied by the tint of the paper.
The black chalk will be found to work very well upon
white as well as coloured paper; but the process is more
tedious, in consequence of all the middle or light tints
having to be attended to and executed, which, in the case
of the other paper, the tint produces. Errors in outline
or shading may be rectified by rubbing out the defect
with a piece of bread squeezed into a convenient shape
between the finger and thumb.
After the student has acquired some degree of profi¬
ciency in using the chalk, and imitating any drawing or
print which may be given him, he should next begin to
copy from real substances, or what is technically termed
drawing from “ the round.”
Flere a wide field is opened up to him in the study of
D R A W I N G.
Drawing, the antique statues ; and while striving to attain accuracy
in copying these noble reliques of art, he should consider
deeply their high character and expression. It is not to
be expected that a very extensive set of examples of the
antique, or a discussion and detail of their merits, can be
given here; all that we can do is to lead the student to
the proper source whence he may draw supplies; and
with this view we would recommend him to peruse and
contemplate the statues of the Apollo Belvidere, the Ve¬
nus de’ Medici, the Gladiator Borghese, the Torso of the
Belvidere, and the matchless group of the Laocoon, at the
time he is copying them in the way of practice. See Plates
CCXL, CCXII., CCXIII., CCXIV., ccxv.
Red chalk. We have hitherto only considered the drawing of the
human figure, and that in black and white chalks. Ano¬
ther very good way of producing a spirited effect is, by a
union of both these with red chalk, a method much prac¬
tised by the old masters in their academy figures, &c.
Measure- The following are the measures of the human body, as
ment of taken by Fresnoy from the ancient statues. The ancients
the human have commonly allowed eight heads to their figures,
figure. though some of them have allowed but seven. The figure
is ordinarily divided into ten faces; that is to say, from
the crown of the head to the sole of the foot, in the follow¬
ing manner:
From the crown of the head to the forehead is the third
part of a face.
The face begins at the root of the lowest hairs which
are upon the forehead, and ends at the bottom of the chin.
The face is divided into three proportionable parts, the
first contains the forehead, the second the nose, and the
third the mouth and the chin; from the chin to the pit
betwixt the collar-bones is two lengths of a nose.
From the pit betwixt the collar-bones to the bottom of
the breast one face.
From the bottom of the breast to the navel one face.
From the navel to the genitories one face.
From the genitories to the upper part of the knee two
faces.
The knee contains half a face.
From the lower part of the knee to the ankle two faces.
From the ankle to the sole of the foot half a face.
A man, when his arms are stretched out, is from the Drawing
longest finger of his right hand to the longest finger of his
left, as broad as he is long.
From one side of the breast to the other, two faces.
The bone of the arm, called humerus, is the length of
two faces from the shoulder to the elbow.
From the end of the elbow to the root of the little fin¬
ger, the bone called cubitus, with part of the hand, con¬
tains two faces.
From the box of the shoulder-blade to the pit betwixt
the collar-bones, one face.
If you would be satisfied in the measure of breadth
from the extremity of one finger to the other, so that this
breadth should be equal to the length of the body, you
must observe that the boxes of the elbows with the hume¬
rus, and of the humerus with the shoulder-blade, bear the
proportion of half a face when the arms are stretched out.
The sole of the foot is the sixth part of the figure.
The hand is the length of a face.
The thumb contains a nose.
The inside of the arm, where the muscle disappears
which makes the breast (called the pectoral muscle), to
the middle of the arm, four noses.
From the middle of the arm to the beginning of the
head five noses.
The longest toe is a nose long.
The utmost parts of the teats and the pit betwixt the
collar-bones of a woman make an equilateral triangle.
For the breadth of the limbs no precise measures can
be given, because the measures themselves are change¬
able, according to the quality of the persons, and accord¬
ing to the movement of the muscles.
The best example of the measures of an ancient statue
are by Audran, an author whom Sir Joshua Reynolds re¬
commends as being the most useful; and on this depart¬
ment of our subject we now add the following table of the
measurements and comparisons of the three celebrated
statues of the Apollo, the Venus, and the Hercules, as
published by Volpato and Morghen at Rome, in a work
called II Principi dd Disegno. To preserve uniformity in
the measurements, the head of each figure is divided into
twelve parts, and each part into six minutes.
From the beginning of the head to the root of the hairs 
From the root of the hairs to the eyebrows, or beginning of the nose 
From the eyebrows to the end of the nose   
From the end of the nose to the bottom of the chin 
From the chin to the articulation of the clavicle with the sternum  
From the clavicle to the end of the breast    
From the end of the breast to the middle of the umbilicus..  
From the umbilicus to the symphysis pubis....  
From the symphysis pubis to the middle of the patella...... 
From the middle of the patella to the beginning of the flank 
From the same to the swell of the foot, 
From the swell of the foot to the end of the figure, or to the ground  
From the patella to the ground, 
From the patella to the end of the heel of the right leg 
The length of the sole of the foot  
The highest part of the foot from the ground  
From the instep to the end of the toes     
From the clavicle or collar-bone to the beginning of the deltoid muscle 
The length of the whole clavicle on the right side 
From the clavicle to the nipple  
From one end of the breasts to the other  
The greatest breadth of the trunk, taken a little below the beginning of )
the thorax J
Apollo.
Parts. Min.
3 0
3
3
3
5
9
10 51
qi
'32
41
7
24 0
28 2
23 31
4 4
14 U
9 0
10 41
15 0-
18 3
Venus.
Parts. Min.
3 0
3
3
3
4
10
8
0
0
0
5
2
11 4|
18 2
27 3
25 3
3 51
9 01
6 3
6
11
o-h
Hercules.
Parts. Min.
3 0
3
3
3
6
9
10
8
23
30 II
29 2|
6 II
10 11
14
10
15
1
4
H
22 4
Drawing.
Light and
shade, or
ehiar’
oscuro.
Anatomy
DRAWING.
The breadth of the trunk from the end of the breast. 
The narrowest part of the same, taken at the beginning of the flank 
The greatest breadth of the ossa ilei, where the flanks project most 
From the highest part of the deltoid muscle to the end of the biceps 
From the beginning of the os humeri to the cubit 
From the end of the biceps to the beginning of the hand 
The greatest breadth of the fore-arm in front  
The greatest breadth of the arm in front 
Breadth of the pulse of the arm in front 
The greatest breadth from one trochanter to the other 
The greatest breadth of the thigh in front 
The greatest breadth of the left thigh   
The greatest breadth of the knee opposite the middle of the patella 
The greatest breadth of the calf of the leg 
The greatest breadth between the inner and outer ankle 
The narrowest part of the foot 
The broadest part of the same 
From the last vertebra of the neck to the lower part of the os sacrum 
From the end of the os sacrum to the end of the glutaeus   
From the end of the glutaeus to the beginning of the gastrocnemius muscle
From the beginning of the gastrocnemius to the end of the figure 
Apollo.
Venus. ! Hercules.
Parts. Min. Parts. Min.
15
16
17
16
4
5
17
9
5
6
4
3
5
3
4
0^
0
5
3
5
Si
32l
3
0
15
15
17
20
14
5
4
19
9
5
6
4
3
5
1
5
2
0
0
5
3
5
0
0
3
1
Parts. Min.
19 3£
21 4
22 H
15 4
Drawing.
22 0
11 04
6
7
4
3
6
38
6
15
30
4
3
5
41
4
4
4
1
In the foregoing table, we by no means have set down the
ancient formula as an infallible guide, since the changes
which the human form undergoes from infancy to old age
preclude the possibility of limiting its measurements to
definite proportions, and much depends upon the order
or rank of the figure to be represented. Thus the Apollo
Belvidere and the Venus de’ Medici have more than ten
faces in their length; and in other respects these figures,
which by their authors were intended to represent divini¬
ties, are considerably different in their proportions from
others of the antique statues. It is enough if something ap¬
proximating to accuracy of measurement be kept in view
when the student is engaged in making his drawing f and
this he should do without the use of compasses or any other
mathematical means, which ultimately cramp his powers of
imitation, and retard his progress towards perfection.
Light and shade are the means by which the actual ap¬
pearance of substance in the object represented is convey¬
ed, and they should be studied with every attention, from
the objects themselves which are assumed as the models for
imitation. No rules can be laid down so good as the study
of nature herself, and no language can explain the beauties
of her varied appearances of lights, shadows, or reflections.
It is by means of light and shade also that the figures
in a picture or composition are made to keep their proper
places: thus the principal figure is generally illuminated
with the strongest and broadest light, and the others kept
subordinate. It is with considerable diffidence, however,
that we state this as the practice most to be approved of:
every artist, and indeed every school, has a peculiar mode
of management in this, and we are aware that a different
practice has often produced excellent results.
The general rule with regard to the relative proportions
of light, shadow, and middle tint in a well-ordered effect is,
that there should be rather more shadow than light, and
more middle tint than either of the former, provided the
subject does not require a different arrangement. In the in¬
finite variety of forms of composition of the various schools,
rules for the attainment of excellence can hardly be laid
down with safety ; and we must on this account refer the
student to the contemplation of the works of the most
esteemed masters, for examples to direct him in the prac¬
tice of the chiar’ oscuro of his pictures.
The study of anatomy is of the utmost importance to¬
wards a correct knowledge of the human figure, and is
most beneficial in leading the way to an accurate represen¬
tation of its various parts and attitudes. Without it no pro¬
per estimate can be formed of the movements of the joints
of the limbs, nor of the swellings and undulations of the
muscles, which, when in action, are constantly varying, and
must be seized at the moment. It was by the careful
study of this branch of science that Michel Angelo, Leo¬
nardo da Vinci, and other eminent artists, attained to such
excellence in representing the forms when engaged in action,
and displayed that accuracy of outline and show of energy
which appear in the various members of their figures.
The most necessary preparation for all drawings execut- Drawing
ed with Indian ink, sepia, bistre, or the like, is an accurate in Indian
outline, which should be made with a black-lead pencil, or ink, sepia,
pen and ink if the work is only meant to be finished in a blstl'e>
sketchy manner. Care must be taken in both to regulate the
strength of the touch or line by the nearness or distance
of the object represented. The shades should be laid in
a good deal lighter at first than they are intended to be
when the drawing is finished, and the hard edges of the
touches softened with a water brush. I he greater the
attention paid to the subject as a whole in this stage,
and the broader and less minute the washes are laid on,
the better; for it is only as the drawing advances towards
completion that the minutiae should be attended to. In
Plate CCXVIII. we have given an example of the method
of proceeding with a drawing washed in with one colour
only. Fig. 1 exhibits the outline; fig. 2 the first broad
wash ; fig. 3 the second w orking; and fig. 4 the finished
drawing. Each shading should be allowed to dry tho¬
roughly before the succeeding wash is laid on ; and there
are many modes, we had almost said tricks, by which
certain excellent effects are produced, which are only to
be acquired by practice. Thus the use of a sharp pointed
penknife will be found most serviceable in taking out irre¬
gularly-formed lights in the foreground ; and much advan¬
tage will be found in wiping out lights and middle tints
with a towel or handkerchief during the progress of the
work ; but regarding these no rules can be laid down. The
artist’must use his own discretion; though too much of
such practice is not to be recommended.
The study of landscape ought to be commenced by imi¬
tating the most simple forms, as in the following figures.
DRAWING.
174
Drawing.
Fig. I.
Fig. 2.
Drawing
Drawing
in water
colours.
Paper.
Ox eall.
Colours,
These or similar figures may be copied two or three times
over before attempting such a work as we have given in
Plate CCXVIII. Plate CCXVII. exhibits two examples
of the style of sketching landscape by Claude; and we
strongly recommend Turner’s Liber Studiorum to the care¬
ful perusal of the young artist in this department. The studies
of the human figure by Raffaelle, Parmegiano, and others, or
their imitations by Rodgers, are the best. (Plate CCXVI.)
There is no branch of the art in which such a variety
of means may be adopted for attaining the same end,
namely, the imitation of nature, as in water-colour drawing;
consequently we shall not attempt to lay down particular
rules for the guidance of the student. Practice, as we have
already stated, is the only means of arriving at the wished-
for perfection ; we shall therefore limit our notice to a few
of the details most in use among painters in water colours.
The substances used in painting in water colours are to
be had in all the shops in prepared or moist cakes, which
are mixed with a little water on a stoneware pallet or plate.
1 he paper upon which the drawing is to be made may
be either smooth or rough ; and if greasy on the surface, so
that the colours do not adhere pleasantly, it may be spong¬
ed over, or the colours may be mixed with a little ox-gall,
either in its native or prepared state. One drop of gall
in the former condition, or the size of a large pin head in
the latter, will be enough to saturate a tea-cupful of water
tor the purpose of mixing with or softening off the colours.
I he paints chiefly used are ultra-marine blue, indigo, Ant¬
werp and cobalt blues, gamboge, ochre, Indian, and crome
ye uws, ndian red, vermilion, lake, carmine, burnt ochre,
am irown puik reds; and although these may bedenominat-
e ie primaries out of which all other modifications of tints
can be made up, yet we may add to them a number of
browns which will be found to be serviceable, such as terra di
sienna, both raw and burn t,Vandyke brown, umber, sepia,&c.
The paper ought to be stretched upon a drawing board Pasting
or frame, which is effected by soaking it in water, or by the paper
sponging it over on both sides, then removing the super-on the
abundant water with a piece of blotting paper or towel, !?oau^ or
and afterwards folding back the edge for about an inch all trame‘
round, and applying the paste to the folded portion, and also
to that part of the drawing board which the paper is to ad¬
here to. The part so pasted should be pressed strongly,
or the finger may be dipped into the paste and rubbed
upon the pasted edge, and then the paper sponged all
over, that the pasted edge may be permitted to dry more
quickly than the centre part. Care must be taken not to
let any of the paste touch the middle of the paper, which
would destroy the drawing when cut from the board.
Whatever may be the subject, it will be advisable to
begin with light colour, and gradually work up both effect
of light and shadow, and strength of tint, in a broad man¬
ner, without much attention to minutiae, as already de¬
scribed in Indian ink drawing. The earlier water-colour
painters were in the practice of working with a gray or
neutral tint at the commencement of their drawings ; and as
this method is very simple, it will be the best for beginners,
though in the end there will not be produced that rich¬
ness of effect, and freshness, depth, and warmth of colour,
which is the result of the contrary practice of the best
masters of the present day; we mean the laying on of the
colours almost at once, without any under preparation of
neutral tint. In landscape painting, the paper where the sky.
sky is represented ought to be well soaked with water
from a sponge, and afterwards dried moderately with a
towel or piece of bibulous paper, to make the tints lie on
Dray
Drayton.
Fore¬
ground.
Ultra¬
marine.
Removing
of errors.
Drawing
from
nature.
D R A
D R A
175
the balance or fitness of the whole design or picture. By Drayton,
thus habituating the eye to a correct delineation of the parts,
it has little difficulty in coming at the power of represent¬
ing the general effect and appearance of the whole; and
thus a picture, whether consisting of figures, rocks, trees,
or marine objects, is managed with comparative ease;
while, on the other hand, when a design has been com¬
menced without due attention to the outline and balance
of the objects, a loose and disjointed performance is pro¬
duced.
Many other difficulties present themselves at first to the
anxious student, and not the most unimportant is the feel¬
ing which seizes him upon the contemplation of works of
excellence when seen in a finished form ; but let him not
despond, for much pains have been used, and great and
palpable errors committed, even by the most accomplished
masters, in the details of their works, which, the more ac¬
curate they are, the greater has been the difficulty encoun¬
tered. As an illustration of this, we have thought it proper
to direct attention to the variety of lines used to represent
the objects of Plate CCXVI., taken from a sketch by Raf-
faelle. The subject is the study for a portion of the picture
of the School of Athens, and contains much valuable infor¬
mation to the learner respecting the progress of this great
master in the management of his compositions, of one of
the most important of which this is the first rough sketch.
more solidly. The tints are then to be blended into each
other while the surface is damp, and this should be done
with large brushes. After the sky and distance are laid in,
the middle and foregrounds should be added, in all cases
keeping the brushes well filled with colour, and the details
worked out as the taste or ability of the artist may lead him,
for it is impossible to prescribe rules where no two artists
follow the same practice.
The appearance of air may be given to the distance by
washes of blues or neutral tints; and the spaces where sharp
distinct lights are situated may be scraped out with a pen¬
knife, or the touches may be laid in with clean water, and
after being allowed to remain upon the paper for a minute
or less, they may be rubbed out with a piece of stale bread.
Another mode of leaving out the lights is to touch the places
with pipe-clay, used in a liquid state, with a camel’s-hair
pencil, and afterwards the colour may be freely laid over
them ; the parts where the clay is laid have then only to be
rubbed with bread or Indian rubber, to remove the tint,
and expose the clean paper. Should any error, either in
outline or effect of chiar’ oscuro, have been committed, the
whole space can be removed with a sponge and water, with¬
out much injury to the paper; indeed many of the best
artists of the present day rub out and lay in their colours
almost alternately, by which means a very great variety of
surface and tint is obtained which could not be effected by
any other process.
We have thus endeavoured to give what we hope will be
found a satisfactory account of practical drawing, whether
in chalk or water colour; and it now remains for us to re¬
commend, for the student’s careful perusal, Leonardo da
Vinci on Painting; the works of Sir Joshua Reynolds;
Burnet on Light and Shadow in Painting, on Colour in
Painting, on Composition in Painting; the works of the
old masters, whether their drawings or etchings ; and, above
all, the study of nature. Every one who has long been in
the habit of copying from drawings alone, of whatever de¬
scription, must have felt considerable diffidence in attempt¬
ing to draw from real objects or from nature. This arises
from the fear of being unable properly to reduce and hold
in their relative place, on a sheet of paper, the objects
which present themselves to the eye. To remove this ob¬
stacle, we would recommend that too much should not be
attempted at the first, but the most simple subjects chosen,
and these represented in a careful manner; the outline on
the light side of the objects to be done in a delicate manner,
and that on the shadow side in a bold style, and the shad¬
ing to be also conducting upon similar principles. The most
careful attention to representing the various forms should
be practised in the outline, for on the accuracy of it depends
Description of the Plates.
Plate CCVII. Initiatory lessons for drawing the various parts
of the face. Figs. 1, 2, 3, represent the human eye in a variety of
positions. Figs. 4 and 5 the nose. Figs. 6, 7, 8, the nose and
mouth.
Plate CCVIII. Second lesson. Figs. 1 and 2 the ear. Figs. 3,
4, 5, studies of heads.
Plate CCIX. Plate of male and female hands in a variety of
positions, as represented in figures 1 to 11.
Plate OCX. contains eight figures or studies of the human foot.
Plate CCXI. Studies from the antique. Fig. 1, Thalia; fig. 2,
Clio; both examples of sitting figures. Fig. 3, Bacchus. Fig. 4,
Venus of Arles. Fig. 5, a Discobolus.
Plate CCXII. Studies from the antique. Fig. 1, Hercules and
Telephus. Fig. 2, the Torso of Michel Angelo. Fig. 3, Jason.
Fig. 4, the Dying Gladiator.
Plate CCXIII. Studies from the antique. Fig. 1, Venus de’
Medicis. Fig. 2, Venus of the Capitol.
Plate CCXIV. Study from the antique. Fig. 1, the Apollo
Belvidere.
Plate CCXV. Study from the antique. Fig. 1, Group of the
Laocoon.
Plate CCXVI. Specimen of sketching by Raffaelle.
Plate CCXVII. Specimens of sketching by Claude Lorraine.
Plate CCXVIII. Example of the mode of conducting a drawing
in Indian ink, bistre, sepia, &e., from outline to finished perfor¬
mance. (w. H. L.)
DRAY (Lat. traha, a sledge), a kind of cart used by
brewers for carrying barrels of beer or ale: also a sledge.
DRAYTON, Michael, a celebrated English poet, was
born at Harshull in Warwick in 1563. The events of Dray¬
ton’s life are involved in great obscurity. It is believed that
he went to Oxford, which he quitted without taking his de¬
gree, and that he afterwards entered the army. In 1593 he
published his first work, under the title of The Shepherd's
Garland, a collection of pastoral poems, in a style which
was then becoming highly popular in England. As a whole,
this work was utterly unworthy of its author’s powers, and
it is now almost entirely forgotten, with the exception of
the ballad of Dowsahel, which Percy incorporated in his
Reliques. The Shepherd!s Garland was reprinted in 1619,
under the title of Eclogues. To the historical poetry of his
era Drayton made two valuable contributions in his Barons'
Wars, and England's Heroical Epistles, works in them¬
selves highly interesting, and in many passages both touch¬
ing and imaginative, though neither of them exhibits a just
conception of the poet’s privilege of idealizing the actual.
Drayton’s fame as a poet, however, rests on his Polyolbion,
the greatest of his works. The general outline of this com¬
position is descriptive, though it partakes largely of the na¬
ture of didactic, historical, and pastoral poetry. The thinly
disguised design of the author is to furnish a topographical
description of England ; a purpose so dangerously prosaic,
that his greatest work, though redeemed by many passages
of fine fancy and sentiment, as well as splendid diction, has
hardly ever perhaps been read through from beginning to
end. The immense length of the poem, as well as its oc¬
casional obscurity and cumbrousness, have likewise greatly
interfered with its popularity. The measure which Drayton
adopted for the Polyolbion is the Alexandrine, which has
rarely been managed with greater skill. The Barons' Wars
again are written in the Ottava rima. Drayton’s little fairy
tale, entitled Nymphidia, is a composition which, in its
peculiar vein, has never been surpassed.
After the publication of the Polyolbion, the only event
176
Dreams.
D R E
of importance in the life of Drayton was his appointment
to the office of poet laureate. He died in 1631, and his
tomb may still be seen in the Poet’s Corner of Westminster
Abbev.
DREAMS are those thoughts which pass through the
mind, and those imaginary transactions in which we often
fancy ourselves engaged, when in the state of sleep. Of
all the subjects upon which the mind of man has specu¬
lated, there is perhaps none which has more perplexed phi¬
losophers than that of dreaming.
In regard to the immediate cause of dreaming, the opi¬
nions of the ancients were very various. Aristotle observes
—Every object of sense produces upon the human soul a
certain impression, which remains for some time after the
object that made it is removed ; and which, being afterwards
recognised by the perceptive faculty in sleep, gives rise to
the varied images which present themselves.
Amongst English writers on this subject, none have writ¬
ten with more acuteness in support of his theory than Baxter.
He supposes that our dreams are prompted by separate
spirits—an opinion generally entertained by the heathen,
and which opinion has given rise, in all ages and in all
countries, to endless superstition and imposture—(Essay on
the Phenomenon of Dreaming, vol. ii., 3d edit., 1745).
Professor Dugald Stewart, in endeavouring to reduce the
phenomenon of dreaming to some established principles,
remarks, that in sleep those operations of the mind are sus¬
pended which depend on our volition. He then says that,
if the suspension of our voluntary operations in sleep be ad¬
mitted as a fact, there are only two suppositions which can
be advanced concerning its cause;—the one is, that the
power of volition is suspended ; the other, that the will loses
its influence over those faculties of the mind and those mem¬
bers of the body which, during our waking hours, are sub¬
jected to its authority. Now it may be shown that the for¬
mer is not consistent with fact, whence the latter follows as
a necessary consequence. Hence it is inferred that all our
mental operations which are independent of our will may
continue during sleep ; and that the phenomenon of dream¬
ing may, perhaps, be produced by these, diversified in their
apparent effects in consequence of the suspension of our
voluntary powers. Two obvious consequences follow:—1st,
That when we are asleep, the succession of our thoughts,
in so far as it depends on the association, may be carried on
by the operation of the same unknown causes by which it
is produced while we are awake ; and, 2d, That the order
of our thoughts in these two states of our minds must be
very different, inasmuch as in the one it depends solely on
the laws of association, and in the other on those laws com¬
bined with our own voluntary exertions.
If, then, the succession of our thoughts during sleep is
regulated by the same general laws of association to which
it is subjected while we are awake, and if the circumstances
which discriminate dreaming from our waking thoughts are
such as must necessarily arise from the suspension of the
will, this may account for the inaccurate estimate we form
of time when dreaming: the rapidity of thought is such that
in the twinkling of an eye a crowd of ideas may pass before
us, to winch it would take a long discourse to give utter¬
ance ; and transactions may be conceived which it would
require days, or even years, to realize. But in sleep the
conceptions of the mind are mistaken for realities, and there¬
fore our estimate of time will be found not according to our
experience of the rapidity of thought, but according to our
experience of the time requisite for realizing what we con¬
ceive.—(Stewart’s Elements of the Philosophy of the Human
Mind, pp. 328-348.)
There seems a strong analogy between dreaming and
insanity. Dr Abercrombie defines the difference between
the two states to be, that in the latter the erroneous im¬
pression, being permanent, affects the conduct; whereas, in
D R E
dreaming, no influence on the conduct is pi oduced, because
the vision is dissipated on awaking.
Dreams appear to be ordinarily the re-embodiment of
thoughts which have before, in some shape or other, occu-
pied^the mind. They are broken fragments of our former
conceptions revived, and heterogeneously brought together.
If they break off from their connecting chain, and become
loosely associated, they exhibit ofttimes absurd combinations,
but the elements still subsist. If, for instance, any irritation,
such as pain, fever, &c\, should excite the perceptive organs
while the reflective ones are under the influence of sleep, we
have a consciousness of objects, colours, or sounds being
presented to us, just as if the former organs were actually
stimulated by having such impressions communicated to
them by the external senses; whilst, in consequence of the
repose of the reflecting power, we are unable to rectify the
illusion, and conceive that the scenes passing before us, or
the sounds that we hear, have a real existence. T his want
of mutual co-operation between the different faculties of the
mind may account for the disjointed character of dreams.
This position might be fully substantiated by an appeal to
the evidence of fact. Dr Beattie speaks of a man who
could be made to dream anything by whispering in his ear.
Dr Gregory relates of himself that, having once had occasion
to apply a bottle of hot water to his own feet when he re¬
tired to bed, he dreamed that he was ascending the side of
Mount iEtna, and that he found the heat of the ground al¬
most insufferable. Persons who have had a blister applied
to their head have been known to dream of being scalped
by a party of North American Indians. Sleeping in a smoky
room, we may dream of a house or a city being in flames.
The smell of a flower applied to the nostrils may call forth
the idea of walking in a garden; and the sound of a flute
may excite in us the most pleasurable associations.
The only one of our mental powers which is not dimi¬
nished while dreaming is fancy, or imagination. W e often
find memory and judgment alternately suspended and exer¬
cised. Sometimes we fancy ourselves contemporaneous
with persons who have lived ages before: here memory is
at work, but judgment is set aside. We dream of carrying
on a very connected discourse with a deceased friend, and
are not conscious that he is no more: here judgment is
awake, but memory suspended.
How God revealed himself by dreams, and raised up per¬
sons to interpret them, the Scriptures abundantly testify.
That divine dreams, which actually were imparted to God s
servants, should be imitated in fictitious representation by
ancient and modern writers, was consistent no less with the
general objects of superstition and imposture than with those
of literature. Hence divine dreams became the constant
appendages of the heathen mythology, and accounts, real
and fictitious, of communications in vision, were interwoven
in every production. Information which was superior to
the vulgar philosophy of the time, intimated its discoveries
as suggestions imparted by inspiration. If a warning was
to be conveyed, what so affecting as the admonition of a
departed friend ! Such machinery was particularly adapted
to works of imagination; and the poems of antiquity, as well
as those of modern times, were frequently decorated with
its ornaments.
DREDGING. See Navigation, Tidal.
DRELINCOURT, Charles, an eminent Calvinistic
divine, was born in July 1595 at Sedan, where his father
was register to the supreme council. After officiating tor
some time as Protestant pastor at Langres, he removed in
J620 to Paris, where he was settled in the church of
Charenton. He is best known in England by his Cate¬
chism and Consolations against the Fears of Death, works
which have been translated and frequently reprinted. His
controversial works, which are directed chiefly against the
claims of the Papacy, are numerous, and include the Ju-
Dredgin;
DEE
Drenthe bilee, the Roman Combat, the Jesuit's Owl, an Answer to
|| Father Coussin, Disputes with the Bishop of Bellai, an An-
Dresden. swer to Lamilletiere, Dialogues against the Missionaries,
the False Pastor convicted, the False Face of Antiquity,
the Pretended Nullities of the Reformation, an Answer to
Prince Ernest of Hesse, an Ansiver to the Speech of the
Archbishop of Sens, Defence of Calvin, the Abridgment of
Controversies, and other works. He married the daughter
of a rich merchant at Paris, by whom he had sixteen chil¬
dren. His third son, professor of physic at Leyden, was
physician to the prince and princess of Orange before their
accession to the crown of England. Drelincourt died in
November 1660.
DRENTHE, a province of Holland, bounded on the
N. and N.E. by Groningen, E. and S.E. by Hanover, S. by
Overyssel, and W. by Friesland. Area 1028 square miles.
Pop. (1853) 87,944. * The soil is generally poor, a great
part of it being heaths and marshes ; and in fact little more
than one-half of the entire province is capable of cultiva¬
tion. The capital is Assen, with about 4500 inhabitants.
DRESDEN, the capital of the kingdom of Saxony, and
one of the finest cities of Europe, is situated on both sides
of the Elbe, at an altitude of 402 feet above the level of
the sea, 72 miles E.S.E. of Leipzig, and 100 S.S.E. of Ber¬
lin. Lat. 51.2. 54. N., Long. 13. 44. 47. E. It occupies
the most beautiful and highly cultivated portion of the val¬
ley of the Elbe, and is approached on almost every side
through avenues of trees, while the distance is bounded by
gentle eminences covered with plantations and vineyards.
Its delightful situation, and the numerous objects of interest
which it contains, have not undeservedly acquired for it the
designation of the “ German Florence.” The city itself,
however, when examined in detail, will in some measure
disappoint the anticipations formed of it when seen from a
distance, there being a want of fine streets and imposing
public buildings. On the left bank of the Elbe stand the
Altstadt or old town, Friedrichstadt, and several suburbs
which constitute the larger portion of the city, while on the
opposite bank is the Neustadt or new town. The Weis-
seritz, a small affluent of the Elbe, separates Friedrichstadt
from the Altstadt. The streets of the Altstadt are narrow
and the houses lofty, which give to this part of the town a
gloomy appearance; in the Neustadt the streets are wide
and regular, and the houses well built. The Elbe is here
crossed by two bridges, the one an elegant stone bridge of
sixteen arches, 1380 feet in length and 42 in breadth :
the other, forming a portion of the line of railway leading
from Leipzig through Dresden to Prague, is a still finer
bridge, 1420 feet in length, 54 feet wide, and 40 feet above
the river, having, besides two lines of railway, a carriage
way and two foot ways. The Altstadt was formerly sur¬
rounded with fortifications, but these were demolished by
the French in 1810, and the space occupied by them has
been appropriated to gardens and promenades. The Royal
Palace is an irregular antique building, having externally
the appearance of a fortress rather than of a royal residence ;
but the interior is richly decorated, and in every way worthy
of its destination. It contains the proposition-saal in which
the sessions of the legislature are opened, the royal library,
the hall of audience with a splendid ceiling painted by Syl¬
vester, the parade chamber with paintings by the same
master, the royal audience chamber, the chamber of cere¬
monies, and the porcelain cabinet, the walls of which are
ornamented with porcelain. Opening upon the palace-yard
is the celebrated Green Vault (Griine Gewolbe), so called
probably from the colour of the hangings with which the
chambers were originally decorated, and containing an im¬
mense collection of precious stones, pearls, and works of art
in gold, silver, amber, and ivory. These are arranged in
eight apartments, each exceeding the previous one in the splen¬
dour and richness of its contents, and are estimated at above
YOL. VIII.
D R E 177
a million sterling in value. Near the palace, and communi- Dresden,
eating with it, is the celebrated gallery of paintings, the finest
collection north of the Alps, containing numerous specimens
of the Italian, French, Flemish, Dutch, German, and mo¬
dern schools, including Raphael’s Madonna di San Sisto, six
paintings by Correggio, several by Titian, Paul Veronese,
Caracci, Guido, Rubens, Vandyck, Teniers, Holbein the
younger, Rembrandt, Claude, &c. Beneath the picture
gallery is a fine collection of plaster casts of the most fa¬
mous antique statues, made under the superintendence of
the celebrated artist Raphael Mengs. A new picture gal¬
lery has been in progress since 1846, and will be opened
in 1854-55. The Zwinger, a fine group of buildings sur¬
rounding an inclosure planted with orange trees, was erected
in 1711, and originally intended to form the vestibule to a
new palace designed by Augustus II. It contains the his¬
torical museum, museum of natural history, and cabinet of
prints and drawings. The S.E. angle was burned down
during the revolt of May 1849, and still remains a ruin.
The historical museum, formerly the armoury, is undoubt¬
edly one of the finest collections of the kind in Europe.
Though less interesting as a historical collection than the
Ambras collection at Vienna, it yet surpasses that one in
armour of rich and elaborate workmanship. The museum
of natural history, though inferior to many of the kind on
the Continent, still contains many objects of interest to the
scientific. The cabinet of engravings is one of the most
complete collections of copperplates in Europe, containing
everything interesting in the history of the art, or valuable
from practical excellence. It contains in all about 300,000
engravings, arranged in classes. The Palace of the Princes
contains a handsome chapel, a gallery of portraits of princes
of the Saxon and Bavarian lines, a porcelain cabinet, a li¬
brary of 10,000 volumes, and a cabinet of engravings. A
covered way leads from this palace to the opera-house,
which is capable of accommodating 8000 spectators. The
new theatre, near the Catholic church, is one of the hand¬
somest in Germany, and is capable of containing 1700 per¬
sons. The Bruhl Terrace, extending along the left bank
of the Elbe, is approached from the foot of the old bridge
by a grand flight of broad steps. It commands an exten¬
sive view of the surrounding scenery, and is a favourite re¬
sort of the inhabitants. Contiguous to it is the Bruhl Pa¬
lace, in which are the academy of fine arts, and a collection
of 50 landscapes by Canaletto. The Japanese Palace in
the Neustadt, so named from some grotesque oriental figures
and ornaments with which it is decorated, was built by
Augustus II. for a summer residence, and hence is some¬
times called the Augusteum. It is now appropriated to
public purposes, and the beautiful pleasure grounds which
surround it form a most agreeable promenade for the citi¬
zens. It contains the museum of antiquities and modern
statuary, occupying ten saloons, and enriched with some of
the finest antique statues in Germany, a cabinet of coins, a
public library containing about 300,000 volumes, 2800
MSS., and a very large collection of maps, besides the cele¬
brated porcelain cabinet, containing more than 60,000pieces
of china. The Court Roman Catholic church, built in
1739-56, is a large edifice in the Italian style. Externally
it is profusely decorated, and by many considered deficient
in taste; but internally it is chaste, elegant, and imposing,
and altogether is one of the finest in Germany. It contains
paintings by Rubens and Mengs, and a fine organ by Sil-
bermann, and is surmounted by a steeple 378 feet in height.
The church of Our Lady is also a magnificent building,
with a cupola 320 feet in height, resembling that of St
Peter’s at Rome, and contains a fine organ of 6000 pipes.
The Cross Church, Sophia Church, and the synagogue are
also elegant buildings. Among the other public edifices
may be noticed the mint, arsenal, medical and surgical
school, house of assembly, royal guard house, new general
z
178 D R I
Dreux post-office, town-hall, trades’-hall, Maximilian’s Palace, and
l| cavalry and infantry barracks. Dresden has a great num-
v Dnf^ } her of literary and scientific institutions, including a botanic
garden, observatory, schools of medicine, surgery, and vete¬
rinary science, academy of arts, two colleges, a high school,
&c. There are also numerous charitable institutions, as
asylums, hospitals, &c., and excellent public baths. The
celebrated Dresden china is not made here, but at Meissen,
about 14 miles distant. In 1849 the population of Dresden
amounted to 94,092, of whom 88,181 were Lutherans, 553
Reformed, 4411 Roman Catholics, and 672 Jews; 167
were blind, 110 deaf and dumb, and 128 insane. In 1852
the population was 104,500: during that year the deaths
were 3340, and the births 3916: of the latter 1446 were
illegitimate.
DREUX (the Durocassce, or Durocasinum-Castrum,
of the Romans), the chef-lieu of an arrondissement in the
department of Eure-et-Loir. The town lies at the foot of
a hill crowned by the ruins of the old castle of the counts
of Dreux. In the middle of these ruins Louis-Philippe
erected a chapel with splendid vaults as a burying-place for
the members of his family.
The antiquity of Dreux is considerable. In 1188 it was
taken and burnt by the English; and at the close of the
sixteenth century it formed the scene of a bloody battle
between the Catholics and Calvinists. In 1593 the town
was taken by Henry IV., after an obstinate siege of
eighteen days. The walls were razed, and Dreux thence¬
forth entirely lost its political importance. Dreux contains
tribunals of first instance and of commerce, and a communal
college. Pop. (1852) 6250.
DREVET, Pierre, the younger, an eminent French
engraver, was born in 1697, at Paris, where his father
had acquired considerable reputation in the same depart¬
ment of art. He was a member of the royal academy of
painting and sculpture, and died at Paris in 1739, at the
age of forty-two. In his portraits, which are highly elabo¬
rate, he particularly excelled in representing lace, silk, fur,
velvet, and other ornamental parts of dress. Of his histo¬
rical prints—which, in point of neatness and exquisite work¬
manship, are scarcely to be equalled—the most esteemed is
the Presentation of Christ in the Temple; a very large
plate, lengthwise, from Luigi de Bologna. This print is
very valuable, but the first impressions of it are rarely to be
met with. Among his portraits, the best are those of Bos-
suet and of Samuel Bernard. The first impressions of the
latter are before the words Conseiller d’Etat were inserted
upon the plate.
DRIFFIELD, Great, a market-town and seat of a
poor-law union, in the east riding of Yorkshire, 28 miles
E. by N. from York, and 196 N. by W. from London by
road. The town—which consists of one principal street,
from which some smaller ones diverge—is agreeably situated
at the foot of the Wolds, and is connected with the port of
Hull by a navigable canal. It stands in the centre of a
fertile district, the inhabitants of which are chiefly engaged
in agriculture ; and an important market is held in the town
every Thursday, in which extensive transactions take place
in corn and cattle. The principal public buildings in Great
Driffield are the corn exchange, the dispensary, the mecha¬
nics’ institution, and the station of the Hull and Scarborough
railway. Besides the parish church, it contains places of
worship for Independents, Methodists, and Baptists; and also
national and infant schools. In the town is a manufactory
of chemical manure, while in the neighbourhood are nu¬
merous flour-mills, and mills for bone-crushing. The living
of Great Driffield is a vicarage, with the perpetual curacy of
Little Driffield attached, in the archdeaconry of the east
riding, and diocese of York. Pop. (1851) 3792.
DRIF F, in Navigation, the angle which the line of a
ship s motion makes with the nearest meridian, when she
D R 0
drives with her side to the wind and waves, and is not go- Drift
veined by the helm. It also implies the distance which II
the ship drives on that line. Drogheda
Drift, in Mining, a passage cut between shaft and shaft; '"■“V’**'
or a way wrought under the earth.
Drift-*SW, a sail used under water, veered out right
a-head by sheets, as other sails are. It serves to keep the
ship’s head right upon the sea in a storm, and to prevent her
driving too fast in a current.
Drift- Wood, trees or timber carried out to sea by rivers
when in flood ; timber drifted or floated by water.
DRILL (Sax. thirlian, to perforate; Ger. drillen, to
turn, to tivist), a tool with a steel point, used for perforating
metal, ivory, and other hard substances. It is worked by a
moderate pressure, with a whirling motion, which is usually
communicated to it either by a drill-bow, or by means of a
nut made to play on a spiral shaft in the end of which the
steel point is fixed. The extremity of the borer is generally
somewhat flattened, and of an angular shape, thus ^ , with
sharp edges.
Drill, in Agriculture, a machine for sowing seeds in
regular rows. See Agriculture, vol. ii., p. 274.
DRILLING, the training or exercising of soldiers.
DRINK. See Dietetics.
DRIPSTONE, or Label. See index to Architecture.
DRIVING, in Metallurgy, is said of silver, when, in the
operation of refining, after the lead is burnt away, the re¬
maining copper rises upon its surface in red fiery bubbles.
Driving, in sea language, is said of a ship when her
anchor fails to hold her fast, and she floats away with the
wind or tide. A vessel is also said to drive when she scuds
before a gale.
DROGHEDA, a town in the province of Leinster, in
Ireland, situated in the middle of a small district called the
county of the town of Drogheda, between the counties of
Louth and Meath, is built on both sides of the river Boyne,
about 4 miles from its mouth, and 31^ miles north of the
city of Dublin. The entire extent of the county is 9 square
miles, or 5780 acres. In the earliest notices of it by an¬
cient writers it is called Inver-Colpa, or the Port of Colpa,
and afterwards Tredagh. Drogheda, the name it is at pre¬
sent known by, signifies “ the Bridge over the Ford.” The
portions on each side of the Boyne were formerly distinct
towns, under separate jurisdictions, distinguished by the
names of Drogheda on the side of Meath, and Drogheda on
the side of Uriel, the ancient appellation given to the county
of Louth and some adjoining districts. Drogheda is now
divided into the parishes of St Peter, St Mary, and part of
that of Ballymakenny ; and contained, in 1831, a population
of 17,365 ; in 1841, of 17,300; and in 1851, of 16,845.
Formerly the municipal government of the town was vested
in the mayor, two sheriffs, two justices of the peace, and a
recorder, to whom a charter had been granted under the fol¬
lowing circumstances: Whilst the town was split into two
jurisdictions, the inhabitants were incessantly in a state of
mutual hostility, in consequence of trading vessels landing
their cargoes in the southern town, to avoid the payment of
pontage duty levied on all vessels discharging on the north¬
ern or Louth side. Much blood was frequently shed on
these occasions. At length Philip Bennett, a monk residing
in the town, took occasion, on the festival of Corpus Christi,
to preach a sermon before the constituted authorities of
both sides, in which he inculcated the blessings of union so
emphatically, and followed up the subject so effectively at
an entertainment to which he invited them in his convent
the same day, that they all joined in sending a deputation
to Henry IV. to obtain a new charter, by which both parts
were embodied into a single corporation. This event took
place in the year 1412. The charter was afterwards con¬
firmed with alterations by James I. The mayor was honoured
by Edward IV. with a sword of state, and L.20 a-year for
D R 0
D R O
179
Drogheda, its maintenance, in reward of the services performed by the
townsmen in an engagement at Malpas Bridge, where this
magistrate, at the head of 500 archers and 200 pole-axe¬
men, contributed to the defeat of O’Reilly and his confe¬
derates. Previously to the union Drogheda returned two
members to parliament. The number has since been re¬
duced to one, who is elected by a constituency consisting
of 586 electors. For municipal purposes the town has been
divided by the late act into the three wards of Westgate,
Fairgate, and Laurencegate, and is governed by the corpo¬
ration, which consists of a mayor, 6 aldermen, and 18 coun¬
cillors, under the title of the “ Mayor, Sheriffs, Burgesses,
and Commonalty of the town of Drogheda.”
The town has always been considered by the English as
a place of much importance. In the reign of Edward III.
it was classed, along with Dublin, Waterford, and Kilkenny,
as one of the four staple towns of Ireland. Richard II. re¬
ceived in it the submissions of O’Neal, O’Donnel, and other
chieftains of Ulster and Leinster. The right of coining
money was granted to it. Parliaments were several times
assembled in it, in one of which the value of money was
raised, by altering the silver groat or fourpenny piece to six¬
pence. In another parliament, also held here, in the be¬
ginning of the reign of Edward IV., the town was granted
the right of having a university, with the same privileges as
that of Oxford. The plan however failed, owing to the
poverty of the town and the unsettled state of the country;
and an attempt lately made by the corporation to re-assert
the right was also unsuccessful. One of the Earls of Des¬
mond was beheaded here on a charge of high treason,
brought against him in parliament by the Earl of Worces¬
ter when lord-lieutenant. Here also the celebrated statutes
known by the name of Poyning’s Laws, which made such a
change in the political relations between England and Ire¬
land, were enacted. In the civil wars of 1641 the town was
besieged by O’Neal and the northern Irish forces; but was
gallantly defended by Sir Henry Tichbourne, and after a
long blockade relieved by the Marquis of Ormond. The
same nobleman relieved it a second time, when invested by
the parliamentary army under Colonel Jones. In 1649
Cromwell appeared before it at the head of a numerous and
well-appointed army. The town was taken after a short
though spirited defence; and nearly every individual in it,
without distinction of age or sex, was pul to the sword.
Thirty only escaped, who were afterwards transported as
slaves to Barbadoes. In 1690 it was garrisoned by King
James’s army ; but after the decisive battle of the Boyne it
surrendered to the conqueror without a struggle, in conse¬
quence of a threat that quarter would not be granted if the
town were taken by storm. Its subsequent history is not
marked by any circumstance of striking political notoriety.
Of the ancient fortifications very few relics remain. The
only one of its four gates still in existence is that of St
Laurence, which forms a very picturesque object. The
modern town, built chiefly on the northern bank of the
Boyne, is divided into four principal parts or quarters, by
the two main streets that intersect each other at the Tholsel.
The bridge which connects this portion with the southern
is narrow, and by no means well suited to the great and in¬
creasing current of passengers and vehicles that take advan¬
tage of it. The principal public buildings are, the mayor¬
alty-house, to which a suite of assembly-rooms is attached;
the Tholsel, a square building of cut stone, with a cupola;
the corn-market, the linen-hall, two parish churches, and
several Roman Catholic chapels, the largest of which is
that of St Peter. There are also several religious houses,
in one of which, the abbey of Dominican nuns, without St
Laurence’s gate, is still preserved the head of Oliver Plun-
ket, Roman Catholic archbishop of Armagh, who was exe¬
cuted at Tyburn in the year 1681, on an unfounded charge
of treason. His body, having been interred in St Giles’,
London, was afterwards removed to the Continent. A clas- Drohiczyn
sical school, under the endowment of Erasmus Smith, is ||
maintained here. There are also several free schools, the Droitwich.
principal of which, called the Patrician school, accommo-
dates 150 pupils. Among the charitable institutions is one
for the reception of thirty-six clergymen’s widows, who are
each provided with a house and an annuity of L.26 during
life, arising from bequests made by two archbishops of Ar¬
magh. Here is also an alms-house for twenty-four aged
widows, an infirmary, and a mendicity association for the
suppression of street-begging, by which poor persons are pro¬
vided with food and employment, but are not lodged.
The former importance of Drogheda may also be inferred
from the numerous remains of its monastic institutions. The
principal were, the hospital of St Mary, for the sick and in¬
firm ; the priory of St Laurence, which was granted to the
corporation on the dissolution of the monasteries; the Do¬
minican friary, of which a tower of stately proportions still
exists; the Grey friary, and the Augustinian friary; all in
the northern part of the town. On the southern side were
the hospital of the Knights of St John of Jerusalem, and
the Carmelite friary. The archbishops of Armagh had a
palace in the town, built by Archbishop Hampton about the
year 1620.
Drogheda was until lately the seat of an extensive manu¬
facture of coarse linens, on the decline of which the cotton
manufacture supplied its place. Brewing and tanning are
carried on largely. Four fairs are held annually, on May 12,
June 22, August 26, and October 29. It is also a great
place of export for grain, hides, and butter. Vessels of 200
tons can lie at the quay. The communication with the
country is facilitated by means of the Boyne navigation,
which is carried on for 9 miles, chiefly in the bed of the
river, to Slane ; 6 miles of still water navigation continue it
thence to Navan, and 7 more to Trim. The chief articles
conveyed by it are coal, slate, timber, iron, and salt up¬
wards ; grain, yarn, and linen downwards. The salmon
fishery on the Boyne was once very valuable; the fish is
is highly esteemed for its flavour.
About 4 miles west of the town is the village of Old
Bridgeton, memorable for the celebrated and decisive vic¬
tory gained by William of Orange over James II. The
battle, which marks one of the great epochs in Irish history,
is fully detailed in every general account of the country.
The precise point where the main body of the British army
crossed the Boyne during the action, and where the aged
Duke Schomberg was killed whilst leading on his men, is
marked by an elegant obelisk 150 feet high, having on each
side of its pedestal an appropriate inscription.
DROHICZYN, a town of Russian Poland, province of
Bialystock, and 58 miles S.S. W. of the town of that name.
It stands on the right bank of the Bug, and has four
churches, three convents, a Piarist college, and about 2000
inhabitants. It was formerly the capital of Podlachia.
DROHOBYCZ, a town of Austrian Galicia, circle of
Sambor, and 17 miles S.E. of the town of that name. It is
situated on the Tiszmanieka; is a place of considerable
trade, particularly in corn, cattle and salt; and contains se¬
veral churches, convents, and schools, and about 8000 in¬
habitants, including the suburbs. In the vicinity are some
salt mines.
DROITWICH, a municipal and parliamentary borough
and the seat of a poor-law union in Worcestershire, is situ¬
ated on the river Salwarpe, 7 miles N.N.E. of Worcester,
and 116 miles N.W. by W. from London. The borough
returns one member to parliament, and is governed by a mu¬
nicipality consisting of four aldermen and twelve council¬
lors, one of whom is mayor. The livings are in the arch¬
deaconry and diocese of Worcester. Pop. (1851) 3125 ;
of extended parliamentary borough, 7096. From a very re¬
mote date, Droitwich has been famous for its wyches or salt
180
D R 0
Drome.
springs. These were known to the Romans, who had a sta¬
tion called Salime on the spot now occupied by the town
of Droitwich. In the formation of the Oxford and Wolver¬
hampton railway, remains of a Roman villa were disco¬
vered, containing some interesting and valuable relics wine ^
have been carefully preserved. In “ Domesday Book,
mention is made of a tax imposed upon the salt mines o
Droitwich. King John granted a charter to the borough.
The chief public buildings of Droitwich are the Court
Chamber, a handsome edifice, and the churches of St An¬
drew and St Peter, besides the chapels of the Plymouth
Brethren and the Methodists. Droitwich also possesses na¬
tional and infant schools, and an admirably conducted hos¬
pital, which maintains about forty men and women, besides
educating 100 young persons of both sexes. Droitwich
possesses a very large trade in salt, of which it produces
annually upwards of 60,000 tons. The canals and railways
which pass the town at short distances afford great facilities
for the transit of this article to other parts of the country.
DROME, a department in the S.E. of France, bounded
on the W. by the Rhone, which separates it from Ardeche ;
on the N. and N.E. by the department of Isere ; on the
E. by that of the Hautes-Alpes; on the S.E. by that ot
Basses-Alpes ; and S. by that of Vaucluse. Its greatest
leno-th from north to south is about 78 miles ; its greatest
breadth nearly 50 miles ; its area about 2500 square miles.
Pop. (1851) 326,846. . . A1 . , ,
Though separated from the maritime Alps by the de¬
partments of the Hautes and Basses-Alpes, Drome is covered
in its eastern parts by spurs of that chain. One ot the
largest of these spurs forms, for a eonsiderame distance, the
eastern boundary of the department, on which side it throw s
up the three lofty peaks of Embel, T ous, and Ventoux. I he
ridges (for the most part wooded) which traverse the de¬
partment with tolerable regularity from east to west, are all
off-shoots from this Alpine spur. These ridges divide the
department in its whole extent into three great natural di¬
visions or valleys, with a general slope westwards to the
Rhone. These valleys are that of the Isere m the north,
that of the Drome, from which the department derives its
name, and which occupies the central portion of the pro¬
vince, and that of the Aigues which occupies all its southern
part The affluents of the Rhine which water this southern
portion are the Roubion, the Berre, the Deze, the Aigues,
and the Ouveze. The soil of the department, naturally not
very fertile, is thin and sandy. The disposition of its vari¬
ous elevations presenting a series of basins rising over each
other in the manner of an amphitheatre, is very favour¬
able to the construction of artificial canals for the purposes
of irrigation. These canals are very numerous, and are
managed with much skill by the inhabitants. As the de¬
partment is generally mountainous, its climate is rather co
than temperate, but on the whole bracing and healthy.
Snow is visible on the mountain-tops during the greater
part of the year; but the summer-heat in the valleys that
border the Rhone is intense. The prevailing winds are
those of the north and south.
In the more inaccessible mountains bears, wild-goats,
and chamois are found in great numbers, as well as some of
the larger kinds of birds of prey. In the lower grounds
wolves and foxes abound. On the islands in the Rhone
and on the banks of some of the inland lakes, some colonies
of beavers are still to be seen. The department abounds
in game, both great and small of every kind; but except the
sheep and swine the domestic animals are nowise remark¬
able. The principal forest-trees found in Drome are the
pine, the beech, and the oak. In the valleys the olive,
chestnut, almond, and mulberry trees are a great source of
wealth to the natives. Black truffles of the finest quality
also grow in great abundance. The botanical flora of the
department is rich and various. The mineral wealth of the
D R O
department is considerable, as in various parts of it are found Dromedary
mines of iron, copper, lead, and coal, besides marble and J|^
granite quarries. Rock-crystal of fine quality is also found, v _ ^
Is well as black and red clay for pottery, chalk, &c. I here '
are numerous mineral wells throughout the department; the
most celebrated is that of Dieu-le-fit. For administrative
and political purposes the department is divided into the
four arrondissements of Valence, Die, Montehmart, and
Nyons, comprising 28 cantons and 360 communes : it forms
part of the seventh military division, the headquarters ot
which are at Lyons: its legal tribunals are under the royal
court of Grenoble. It returns four deputies to the imperial
parliament, and is divided into the four electoral arrondisse¬
ments of Valence, Romans, Montelimart, and Crest. Ag¬
riculture is not very far advanced in the Drome. About
two-fifths of the soil are arable and yield good corn crops,
though barely sufficient for the requirements of the people.
Two-sevenths of the entire surface are covered with woods,
while two-ninths of it are unimprovable moorland.^ Large
quantities of excellent wines are made in the Drome, and
of these nearly nine millions of gallons are annually exported.
The best of these wines are the red and white hermitage.
The territorial revenues of the department are estimated
at about half-a-million sterling. The manufacturing and
commercial industry of the department is very considerable.
The most important article of produce is silk, of which
about 500,000 lbs. are annually produced. Besides this,
however, there are important manufactures of coarse cloths,
serges, cotton-yarn, oil, brandy, leather, paper, bricks, &c.
The total number of workshops and factories in the depart¬
ment is 711, besides 500 wind and water mills, and 5 blast¬
furnaces. The total number of annual fairs is 440.
DROMEDARY. See index to Mammalia.
D ROMO RE, a town of Ireland, county of Down, on the
Lagan, 84 miles N. by E. of Dublin, on the great northern
road to Belfast. Pop. (1851) 1872. The chief branch of
manufacture carried on is that of linens, and many of the
inhabitants are employed as linen weavers. The cathedral
or parish church, a mean structure, contains the remains of
Jeremy Taylor, and other bishops.
DRONE, the male of the honey bee. Sometimes other
flies also are so named. See Bee.
DRONERO, a town of Piedmont, province of Coni, and
10 miles W.N.W. of the town of that name. It stands on
the Maira, here crossed by a fine bridge, and contains about
7000 inhabitants. The chief manufacture is that of linens.
DRONFIELD, a township of England, Derbyshire, 5£
miles N.N.W. of Chesterfield. The parish church is a fine
old building, with a tower and spire, chiefly in the deco¬
rated style. The principal manufactures are cutlery and
iron wares. Pop. (1851) 2469.
DRONTHEIM, a town of Norway. See Trondheim.
DROPPING-TUBE, a convenient instrument for mea¬
suring liquids drop by drop. It is a glass tube with a hol¬
low bulb near its lower end, which terminates in a small
orifice.
DROPSY (Lat. hydrops), in Medicine, an unnatural col¬
lection of serous fluid in any part of the body. See Patho¬
logy.
DROSSEN, a town of Prussia, province of Branden¬
burg, and government of Frankfurt, 16 miles N.E. of the
town of that name. Manufactures—woollen and linen goods.
Pop. (1849) 4647.
DROWNING. This term usually signifies the extinc¬
tion of life by total submersion ; but it ought also to be ap¬
plied to that species of suffocation which is produced by the
exclusion of atmospheric air from the lungs by any liquid;
for the effects produced in all such cases are similar. Drown¬
ing, therefore, may be considered as having taken place when
the animal perishes from immersion of its head, or even from
the obstruction to the air passages by a fluid.
D R 0 W
Drowning. The ordinary phenomena of drowning may be witnessed
J by submerging a small animal in a glass vessel filled with
water. The animal at first struggles violently, and is soon
observed to make a forcible expiration, as is indicated by
the escape of bubbles of air from its mouth and nose. It
next attempts to inspire ; an effort marked by the strong
heaving of its thorax, and convidsive efforts of its abdominal
muscles. This effort is vain, and is speedily followed by
the extrication of a few more air bubbles from its lungs.
These convulsive motions are repeated at shorter intervals,
while smaller portions of air are forced from the lungs at
each succeeding expiration, until the air cells are deprived
of a considerable portion of the air they contained at the
moment of submersion. Insensibility soon comes on ; but
convulsive movements of the limbs mark the progress of
cerebral congestion, and the influence of unoxygenated
blood on the centre of the nervous system.
After these struggles, the animal is apparently dead;
but a feeble motion may still be perceived in the chest;
and before it ceases altogether, the muscles of the thorax
are once more thrown into action by an ineffectual effort
to breathe. Brodie has remarked, that in drowning, the
action of the heart and diaphragm cease almost at the same
instant. Unless the animal be removed from the water
before the movements of the heart and diaphragm have en¬
tirely ceased, it perishes, and a minute or two more are
sufficient to destroy it. If the animal be removed from the
water while the heart and diaphragm are yet in action, it
may escape from the immediate risk of suffocation, but yet
may die from injury to the brain, produced by congestion
of dark blood on that organ. Bichat, Cruickshank, and
Brodie, have proved that dark unoxygenated blood acts as
a poison on the brain, causing diminished nervous energy,
laborious respiration, feeble pulse, dilated pupils, stupor, and
convulsive twitches of the voluntary muscles.
Signs of deathfrom Drowning.—The signs of death from
drowning axe external and internal. 1. The external signs
most usually perceived are—either a very pale countenance,
or the face bloated and livid ; the lips, and not unfrequently
the whole head, swelled ; the eyes half open, and the pupils
much dilated ; the tongue swelled, and protruded between
the teeth, so as to be in contact with the inner surface of
the lips ; the lips and nose often lined with a whitish froth ;
the chest and epigastrium tumid, and much arched; the ends
of the fingers usually excoriated ; and the spaces under the
nails often filled with sand or mud. 2. The most usual in¬
ternal signs are more or less cerebral congestion ; but in
some cases no morbid change appears in the brain. We
usually find the blood in the vessels of the head, and indeed
in the whole body, of a blackish colour. There is generally
frothy mucus in the trachaea, which is sometimes tinged
with blood ; the lungs are dilated and gorged with blood ;
the diaphragm descends low into the abdomen, and has lost
more or less of its concave surface towards that cavity. The
right cavities of the heart, and the great vessels connected
with it, are gorged with black blood, whilst the left side and
its vessels are usually found empty. The blood in the body
always remains fluid, and readily flows wherever an incision
is made. Water is sometimes found in the bronchial tubes
and cells of the lungs; and not unfrequently some water has
been swallowed in the act of drowning. These symptoms
will generally enable us to detect a death from drowning, if
we examine the body before putrefaction is advanced.
The immediate cause of death from drowning has given
rise to much controversy ; and physiologists have appealed
to contradictory experiments and observations in support
of their different hypotheses. But this difference of opinion
has originated in physiologists supposing that the suspen¬
sion of the vital functions on submersion always depended
on the same proximate cause. It is singular that the very
dissimilar appearances which the face presents in different
N I N G. 181
cases did not suggest some difference in the cause of death. Drowning.
In some drowned persons, the face is remarkably pale, and
rather pinched ; in others, the countenance is livid, and the
whole head swelled; the first indicating the deficiency of
blood in the head, the latter its redundancy. This led Dr
Desgranges to the conclusion that there were two different
modes in which drowning proved fatal.
The first, which he terms nervous or syncopal asphyxia,
occurs when the person, either from the terror of impend¬
ing fate, the effect of surprise, or from the sudden immer¬
sion in extremely cold water, faints at the instant of im¬
mersion. The instantaneous arrestation of the movements
of the heart in such cases prevents the transmission of un¬
oxygenated blood to the brain ; the principle of life is merely
suspended ; the resources of the animal machine are not de¬
stroyed, but are capable of being again called into action by
suitable means. The second, Desgranges terms asphyxia
by suffocation. In this species the heart continues to act
for some time after respiration is impossible. The brain
thus becomes loaded with black or unoxygenated blood,
which is known to act as a direct sedative or a poison on
that delicate organ. When this has gone on for a short
time, its functions are annihilated, and cannot be restored
when the body is again exposed to atmospheric air. In
this second species water often finds its way into the air
tubes, and even into the cells of the lungs, during the vain
efforts of the individual to breathe.
These distinctions are important, will serve to explain
most of the anomalies which have been observed as effects
of submersion, and render probable the very extraordinary
instances of resuscitation after long-continued submersion,
which have been related by men worthy of credit, but
which have appeared marvellous to those whose ideas of
drowning are founded on a few experiments made on the
lower animals forcibly submerged.
Amongst individuals who have recovered from insensi¬
bility induced by long submersion, by far the majority are
those who have been affected by syncopal asphyxia, in
whom there has been instantaneous arrestation of the mo¬
tion of the heart, and suspension of consciousness. This
distinction will enable us also to explain why, when several
persons are submerged together, some will be found quite
irrecoverable ; whilst others, who have been considerably
longer under water, may be capable of resuscitation.
The recovery from syncopal asphyxia is well illustrated
by a case given by Plater. A female, condemned for in¬
fanticide, was inclosed in a sack, according to the provisions
of the Caroline Code of Germany, and thrown into the
Rhine. She fainted at the moment of immersion ; and,
after having been under water for a quarter of an hour,
was drawn out and restored to life.
Pouteau relates the history of a man at Lyons who sud¬
denly fell into a river covered with ice, and remained sub¬
merged for three hours, yet was restored to life by the long-
continued assiduity of his medical attendant. Morgagni
mentions the case of a man who was resuscitated after having
been under water for half a day ; and Pechlin relates the
instance of a Swedish gardener who was submerged in a
frozen pond for sixteen hours, and yet was recovered by
similar means. This case is so extraordinary that we give
it in the author’s own words :—
“ Hortulanus Tronningholmensis etiamnum vivens, annos
natus 6o pro ilia aetate satis adhuc valens et vegetus, cum
ante 18 annos, alii in aquas delapso opem ferre vellet, forte
fortuna et ipse per glaciem incautius procedens, aquas incidit
18 ulnas profundas: ubi ille, corpore erecto quasi ad perpen-
diculum, pedibus fundo adhaesit. Constitit sic per 16 boras,
antequam produceretur in auras. Hoc statu dum 16 boras
permansit frustra quaesitus, tandem repertum, conto in caput
infixo, cujus etiam sensum se habuisse dixit, fundo extrax-
erunt, sperantes ex more aut persuasione gentis revicturum
1
132 D R 0 W
Drowning, esse. Itaque pannis linteisque productum obvolvunt, ne
v ^ , / aere admitti possit perniciosus futurus subito illapsu : custo-
ditum sic satis ab aere sensim sensimque tepidiori loco ad-
movent mox calidis adoriuntur fasciis, Iricant, radunt, et
sufflaminatum tot horis sanguinis corporisque motum nego-
tiosa ilia opera reducunt: denique antapoplecticis et genia-
libus liquoribus vitae reddunt et pristinae mobilitati. Retulit
is atque ostendit se etiamnum in capite circumferre vestigia
violentiae a conto illatae, et cephalalgiis vexari gravissimis.
Et propter hunc ipsum casum, religiose a popularibus, et
hujusce rei restibus probatum, Serenissimae Reginae matris
munificentia et annuo stipendio est donatus—et Serenis.
Principi—oblatus vivus sui testis—Consignatam manu ba¬
bes Historiam D. Tilasii, Biblioth. Reg. Praefecti, qui tes-
tatus est se praenovisse mulierem, quae tres ipsos dies sub
aquis haesit, et similem in modum, quo Hortulanus ille, re-
suscitata, adhuc dum lucis plena fruitur usura. Accedit
Nob. Burmanni—tides, qui confessus est,—se in pago Bo-
ness parochiae Pithoviae concionem frequentasse funebrem,
in qua, dum acta rescenseret Praeco Senis cujusdam septua-
genarii Laur. Jonae—audiverit ex ore Concionatoris, vivum
eum, adolescentem septemdecim annorum, aquis submer-
sum, septem demum hebdomada (rem prodigiosam!) ex-
tractum ad se rediisse vivum et incolumen.”—(Pechlin, De
Aer. et Alim. def. c. 10.)
In all such cases, Desgranges conceives that the capabi¬
lity of recovery is to be attributed to the sudden arrestation
of the vital motions at the moment of immersion. The
action of the heart and of the lungs ceasing simultaneously,
no vitiated blood could be transmitted to the brain. A stop
would at the same time be put to all secretions and excre¬
tions, so that there could be no expenditure of vital power.
How long this suspension might continue without extinc¬
tion of vitality, is unknown ; but something resembling it
occurs in some long-continued paroxysms of hysteria, and
in persons who have for several days lain apparently dead,
but have been resuscitated. The causes of death from
drowning are regarded as rather more complex by Devergie.
He considers it as produced in five modes : by simple as¬
phyxia ; by syncope ; by cerebral commotion, in which the
vital functions are affected through the medium of the nerves;
by apoplexy ; by a union of several of these causes. Death
from asphyxia combined with syncope, or with cerebral
congestion, he states as including five-eighths of all the
cases of drowning.
Drowning has been ascribed to water finding its way into
the stomach and air passages ; but this opinion was proved
to be fallacious by Senac and Cullen. The former denied
that water ever entered the lungs ; but Morgagni showed
that it actually does sometimes enter the air cells ; and he
ascribes the frothy mucus found in the fauces and air-tubes
to the intermixture of air with that water. The opinion of
Morgagni on this last point is, however, incorrect; for the
froth is found in many cases of asphyxia from noxious gases,
in epilepsy, and apoplexy ; and in the experiments of Dr
Marshall Hall, it was observed in dogs that had been bled
to death. It appears to be produced by the escape of air
from the lungs mixing with the natural mucus lining the
air passages, and indeed is common to all cases of laborious
respiration. Goodwyn and Cullen showed the insufficiency
of the water which finds its way into the lungs in drowning
to cause speedy death.
The excoriation of the ends of the fingers is produced by
the person endeavouring to save himself by catching at the
bottom, or the first solid which meets his hands ; and the
sand and mud under the nails have the same origin. In
fact, we are by these marks often able to discover whether
a person has been drowned, or thrown into the water after
death, d he tumid state of the chest, and descent of the
diaphragm into the abdomen, are caused by the violent
efforts made to dilate the chest for the relief of the sense
N I N G.
of suffocation. The fluidity of the blood is remarkable, Drowning.,
and seems almost universal in drowning. This appearance
takes place wherever death is caused by the exclusion of
oxygen, or when the blood does not undergo the usual
changes in the lungs.
Treatment of Drowned Persons.—Various directions have
been given for the treatment of persons who have been
found in a state of asphyxia from submersion. The sub¬
ject claimed the especial attention of De Haen, of John
Hunter, and Cullen, each of whom has made many judici¬
ous remarks on the best means of restoring animation ; and
the Humane Society of London laid down twelve general
rules for the recovery of drowned persons, which were, on
the whole, useful, although some of them are now com¬
pletely obsolete.
The principal objects in such cases should be,—
] st, To restore or keep up the animal heat.
2d, To induce a renewal of respiration.
3d, To rouse latent animation by the exhibition of stimuli.
1. As soon as the body is removed from the water, the
wet clothes should be taken off, and the body rolled in warm
blankets or dry clothing, while it is transporting to the
nearest house. The body should be carried in the arms of
men, or on a bier, with celerity but without jolting, to a
room which, in hot weather, should have the windows
open, but in winter should have a fire. The head, dur¬
ing the transporting, should not be suffered to hang down,
but be laid in an easy position. When brought into the
apartment in cold or damp weather, the body should be
laid on a mattress before a fire, when the surface is to be
diligently rubbed with dry warm flannel, both to dry the
surface, and to rouse the excitability of the capillaries.
Whilst this is going on, it is important to permit the free
access of warm air. No more persons should be present
than are useful about the patient; and the Humane So¬
ciety limit the number to six. Sometimes the body has
been placed in warm water; but this practice is objection¬
able. Some recent experiments have rendered it more than
probable that the influence of the free application of air to
the general surface of the body is not unimportant in restor¬
ing animation in cases of asphyxia ; and the cutaneous cir¬
culation is more readily induced by dry and diligent fric¬
tions of the surface than by immersion in warm water. Ap-
lications of bags of hot sand, bran, or the like, to different
parts of the body, as the arm-pits, scrobiculus cordis, and
extremities, are obvious means of restoring animal heat not
to be neglected ; and in some instances much benefit seems
to have been derived from switching the soles and palms
with twigs, or striking them with the open hand. Whilst
these means are being employed, we must not neglect the
important object, viz.
2. The restoration of respiration, by insufflation of the
lungs. The best and simplest mode of effecting this object
is, to introduce the nozzle of a pair of common bellows into
one nostril, whilst the operator closes the other nostril and
the mouth with his left hand, and applies his right to the
thyroid cartilage, pressing it gently backward, in order to
shut up the cesophagus, and prevent the air entering the
stomach instead of the lungs. The bellows should be
wrought by an assistant, so as moderately to inflate the
chest. A third person is to press the chest with his hands
to expel the air. These motions are to be alternated, so
as to imitate the natural breathing as much as possible.
This mode of insufflation is much preferable to the propo¬
sal of introducing a tube into the glottis, and still more so
to the hazardous operation of tracheotomy, which never can
be necessary in a case of simple drowning, and which, even
in the hands of the celebrated surgeon Mr Justamond,
proved fatal, by permitting the infiltration of blood into the
air passages.
When a sufficient supply of oxygen gas can be obtained, N
DEO
Drowning, it would probably expedite recovery; but perhaps it should
not in general be employed undiluted. Where a pair of
bellows cannot be obtained, the life of a person may be
saved by introducing any sort of pipe into the nostril, as
above directed, and blowing air from the mouth of the ope¬
rator into the lungs of the drowned person. In this case,
care should be taken not to use the air from the lungs of
the operator, but merely that which his mouth contains,
thrown forward by the compression of his cheeks, in the
manner used with the common blow-pipe. But a pair of
bellows should alwTays be preferred.
In the original directions of the Humane Society, it was
laid down that the body, especially if the subject were a child,
“ is to be well shaken every ten minutes, in order to render
the process of animation more certain.” This practice is
justly condemned by most modern authors, as either useless
or dangerous. All the benefit of “ shaking” may be obtained
by frictions and switchings, without the risk of extinguish¬
ing the feeble remains of animation by rude concussions,
“ pullings, and pushings,” which have been generally em¬
ployed in cases of asphyxia. It is scarcely necessary
to caution the practitioner against the exploded practice
of hanging the drowned person by the heels, or laying
him across a barrel with his head hanging downwards;
a practice of which even Fothergill approves, on the prin¬
ciple of making him disgorge the water that might have
found its way into the stomach and lungs, which was er¬
roneously imagined to be the chief cause of suspended ani¬
mation.
3. The application of various stimulants internally and
externally to facilitate resuscitation, is limited, but not un¬
important. The vapour of ammonia, to irritate the Schnei¬
derian membrane of the nose, has been generally “adopted,
and is useful in rousing the dormant excitability. When
a tube can be introduced into the stomach, a portion of
warm spirit and water, with or without ammonia, will gene¬
rally be useful. The introduction of warm stimulants by
the anus is likewise desirable, both to rouse the latent
powers of life by their stimulant effect, and to restore the
animal heat.
Another rule of the Humane Society recommended the
injection of tobacco smoke into the fundament. This prac¬
tice was borrowed from the savage Indians of North Ame¬
rica ; but it is of very questionable utility. The excessive
faintness produced by this strong narcotic is a great objec¬
tion to its employment in cases where the powers of life are
already too low ; and we have abundant means of exciting
the peristaltic motion of the alimentary canal, by aloetic and
other warm purgatives, without running the risk of extin¬
guishing the feeble remains of vitality by the introduction
of a narcotic. The objection is still stronger to infusions of
the plant, which have also been recommended.
The application of voltaic electricity bids fair to aid re¬
suscitation, especially if not used too strong. It has a
powerful effect in rousing the voluntary muscles, but its in¬
fluence on the heart is doubtful. Yet there can be no doubt
of its capability of stimulating the diaphragm and abdominal
muscles, to cause the dilatation of the chest; and its appli¬
cation to the parts of the body most suitable for this end, as
about the lower ribs and the pit of the stomach, should be
tried. Common electricity is less suited to this purpose;
but neither should be passed through the head, lest the ex¬
citability of the nervous system should be exhausted by so
powerful and general a stimulant.
Blood-letting was reprobated by John Hunter; and in
cases of drowning where there are marks of syncopal as¬
phyxia, it will probably prove injurious; but when there
are decided marks of cerebral congestion, venesection, un¬
der the direction of a medical practitioner, will facilitate re¬
covery.
D R U
133
These methods of resuscitation should be diligently em- Drugget
ployed for four or five hours at least, before the case is II.
given up as hopeless. It is a vulgar and a dangerous rL11 s‘y
error to suppose that because our efforts do not seem sue-
cessful for one or two hours, that the patient is irrecover¬
ably dead. There are instances of persons submerged,
in whom no symptoms of returning animation have been
obvious until after four, or even six hours of unremitted
efforts. (t. s. t.)
DRUGGET (Fr. droguei), a coarse but rather flimsy
woollen fabric, and sometimes half wool half thread ; some¬
times corded, but usually plain.
DRUIDiE, or Droium, in Ancient Geography, a very
ancient town, the principal place of the Gallic Druides or
Druidae, as they are called; now Dreux in the Orleannois.
Here, according to Caesar, they met every year in a conse¬
crated grove. The town was also called Durocases.
DRUIDS, Druides, or Drudue, the priests or minis¬
ters of religion amongst the ancient Celtae or Gauls, the
Britons, and the Germans.
Some authors derive the word from the Hebrew D'ui-n,
derussim, or drussim, which they translate contemplatores.
Picard (Celtopced. lib. ii. p. 58) believes the druids to have
been thus called from Dmns or Dryius, their leader, the
fourth or fifth king of the Gauls, and father of Saron or
Naumes. Pliny, Salmasius, Vigenere, and others, derive
the name from 8gug, quercus, oak, on account of their inha¬
biting, or at least frequenting and teaching, in forests; or
perhaps because, as Pliny says, they never sacrificed ex¬
cept under the oak. But it is hard to imagine how the
druids should have come to speak Greek, even although
Caesar assures us that they had the Greek letters. Me¬
nage derived the word from the old British dri/s, a daemon
or magician; and Borel, from the Saxon dry, a magician,
or rather from the old British dru or derw, an oak ; whence
he supposes dgvg to be derived, which indeed is not an im¬
probable supposition. Becanus (lib. i.) takes druis to be
an old Celtic and German word, formed from trowis or
truwis, a doctor of the truth and the faith; and in this
etymology Vossius is disposed to acquiesce.
The druids were the first and most distinguished order General
among the Gauls and Britons. They were chosen out of account of
the best families; and the honours of their birth, joined the druids,
with those of their function, procured them the highest
veneration among the people. They were conversant in
astrology, geometry, natural philosophy, politics, and geo¬
graphy : they were the interpreters of religion, and the
judges in secular affairs: whoever refused obedience to
them was declared impious and accursed. We know but
little as to their peculiar doctrines, only that they believed
the immortality of the soul, and, as is generally supposed,
in the metempsychosis; though it appears highly proba¬
ble that they did not believe in this last doctrine, at least
not in the sense of the Pythagoreans.
The chief settlement of the druids in Britain was in the
isle of Anglesey, the ancient Mona, which they chose for
this purpose, as it was well stored with spacious groves of
their favourite oak. They were divided into several classes
or branches, namely, the vacerri, bardi, cubages, symnothii
or semnothei, and saronidee. The vacerri are held to have
been the priests ; the bardi were the poets ; the cubages
were the augurs; and the saronidee were the civil judges
and instructors of youth. As to the semnothei, who are
said to have been immediately devoted to the service of
religion, it is probable that they were the same with the
vacerri. Strabo, however, and Picard after him in his
Celtopcedia, do not comprehend all these different orders
under the denomination of Druids, as species under their
genus, or parts under the whole, but make them quite dif¬
ferent conditions or orders. Strabo in effect only distin-
184
Druids.
V^'y-w'
DRUIDS.
guishes three kinds, bardi, rates, and druids. The bardi
were the poets ; the rates, oucm/g, apparently the same with
the racerri, were the priests and natuiahsts, and the
druids were those who, besides the study of nature, ap¬
plied themselves to that of morality.
Diogenes Laertius assures us in his prologue, that the
druids were the same among the ancient Britons with the
sophoi or philosophers among the Greeks, the magi among
the Persians, the gymnosophists among the Indians, and
the Chaldeans among the Assyrians.
Their garments were remarkably long; and, when em¬
ployed in religious ceremonies, they always wore a white
surplice. They generally carried a wand in their hands;
and wore a kind of ornament enchased in gold about their
necks, called the druids egg. Their necks were likewise
decorated with gold chains, and their hands and arms or¬
namented with bracelets. They wore their hair very short,
and their beards remarkably long.
The druids had one chief or arch-druid in every na¬
tion, who acted as high priest, or pontifex muximus. He
possessed absolute authority over the rest, and command¬
ed, decreed, or punished, at pleasure. At his death he
was succeeded by the most considerable amongst the sur¬
vivors ; and if there were several pretenders, the matter
was ended by an election, or else put to the decision of
arms. .
The druids, we have observed, were in the highest es¬
teem. They presided at sacrifices and other ceremonies,
and had the direction of every thing relating to religion.
The British and Gallic youth flocked to them in crowds
to be instructed by them. With the children of the no¬
bility, Mela tells us, they retired into caves, or the most
desolate parts of forests, and kept them there sometimes
for twenty years under their discipline.^ Besides the im¬
mortality and metempsychosis, their disciples were here
instructed in the motion of the heavens and the course of
the stars, the magnitude of the heavens and the earth,
the nature of things, the power and wisdom of the gods,
and a variety of other doctrines. They preserved the me¬
mory and actions of great men in their verses, which they
never allowed to be written down, but made their pupils
get by heart. In their common course of learning, they
are said to have taught them twenty-four thousand such
verses. By this means their doctrines appeared more
mysterious by being unknown to all but themselves; and
having no books to recur to, they were the more careful
to fix these doctrines in their memory.
They worshipped the Supreme Being under the name
of Esus or Hesus, and the symbol of the oak; and had no
other temple than a wood or a grove, where all their reli¬
gious rites were performed. Nor was any person admitted
to enter that sacred recess, unless he carried with him a
chain, in token of his absolute dependence on the Deity.
Indeed their whole religion originally consisted in ac¬
knowledging that the Supreme Being, who made his abode
in these sacred groves, governed the universe, and that
every creature ought to obey his laws and pay him divine
homage.
They considered the oak as the emblem, or rather the
peculiar residence, of the Almighty ; and accordingly chap¬
lets of it were worn both by the druids and the people in
their religious ceremonies, whilst the altars were strew¬
ed with its leaves and encircled with its branches. Ihe
fruit of it, especially the misletoe, was thought to contain
a divine virtue, and to be the peculiar gift of heaven. It
was therefore sought for on the sixth day of the moon
Druids.
with the Greatest earnestness and anxiety, and when found
it was haded with raptures of joy. As soon as the druids
were informed of this fortunate discovery, they preparea
every thing for the sacrifice under the oak, to which they
fastened two white bulls by the horns; then the arch¬
druid, attended by a prodigious number of people, ascend¬
ed the tree, dressed in white, and, with a consecrated
golden knife or pruning-hook, cropped the misletoe, which
he received in his sagum or robe, amidst the rapturous
exclamations of the people. Having secured this sacred
plant, he descended the tree; the bulls were sacrificed;
and the Deity invoked to bless his own gift, and render it
efficacious in those distempers in which it should be ad¬
ministered.
The consecrated groves, in which they performed their
religious rites, were fenced round with stones, to prevent
any person’s entering between the trees, except through
the passages left open for that purpose, and which w'ere
guarded by some inferior druids, to prevent any stranger
from intruding into their mysteries. These groves were
of different forms; some quite circular, others oblong, and
more or less capacious as the votaries in the districts to
which they belonged were more or less numerous. The
area in the centre of the grove was encompassed with se¬
veral rows of large oaks set very close together. Within
this large circle were several smaller ones surrounded with
large stones ; and near the centre of these smaller circles
were stones of a prodigious size and convenient height, on
which the victims were slain and offered. Each of these
being a kind of altar, was surrounded with another row of
stones, the use of which cannot now be known, unless
they were intended as cinctures to keep the people at a
convenient distance from the officiating priest.
Suetonius, in his life of Claudius, assures us that the
druids sacrificed men; and Mercury is said to have been
the god to whom they offered these victims. Diodorus
Siculus observes, that it was only upon extraordinary oc¬
casions they made such offerings ; as, to consult what mea¬
sures to take, or to learn what should happen to them, oy
the fall of the victim, the tearing of his members, and the
manner in which his blood gushed out. Augustus con¬
demned the custom, and Tiberius and Claudius punished
and abolished it.
We learn from Caesar that the druids were the judges
and arbiters of all differences and disputes, both public
and private; they took cognizance of murders, inheri¬
tances, boundaries, and limits, and decreed rewards and
punishments. Such as disobeyed their decisions they ex¬
communicated, which was their principal punishment; the
criminal being thereby excluded from all public assemblies,
and avoided by all the world, so that nobody durst speak
to him, for fear of being polluted.1 Strabo observes they
had sometimes interest and authority enough to stop ar¬
mies upon the point of engaging, and accommodate their
differences.
It has been disputed whether the druids were them-Their opi-
selves the inventors of their opinions and systems of reli-
gion and philosophy, or received them from others. Some P 1 0"°'P ■
have imagined that the colony of Phocians which left
Greece and built Marseilles in Gaul about the 57th olym¬
piad, imported the first principles of learning and philoso¬
phy, and communicated them to the Gauls and other na¬
tions in the west of Europe. It appears indeed that this
famous colony contributed not a little to the improvement
of that part of Gaul where it settled, and to the civiliza¬
tion of its inhabitants. “ The Greek colony of Marseilles,”
* The aqua: et ignis interdictio of the Roman law was probably borrowed from and founded on the druidical excommunication, just
as the “ letters of intercommuning” in the reigns of Charles II. and James II. were a reproduction of the Roman penalty.
D R U
Druids, says Justin, “civilized the Gauls, and taught them to live
W'Y'w' under laws; to build cities, and enclose them with walls;
to raise corn; to cultivate the vine and olive; and, in a
word, made so great a change both in the face of the
country and the manners of its inhabitants, that Gaul
seemed to be translated into Greece, rather than a few
Greeks transplanted into Gaul.” But though we may al¬
low that the druids of Gaul and Britain borrowed some
hints and embellishments of their philosophy from this
Greek colony, and perhaps from other quarters, there is
some reason to believe that the substance of it was their
own. Others have suggested that the druids derived their
philosophy from Pythagoras, who published his doctrines at
Crotona in Italy, where he lived above twenty years, in the
highest reputation for his virtue, wisdom, and learning.
This conjecture seems to be confirmed by the remarkable
expression of Ammianus Marcellinus, “ That the druids
were formed into fraternities, as the authority of Pytha¬
goras decreed.” It has also been observed, that the phi¬
losophy of the druids bore a much greater resemblance to
that of Pythagoras than to that of any of the other sages
of antiquity. But it seems probable that Ammianus
meant no more by the above expression than to illustrate
the nature of the druidical fraternities, by comparing them
to those of the Pythagoreans, which were well known to
the Romans; and the resemblance between the Pythago¬
rean and druidical philosophy may perhaps be best ac¬
counted for, by supposing that Pythagoras learned and
adopted some of the opinions of the druids, as well as im¬
parted to them some of his discoveries, or that both were
derived from a common source. It is well known that this
philosopher, animated by the most ardent love of know¬
ledge, travelled into many countries in pursuit of it, and
got himself admitted into every society that was famous
for its learning. It is therefore highly probable in itself,
as well as directly asserted by several authors, that Py¬
thagoras heard the druids of Gaul, and was initiated into
their philosophy.
Learning From the concurring testimonies of several authors, it
of the appears that physiology or natural philosophy was the fa-
druids. vourite study of the druids of Gaul and Britain. Cicero
tells us that he was personally acquainted with one of the
Gaulish druids, Divitiacus the iEduan, a man of quality in
his own country, who professed to have a thorough know¬
ledge of the laws of nature, or of that science which the
Physics. Greeks called physics or physiology. According to Dio¬
dorus Siculus, Strabo, Caesar, Mela, Ammianus Marcelli¬
nus, and others, they entered into many disquisitions and
disputations in their schools, concerning the form and mag¬
nitude of the universe in general, and of this earth in par¬
ticular, and even concerning the most sublime and hidden
secrets of nature. On these and similar subjects they
formed a variety of systems and hypotheses, which they
delivered to their disciples in verse, that the latter might
the more easily retain them in their memories, since they
were not allowed to commit them to writing. Strabo has
preserved one of the physiological opinions of the druids
concerning the universe, viz. that it was never to be en¬
tirely destroyed or annihilated, but was to undergo a suc¬
cession of great changes and revolutions, which were to
be produced sometimes by the power and predominacy of
water, and sometimes by that of fire. This opinion, he
intimates, was not peculiar to them, but was entertained
also by the philosophers of other nations; and Cicero
speaks of it as a truth universally acknowledged and un¬
deniable. “ It is impossible for us,” says he, “ to attain
a glory that is eternal, or even of very long duration, on
account of those deluges and conflagrations of the earth,
which must necessarily happen at certain periods.” This
opinion, which was entertained by the most ancient phi-
VOL. VIII.
I D S. 185
losophers of many different and very distant nations, was Druids,
probably neither the result of rational inquiry in all these
nations, nor communicated from one of them to others,
but descended to them all from their common ancestors
of the family of Noah by tradition, though corrupted and
misunderstood through length of time. The agreement
of the druids with the philosophers of so many other na¬
tions in this opinion about the alternate dissolution and
renovation of the world, gives us reason to believe that
they agreed with them also in their opinion of its origin
from two distinct principles : the one intelligent and om¬
nipotent, which was God; the other inanimate and inac¬
tive, which was matter. We are told by Caesar that they
had many disquisitions about the power of God; and, no
doubt, amongst other particulars, about his creative power.
But whether they believed with some that matter was
eternal, or with others that it was created, and in what
manner they endeavoured to account for the disposition
of it into the present form of the universe, we are entirely
ignorant, though they certainly had their speculations on
these subjects. We are only informed that they did not
express their sentiments on these and similar heads in a
plain and natural, but in a dark, figurative, and enigmatical
manner. This might incline us to suspect that Pythagoras
had borrowed from them his doctrines about numbers, to
the mystical energy of which he ascribes the formation
of all things; for nothing can be more dark and enigma¬
tical than that doctrine. The druids disputed likewise
about the magnitude and form of the world in general, and
of the earth in particular, of which things they pretended
to have a perfect knowledge. We know not what their
opinions were about the dimensions of the universe or of
the earth, but there is reason to think that they believed
both to be of a spherical form. This is visibly the shape
and form of the sun, moon, and stars, the most conspicu¬
ous parts of the universe; and hence it was natural and
easy to infer that such was also the form of the world
and of the earth. This seems to have been the prevail¬
ing opinion among philosophers of all nations ; and the
circle was the favourite figure of the druids, as appears
from the form both of their houses and places of worship.
Besides these general speculations about the origin, dis¬
solution, magnitude, and form of the world and of the
earth, the druids engaged in particular inquiries into the
natures and properties of the different kinds of substances.
But all their discoveries in this most useful and extensive
branch of natural philosophy, whatever they were, have
been entirely lost.
Astronomy also appears to have been one of the chief Astronomy,
studies of the druids of Gaul and Britain. “ The druids,”
says Caesar, “ have many disquisitions concerning the
heavenly bodies and their motions, in which they instruct
their disciples.” Mela, speaking of the same philosophers,
observes, “ that they profess to have great knowledge of
the motions of the heavens Snd of the stars.” Some know¬
ledge of this science indeed was not only necessary for
measuring time in general, marking the duration of the
different seasons, regulating the operations of the husband¬
man, directing the course of the mariner, and for many
other purposes in civil life ; but it was especially necessary
for fixing the times and regular returns of their religious
solemnities, of which the druids had the sole direction.
Some of these solemnities were monthly, and others an¬
nual. It was therefore necessary for them to know, with
some tolerable degree of exactness, the number of days
in which the sun and moon performed their revolutions,
that these solemnities might be observed at their proper
seasons. This was the more essential, as some of these
solemnities were attended by persons from different and
very distant countries, who were all to meet at one place
2 A
186 D R U
Druids, on one day, and who must have had some rule to discover
the annual return of that day.
Their me- The most perceptible division of time by means of the
thod of two great luminaries is into day and night; the former
computing occasi0ned by the presence of the sun above the horizon,
tune’ the latter by his absence, which is in some measure sup¬
plied by the moon and stars. The druids computed their
time by nights, and not by days; a custom which they
had received by tradition from their most remote ancestors,
and in which they were confirmed by measuring their time
very much by the motions of the moon, the mistress and the
queen of night. As the changes in the aspect of that lumi¬
nary are most conspicuous, they engaged the attention of the
most ancient astronomers of all countries, and particularly
of the druids, who regulated all their great solemnities, both
sacred and civil, by the age and aspect of the moon. “ When
no unexpected accident prevents it, they assemble upon
stated days, either at the time of the new or full moon ;
for they believe these to be the most auspicious times for
transacting all affairs of importance. ’ Their most august
ceremony, that of cutting the misletoe from the oak by the
archdruid, was always performed on the sixth day of the
moon. Nay, they even regulated their military operations
by this luminary, and avoided, as much as possible, to en¬
gage in battle whilst the moon was on the wane. As the
attention of the druids was so much fixed on this planet,
it could not be very long before they discovered that she
passed through all her various aspects in about thirty days ;
and by more accurate observations, they would gradually
find, that the real time of her performing an entire revo¬
lution was very nearly twenty-nine and a half days. This
would furnish them with the division of their time into
months, or revolutions of the moon ; of which we know
with certainty they were possessed. But this period,
though of great use, was evidently too short for many
purposes, and particularly for measuring the seasons;
which, they could not fail to perceive, depended on the
influences of the sun. By continued observation they dis¬
covered that about twelve revolutions of the moon in¬
cluded all the variety of seasons, which began again and
revolved every twelve months. This suggested to them
that larger division of time called a year, consisting of
twelve lunations or three hundred and fifty-four days,
which was the most ancient measure of the year in al¬
most all nations. That this was for some time at least
the length of the druidical year, is both probable in it¬
self, and apparent from the expression of Pliny, that
“ they began both their months and years, not from the
change, but from the sixth day of the moon which is
a demonstration that their years consisted of a certain
number of lunar revolutions, as they always commen¬
ced on the same day of the moon. But as this year of
twelve lunar months falls eleven days and nearly one
fourth of a day short of a real revolution of the sun, this
error would soon be perceivea, and call for reformation ;
though we are not informed of the particular manner in
which it was rectified. Various arguments might be col¬
lected to render it very probable that the Britons were
acquainted with a year exact enough for every purpose of
life when they were first invaded by the Romans ; but it
will be sufficient to mention one, which is taken from the
time and circumstances of that invasion. The learned
Dr Halley has demonstrated that Cmsar arrived in Bri¬
tain, in his first year’s expedition, on the 26th day of Au¬
gust; and Caesar himself informs us, that at his arrival the
harvest was finished, except in one field, which by some
means or other was more backward than the rest of the
country. I his is a proof that the British husbandmen
knew and used the most proper seasons for ploughing,
sowing, and reaping. The druids, as we are told by Pliny,
l I) &
had also a cycle or period of thirty years, which they call- Druids,
ed an age, and which likewise commenced on the sixth w’‘vW
day of the moon ; but that author has not acquainted us
on what principle this cycle was formed, nor to what pur¬
pose it was applied. We can hardly suppose that this was
the cycle of the sun, which consists of twenty-eight years,
and regulates the dominical letters. It is more probable,
that whilst the druids made use of the year of twelve lu¬
nar months, and had not invented a method of adjusting
it to the real revolution of the sun, they observed that the
beginning of this year had passed through all the seasons,
and returned to the point whence it set out, in a course
of about thirty-three years; which they might therefore
denominate an age. Others may perhaps be of opinion
that this thirty years cycle of the druids is the same with
the great year of the Pythagoreans, or a revolution of Sa¬
turn. Some have imagined that the druids were also ac¬
quainted with the cycle of nineteen years, which is com¬
monly called the cycle of the moon. But the evidence of
this depends entirely on the truth of that supposition, that
the Hyperborean island, which is described by Diodorus
Siculus, was Britain, or some of the British isles. Amongst
many surprising things, that author states, concerning
the Hyperborean island, that “ its inhabitants believed
that Apollo descended into their island at the end of every
nineteen years ; in which period of time the sun and moon,
having performed their various revolutions, return to the
same point, and begin to repeat the same revolutions. This
is called by the Greeks the great year, or the cycle of
Meton.”
We are told both by Caesar and Mela, that the druids Their
studied the stars as well as the sun and moon ; and that knowledge
they professed to know, and taught their disciples, many °^ie3,;ar3
things concerning the motions of these heavenly bodies.
From these testimonies we may conclude that the druids
were acquainted with the planets, distinguished them from
the fixed stars, and carefully observed their motions and
revolutions. If this discovery was the result of their own
observations, it would be gradual, and it would be a long
time before they found out all the planets. They might
perhaps have received assistance and information from
Pythagoras, or from some other quarter. But whether
this discovery of the planets was their own, or communi¬
cated to them by others, it is highly probable that they
were acquainted with the precise number of these wander¬
ing stars. Dio Cassius says, that the custom of giving
the name of one of the planets to each of the seven days
ot the week was an invention of the Egyptians, and from
them was gradually communicated to all the other nations
ot the world ; and that in his time this custom was so firm¬
ly established, not only among the Romans, but among all
the rest ot mankind, that in every country it appeared to
be a native institution. The knowledge of the planets,
and perhaps the custom of giving their names to the days
ot the week, was brought out of Egypt into Italy by Pytha¬
goras, more than five hundred years before the beginning
ot the Christian era ; and from thence it could not be very
long before it reached Gaul and Britain. But though we
have little or no reason to doubt that the druids knew the
number and observed the motion of the planets, yet it may
be questioned whether they had discovered the times in
which these bodies performed their several revolutions.
Some of the planets, as Jupiter and Saturn, take so great
a number of years in revolving, that it required a very ex¬
traordinary degree of patience and attention to discover
the precise periods of their revolutions. If we could be
certain that the island in which the ancients imagined Sa¬
turn lay asleep was one of the British isles, as Plutarch
intimates it was, we might be inclined to think that the
British druids were not ignorant of the length of the period
D R U
Druids, in which the planet Saturn performs a revolution ; for that
same author, in another treatise, tells us, that “ the in¬
habitants of that island kept every thirtieth year a solemn
festival in honour of Saturn, when his star entered into
the sign of Taurus.” If wre could depend upon this testi¬
mony, we should have one positive proof that the druids
of the British isles were acquainted with the constella¬
tions, and even with the signs of the zodiac; and that
they measured the revolutions of the sun and planets,
by observing the length of time between their departure
from and return to one of these signs. But history sup¬
plies no direct evidence that this was really the case. The
druids of Gaul and Britain, indeed, as well as the ancient
philosophers of other countries, had a general plan or sys¬
tem of the universe, and of the disposition and arrange¬
ment of its various parts, in which they instructed their
disciples. This is both probable in itself, and is plainly
intimated by several authors of the greatest authority.
But we cannot be certain whether this druidical system
of the world was of their own invention, or was borrow¬
ed from others. If it was borrowed, it was most probably
from the Pythagoreans, to whom they were the nearest
neighbours, and with whom they had the greatest inter¬
course ; or at all events from some oriental sect, order,
or caste, of which many are of opinion that they originally
sprung.
It has been imagined that the druids had instruments
of some kind or other, which answered the same purposes
as our telescopes, in making observations on the heaven¬
ly bodies. The only foundation of this very improbable
conjecture is an expression of Diodorus Siculus, in his de¬
scription of the famous Hyperborean island. “ They say
further, that the moon is seen from that island, as if she
were but at a little distance from the earth, and having hills
or mountains like ours on the surface.” But no such in¬
ference can be reasonably drawn from this expression,
which in reality merits little more regard than that which,
according to Strabo, was said of some of the inhabitants of
Spain, that “ they heard the hissing noise of the sun every
evening when he fell into the western ocean.”
The application of the druids to the study of philosophy
and astronomy amounts almost to a demonstration that
they applied also to the study of arithmetic and geometry;
for some knowledge of both these sciences is indispen¬
sably necessary to the natural philosopher and astronomer,
as well as of great and daily use in the common affairs of
life. If we were certain that Abaris, the famous Hyper¬
borean philosopher, the friend and scholar of Pythagoras,
was really a British druid, as some have imagined, we
should be able to produce direct historical evidence of
their arithmetical knowledge. For lamblicus, in the life
of Pythagoras, says, that “ he taught Abaris to find out
all truth by the science of arithmetic.” It may be thought
improbable that the druids had made any considerable pro¬
gress in arithmetic, as this may seem to have been impos¬
sible by the mere strength of memory, without the assist¬
ance of figures and of written rules. But it is very difficult
to ascertain what may be done by memory alone, when it
has been long exercised in this way. We have had ex¬
amples of persons who could perform some of the most
tedious and difficult operations in arithmetic by the mere
strength of memory. The want of written rules could be
no great disadvantage to the druids, as the precepts of
this, as well as of the other sciences, were couched in
verse, which would be easily got by heart and long re¬
membered. Though the druids were unacquainted with
the Arabic numeral characters, which are now in use, we
have no reason to suppose that they were destitute of
marks or characters of another kind, which, in some mea¬
sure, answered the same purposes, both in making and re-
l D S. 187
cording their calculations. In particular, it is believed Druids,
that they made use of the letters of the Greek alphabet
for both these purposes. This seems to be pretty distinct¬
ly intimated by Caesar, who, in speaking of the druids of
Gaul, observes, that “ in almost all other public transac¬
tions and private accounts or computations, they make
use of the Greek letters.” And this is further confirm¬
ed by what he says of the Helvetii, a people of the same
origin, language, and manners, with the Gauls and Bri¬
tons. “ Tables were found in the camp of the Helvetii
written in Greek letters, containing an account of ail
the men capable of bearing arms who had left their na¬
tive country, and also separate accounts of the boys, old
men, and women.” There is historical evidence of the
druids being also well acquainted with geometry. “ When
any disputes arise,” says Caesar, “ about their inheritances,
or any controversies about the limits of their fields, they
are entirely referred to the decision of their druids.” Buf
besides the knowledge of mensuration which this implies,
both Caesar and Mela plainly intimate that the druids were
conversant in the most sublime speculations of geometry ;
“ in measuring the magnitude of the earth, and even of
the world.”
There are still many monuments remaining in Britain Skill in
and the adjacent isles, which cannot so reasonably be mechanics,
ascribed to any race as to that of the ancient Britons, and
which lead us to think that they had made great progress
in this department of knowledge, and could apply the me¬
chanical powers so as to produce very astonishing effects.
As these monuments appear to have been designed for reli¬
gious purposes, we may be certain that they were erected
under the direction of the druids. Many obelisks or pil¬
lars, of one rough unpolished stone each, are still to be seen
in Britain and its isles. Some of these pillars are both
very thick and lofty, erected on the summits of barrows
and of mountains ; and some of them, as at Stonehenge,
have ponderous blocks of stone raised aloft, and resting on
the tops of the upright pillars. We can hardly suppose
that it was possible to cut these prodigious masses of
stone, some of them above forty tons in weight, without
wedges, or to raise them out of the quarry without levers.
But it certainly required still greater knowledge of the
mechanical powers, and of the method of applying them,
to transport those huge stones from the quarry to the
places of their destination; to erect the perpendicular
pillars, and to elevate the imposts to the tops of these
pillars. If the prodigious stone in the parish of Constan¬
tine, Cornwall, was really removed by art from its original
place, and fixed where it now stands, it is a demonstra¬
tion that the druids could perform the most astonishing
feats by their skill in mechanics. That the British druids
were acquainted with the principles and use of the balance,
we have reason to believe, not only from the great anti¬
quity of that discovery in other parts of the world, but
also from some druidical monuments which are still re¬
maining in this island. These monuments are called la¬
gan stones, or rocking stones, and each of them consists
of one prodigious block of stone, resting upon an upright
stone or rock, and so equally balanced, that a very small
force, sometimes even that of a child, can move it up and
down, though hardly any force is sufficient to remove it
from its station. Some of these stones may have fallen
into this position by accident, but others of them evident¬
ly appear to have been placed in it by art. That the an¬
cient Britons understood the construction and use of
wheels, the great number of their war-chariots and other
wheel carriages is a sufficient proof; and that they knew
how to combine them together and with the other mecha¬
nical powers, so as to form machines capable of raising
and transporting very heavy weights, we have good rea-
188 D R U
Druids, son to believe. In a word, if the British druids were
wholly ignorant of the principles and the use of any of the
mechanical powers, it was most probably of the screw,
though even of this we cannot be certain.
Medicine. In Germany and in the northern nations of Europe the
healing art was chiefly committed to the old women of
every state; but in Gaul and Britain it was entrusted to
the druids, who were the physicians as well as the priests
of these countries. Pliny says expressly, that “ Tiberius
Caesar destroyed the druids of the Gauls, who were the
poets and physicians of that nationand he might have
added, of the Britons. The people of Gaul and Britain
were probably induced to devolve the care of their health
on the druids, and to apply to these priests for the cure
of their diseases, not only by the high esteem they had
of their wisdom and learning, but also by the opinion
which they entertained, that a very intimate connection
subsisted between the arts of healing and the rites of re¬
ligion, and that the former were most effectual when they
were accompanied by the latter. It appears indeed to
have been the prevailing opinion of the nations of an¬
tiquity, that all internal diseases proceeded immediately
from the anger of the gods ; and that the only way of ob¬
taining relief from these diseases was by applying to the
priests to appease their anger by religious rites and sacri¬
fices. This was evidently the opinion and practice of the
Gauls and Britons, who in some dangerous cases sacri¬
ficed one man as the most effectual means of curing ano¬
ther. “ They are much addicted,” says Caesar, “ to su¬
perstition, and hence those who are afflicted with a dan¬
gerous disease sacrifice a man, or promise that they will
sacrifice one, for their recovery. For this purpose they
make use of the ministry of the druids, because the latter
have declared that the anger of the immortal gods can¬
not be appeased, so as to spare the life of one man, but by
the life of another.” This way of thinking also gave rise
to that great number of magical rites and incantations
with which the medical practices of the druids, and in¬
deed of all the physicians of antiquity, were attended.
“ Nobody doubts,” says Pliny, “ that magic derived its
origin from medicine, and that, by its flattering but delu¬
sive promises, it came to be esteemed the most sublime
and sacred part of the art of healing.”
botany. That the druids made great use of herbs for medicinal
purposes, there is sufficient evidence. They not only had
a most superstitious veneration for the misletoe of the oak,
on a religious account, but they also entertained a very
high opinion of its medicinal virtues, and esteemed it as a
kind of panacea, or remedy for all diseases. “ They call
it,” says Pliny, “ by a name which in their language sig¬
nifies All-heal, because they have an opinion that it cures
all diseases.” They believed it to be in particular a specific
against barrenness, and a sovereign antidote against the
fatal effects of poisons of all kinds. It was also esteemed
an excellent emollient and discutient for softening and
discussing hard tumours, and good for drying up scrofu¬
lous sores, and curing ulcers and wounds; and, provided
it was not suffered to touch the earth after it was cut, it
was thought to be a very efficacious medicine in epilepsy.
It has been thought useful in this last calamitous disease
by some modern physicians. The pompous ceremonies
with which the misletoe was gathered by the druids have
been already described. The selago, a kind of hedge hys¬
sop resembling savin, was another plant much admired
by the druids of Gaul and Britain for its supposed me¬
dicinal virtues, particularly in all diseases of the eyes.
But its efficacy,'according to them, depended very much
upon its being gathered exactly in the following manner:
The person who gathered it was to be clothed in a white
robe; to have his feet bare, and washed in pure water; to
1 1) s.
offer a sacrifice of bread and wine before he proceeded to Druids,
cut it, which he was to do with his right hand covered
with the skirt of his garment, and with a hook of some
more precious metal than iron. When it was cut, it was
to be received and kept in a new and very clean cloth.
Gathered exactly according to this whimsical ritual, it
was affirmed to be not only an excellent medicine, but
also a powerful charm and preservative against misfor¬
tunes and unhappy accidents of all kinds. The druids
also entertained a high opinion of the herb samolus or
mashwort, from its sanative qualities, and gave directions
for gathering it, not less fanciful than those which have
already been mentioned. The person who was to perform
that office was to do it fasting, and with his left hand; he
was on no account to look behind him, nor to turn his face
from the herbs he was gathering. It would be tedious to
relate the extravagant notions they entertained of the
many virtues of the vervain, and to recount the ridiculous
mummeries which they practised in gathering and pre¬
paring it, both for the purposes of divination and physic.
It is easy to see that Pliny’s information was very imper¬
fect; and that, like many of the other Greek and Roman
writers, he designedly represented the philosophers of
Gaul and Britain in an unfavourable light. The herb call¬
ed Britannica by the ancients, which some think was the
great water-dock, and others the cochlearia or scurvy-grass,
was probably much used in this island for medicinal pur¬
poses, as it derived its name from Britain, and was thence
exported to Rome and other parts. Though these few
imperfect hints are all that we can now collect of the
botany of the British druids, yet there is some reason to
think that they were not contemptible botanists. Their
circumstances were peculiarly favourable for the acquisi¬
tion of this kind of knowledge. For as they spent most
of their time in the recesses of mountains, groves, and
woods, the spontaneous vegetable productions of the earth
constantly presented themselves to their view, and court¬
ed their attention.
The opinions which, it is said, the druids of Gaul and
Britain entertained of the anguinum or serpent’s egg, both
as a charm and as a medicine, are romantic and extrava¬
gant in a very high degree. This extraordinar}' egg was
formed, as they pretended, by a great number of serpents,
interwoven and twined together; and when it had been
formed, it was raised up in the air by the hissing of these
serpents, and was then to be caught in a clean white cloth
before it fell to the ground. The person who caught it was
obliged to mount a swift horse, and to ride away at full
speed to escape from the serpents, who pursued him with
great rage, until they were stopped by some river. The
way of making trial of the genuineness of the egg was no
less extraordinary. It was to be encased in gold, and
thrown into a river, and if it was genuine it would swim
against the stream. “ I have seen,” says Pliny, “ that egg;
it is about the bigness of a moderate apple, its shell is a
cartilaginous incrustation, full oflittle cavities, such as are
on the legs of the polypus; it is the insignia or badge of
distinction of the druids.” The virtues which diey ascrib¬
ed to this egg were many and wonderful. It was particu¬
larly efficacious in rendering those who carried it about
with them superior to their adversaries in all disputes, and
in procuring them the favour and friendship of great men.
Some have thought that this whole affair of the serpent’s
egg was a mere fraud, contrived by the druids to excite
the admiration and pick the pockets of a credulous people,
who purchased these wonder-working eggs from them at
a high price. Others have imagined that this story of the
anguinum, of which there is an ancient monument in the
cathedral at Paris, was an emblematical representation of
the doctrine of the druids concerning the creation of the
D R U I D S.
189
Rhetoric.
Druids, world. The serpents, say they, represent the divine wis-
   dom forming the universe, and the egg is the emblem o
the world formed by that wisdom. It may be added, that
the virtue ascribed to the anguinum, of giving those who
possessed it a superiority oyer others, and endearing them
to great men, may perhaps be intended to represent the
natural effects of learning and philosophy. but in so
doubtful a matter every one is of course at liberty to form
what judgment he thinks proper.
As the influence and authority of the druids in then
country depended very much upon the reputation of their
superior wisdom and learning, they wisely applied to the
study of those sciences which most directly contributed to
the support and advancement of that reputation. In this
number, besides those already mentioned, we may justly
reckon rhetoric, which was diligently studied and taugit
bv the druids of Gaul and Britain, who to the charms ot
their eloquence were indebted for much of the admiration
and authority which they enjoyed. They had indeed many
calls and opportunities to display their eloquence, and to
discover its great power and efficacy; as, when they were
teaching their pupils in their schools ; when they discours¬
ed in public to the people on religious and moral subjects ;
when they pleaded causes in the courts of justice ; and
when they harangued in great councils of the nation, and
at the heads of armies ready to engage in battle, some¬
times with a view to inflame their courage, and at other
times with a design to allay their fury, and dispose them
to make peace. Though this last was certainly a dirncu t
task amongst fierce and warlike nations, yet such was t m
authority and eloquence of the druids, that they frequent¬
ly succeeded in it. “ They pay a great regard,” says Dio¬
dorus Siculus, “ to their exhortations, not only in the af-
fairs of peace, but even of war; and these are respected
both by their friends and enemies. They sometimes step
in between two hostile armies, who are standing with their
swords drawn and their spears extended, ready to engage ;
and by their eloquence, as by an irresistible enchantment,
they prevent the effusion of blood, and prevail upon them
to sheath their swords. So great are the charms of elo¬
quence and the power of wisdom even amongst the most
fierce barbarians.” The British'kings and chieftains, who
were educated by the druids, were famous for their elo¬
quence. This is evident from the many noble speeches
which are ascribed to them by the Greek and Roman
writers. For though these speeches may not be genuine,
yet they are a proof that it was a well-known fact that
these princes were accustomed to make harangues on such
occasions. This we are expressly told by Tacitus : “ The
British chieftains, before a battle, fly from rank to rank,
and address their men with animating speeches, tend¬
ing to inflame their courage, increase their hopes, and
dispel their fears.” These harangues were called, in the
ancient language of Britain, brosnichty hah, which is li¬
terally translated by Tacitus, incitamevta belli, incentives
to war. The genuine posterity of the ancient Britons
long retained their taste for eloquence, and their high
esteem for those who excelled in that art. “ Orators,”
says Mr Martin, “ were in high esteem, both in these
islands (the Hebrides) and the continent, until within
these forty years. They sat always among the nobles
or chiefs of families in the streah or circle. Their houses
and little villages were sanctuaries, as well as churches,
and they took place before doctors of physic. The orators,
after the druids were extinct, were brought in to preserve
the o-enealogy of families, and to repeat the same at every
succession of a chief; and upon the occasion of marriages
and births, they made epithalamiums and panegyrics,
which the poet or bard pronounced. The orators, by the
force of their eloquence, had a powerful ascendant over
the greatest men in their time. For if any orator did but DruUls.
ask the habit, arms, horse, or any other thing belonging o
the greatest man in these islands, it was readily granted
him ; sometimes out of respect, and sometimes for fear ot
being exclaimed against by a satire, which in those days
was reckoned a great dishonour.” _ . , , ,r . .
If the British druids, considering the times in which they af “ .a’ ’
lived, had made no contemptibleproficiency in several parts
of real and useful learning, it cannot be denied that they
were also great pretenders to superior knowledge in cer¬
tain vain and fallacious sciences, by which they excited
the admiration, and took advantage of the ignorance and
credulity, of mankind. These were the sciences, if they
may be so called, of magic and divination, by means of
which they pretended to work a kind ot miiacles, and ex¬
hibit astonishing appearances in nature ; to penetrate into
the counsels of heaven; to foretel future events, and to
discover the success or miscarriage of public or private
undertakings. Their own countrymen not only believed
that the druids of Gaul and Britain were possessed of
these powers, but they were celebrated on this account by
the philosophers of Greece and Rome. “ In Britain, says
Pliny, “ the magic arts are cultivated with such astonish¬
ing success, and so many ceremonies, at this day, that the
Britons seem to be capable of instructing even the I er-
sians themselves in these arts. They pretend to discover
the designs and purposes of the gods, dhe Eubates or
Yates in particular investigate and display the most su¬
blime secrets of nature; and by auspices and sacrifices
they foretel future events.” They were so famous for the
supposed veracity of their predictions, that they were not
only consulted on all important occasions by their own
princes and great men, but even sometimes by the Ro¬
man emperors. Nor is it very difficult to account for all
this. The druids finding that the reputation of their
magical and prophetical powers contributed not a little
to the advancement of their wealth and influence, natu¬
rally endeavoured to strengthen and establish it by all
their art and cunning. Their knowledge of natural phi¬
losophy and mechanics enabled them to execute such
works, and to exhibit such appearances, or to make the
world believe that they did exhibit them, as were suffi¬
cient to gain them the character of great magicians. I he
truth is, that nothing is more easy than to acquire this
character in a dark age, and among an unenlightened
people. When the minds of men are haunted with dreams
of charms and enchantments, they are apt to fancy that
the most common occurrences in nature are the effects of
magical arts. The following strange story, which we meet
with in Plutarch’s Treatise of the Cessation of Grades,
was probably occasioned by something of this kind. 1 here
are many islands which lie scattered about the isle of Bri¬
tain, after the manner of our Sporades. I hey are general¬
ly unpeopled, and some of them are called the Islands of the
Heroes. One Demetrius was sent by the emperor [probably
Claudius! to discover these parts. He arrived at one of
these islands [supposed by some to be Anglesey, but more
probably one of the Hebrides] next adjoining to the isle
of Britain before mentioned, which was inhabited by a few
Britons who were esteemed sacred and inviolable by their
countrymen. Immediately after his arrival the air grew
black and troubled, and strange apparitions were seen ; the
winds rose to a tempest, and fiery spouts and whirlwinds
appeared dancing towards the earth.” I his was probably
no more than a storm of wind, accompanied with rain and
nu inuic mail C*    / - ^ i
lightning, a thing neither unnatural nor uncommon: but
Demetrius and his companions having heard that the Bri¬
tish druids, by whom this isle was chiefly inhabited, were
great magicians, imagined that it was raised by them, and
fancied that they saw many strange and unnatural sights.
✓
190 DR U
Drum. The druids did not think proper to undeceive them; for
when they inquired about the cause of this storm, they
were told" that it was occasioned by the death of one of
those invisible beings or genii who frequented their isle ;
a wonderful and artful tale, very well calculated to in¬
crease the superstitious terrors of Demetrius and his crew,
and to determine them to abandon this enchanted isle,
with a resolution never to return. Stonehenge, and seve¬
ral other works of the druids, were, for many ages after
the destruction of their whole order, believed to have been
executed by the arts of magic and enchantment; nor is it
improbable that they persuaded the vulgar in their own
times to entertain the same opinion of these works, by
concealing from them the real arts by which they had
been erected. The natural and acquired sagacity of the
druids, with their long experience and great concern in the
conduct of affairs, enabled them to form very probable
conjectures about the event of enterprises. Ihese con¬
jectures they pronounced as oracles when they were con¬
sulted ; and they pretended to derive them from the in¬
spection of the entrails of victims, the observation of the
flight and feeding of certain birds, and many other mum¬
meries. By these and similar arts they obtained and pre¬
served the reputation of prophetic foresight among an ig¬
norant and credulous people. But these pretensions of
the druids to magic and divination, which contributed so
much to the advancement of their fame and fortune in
their own times, have brought very heavy reproaches upon
their memory, and have made some learned moderns de¬
clare that they ought to be expunged out of the catalogue
of philosophers, and esteemed no better than mere cheats
and jugglers. This censure is evidently too severe, and
might have been pronounced with equal justice upon all
the ancient philosophers of Egypt, Assyria, Persia, Greece,
and Rome, who were great pretenders to magic and divi¬
nation, as well as the druids. “ I know of no nation in the
world, “ says Cicero, “ either so polite and learned, or so
savage and barbarous, as not to believe that future events
are presignified to us, and may by some men be discover¬
ed and foretold.” The only conclusion, therefore, that can
be fairly drawn from the successful pretensions of the Bri¬
tish druids to the arts of magic and of divination, is this :
That they had more knowledge than their countrymen and
contemporaries, but had not so much virtue as to resist
the temptation of imposing upon their ignorance to their
own advantage.
DRUM is a martial instrument in the form of a cylin¬
der, hollow within, and covered<at the two ends with
vellum, which is stretched or slackened at pleasure by
means of small cords or sliding knots. It is beat upon
with sticks. Drums are sometimes made of brass, but
most commonly of wood. The drum is said by Le Clerc
to have been an oriental invention, and to have been
brought into Spain by the Arabians, or perhaps rather the
Moors.
Kettle Drums are two sorts of large basons of copper
D R U
or brass, rounded in the bottom, and covered with vel- Drum-
lum or goat skin, which is kept fast by a circle of iron niond.
round the body of the drum, with a number of screws
to screw up and down. Drums are much used in the army,
as also in operas, oratorios, concerts, and the like. See
Music, § Musical Instruments.
DRUMMOND, William, was born at Hawthornden
on the 13th of December 1585. His father was Sir John
Drummond, descended from the family of Carnock, a
branch of the more illustrious family of Stobhall, from
which the king derives his remote lineage through Ana-
bella Drummond, the mother of James the First. The
poet’s mother was Anne the daughter of William Fowler J
and she is described as “ a woman of excellent breeding,
and of a good and virtuous life.” William was the eldest
of four sons, and there were three daughters by the same
marriage. The earlier part of his education he received
at the High School of Edinburgh, where he began to dis¬
tinguish himself by the superiority of his talents; and
being afterwards removed to the university, which was
then a very recent institution, he took the degree of A. M.
in the year 1605. We are particularly informed that he
did not confine his attention to the metaphysical learning
commonly taught in the schools, but likewise applied him¬
self to the study of mathematics and of ancient authors.
During the following year, his father sent him to complete
his education in France ; and in the university of Bourges
he is said to have devoted himself with great assiduity
and success to the study of the civil law ; a study neces¬
sary to a lawyer, and useful to a scholar. After an ab¬
sence of four years, he returned to his native country in
1610 ; and his friends now expected that he would devote
himself to the practice of a lucrative profession, for which
he seemed eminently qualified by his talents and learning.1 2 * * * *
The bar must however have presented very few attrac¬
tions to a youth of his elegant taste and delicate sensibi¬
lity : the municipal law was then but a dreary path, beset
with thorns which never blossomed ; and, what was par¬
ticularly discouraging, there was not a single elementary
book, there were no institutions of our law, from which a
young student could derive a comprehensive knowledge
of those principles which were afterwards to direct his
practice. His systematic doctrines were indeed to a great
extent borrowed from the ancient civilians, and the study
of the civil law was generally prosecuted in some foreign
university; but, besides an indispensable attendance in
the courts, his final preparation for the practice of his pro¬
fession consisted in reading the statute law, and such col¬
lections of maxims and reports as were then circulated in
manuscript. Nor w7as Drummond compelled by any do¬
mestic considerations to overcome his repugnance : he
was beyond the reach of that original impulse which has
directed many a lawyer to reputation and emolument; for,
about the period of his return from the continent, the
death of his father left him in possession of an estate suf¬
ficient to maintain him in the liberal style of a gentleman.
1 He is commonly described as Sir William Fowler, secretary to the queen, but this account of his quality is evidently erroneous.
The secretary was his son, who bore the same name with himself; nor does it appear that either of them received the honour of
knighthood. The son followed the queen to England ; and a list of the officers of her council, dated in October 1603, describes him
as “ Secretarie, and Master of the Requests.” (Lodge’s Illustrations of British History, vol iii. p. 209.) In 1587, we find him
denominated parson of Hawick; and the records of the presbytery, 2 Sept- 1612, mention him as then dead. It is however more
than probable that he continued a layman, and, at a period when such irregular proceedings were not uncommon, enjoyed the tempo¬
ralities of that living without residence and without qualification. His poems are not unknown to those who are acquainted with the
literary history of that age. Of some of his manuscripts, as well as those of his nephew, Mr Laing has given an account in the Trans¬
actions of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, vol. iv.
2 President Lockhart is said to have averred, that if he had followed the legal profession, he might have made the best figure of
any lawyer in his time. But the accuracy of this tradition, says Mr Maitland, “ may reasonably be doubted. Drummond has left a
record of the books read by him between 1606 and 1614, from which it is apparent that literature occupied a much larger portion of
his attention than law. In the detail of his studies, which were in a great measure confined to the most popular poetry and romances
of the time, he mentions no other work on law than the Institutes of Justinian.” (Introduction to Drummond’s Poems. Edinb.
1832, 4to.)
D R U M
Drum- He now retired to his family residence at Hawthornden,
mond. six miles from Edinburgh, and resumed the study of the
S"*,’Y'W Greek and Latin classics. The immediate vicinity pre¬
sents an air of such romantic beauty, that a poet could
scarcely have found a more suitable habitation : his house
is erected on the edge of a woody cliff which overhangs
the river Esk ; and at one extremity of the variegated and
sequestered glen stand the ruins of the baronial castle and
the collegiate church of Roslin. The ancient caves of Haw¬
thornden, and the adjacent moor of Roslin, where Comyn
and Fraser gained a signal victory over the English, have
likewise their peculiar effect in impressing the imagina¬
tion. Near the poet’s house is a seat hewn in the solid
rock, and still described by the name of the Cypress-grove;
a name which it obtained from the circumstance of his
having frequented this spot when engaged in the compo¬
sition of a work which bears that title.
Here Damon ‘ sat’ whose songs did sometime grace
The murmuring Esk ; may roses shade the place.
In this delightful seclusion he devoted himself to the
general improvement of his mind, and to the occasional
exercise of his fine talents; and many of his poems ap¬
pear to have been composed about this period of his life.1
He chiefly cultivated the familiarity of the university
men, and other individuals of genius and learning: among
his own countrymen, he enjoyed the particular friendship
of the earl of Stirling, the earl of Ancram, Arthur John¬
ston, and John Adamson; and among the English poets,
his greatest intimacy and correspondence was with Ben
Jonson and Michael Drayton. The grandfather of Jon-
son was originally from Annandale, where Johnstone is
still a very prevalent name. In the year 1619, when this
celebrated poet had attained the age of forty-five, he tra¬
velled from London on foot, for the express purpose of
paying Drummond a visit; and at Hawthornden he spent
three or four weeks with every appearance of satisfac¬
tion.2 The heads of some of Jonson’s conversations on
subjects of literature, together with his own impressions
of Jonson’s character, he committed to writing, with the
manifest intention of occasionally referring to this as a
private record: many years after his death, this paper
was communicated to the public, apparently in a some¬
what mutilated form ; and as it does not represent his dis¬
tinguished guest as altogether faultless, the amiable and
esteemed writer has incurred the virulent and unmeasured
censure of Mr Gifford, the late editor of Jonson’s works.3
If Drummond had resembled some more recent authors,
who have violated all the decencies of private life by minis¬
tering to the gross appetite of the public with ridiculous
or disparaging tales of their friends and acquaintance,
the justice of this strong condemnation could not safely
have been disputed; but what person of ordinary can-
M O N D. 19]
dour will thus censure an act which, to all human ap- Drum-
pearance, was entirely unconnected with malevolent or mond.
ungenerous motives ?
Ihe poet’s tranquillity was exposed to a severe inter¬
ruption from the unfortunate issue of his first love. He
became deeply enamoured of a beautiful young lady, the
daughter of Cunningham of Barns ; he met with a suit¬
able return, and a day was fixed for their nuptials, but
before that day arrived, her life was terminated by a rapid
fever. Such an event as this, which would have affected
a lover of the most ordinary sensibility, could not but sink
deeply into the heart of one who had assiduously cherished
the softer feelings, and whose habits of seclusion were so
directly calculated to preserve a lasting impression of
melancholy. He was so overwhelmed with grief that he
found it necessary to try the effect of a change of objects ;
and he accordingly retired to the continent, where he
spent about eight years. His longest residence was at
Paris and Rome; but he travelled through France, Ger¬
many, and Italy, visited the most celebrated universities,
and conversed with men of learning. In the course of his
peregrinations, he is said to have formed an excellent col¬
lection, not only of the ancient classics, but likewise of the
best writers in the French, Italian, and Spanish languages.
He presented to the university of Edinburgh a collection
of books and manuscripts, of which he printed a catalogue
in the year 1627, prefixing to it an appropriate preface
written in Latin. Of this well-known collection, the value,
that is, the extrinsic or pecuniary value, which was far from
being inconsiderable at first, has been immensely encreased
by the lapse of two centuries. It contains many Scottish
and English publications of singular rarity. When Drum¬
mond returned to Scotland, he found his countrymen
divided by fears and animosities. He now spent some time
at the residence of his brother-in-law Sir John Scot of
Scotstarvet, a learned man, and an encourager of learning.
Having continued in a state of celibacy till the age of
forty-seven, he in 1632 married Elizabeth Logan ; a lady
in whom he traced a strong resemblance to his first mis¬
tress. She is commonly represented as the grand-daugh¬
ter of Sir Robert Logan of Restalrig; but, according to
Hay, her father, who was altogether unconnected with
that family, was minister of Edleston in the county of
Peebles, and her mother was the daughter of a shepherd.4
Of this marriage there were five sons and four daughters.
John, the eldest son, died in his youth; William was
knighted by Charles the Second, and lived to an advan¬
ced age ;5 Robert was married, but died about the age of
forty without children; the two youngest, Richard and
James, died in their infancy. The eldest daughter Eliza¬
beth was married to Dr Henryson, an eminent physician
in Edinburgh ;6 but the other three, Margaret, Anabella,
and Jane, died very young.? The father was a decided
,, The first edition of his poems has the following title: “ Poems, amorous, funerall, diuine, pastorall, in Sonnets, Songs, Sextains,
aangals. By W. D. the author of the Teares on the Death of Mceliades.” Edinbvrgh, printed by Andro Hart, 1G1G, 4to- An-
o er edition, or the same edition with a new title, bears “ Poems, by William Drvmmond of Hawthorne-denne. The second inwires
sion. Edinbvrgh, printed by Andro Hart, 1616, 4to.
To this visit another poet of exquisite talents makes the following allusion :
Then will I dress once more the faded bower,
Where Jonson sat in Drummond’s classic shade.
Collins’s Ode to John Home.
* Gifford’s Memoirs of Jonson, p. cxxx—This charge has been sufficiently repelled by Sir Walter Scott in his Provincial Anti¬
quities of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 133. See likewise Dr Drake’s Mornings in Spring, vol. i. p. 286.
4 Hay’s Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 105. MS. Adv. Lib.
5 Sir William Drummond is more celebrated for his jovially than for his literature. See Dr Pennecuik’s Poems p. 49. 52. An
honourable instance of his humanity is recorded in the Memoirs of George Brvsson, p. 285.
6 This was probably Henry Henryson, M. D. of Elvingston, whose Latin Version of the hundred and fourth psalm occurs in the
ctupla. Edinb. 1696, 8vo. He is more commonly called Henderson, which is a corruption of the other name. Elizabeth the
heiress of her father Dr Henry Henderson of Elvington, was married to John Clerk of Pennecuik. (Inquisitionum Abbreviatio
voi. i. Haddington, 341.) ’
7 Douglas s Baronage of Scotland, p. 573, compared with Sage’s Life of Drummond, p. vi.
192
D R U M M O N D.
Drum¬
mond-
cavalier, and wielded his pen, though not his sword, in the
king’s service ; and being reputed a malignant, he was ex¬
posed to some of the usual molestations of those unhappy
times. The tragical fate of his sovereign is said to
have hastened his own dissolution : we are informed by
Bishop Sage that Drummond, being weakened by hard
study and disease, was so overwhelmed with extreme
grief and anguish that he died on the 4th of December
1649.1 But as the king was executed on the 30th of Ja¬
nuary, an interval of more than ten months must have oc¬
curred between his death and that of his faithful subject;
an interval so long as to render the biographer’s inference
somewhat questionable. He had nearly completed the
sixty-fourth year of his age. His remains were interred
in the church of Lasswade, which stands at the distance
of about a mile from Hawthornden. He appears through
life to have maintained a character of uniform respecta¬
bility ; uniting with his other qualities that of consistent
piety, and blending morality with his devotion. His death
was affectionately lamented by his friend Colonel Lauder
of Hatton, who has left several other specimens of his po¬
etical talents, and who was not the only Scotish soldier of
this period that evinced his love of the Muses.
Drummond was evidently a man of superior talents and
accomplishments. We are informed that he was fami¬
liarly acquainted with the best Greek and Latin authors :
his long residence on the continent afforded him an excel¬
lent opportunity of acquiring a knowledge of the living
languages ; and he is said to have spoken French, Italian,
and Spanish, as fluently as his native tongue. To his
graver qualifications he added no mean proficiency in mu¬
sic ; and he occasionally sought a relaxation from his stu¬
dies by playing on the lute, “ which he did to admira¬
tion.” He seems to have devoted a considerable portion
of his time to the invention or improvement of various
instruments and machines, applicable to various purposes
of peace or war. They are curiously enumerated, to the
extent of sixteen, in a patent which he obtained in the
year 1627, and which secured to him the sole right and
property within the kingdom of Scotland for the space of
twenty-one years.2
His literary productions exhibit considerable variety.
His compositions in prose chiefly consist of the Cypress
Grove, some political tracts, and the History of the five
Jameses; a work which embraces the history of Scotland
from 1423 to 1542.3 “ The best of Drummond’s prose
works,” says Mr Headley, “ is his Cypress Grove, which,
though quaint in its style, is worth reading for its vein of
dignified morality.” His history, which has alternately
been the object of extravagant commendation and unspar¬
ing censure, cannot now be regarded as a work of much
value or interest: the author’s materials are not general¬
ly drawn from recondite sources, and his manner is too
rhetorical. For the reputation which he still retains,
Drummond is chiefly indebted, not to his historical, but
to his poetical excellence; and, in the opinion of compe¬
tent judges, he is entitled to a distinguished place among
the English poets of that age. As few of his poems ex¬
tend to a considerable length, his genius cannot be esti¬
mated by the success of any great and continued effort;
but notwithstanding the shortness of his flights, he gene- ^
rally soars on bright and steady wings. He is conspicu¬
ous for his delicate sensibility and warmth of fancy ; and
with these qualities, so essential in an amatory poet, he
unites uncommon skill in versification. His taste seems
in a oreat measure to have been formed upon the Italian
model, nor are his compositions entirely free from Italian
conceits; but he commonly maintains a degree of ele¬
gant simplicity to which few English poets of that age
have attained.
The reputation which Drummond enjoyed during his
life, appears to have suffered some diminution after his
death. He was a gentleman, says Edward Phillips, “ who
imitating the Italian manner of versifying, vented his
amours in sonnets, canzonets, and madrigals, and, to my
thinking, in a style sufficiently smooth and delightful; and
therefore why so utterly disregarded and layd aside at
present, I leave to the more curious palats in poetry.”4
After an interval of more than a century, the same com¬
plaint of unmerited neglect was repeated by Mr Headley.
“ Without ostentatious praise (which is always to be sus¬
pected), it is but truth to observe that many of his son¬
nets, those more especially which are divested of Italian
conceits, resemble the best Greek epigrams in their best
taste, in that exquisite delicacy of sentiment, and simpli¬
city of expression, for which our language has no single
term, but which is known to all classical readers by the
word dipeXs/oc. It is in vain we lament the fate of many of
our poets, who have undeservedly fallen victims to a pre¬
mature oblivion, when the finished productions of this man
are little known and still less read.”5
Drummond’s sonnets form a very considerable propor¬
tion of his poetical works. The following four may be se¬
lected as a specimen of the entire collection; and they
are here exhibited in modern orthography.
I know that all beneath the moon decays,
And what by mortals in this world is brought,
In Time’s great periods shall return to nought;
That fairest states have fatal nights and days :
I know how all the Muse’s heavenly lays,
With toil of spright which are so dearly bought,
As idle sounds, of few or none are sought,
And that nought lighter is than airy praise:
I know frail beauty like the purple flower,
To which one morn oft birth and death affords;
That love a jarring is of minds’ accords,
When sense and will invassal reason’s power.
Know what I list, this all cannot me move
But that, O me ! I both must write and love.
With flaming horns the Bull now brings the year,
Melt do the horrid mountains’ helms of snow,
The silver floods in pearly channels flow,
The late-bare woods green anadems do wear;
The nightingale, forgetting winter’s woe,
Calls up the lazy morn her notes to hear ;
Those flowers are spread which names of princes bear.
Some red, some azure, white, and golden grow.
Here lows a heifer, there bewailing strays
A harmless lamb, not far a stag rebounds;
The shepherds sing to grazing flocks sweet lays,
And all about the echoing air resounds.
Drum.
mond.
1 Sir Thomas Urquhart is said to have expired in a paroxysm of laughter, on hearing of the restoration of Charles the Second ; a
statement which is rendered sufficiently probable by the record of similar cases, and by the eccentric character of the individual.
Aretseus, an ancient physician, specifies unextinguishable laughter as one of the causes of death: ytXai carfiarro; ^r-xZ‘
(De Causis et Signis Morborum, lib. i. p. 35. edit. Boerhaave. Lugd. Bat. 1735, fol.) And other ancient writers have mentioned
the names of different persons who died of excessive joy. (Valerius Maximus, lib. ix. cap. xii. Plinii Hist. Nat. lib. vii. cap. liii.)
According to the common account, Sophocles was of this number.
2 Drummond’s Works, p. 235. .Edinb. 1711, fol.
* Of his History of Scotland, the first edition is that of London, 1655, fol. The introduction was written by Mr Hall of Gray’s
Inn. There are other three editions.
* Phillips’s Theatrum Poetarum, or compleat Collection of the Poets, part ii p. 192. Lend. 1675, 12mo.
5 Headley’s Biographical Sketches (p. xlv.) prefixed to Select Beauties of Ancient English Poetry. Lond. 1787, 2 vols. 8vo.
D R U M M O N D.
Drum- Hills, dales, woods, floods, and every thing doth change,
mond. But she in rigour, I in love am strange.
Trust not, sweet soul, those curled waves of gold,
With gentle tides which on your temples flow,
Nor temples spread with flakes of virgin snow,
Nor snow of cheeks with Tyrian grain enroll’d;
Trust not those shining lights which wrought my woe,
When first I did their burning rays behold.
Nor voice, whose sounds more strange effects do show
Than of the Thracian harper have been told.
Look to this dying lily, fading rose,
Dark hyacinth, of late whose blushing beams
Made all the neighbouring herbs and grass rejoice,
And think how little is ’twixt life’s extremes.
The cruel tyrant that did kill those flowers,
Shall once, aye me ! not spare that spring of yours.
What doth it serve to see sun’s burning face,
And skies enamell’d with both the Indies’ gold,
Or moon at night in jetty chariot rolled,
And all the glory of that starry place ?
What doth it serve earth’s beauties to behold,
The mountains’ pride, the meadows’ flowing grace,
The stately comeliness of forests old,
The sport of floods, which would themselves embrace ?
What doth it serve to hear the Sylvans’ songs,
The wanton merle, the nightingale’s sad strains.
Which in dark shades seem to deplore my wrongs ?
For what doth serve all that this world contains,
Sith she, for whom those once to me were dear,
No part of them can have now with me here ?
To some of’ his compositions, which he has described as
songs, this title is by no means applicable; it is neither
applicable to the vein of poetry, nor to the measure of the
verse. One striking poem, which he entitles a song, is
written in heroic couplets, and contains such passages as
this:
And tell me, thou who dost so much admire
This little vapour, smoke, this spark or fire,
Which life is call’d, what doth it thee bequeath
But some few years which birth draws out to death ?
Which if thou paragon with lustres run,
And them whose career is but now begun,
In day’s great vast they shall far less appear,
Than Avith the sea when matched is a tear.
But why would’st thou here longer wish to be ?
One year doth serve all nature’s pomp to see,
Nay, even one day and night: this moon, that sun,
Those lesser fires about this round which run,
Be but the same which, under Saturn’s reign,
Did the serpenting seasons interchain.
How oft doth life grow less by living long,
And what excelleth but what dieth young?1
His collection of sacred verses, which he entitles
Flowres of Sion,2 contain much poetical imagery and ex¬
pression. Some of the topics cannot be very safely ap¬
proached by a poet, who must place his chief reliance on
the exercise of his fancy; and the subsequent lines of this
writer may sometimes occur to the recollection of his
reader:
Who would this Eden force with wit or sense,
A cherubim shall find to bar him thence.
One of the longest poems in this collection, entitled a
Hymne on the fairest Faire, contains the following among
many other striking passages:
Ah ! as a pilgrim who the Alps doth pass,
Or Atlas’ temples crown’d with winter’s glass,
The airy Caucasus, the Apennine,
Pyrenes cliffs where sun doth never shine,
When he some heaps of hills hath over-went,
Begins to think on rest, his journey spent,
Till, mounting some tall mountain, he doth find
More heights before him than he left behind:
With halting pace so while I would me raise
To the unbounded circuits of thy praise,
Some part of way I thought to have o’er-run,
But now I see how scarce I have begun,
With wonders new my spirits range possest,
And wand’ring wayless in a maze them rest.
It has been suggested by Mr Headley that one would
be induced to suppose Pope must have remembered these
lines when he wrote a well-known passage in his Essay on
Criticism. The subsequent couplet, which occurs in the
same hymn, is remarkable for its energetic simplicity:
Uncomprehensible by reachless height,
And unperceived by excessive light.
Another poem of considerable length he entitles the
Shadow of the Judgment. It is left in an unfinished state,
and is not included in the collection published under the
direction of Sir John Scot;3 but it nevertheless contains
many passages worthy of the author’s reputation. An ele¬
gant critic has remarked that the following verses, de¬
scribing God moved to wrath, are in Milton’s manner:
So seeing earth, of angels once the inn,
Mansion of saints, defloured all by sin,
And quite confus’d by wretches here beneath,
The world’s great sovereign moved was to wrath.
Thrice did he rouse himself, thrice from his face
Flames sparkle did throughout the heavenly place :
The stars, though fixed, in their rounds did quake,
The earth, and earth-embracing sea did shake :
Carmel and Hsemus felt it, Athos’ tops
Affrighted shrunk, and near the Ethiops
Atlas, the Pyrenees, the Apennine,
And lofty Grampius, wrhich with snow doth shine.
Then to the synod of the sprights he swore,
Man’s care should end, and time should be no more.
Drummond’s poem in commemoration of Prince Henry4
commences in a strain somewhat bombastic, but it con¬
tains some elegant and striking passages. The subsequent
lines exhibit a very favourable specimen of his versifica¬
tion ; and it is proper to recollect that the poem was print¬
ed so early as the year 1613. He describes the lamented
youth as rejoicing to look down to the azure bars of heaven,
And in their turning temples to behold,
In silver robe the moon, the sun in gold,
Like young eye-speaking lovers in a dance,
With majesty by turns retire, advance.
Thou wonderest earth to see hang like a ball,
Clos’d in the ghastly cloister of this all;
Ov m hoi QiXoviriv Morohtiirxii via;.
Menandri Fragmenta, p. 48. edit. Meineke.
8 Flow'res of Sion. By William Drvmmond of Hawthorne-denne. To Avhich is adjoyned his Cypresse Groue. 1623, 4to. Eden-
bovrgh, printed by lohn Hart, 1630, 4to.
3 Poems by that most famous wit Mr William Drummond of Hawthornden. Lond. 1656, 8vo. The editor was Edward Phil¬
lips, the nephew of Milton. The same edition was exhibited under a new and fantastic title, with the date of 1659. A more ex¬
tensive collection of his poems is to be found in the Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden. Edinb. 1711, fob Bishop Sage’s
life of the author is prefixed to this publication. But the most complete, as well as the most elegant edition was printed under
the superintendence of Mr Maitland: “ The Poems of William Drummond of Hawthornden.” Edinb. 1832, 4to The book how¬
ever is not published : it wras the splendid contribution of William Macdowall, Esq. of Garthland to the Maitland Club.
4 Teares on the Death of Mceliades. Edinbvrgh, printed by Andro Hart, 1613, 4to. His two sonnets and epitaph, which appear
in this publication, are likewise inserted in the “ Mavsolevm, or choisest Flowrres of the Epitaphs, written on the Death of the
neuer-too-much lamented Prince Henrie.” Edinh. 1613, 4to. A third edition of the “Teares on the Death of Moeliades” soon
followed. Edinb. 1614. 4to. The second we have not seen.
VOL. VIII. 2 B
193
Drum¬
mond.
1—
194 D R U
Drum- And that poor men should prove so madly fond
mond. To toss themselves for a small foot of ground ;
Nay, that they even dare brave the powers above,
From this base stage of chance that cannot move.
All worldly pomp and pride thou seest arise
Like smoke, that scatt’reth in the empty skies.
Other hills and forests, other sumptuous tow’rs.
Amaz’d thou find’st excelling our poor bow’rs ;
Courts void of flattery, of malice minds,
Pleasure which lasts, not such as reason blinds.
Forth Feasting, a poem written in the year 1617 on the
king’s visit to his native country,1 may be considered as his
best performance; it abounds with poetical imagery, and
the versification possesses uncommon terseness and har¬
mony. In all poems of the same age and denomination,
the reader must necessarily expect a certain sprinkling of
mythology; this is a prevailing vice, an endemic disease,
among the poets of that period ; but Forth Feasting is en¬
livened by an elegant vein of fancy, and contains various
passages of distinguished felicity. In the following nervous
lines,, he pays a warm and not unmerited compliment to
the monarch’s love of peace :
Now, where the wounded knight his life did bleed,
The wanton swain sits piping on a reed,
And where the cannon did Jove’s thunder scorn,
The gaudy huntsman winds his shrill-tun’d horn ;
Her green locks Ceres without fear doth dye.
The pilgrim safely in the shade doth lie.
Both Pan and Pales careless keep their flocks.
Seas have no dangers save the winds and rocks :
Thou art this isle’s Palladium, neither can,
While thou art kept, it be o’erthrown by man.
Let others boast of blood and spoils of foes,
Fierce rapines, murders, Iliads of woes,
Of hated pomp, and trophies reared fair,
Gore-spangled ensigns streaming in the air,
Count how they make the Scythian them adore.
The Gaditan, the soldier of Aurore;
Unhappy vauntry ! to enlarge their bounds,
Which charge themselves with cares, their friends with wounds,
Which have no law to their ambitious will,
But, man plagues, born are human blood to spill;
Thou a true victor art, sent from above,
What others strain by force to gain by love ;
World-wand’ring Fame this praise to thee imparts,
To be the only monarch of all hearts.
When the successor of this king visited his northern
dominions in the year 1633, Drummond contributed the
verses for the pageants which welcomed his arrival in
Edinburgh.2 These verses, although they do not exhibit
passages equal to those which we have lately examined,
ar.e not destitute of merit. Of the frequent compression
and harmony of his couplets, every reader must be suffi¬
ciently aware; and the excellence of his versification has
been highly extolled by an English critic. Waller and Den¬
ham are often regarded as the great improvers of a mode
of versification which was carried to greater perfection by
Dryden ; but the Tears on the Death of Mceliades, and
Forth Feasting, were composed several years before either
of those poets had reached the age of manhood.3 J. b-e.
Drummond, Sir William, of Logie-Almond, a distin-
D R U
guished scholar, acute philosopher, and accomplished wri- Drum-
ter, died at Rome, of a lingering and painful disease, on mond.
the 29th of March 1828. The date of his birth we have
not been able to ascertain, and consequently cannot pre¬
tend to determine his age at the time of his decease.
He seems to have been early ambitious of literary dis¬
tinction, and in 1794 he published A Review of the Go¬
vernment of Sparta and Athens, large 8vo; a work which,
though not destitute of merit, and exhibiting considerable
traces of a vigorous mind, yet gave no promise of that bold
spirit of speculation for which its author was afterwards so
much distinguished. At the close of the year 1795, he
was returned to parliament for the borough of St Mawes,
in the representation of which a vacancy had occurred ;
and in the two following parliaments, which met respective¬
ly in 1796 and 1801, he sat for the town of Lostwithiel.
At the time of his second election he had been appointed
envoy-extraordinary to the court of Naples.
In the year 1798, he published The Satires of Persius
Translated, 8vo, which happened to appear about the same
time with the rival translation of the Roman satirist by Mr
Gifford, author of the Baviad and Maeviad, and afterwards
editor of the Quarterly Review. This translation alone
would have been sufficient to fix his reputation as an ac¬
complished classical scholar ; and, in point of fact, it has
been much admired by all who are competent to appre¬
ciate the difficulty of the task which he so successfully
performed. It would not be easy, indeed, to overrate the
skill with which the niceties of Persius have been discri¬
minated, or the felicity with which the idiomatic pecu¬
liarities of that difficult author have been conve?’ted into
equivalent forms of expression. Drummond’s versification
is easy, graceful, and precise ; and though it wants the
piquancy of allusion, the congenial bitterness of spirit, and
the occasional point and concentration, which impart so
strong a zest to the translation of Mr Gifford, it is yet
distinguished for greater freedom and equal fidelity, two
things which Drummond has shown that it is not impos¬
sible to reconcile.
In the year 1801, Mr Drummond being then ambassa¬
dor to the Ottoman Porte, was honoured with the order
of the Crescent, which was confirmed by license, in the
London Gazette, dated the 8th of September 1803.
In 1805 Sir William published his Academical Questions,
in 4to, and thereby greatly extended his fame as an au¬
thor. Hitherto he had appeared only in the character
of an elegant and accomplished scholar; but in this work
he boldly entered the domain of philosophy, and in a free
and fearless spirit attacked every species of dogmatism,
whether consecrated by time, or sustained by authority,
exposing the weakness of the human understanding, and
mortifying the pride of pretended wisdom, by a collection
of what appear to be insoluble cases and indeterminate
problems. In this work, however, it is only the task of de¬
molition which he proposes to accomplish; and it must
be owned that he has spread abroad the rubbish and scat¬
tered the dust of philosophical systems in a somewhat ap-
1 Forth Feasting. A Panegyricke to the Kings most excellent Majestie. Edinbvrgh, printed by Andro Hart, 1617, 4to This
poem occurs in the Muses Welcome, p. 25.
2 Drummond’s verses appeared in a publication entitled “ The Entertainment of the high and mighty Monarch Charles, King
Great Britaine, France, and Ireland, into his auncient and royall Citie of Edinbvrgh, the fifteenth of Line 1633.” Printed at
Ldinbvrgh by lohn Wreittoun, 1633, 4to. The last work which he himself is known to have published bears the following title:
“.To the Exequies of the Honovrable Sr Antonye Alexander, Knight, &c. A pastorall Elegie.” Edinbvrgh, printed in King James
his College, by George Anderson, 1636, 4to. Mr Maitland has reprinted the Polemo-Middinia from the earliest edition that has
been traced. Edinb. 1684, 4to.
* Neve’s Cursory Remarks on some of the Ancient English Poets, particularly Milton, p. 49. Lond. 1789, 8vo With respect
to the supposed merit of Waller and Denham as improvers of English versification, the reader may consult Mr Crowe’s Treatise on
English Versification, p. 166. Lond. 1827, 8vo.
D 11 U M
Drum- palling manner. “ The author of Academical Questions,”
mond. says the able critic of the work in the Edinburgh Review,
**-^-**J “ is indubitably a person of great reading, and much natu¬
ral acuteness; but he has taken too wide a range, and in¬
dulged somewhat too much in a vein of controversial decla¬
mation. He often seems to think more of demolishing his
antagonist than of enlightening his reader; and sometimes
appears to enlarge upon a topic as much for the display of
his eloquence as for the support of his reasoning. By fre¬
quent reference to the Greek writers, and continual allu¬
sions to the usages of antiquity, he expected perhaps to
seduce the scholars of the South into metaphysical inves¬
tigations, and to engage the attention of polite readers by
a certain vivacity and polish in the turn of his expression.
If this was his view, however, he certainly ought not to
have plunged at first into the great gulf of substance and
entity.” {Edinburgh Review, vol. vii. p. 185.) To these
observations, however, it is proper to add, that the author
avowedly reserved the full exposition of his own theory
for a subsequent volume, though in point of fact it never
appeared ; and that in this preliminary publication he con¬
ceived himself to be only clearing out the foundation on
which it was his intention afterwards to build.
In the year 1810, Sir William Drummond, in conjunc¬
tion with Robert Walpole, Esq. published Herculanensia,
in 4to, containing archaeological and philological disserta¬
tions, and a copy of a manuscript found amongst the ruins
of Herculaneum; and in 1811 appeared an Essay on a
Punic Inscription found in the Isle of Malta, royal 8vo ;
both works of great merit and erudition. Sir William was
also an occasional, if not a frequent, contributor to the Clas¬
sical Journal; in which his papers on subjects of antiquity,
particularly the zodiac of Denderah, which occupied with¬
out exhausting his ingenuity, attracted the general admi¬
ration of the learned, if not always on account of their
soundness, at least by reason of the acuteness and origi¬
nality they display, and the resources of learning which
the author had always at command for the illustration of
his peculiar views. About this time, Sir William Drum¬
mond, whose residence at Constantinople had turned his
attention to oriental literature, sacred as well as profane,
consigned the fruits of his researches and investigations
into the historical books of the Old Testament, in his
CEdipus Judaicus. This singular work was never publish¬
ed, having been printed solely for distribution amongst the
author’s friends and acquaintance; but as he had caused
a considerable impression to be struck off, copies of it soon
found their way into the hands of persons connected with
the periodical press, and those of others; and, as might
have been expected, it was most fiercely attacked. The
first onset was made by a churchman of the name of
D’Oyly, in Letters to the Right Hon. Sir William Drum¬
mond, in Defence of particular Passages of the Old Testa¬
ment against his late ivork entitled “ (Edipus Judaicus
and the attack was renewed in the Quarterly Review, with
equal vigour and ability. Whether it was altogether fair
thus openly to stigmatize a book which had never been
published, we shall not stop to inquire ; more especially as
the principal cause of regret is, not that it was severely
criticised, but that it was ever written, far less printed.
In the controversy which thus arose, however, Sir William
was overmatched, both in science and in Hebrew, with
which D’Oyly and the Reviewer evinced a most intimate
acquaintance ; and although his reply displayed much in¬
genuity, no skill could evade, far less destroy, the force of
some of the criticisms. The truth is, the allegorical theory
which he undertook to establish was taken at second hand
from the work of Dupuis ; and although the author, not¬
withstanding all the errors charged against him, brought
great stores of learning and erudition to bear upon it, yet
M O N D. 195
the absurdities to which it leads are so glaring, and the Drum-
consequences which follow from it are so pernicious, that mond.
it is surprising Sir William Drummond should not have
foreseen the one, or been prudent enough not to hazard
the other. The preface, too, though beautifully written,
contains observations which nothing can excuse, and irre¬
verences so gross as even to shock persons the least scru¬
pulous about subjects of religion. The profane joke about
veal cutlets is worthy only of Mr Thomas Paine, and fit to
appear in no work where the ordinary humanities of taste
and reason are duly observed.
In 1818 Sir William Drummond published, experimen¬
tally we believe, the first part of a poem entitled Odin,
4to, the object of which was to embody in verse some of
the more striking features of the Scandinavian mythology.
The poem, however, did not succeed in attracting public
attention, which was then almost exclusively fixed on some
of the great masters of song, whose deep voice of inspira¬
tion filled the land; and although it contained passages of
very considerable power and beauty, it fell into almost im¬
mediate oblivion.
But the work on which the reputation of Sir William
Drummond as a scholar and antiquary must chiefly rest,
is his Origines, or Remarks on the Origin of several Em¬
pires, States, and Cities, in 3 vols. 8vo. The first volume,
embracing the origin of the Babylonian, the Assyrian, and
the Iranian empires, appeared in 1824; the second, which is
wholly devoted to the subject of Egypt, including the mo¬
dern discoveries in hieroglyphics, came out in 1825; and
the third, which treats of the Phoenicians and Arabia, was
published in 1826. It would be exceedingly difficult, by
a general statement, or by critical observations apart from
details, to convey an accurate idea of the real character
and merits of this work ; which, with much that is strained,
exaggerated, or defective, to say nothing of errors into which
the author is sometimes betrayed by the excessive refine¬
ments of an ever active ingenuity, is in several respects
one of the most remarkable productions of modern times.
A principal feature of the Origines, though certainly the
least obtrusive, is, that here the author labours quietly to
build up and fortify the authority of the historical books
of the Old Testament, which, in the CEdipus Judaicus, he
had (probably without intending it) contributed to impair,
if not to pull down: whilst by concentrating, as it were,
into one focus the various scattered lights of tradition,
history, philosophy, science, etymology, and archaeology,
he has contrived to illuminate many of the darkest pas¬
sages in the records of the ancient world ; to dispel no
inconsiderable portion of the obscurity which overshadow¬
ed the origin and annals of the great empires of antiquity ;
and, even in the merest archaeological discussions, to in¬
terweave incidental illustrations, alike curious in them¬
selves, and valuable to the scholar, the theologian, and the
antiquary. Upon this work, therefore, as on a fixed and en¬
during pedestal, the fame of Drummond as a scholar must
in a great measure rest. Besides its other great and sin¬
gular merits, it has that which indeed is peculiar to al¬
most all Drummond’s works, of being written in a pure,
chaste, classical style, full of vivacity and vigour, and
sometimes even rising into a rich and lofty strain of elo¬
quence. The dialogue between Neomathes and Philo-
thoth, in the second volume, where the one impugns and
the other defends the astronomical and mathematical skill
of the ancient Egyptians, may be instanced as a specimen
of the grace, elegance, and force of Drummond’s style,
when it flows in a continuous stream, unbroken by the pro¬
jecting corners and edges of a hard and rugged erudition.
Sir William Drummond’s appreciation of the modern
discoveries in hieroglyphics (a subject to which three
consecutive chapters of the second volume are devoted)
196
D R U
Drum- is, in general, sound and discriminating; and he foiesaw
mond. sooner than almost any one else, that the powers of the
yw' p]lonetic alphabet, as an instrument of discovery, would be
found to have been greatly over-rated. In a letter, dated
Naples, 27th April 1827, and addressed to the author of
this imperfect notice, he very distinctly shows how fully
he had estimated the difficulty which M. Champollion had
overlooked, and which now appears to be nearly, if not
altogether insuperable. “ That M. Champollion’s system
is accurate to a certain extent,” says he, “ I admit; and
his discoveries do him great honour. Whether he be
right in all the details of his system is another question.
He establishes the existence of a very great number (I
forget the precise number) of phonetic hieroglyphs;1 and
to these, he says, are to be traced all the characters of
the running hand, which he reads with so much ease.
Now I cannot help observing, that where there are so
many signs to represent each alphabetical letter, and where
consequently there must have been various contractions
for each of these signs in the running hand, the task of
learning all these contractions without the aid of a master,
and of accurately referring them to their prototypes, must
be immense. In Sanscrit there are fifty-two letters, and
yet there are above eight hundred contractions. To refer
these Sanscrit contractions to their original letters is not
always very easy; but the difficulty in Egyptian must
have been much greater, in which language the phonetic
characters, and consequently the contractions, are far
more numerous.” Here we have the germ of those prin¬
ciples which, developed and applied by Klaproth to the
values of characters as set down by M. Champollion, have
made terrible havoc of his discoveries, and left him at last
little more than what he took without acknowledgment
from Dr Young.
Of Sir William Drummond in his public capacity we
are not prepared to speak with any degree of confidence,
having little knowledge of his services as a diplomatist,
or of his capabilities for acting in that character. I he
habit of his mind was a cautious or rather tentative bold¬
ness, accompanied with perseverance, yet tempered with
a conciliating blandness of disposition, and an amenity of
manners, native to his character; and it is to be presum¬
ed that this prevailing tendency showed itself in the con¬
duct of affairs, as w'ell as in abstract or speculative pur¬
suits. In 1808, we find him, whilst resident at the court
of Palermo, ostensibly embarked in a scheme for securing
the regency of Spain, which had then just risen in arms to
throw off the yoke of France, to Prince Leopold of Sicily.
As might have been expected, the project misgave at the
very commencement, and Sir William Drummond has not
escaped censure for the part he had in it. “ Sir William
Drummond, the British envoy at Palermo, Mr Viale, and
the Duke of Orleans,” says Colonel Napier,” were the osten¬
sible contrivers of this notable scheme, by wdiich, if it had
succeeded, a small party in a local junta (that of Seville)
would have appointed a regency for Spain, paved the way
for altering the laws of succession in that country, esta¬
blished their own sway over the other juntas, and created
interminable jealousy between England, Portugal, and
Spain; but with whom the plan originated does not very
clearly appear. Sir William Drummond’s representations
induced Sir Alexander Ball to provide the ship of war,
nominally for the conveyance of the Duke of Orleans[since
king of the French, who had made no secret of his inten¬
tion to negociate for the regency of Spain], but in reality
for Prince Leopold, with whose intended voyage Sir Alex-
D R U
ander does not appear to have been made acquainted. Druses.
That the prince should have desired to be regent of
Spain was natural; but that he should have been con¬
veyed to Gibraltar in a British ship of the line, when the
English government disapproved of his pretensions, v'as
ready curious. Sir William Drummond could scarcely
have proceeded such lengths in an aifair of so great conse¬
quence, without secret instructions from some member of
his own government; yet Lord Castlereagh expressed
unqualified approbation of Sir Hew Dalrymple’s decisive
conduct upon the occasion.” (Napier’s History of the Pe¬
ninsular War, vol. i. p. 177.) In politics Sir William
Drummond appears to have known his ground well, and
to have given entire satisfaction to the governments which
employed him, at periods of no ordinary difficulty, in trans¬
acting affairs of the greatest importance.
Such is an imperfect outline of the literary and political
character of this distinguished person. In private life he
was a man of modest, retiring, unobtrusive manners, per¬
fectly unconscious that he differed from or had any claims
to distinction superior to the most ordinary and common¬
place person who fell in his way. Throughout his whole
life he was a close and assiduous student, often preferring
the company of his books to the promiscuous and frivolous
intercourse of company ; and hence he was sometimes con¬
sidered as eccentric, if not cold, distant, and haughty, by
those who neither knew nor could sympathise with the
habits which are gradually formed by a studious and con¬
templative life; habits which continue unconsciously to
grow upon men whose days and nights are devoted to the
pursuit of knowledge. But he was, nevertheless, one of
the kindest, mildest, and most generous and humane men
that ever existed. To his tenants and dependents he was
indulgent even to the injury of his own private fortune ;
to his friends he was most stedfastly and fervently devoted.
In him rising merit was always sure to find a ready and
active patron; and not a few individuals have owed their
establishment and success in life to the circumstance of
having attracted his notice, or of being pointed out to him
as deserving of support or encouragement. Latterly, owing
to the precarious state of his health, which made it neces¬
sary for him to resort to a warmer climate, he resided almost
constantly abroad ; chiefly, we believe, at Naples, where
he continued to indulge in those learned pursuits which
formed the main solace and delight of his life. (j. b—e.)
DRUNKENNESS, or Intoxication, a well-known
vice, the consequence of an excessive use of spirituous
liquors, wines, or drugs. Drunkenness is gradually produ¬
ced, and several distinct stages may be traced in its pro¬
gress. The sensations experienced in the earlier stages, or
the state of incipient intoxication, are peculiarly pleasur¬
able. The mind becomes unusually excited ; a soft serenity
steals over it, inducing a spirit of universal contentment;
gaiety and warmth kindle at the heart, and images of
beauty expand before the imagination. In this state, be¬
fore consciousness is attacked, or the sensorium affected,
some of the faculties of the soul act with greater liveli¬
ness and vigour, and the feelings of strength and courage
are increased. In a short while the sense of propriety is
lost, the soul begins to open itself and pour forth its se¬
crets, displaying all the peculiarities of temper, good or
bad. Gradually the scene thickens, and consciousness be¬
comes still more weakened. Reason vacates her throne,
and grotesque conceptions crowd upon the fancy. Dizzi¬
ness attacks the brain, and surrounding objects, seeming
to lose their balance—
1 About a hundred and forty; whilst, even by the lowest estimate, the total number of hieroglyphs on the monuments exceeds eight
hundred.
I) R U
D R U
197
Drunken¬
ness.
Into strange vagaries fall,
As they would dance.
The drunkard begins to feel the earth unsteady beneath
his feet, his sense of equilibrium gives way, and total
insensibility succeeds, in which a state of stupor, wild
dreams, and horror, strongly contrasts with that of pre¬
vious excitement. Different individuals are differently
affected by the inebriating liquid. The state of the pas¬
sions at the period of indulging in strong liquors also ope¬
rates powerfully in modifying its effects. Persons under
sentence of death, and immediately before execution,
have been known to swallow with impunity draughts of
the strongest alcohol, which, under other circumstances,
would have rendered them senseless. Hence the remark¬
able propriety of the language put into the mouth of Lady
Macbeth previously to the contemplated murder, when,
arlluding to the manner in which she had “ drugged the
possets” of the grooms, she says, “ that which hath made
them drunk hath made me bold.” In some persons con¬
stitutional moroseness and melancholy are dispelled; in
others their habitual gloom is aggravated. Cases of the
latter description, however, are by no means so numerous
as those of the former, and the general effect of indulgence
in “ thick potations” is to dispel the clouds of care, at
least for the time being. But the re-action which event¬
ually follows over-excitement serves to deepen the dark¬
ness, and, by a dispensation of retributive justice, to in¬
flict certain punishment for the previous delinquency.
Drunkards who are of a sanguineous temperament are
most intensely excited by the use of strong liquors.
It is unnecessary to enumerate the various inebriating
agents, which, as well as temperament, influence the na¬
ture of the intoxication produced. Thus ebriety from ar¬
dent spirits differs from that generated by malt liquors.
Besides alcohol, which is the intoxicating principle in all
liquors, there are various substances taken, both in the
solid and fluid state, which induce intoxication. The
most remarkable are opium, bang, and nitrous oxide gas.
The former, it is well known, is in extensive use for this
purpose in the East, but the latter has not yet been em¬
ployed out of the laboratory of the chemist. The effects
produced by this gas are described by the discoverer, Sir
Humphry Davy, and others who have experienced them,
as very delightful, and similar to those felt during the earlier
stages of intoxication from wine, but of a purer and more
ethereal nature.
Amongst the physiological effects of drunkenness are
vertigo, double vision, staggering and stammering, heat
and flushing, ringing in the ears, and other analogous af¬
fections. Vertigo, though partly produced by the ocular
delusions under which the drunkard labours, seems prin¬
cipally to arise from the close sympathy which subsists be¬
tween the brain and the nerves of the stomach. Double
vision is readily accounted for by the influence of increased
circulation in the brain upon the nerves of sight. Stag¬
gering and stammering may likewise be explained by the
disordered state of the nervous system. Heat and flush¬
ing result from the strong determination of blood to the
surface of the body, and ringing in the ears particularly
from the throbbing of the internal carotid arteries, which
run in the immediate neighbourhood of the ear. The
mental pleasure arising from intoxication is not so easily
explained, though the primary cause no doubt is physi¬
cal or rather nervous excitement gradually superinduced,
and thus stimulating both the imagination and the pas¬
sions. The evil consequences of drinking, both in a phy¬
sical and moral point of view, are numerous and distress¬
ing. On the unhappy victim of this propensity a long
train of bodily diseases and infirmities are entailed. The
liver, stomach, brain, kidneys, indeed all the functions
of the body, are seriously impaired by the practice; and
in this state the frame is not only more liable to attacks
of disease, but when they do come they are likely to ex¬
hibit tenfold inveteracy. Thus life is either suddenly short¬
ened, or protracted into a long disease. Death itself is
frequently an immediate consequence of over indulgence.
We shall not attempt a classification of the bodily infir¬
mities and pernicious effects which drunkenness produces;
but we may mention madness, and spontaneous combus¬
tion of the body, as belonging to the number. The former
is by no means a rare occurrence, and there are well au¬
thenticated cases of the latter. Drunkenness in a judicial
point of view is not punishable by our laws; but acts of
violence committed under its influence are held to be ag¬
gravated rather than otherwise; nor can the accused al¬
lege it as an extenuation of the crime of which he has
been guilty. In proof of this it maybe stated, that a bond
signed in a fit of intoxication holds good in law, and is per¬
fectly binding, unless it can be shown that the person who
signed it was inebriated by the collusion or contrivance of
those to whom the bond was given.
Drunkenness has been known from the earliest ages.
Wherever the grape flourished inebriation soon made its
appearance. It has greatly varied at different times and
amongst different nations. There can be no doubt that in
a rude, uncivilized state of society, it prevails to the great¬
est extent, and assumes the most revolting forms. It is
also found to exist more extensively in northern than in
southern latitudes, owing no doubt to the difference of
climate. As society is refined, the vice certainly diminishes
amongst the higher orders, although amongst those in the
lower ranks it is still found to exist to a fearful extent.
For checking this demoralizing practice various moral en¬
gines have been set to work, but without a success com¬
mensurate with the philanthropy of the design or the im¬
portance to society of the anticipated results, (j. F. s.)
DRUSES, an independent peopleof Palestine, of warlike
habits, who inhabit the mountains of Libanus, Anti-Liba-
nus, and all the coast from Gibail to Saide, and east as far
as Balbec. There are various conjectures concerning the
origin of this singular race ; the most rational of which is,
that they were originally a persecuted sect of Mahomme-
dans, who, flying from oppression, took refuge, about the
commencement of the eleventh century, amongst the
mountains of Lebanon, and there formed an independent
society.
The unity of the Mahommedan faith was at a very early
period broken by contending sectaries; and, according to
the full and accurate details of Volney, from whom the
following account is chiefly compiled, Egypt, under the
influence of these delusions, became, in the reign of the
third caliph of the race of the Fatimites, and in the year
of the Hegira 386 (a. d. 996), the theatre of the most ex¬
travagant enthusiasm and absurdity ever perhaps record¬
ed in history. This prince, called Hakem-b’amr-ellah,
was remarkable for his heresies and fanatical zeal. He
caused the first caliphs, the companions of Mahommed,
to be cursed in the mosques, and afterwards revoked the
anathema; he compelled the Jews and Christians to ab¬
jure their religion, and then permitted them to resume it;
he forbade the pilgrimage to Mecca, fasting, and the five
prayers; and at length carried his madness so far as to
desire to pass for God himself. This impious pretension
was supported by a false prophet, who came from Persia
into Egypt, and who, to ingratiate himself with Hakem,
maintained that this caliph was God himself incarnate.
But unluckily for the prophet, his new god had not the
power to protect him from the fury of his enemies, who
slew him in a tumult almost in the arms of the caliph,
who was himself massacred soon afterwards on Mount
Druses.
ff*
198
I) R U
Druses.
Mokhattam, where, as he said, he had held conversation
with angels.
The death of these two chiefs did not stop the progress
of their opinions. A disciple of Mohammed-ben-Ismael,
named Hamzu-ben-Ahmud, propagated them with inde¬
fatigable zeal in Egypt, in Palestine, and along the coast
of Syria, as far as Sidon and Berytus. But his prose¬
lytes being persecuted by the sect in power, took refuge
in the mountains of Lebanon, where they were better
able to defend themselves ; and shortly after this era we
find them established there, and forming an independent
society.
The difference of their opinions naturally disposes them
to be enemies, but the urgent interest of their common
safety forces them to allow mutual toleration ; and they
have always appeared united, and have jointly opposed,
at different times, the Crusaders, the sultans of Aleppo,
the Mamelukes, and the Ottomans. The conquest of Sy¬
ria by the latter made no change in their situation. Se¬
lim I. on his return from Egypt, meditating no less than
the conquest of Europe, disdained to waste his time be¬
fore the rocks of Lebanon. Soliman II. his successor,
incessantly engaged in important wars, either with the
knights of Rhodes, the Persians, the kingdom of Yemen,
the Hungarians, the Germans, or the emperor Charles V.
had no time to think of the Druses. Emboldened by this
inattention, and not content with their own independence,
they frequently descended from their mountains to pil¬
lage the Turks. The pashas in vain attempted to repel
these inroads ; for their troops were invariably routed or re¬
pulsed. But about the year 1588 they were at last sub¬
dued by Amurath III., to whom they became tributary, and
under whose powerful sway the anarchy by which the
country was distracted under its different chiefs was put
an end to ; and one head or chief was established, who
was invested with the executive power, and who was
made liable to the sultan fin* the stipulated tribute, which
he was to collect as he best could from the people. The
whole power and resources of the country being by this
conquest or revolution concentrated under one head, the
Druses were engaged in continual warfare and in maraud¬
ing hostilities with the Turks; and towards the middle of
the seventeenth century they had attained to the height of
their power under the celebrated emir Fakir el-din or Fakar-
din. This chief extended his conquests, and at length be¬
came so formidable that he excited the terror of the sultan,
who resolved to make an effort for his destruction. To avert
the threatening storm he embarked for Italy to solicit suc¬
cours from the court of the Medici, at Florence, where he
remained for nine years. On his return he found every
thing prosperous under the wise government of his son Ali.
But this prince was afterwards defeated in a battle with
the Turks ; and Fakir-el-din himself being compelled to
take refuge in the mountains, was betrayed into the hands
of the Turks by his companions, and by the orders of
Amurath he was strangled at Constantinople in the year
After the death of Fakir-el-din, the posterity of that
prince still continued in possession of the government,
though at the pleasure, and as vassals, of the Porte. But
as this family failed in the male line at the beginning of
the last century, the authority devolved, by the election
of the scheiks, on the house of Shelah. The only emir
of that house whose name deserves to be preserved, is
Melhem, who reigned from 1740 to 1759; in which inter¬
val he retrieved the losses of the Druses, and restored them
to that consequence which they had lost by the defeat of
Fakir-el-din. lowards the end of his life, about the year
1«54, Melhem, wearied with the cares of government, ab¬
dicated his authority, to live in religious retirement, after
S E S.
the manner of the Okkals ; but the troubles which sue- Druses,
ceeded forced him once more to resume the reins of go-
vernment, which he held till 1759, when he died univer¬
sally regretted.
He left three sons, minors, the eldest of whom ought,
according to the custom of the country, to have succeed¬
ed him ; but being only eleven years of age, the authority
devolved on his uncle Mansour, agreeably to a law very
general in Asia, which provides that the people shall be
governed by a sovereign who has arrived at years of ma¬
turity. The young prince was but little fitted to maintain
his pretensions; but a Maronite, named Sad-el-kouri, to
whom Melhem had intrusted his education, took this upon
himself. Aspiring to see his pupil a powerful prince, that
he might himself become a powerful vizir, he made every
exertion to advance his fortune ; and accordingly entered
into a great many plots and intrigues, in which he suc¬
ceeded by means of am emir of the name of Yussuf in
subverting his authority. We have no exact or accurate
information of the internal state of this country, or of the
domestic agitations and wars by which it has since been
distracted. Nor would the detail of these petty wars,
however ample or correct, possess any peculiar interest.
The country is ruled by an emir, who is considered as the
vassal of the Turks.
In their religion the Druses have very peculiar tenets
and observances. They practise neither circumcision, nor
prayers, nor fasting; they observe neither festivals nor
prohibitions. They drink wine, eat pork, and allow mar¬
riage between brothers and sisters, though not between
fathers and children. From this we may conclude, with
reason, that the Druses have no religion ; yet one class
of them must be excepted, whose religious customs are
very peculiar. Those who compose it are to the rest
of the nation what the initiated were to the profane. They
assume the name of Okkals, or spiritualists, and bestow
on the vulgar the epithet of Djahel, or ignorant. They
have various degrees of initiation, the highest orders of
which require celibacy. These are distinguished by the
white turban, which they affect to wear as a symbol of their
purity ; and so proud are they of this supposed purity,
that they think themselves sullied by even touching a
profane person. If you eat out of their plate, or drink
out of their cup, they break them ; and hence the cus¬
tom, so general in this country, of using vases with a sort
of cock, which may be drank out of without touching
them with the lips. All their practices are enveloped
in mysteries. Their oratories stand alone or detached,
and are constantly situated on eminences ; in these they
hold their secret assemblies, to which women are admit¬
ted. It is believed that they perform ceremonies there in
presence of a small statue resembling an ox or a calf; and
hence some have pretended to prove that they are de¬
scended from the Samaritans. But besides that the fact
is not well ascertained, the worship of the ox may be de¬
duced from other sources.
I he rest of the Druses, strangers to this spirit, are
wholly indifferent about religious matters. The Christians
who live in their country pretend that several of them
believe in the metempsychosis, and that others worship
the sun, moon, and stars. All this is possible; for every
one, left to his own fancy, follows the opinion which
pleases him most; and these opinions are those which
present themselves most naturally to unenlightened minds.
When among the Turks, they affect the exterior of Ma-
hommedans, frequent the mosques, and perform their ab¬
lutions and prayers. Among the Maronites, they accom¬
pany them to church, and, like them, make use of holy
water. Many of them, importuned by the missionaries,
suffer themselves to be baptized; and if solicited by the
DRUSES.
199
Druses. Turks, receive circumcision, and conclude by dying neither
Christians nor Mahommedans. But they are not so in¬
different in matters of civil policy.
The Druses may be divided into two classes : the com¬
mon people ; and the people of eminence and property, dis¬
tinguished by the title of scheiks and emirs, or descend¬
ants of princes. The greater part are cultivators, either
as farmers or proprietors; and every man lives on his in¬
heritance, improving his mulberry trees and vineyards. In
some districts they grow tobacco, cotton, and some grain;
but the quantity of these is inconsiderable. It appears
that at first all the lands were, as formerly in Europe, in
the hands of a small number of families. But in order to
render them productive, the great proprietors were forced
to sell part of them, and let leases ; which subdivision has
become the chief source of the power of the state, by
multiplying the number of persons interested in the public
welfare. There still exist, however, some traces of the
original inequality, which even at this day produces per¬
nicious effects. The great property possessed by some
. families gives them too much influence in all the measures
of the nation; and their private interests have too great
weight in every public transaction. Their recent history
affords sufficient proofs of this, since all the civil or fo¬
reign wars in which they have been engaged have origi¬
nated in the ambition and personal views of some of the
principal families, such as the Lesbeks, the Djambelats,
and the Ismaels of Solyma. The scheiks of these houses,
who alone possess one tenth part of the country, procured
retainers by means of their money, and at last involved
all the Druses in their dissensions. It must be owned,
however, that possibly to this conflict between contending
parties the whole nation owes the good fortune of never
having been enslaved by its chief.
This chief, called Hakem or governor, and also Emir or
prince, is a sort of king or general, who unices in his own
person the civil and military powers. His dignity is some¬
times transmitted from father to son, sometimes from one
brother to another ; and the succession is determined ra¬
ther by force than by any certain laws. Females can in no
case pretend to this inheritance. They are already ex¬
cluded from succession in civil affairs, and consequently
can still less expect it in political. In general the Asiatic
governments are too turbulent, and their administration
renders military talents too necessary, to admit of the so¬
vereignty of women. Among the Druses, the male line
of any family being extinguished, the government devolves
to him who is in possession of the greatest number of suf¬
frages and resources. But the first step used to be to ob¬
tain the approbation of the Porte, of whom he became
the vassal and tributary. It even happens, that, not un-
frequently, to assert its supremacy, it names the Ha¬
kem, contrary to the wishes of the nation, as in the case
of Ismael Hasbeya, raised to that dignity by Djezzar; but
this constraint lasts no longer than it is maintained by the
violence which gave it birth. The office of the governor
is to watch over the good order of the state, and to pre¬
vent the emirs, scheiks, and villages, from making war on
\ each other; and in case of disobedience, he may employ
force. He is also at the head of the civil power, and he
names the cadis, reserving to himself the power of life
and death. He collects the tribute, from which he an¬
nually pays to the pasha a stated sum. This tribute, which
is called miri, is imposed on the mulberry trees, vineyards,
cotton, and grain. All sown land pays in proportion to its
extent; every foot of mulberries is taxed at three medins,
or three sols nine deniers (not quite twopence). A hun¬
dred feet of vineyard pays a piastre, or forty medins; and
fresh measurements are often made to preserve a just pro¬
portion. The scheiks and emirs have no exemption in this
respect; and it may truly be said that they contribute to
the public stock in proportion to their fortune. The
collection is made almost without expense. Each man
pays his contingent at Dair-el-kamar, if he pleases, or to
the collectors ot the prince, who make a circuit round the
country after the crop of silks. The surplus of this tri¬
bute is for the prince; so that it is his interest to reduce
the demands of the Turks, as it would likewise be to aug¬
ment the impost. But this measure requires the sanction
of the scheiks, who have the privilege of opposing it.
Their consent is necessary, likewise, for peace and war.
In these eases, the emir must convoke general assemblies,
and lay before them the state of his affairs. There every
scheik, and every peasant who has any reputation for
courage or understanding, is entitled to give his suffrage ;
so that this government may be considered as a mixture
of monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy. Every thing
indeed depends on circumstances. If the governor be a
man of ability, he is absolute ; if he be weak, he is a cipher.
This proceeds from the want of fixed laws ; a want com¬
mon to all Asia, and the radical cause of all the disorders
in the governments of the Asiatic nations.
Neither the chief nor the individual emirs maintain
troops ; they have only persons attached to the domestic
service of their houses, and a few black slaves. When
the nation makes war, every man, whether scheik or pea¬
sant, able to bear arms, is called upon to march. He
takes with him a little bag of flour, a musket, some bullets,
a small quantity of powder made in his village, and re¬
pairs to the rendezvous appointed by the governor. If
it be a civil war, as sometimes happens, the servants, the
farmers, and their friends, take up arms for their patron,
or the chief of their family, and repair to his standard.
In such cases, the parties irritated frequently seem on the
point of proceeding to the last extremities ;*but they sel¬
dom have recourse to acts of violence, or attempt the
death of each other. Mediators always interpose, and
the quarrel is appeased the more readily, as each patron
is obliged to provide his followers with provisions and
ammunition.
I he Druses are noted for their hospitality. Whoever
presents himself at their door in the quality of a suppliant
or passenger, is sure of being entertained with lodging and
food in the most generous and unaffected manner. Vol-
ney often saw the lowest peasants give the last mor¬
sel of bread they had in their houses to the hungry tra¬
veller; and when it was observed to them that they'want¬
ed prudence, their answer was, “ God is liberal and great,
and all men are brethren.” There are, therefore, no inns
in their country any more than in the rest of Turkey.
When they have once contracted with their guest the sa¬
cred engagement of bread and salt, no subsequent event
can make them violate it. Various instances of this are
related which do honour to their character. A few years
ago an aga of the janissaries having been engaged in a
rebellion, fled from Damascus and retired among the Dru¬
ses. The pasha was informed of this, and demanded him
of the emir, threatening to make war on him in case of
refusal. The emir demanded him of the scheik Talhouk,
who had received him ; but the indignant scheik replied,
“ When have you known the Druses deliver up their
guests? Tell the emir, that as long as Talhouk shall pre¬
serve his beard, not a hair of the head of his suppliant
shall fall.”
In consequence, says Volney, of their prejudices, the
Druses do not choose to make alliances out of their own fa¬
milies. They invariably prefer their relation, though poor, to
a rich stranger; and poor peasants have been known to re¬
fuse their daughters to merchantsof Saide and Bairout,who
possessed from twelve to fifteen thousand piastres. They
Druses.
200 R U
Druses, observe also, to a certain degree, the custom of the He-
brews, which directed that a brother should espouse his
brother’s widow.
In short, the proper and distinctive character of the
Druses is a sort of republican spirit, which gives them
more energy than any other subjects of the Turkish go¬
vernment, and an indifference for religion, which forms a
striking contrast with the zeal of the Mahommedans and
Christians. In other respects, their private life, their customs
and prejudices, are the same with those of other orientals.
They may marry several wives, and repudiate them when
they choose; but, except by the emir and a few men of
eminence, that is rarely practised. The women are all
veiled, so that no man knows the face of any other woman
than his wife, his mother, his sister, and sisters-in-law.
Every man lives in the bosom of his own family, and goes
little abroad. The women, those even of the scheiks, make
the bread, roast the coffee, wash the linen, cook the vic¬
tuals, and perform all domestic offices. The men culti¬
vate their lands and vineyards, and dig canals for water¬
ing them. In the evening they sometimes assemble in
the court, the area, or house of the chief of the village or
family. There, seated in a circle, with legs crossed, pipes
in their mouths, and poniards at their belts, they discourse
of their various labours, the scarcity or plenty of their
harvests, peace or war, the conduct of the emir, or the
amount of the taxes ; they relate past transactions, discuss
present interests, and form conjectures on the future.
Their children, tired with play, come frequently to listen.
This is the only education of those who are termed the
Ignorant.
This account of the character, manners, and religious
tenets of the Druses has been corroborated by modern
travellers. The reverend Mr Connor, a missionary and
travelling agent of the British and Foreign Bible Society,
mentions that there are many sects among them ; but that
they are divided into two great classes, that of the Okkals
or the Intelligent, who to the number of 10,000 form the
sacred order ; and the Djahels or Ignorant. It is stated
to be extremely difficult to learn any thing satisfactory re¬
specting the religious creed of this people. It is generally
agreed that they believe in the transmigration of souls; and
according to the character of the individual in his journey
through life, will be the nature of the body which his soul
will animate in a future state of existence. If his conduct
has been fair and honourable, his soul will vivify the body
of some respectable character in life. But if his conduct
has been evil, his soul will enter the body of a horse, a
mule, or an ass. In like manner it is believed that persons
of eminent and conspicuous virtue will, as the highest re¬
compense of their merit, pass after death into the bodies
of Chinese Druses. In the schools, which are frequent
among the Druses, the Okkals are generally the masters,
and are paid by the pupils. They teach reading and writ¬
ing, and the book generally used is the Koran. In some
villages where there are Christian schools, the Druses send
their children thither, where they are taught to read the
Psalms of David. There are no Christians among the
Druses, though the emir with his family and some of the
other nobles have their children baptized, have chapels in
their houses, and hear mass on Sunday, not from any ra¬
tional belief in the truths of Christianity, but for the same
reason that, though they dislike the Mahommedans gene¬
rally, and entertain no tenet in common with their faith,
yet many of them, as we learn from Buckingham, are in¬
fected with their customs, and keep the feast of Ramadan
with as much rigour as the most orthodox follower of the
Arabian prophet; just as the Mussulmans of India, though
they despise and hate the Hindus, have nevertheless adopt¬
ed many of their superstitions and ceremonies.
D R U
The Djahels or the Ignorant, who form by far the Drusius.
most numerous class, perform no religious rites whatever, ~y'^*
unless wlien they are obliged by circumstances to assume
the appearance of Mabommedans. They cherish an equal
dislike to the Christians and Turks ; and believe that the
deity was incarnated in the person of Hakem, caliph of
Egypt, and that he will shortly appear again and utterly
destroy all his enemies.
The Druses are a restless and enterprising people ; they
are formidable in irregular war, being brave even to teme¬
rity; excellent marksmen, and noted for sudden surprises.
The passion of all classes for arms is remarked by every
traveller; and Buckingham mentions a keen dispute at
which he was present relative to the value of different
weapons, in which the sabres of Ispahan and Damascus,
and the muskets and pistols of England, were unanimous¬
ly preferred. They are of industrious habits, devoting
their attention to the cultivation of the soil; and the
same traveller, who wras over all this country, on quitting
a Mahommedan village and entering one inhabited by
Druses, was struck with the contrast of the superior order
and neatness everywhere conspicuous, as well as in the
more cultivated state of the land. No great distinction
of ranks is preserved among them, scheiks and peasants
treating each other with the greatest familiarity. They
speak pure Arabic. Soeda, which is the capital of the
Eastern Druses, and the residence of their emir or prince,
is about two miles westward of the summit of that range
of hills which forms the eastern boundary of the plains of
the Hauran.
DRUSIUS, or Van den Drieche, John, a learned Pro¬
testant and eminent critic, was born at Oudenarde, in Flan¬
ders, on the 28th June 1550. Being designed for the church,
he learned Greek and Latin at Ghent, and philosophy at
Louvain ; but his father having been outlawed for his reli¬
gion, and deprived of his estate, they both retired to Eng¬
land, where the son became professor of oriental languages
at Oxford. Upon the pacification of Ghent, however,
they returned to their own country, and Drusius was ap¬
pointed professor of the oriental languages at Leyden.
From this place he removed to Friesland, and was admitted
professor of Hebrew in the university of Franeker; an of¬
fice which he discharged with great honour till his death,
which happened in 161G. His works prove him to have
been well skilled in Hebrew and in Jewish antiquities ; and
in 1600 the states-general employed him, at a salary of
four hundred florins a year, to write notes on the most diffi¬
cult passages in the Old Testament; but being frequently
interrupted in prosecuting this undertaking, it was not pub¬
lished until after his death. He carried on an extensive
correspondence with the learned in different countries ; for,
besides letters in Hebrew, Greek, and other languages,
there were found amongst his papers upwards of two thou¬
sand written in Latin. He had a son, John, who died in
England at the age of twenty-one, and was accounted a
prodigy of learning.
Drusius, who was a man of real learning, and deserves
the encomiums which Simon has bestowed on him, is also
favourably mentioned by Bayle, Freher, Meursius, Fop-
pens, Paquot, and others. Paquot states the number of
the printed works and treatises of Drusius at forty-eight,
and of the unprinted at upwards of twenty. Of the for¬
mer more than two thirds were inserted in the collection
entitled Critici Sacri, give Annotata doctissimorum Viro-
rum in vetus et novum Testamentum, Amsterdam, 1698, in 9
vols. folio, or London, 1660, in 10 vols. folio. Amongst the
works of Drusius not to be found in this collection may be
mentioned, 1. Alphabetum Hebraicum vetus, 1584, 4to ; 2.
Tabulae in Grammaticam Chaldaicam ad usum Juventvtis,
1602, 8vo; 3. An edition of Sulpitius Severus, Franeker,
D R V
Drvacles 1607, 12mo; 4. Opuscula qnoe. ad Grammaticam spectant
II omnia, 1609, 4to; 5. Lacrymce in obitum J. Scaligeri,
Dryander. 4t0; and 6. Grammatica Linguae SanctcB nova,
'—1612, 4to.
DRYADES, in Ancient Mythology, a kind of inferior
deities or nymphs who were believed to inhabit groves and
woods. They differed from the Hamadryades, the latter
being attached to some particular tree, with which they
were born, and with which also they died; whereas the
former were goddesses of trees and woods in general.
DRYANDER, Jonas, a Swedish naturalist of eminent
talents, and a distinguished pupil of the great Linnaeus,
was born in 1748. His father, a clergyman near Gotten-
burg, died during the minority, if not the infancy, of his
son ; in consequence of which the care of the education
of the latter devolved on a maternal uncle. .This was
Dr Lars Montin, a member of the Stockholm Academy,
known to the world by several botanical writings, and,
amongst others, by an inaugural dissertation on the genus
Splachnum, published under the presidency of Linnaeus,
28th March 1750; and reprinted in the Amcenitates Aca¬
demics, vol. ii. 263. The early education of young Dry¬
ander, as far as we can learn, was chiefly in the Univer¬
sity of Gottenburg ; but he afterwards removed to Lund,
where he took his degree of master of arts, or doctor
in philosophy, under the presidency of Lidbeck, in 1776 ;
on which occasion he published a dissertation, fungos
regno vegetabili vindicans. He combated the ideas of
certain philosophers, who, led by analogy rather than ob¬
servation and judgment, were disposed to believe that
fungi might, like corals and corallines, be the production
of animals. But though Mr Dryander thus asserted the
vegetable nature of these bodies, he subsequently im¬
bibed, from his friend and preceptor Linnaeus, an insuper¬
able dislike to their use as food; nor could the most deli¬
cate mushrooms of the most luxurious table ever tempt
him to overcome this prejudice. We know not at what
period he went to study at Upsal, nor how long he re¬
mained there. He became for some time domestic tutor
to a young Swedish nobleman, after which he visited Eng¬
land, under the patronage of his countryman the well-
known Dr Solander, who introduced him to the acquaint¬
ance of Sir Joseph Banks ; and on the sudden death of So¬
lander in 1782, he succeeded to the place of that eminent
man, in the confidence and friendship of his distinguished
patron. He was, in like manner, domesticated under the
roof of Sir Joseph as his librarian, and continued in that
situation as long as he lived. Mr Dryander also held the
offices of librarian to the Royal and the Linnsean Socie¬
ties. He was one of the first founders of the latter in
1788 ; and took a principal interest in all its concerns, es¬
pecially in drawing up its laws and regulations, when this
society was incorporated by royal charter in 1802. He,
moreover, fulfilled the duties of a very active vice-presi¬
dent, till the time of his decease, which happened towards
the end of October 1810, in the sixty-third year of his age.
His remains were deposited in the vault of St Ann’s Church,
Soho, the funeral being attended by a number of his friends,
principally members of the Linnman Society.
The acknowledged publications of Mr Dryander on the
subject of botany consist of the following dissertations : 1.
An Account of the Genus Albuca, in the Stockholm Trans¬
actions for 1784, in Swedish ; 2. Observations on the Ge¬
nus Begonia, in the Transactions of the Linncean Society,
vol. i. In this essay twenty-one species are determined,
with an indication of nine doubtful ones, though the genus
was previously supposed to consist of a solitary species
only. 3. On Genera and Species of Plants which occur
twice or three times in Professor Gmelin’s edition of Lin¬
naeus’s Systema Naturae; Trans, of Linn. Soc. vol. ii.
VOL. VIII.
D R Y 201
These corrections unfortunately extend no farther than Dryander.
the class Octandria. Their author intended to have com-
pleted them, but other occupations intervened; and the
book which was the object of his correction soon fell into
absolute neglect, as far as regards botany ; insomuch that
its errors, however great and numerous, became harmless.
4. Lindsea, a new Genus of Ferns ; Trans, of Linn. Soc.
vol. iii. This genus is distinguished from Pteris, by the
involucrum opening outward. 5. Botanical Description
of the Benjamin Tree of Sumatra, in the Phil. Trans, vol.
Ixxvii. The tree in question, about which great mistakes
had arisen, is here shown to be a species of Styrax. This
paper has been republished and translated.
The principal works published under the superintend¬
ence and correction of the subject of this memoir, were,
the Hortus Kewensis of Mr Aiton, printed in 1789, and
about half the second edition of the same work, interrupt¬
ed by his death ; as well as Dr Roxburgh’s Plants of tJoe
Coast of Coromandel, a splendid and highly valuable pub¬
lication, for which the world is indebted to the munifi¬
cence of the East India Company. To both these the
critical learning and accuracy of Mr Dryander were most
usefully applied, especially in the typographical depart¬
ment. It would be vain to seek for an error in the print¬
ing of any thing which had passed through his hands.
We have only to regret that the same critical correctness
was not extended as a principle to every other depart¬
ment of the works in which he took a part. Had this been
the case, the erroneous essential character of Oldenlandia,
copied in Hortus Kewensis from Linnaeus and Willdenow,
would not have been allowed to contradict the plate and
description of Roxburgh, cited underneath. But, above
all, various inaccuracies and faults in nomenclature are
propagated and confirmed by an authority which Mr Dry¬
ander himself never intended to give. He has often assur¬
ed the writer of this notice, that, had he published in his
own name, he would not have adopted such inaccuracies ;
which is mentioned here to prevent the errors of others
being laid to his charge. The popular Species Plantarum
of Willdenow being the avow’ed guide, the author of that
work must be responsible for matters which it did not
come within the scope of the author or editor of the
Hortus Kewensis to correct. Many subjects, however,
are most skilfully elucidated in this publication, as well
as in the sequel of its second edition by Mr Brown, and
these cannot escape the discrimination of an intelligent
reader. Practical botany was but a secondary or occa¬
sional pursuit of Mr Dryander, and he had a diffidence of
his powers, and a consequent distaste for the technical
and descriptive parts of the science. The descriptions he
had prepared for Mr Bauer’s splendid figures of Ericce,
published by Mr Aiton, were readily and even gladly
thrown into the fire, on occasion of a difference of opinion
respecting the intended title of the work.
The study in which this most acute and correct man
found ample scope for the exercise of his talents was bi¬
bliography. His Catalogus Bibliothecae Historico-Natura-
lis Josephi Banks, is a model for all future writers in this
line; but a model rather calculated to check than to ex¬
cite imitation. A work so ingenious in design, and so
perfect in execution, can scarcely be produced in any
science; so faultless a specimen of typography we have
never elsewhere seen. The frank and unvarnished sin¬
cerity of Mr Dryander’s character was secondary only to
his universal and fastidious exactness upon every subject
that came under his notice. He could not be a silent
witness of the slightest injustice, misrepresentation, or
misconception. His impatience of contradiction arose
more from the quickness of his penetration into the con¬
fusion and inaccuracy of ordinary intellects and charac-
2 c
202 D R Y
Drvden. ters, than from any natural severity. All clearness, ho-
nesty, and precision himself, he had little indulgence for
those who fell short of his standard, and these were the
greater part of mankind. On being asked what share Dr
Smith had in the composition of the Flora Grceca, he
replied, with a vehemence which startled the inquirer,
“ Every word !” When teazed, as was too often his lot,
by the questions of the heedless and superficial, he never
neglected the duties of the office he had undertaken, if
he could not always conceal his impatience under their
performance. But when the humblest cultivator of real
science applied for his assistance, all his stores were laid
open ; the most condescending liberality graced his con¬
versation ; and he was careful that what he communicated
should not only be heard but understood. The versatili¬
ty of his genius and conversation was no less admirable
than their exactness. Whether the subject were a ques¬
tion in science, or a point of history ; the politics of Eu¬
rope, or the tittle-tattle of an obscure German court; the
literary talents and performances of any distinguished
man, or his private transactions; the intrigues fora place
at court, a professorship, or a domestic establishment; he
was sure to throw some light upon it. Few men were more
missed in the circle in which he moved, nor could his place
in general society be readily supplied. (j. e. s.)
DltYDEN, John, an illustrious English poet, descend¬
ed of a respectable family in Huntingdonshire, was born
at Aldwincle, in that county, on the 9th August 1631. He
was educated under Dr Bushby at Westminster school,
whence he removed to Cambridge in 1650, having been
elected scholar of Trinity College, of which he appears
to have been afterwards a fellow. In his earlier days he
gave no extraordinary indications of genius ; for even the
year before he quitted the university, he wrote a poem
on the death of Lord Hastings, which by no means ex¬
hibits a presage of that perfection in poetical composition
which he was afterwards destined to attain.
On the death of Oliver Cromwell he wrote some “ he¬
roic stanzas” to the memory of the Lord Protector; but
after the Restoration, being desirous of ingratiating him¬
self with the new monarch, he wrote, first, a poem entitled
Astrcea Redux, and afterwards a panegyric on the king up¬
on the occasion of his coronation. In 1662, he addressed a
poem to the lord chancellor Hyde, presented on new year's
day ; and in the same year he published a satire on the
Dutch. In 1668 appeared his Annus Mirabilis, or the
Year of Wonders, an historical poem, intended to cele¬
brate the Duke of York’s victory over the Dutch. These
pieces at length obtained him the favour of the crown ; and
Sir William Davenant having died the same year, 1668,
Dryden was appointed to succeed him as poet-laureat and
historiographer to Charles II.; and accordingly he entered
upon the office, though his patent was not signed until the
year 1670. The pension of the two offices was L.200 a year.
About this time also his inclination to write for the stage
seems first to have evinced itself. For besides his concern
D R Y
with Sir William Davenant in the alteration of Shakspeare’s Dryden.
Tempest, he in 1669 produced his Wild Gallants, a come-
dy, which met with very indifferent success. Yet the au¬
thor, not discouraged by its failure, soon published his In¬
dian Emperor, which having experienced a more favour¬
able reception, encouraged him to proceed. He did so, and
that with so great rapidity, that in the key to the Duke of
Buckingham’s Rehearsal he is recorded to have engaged
himself by contract to write four plays in the year; and,
indeed, in the years 1679 and 1680 he appears to have
fulfilled this obligation. To this unhappy necessity which
he lay under are to be attributed all those irregular and
bombastic flights, and sometimes even puerile exuberances,
for which he has been so severely criticised, and which,
in the unavoidable hurry he usually wrote in, it was impos¬
sible for him to find time either to lop off or to correct.
In 1675, the Earl of Rochester, whose envious disposi¬
tion did not allow him patiently to see growing merit meet
with its due reward, and who therefore felt chagrined at
the just applause ’with which Dryden’s dramatic pieces had
been received, was determined if possible to shake his in¬
terest at court; and he succeeded so far as to recommend
one Crowne, an obscure author, to write a mask for the
court, a service which of course belonged to Dryden as
poet-laureat. Nor was this the only attack, or indeed the
most formidable one, which Dryden’s fame drew upon him;
for, some years before this, the Duke of Buckingham, a
man of licentious character, but of great wit, had severely
ridiculed several of our author’s plays in his piece called
the Rehearsal. But though the intrinsic wit which runs
through this performance cannot, even at the present day,
fail to excite our laughter, yet, as ridicule is not always
the test of truth, it ought not to form the standard by
which to fix Dryden’s poetical reputation, more especial¬
ly when we consider that the pieces therein ridiculed are
not the masterpieces of Dryden; that the very passages
burlesqued are frequently, in their original places, much
less ridiculous than when thus detached, like a rotten
limb, from the body of the work, exposed to view with
additional distortions, and divested of that connection with
the other parts which gave it not only symmetrjq but
beauty; and, lastly, that the beauties, which the critic
has kept in the back-ground, are infinitely more numerous
than the deformities wdiich he has thus industriously
brought forth into immediate view.1
Dryden, however, did not suffer these attacks to pass
with impunity ; for in 1679 there appeared an Essay on
Satire, said to have been written jointly by himself and the
Earl of Mulgrave, containing some very severe reflections
on the Earl of Rochester and the Duchess of Portsmouth,
who, it is not improbable, might have been instrumental
in the affront shown to Dryden ; and in 1681 he published
his Absalom and Achitophel, in which the well-known cha¬
racter of Zimri, drawn for the Duke of Buckingham, is
certainly severe enough to repay all the ridicule thrown
on him by that nobleman in the character of Bayes.2 The
1 Dryden affected to despise the satire of the Rehearsal, which, however, he must have felt acutely. In the dedication prefixed to
his translation of Juvenal and Persius, he observes, speaking of the many lampoons and libels which had been written against him,
“ I answered not the Rehearsal, because I knew the author sat to himself when he drew the picture, and was the very Bayes of his
own farce; because also I knew, that my betters were more concerned than I was in that satire; and, lastly, because Mr Smith and
Mr Johnson, the main pillars of it, were two such languishing gentlemen in their conversation, that I could liken them to nothing
but their own relations, those noble characters of men of wit and pleasure about town.” But notwithstanding this affected insensi¬
bility, Dryden did not fail to take his revenge, as will be seen in the succeeding paragraph of the text.
2 .1?ry1den left Il^e story unfinished ; and the reason he assigns for doing so is, because he could not prevail upon himself to exhi-
bit Absalom as unfortunate. “ Were I the inventor,” says he, “ who am only the historian, I should certainly conclude the piece
with the reconcilement of Absalom to David. And who knows but this may come to pass ? Things were not brought to extremity
where 1 left the story; there seems to be yet room left for a composure : hereafter there may be only for pity. I have not so much
as an uncharitable wish against Achitophel; but am content to be accused of good-natured error, and to hope", with Origen, that the
aevii himself may at last be saved- For which reason, in this poem, he is neither brought to set his house in order, nor to dispose nf
his person afterwards.” Nevertheless, a second part of Absalom and Achitophel was undertaken and written by Tate, at the request
an under the direction of Dryden, who wrote nearly two hundred lines of it himself
DRY
DEN.
203
Drvden.
resentment shown by these peers was, however, different
and characteristic. Lord Rochester, who was a coward as
well as a man of the most depraved morals, basely hired
three ruffians to cudgel Dryden in a coffeehouse; whilst
the Duke of Buckingham, in a more open manner, took the
task upon himself, and at the same time presented the poet
with a purse containing no very trifling sum of money;
telling him that he inflicted the beating as a punishment
for his impudence, but bestowed the gold as a reward for
his wit.
In 1680 was published a translation of Ovid’s Epistles
in English verse by several hands, two of which, to¬
gether with the preface, were by Dryden ; and in 1682
appeared his Religio Laid, designed as a defence of re¬
vealed religion, against deists, infidels, et hoc genus omne.
Soon after the accession of King James li. our author
changed his religion for that of the church of Rome, and
wrote two pieces in vindication of the Catholic tenets;
namely, A Defence of the Papers written by the late King,
found in his strong box ; and the celebrated poem, after¬
wards answered by Lord Halifax, entitled The Hind and
the Panther. By this extraordinary step he not only en¬
gaged himself in controversy, and incurred much censure
and ridicule from the contemporary wits, but on the ac¬
complishment of the revolution, being, by reason of his
new religion, disqualified from bearing any office under
the government, he was stripped of the laurel, which, to
his still greater mortification, was bestowed on Richard
Flecknoe, a man for whom he had a most settled aversion.
This circumstance occasioned his writing the severely sa¬
tirical poem called MacFlecknoe.
Dryden’s circumstances had never been affluent; but
being now deprived of this little support, he found him¬
self reduced to the necessity of writing for bread. We
consequently find him from this period engaged in tasks
of labour as well as genius, namely, in translating the
works of others; and to this necessity perhaps our nation
stands indebted for some of the best translations extant.
In the year when he lost the laurel, he published the life
of St Francis Xavier from the French. In 1693 appeared
a translation of Juvenal and Persius ; in the first of which
he had a considerable hand, and of the latter the entire
execution. In 1695 was published his prose version of
Fresnoy’s Art of Painting ; and in the year 1697 he gave
to the world that translation of Virgil’s works which still
does, and perhaps ever will, hold the first place amongst
all attempts of the kind. The smaller pieces of this emi¬
nent writer, such as prologues, epilogues, epitaphs, elegies,
songs, and the like, are too numerous to be specified here,
though now all happily collected in Sir Walter Scott’s edi¬
tion of his works. His last work is what is called his
Fables, consisting of many of the most interesting stories
in Homer, Ovid, Bocaccio, and Chaucer, translated or
modernized in the most elegant and poetical manner; to¬
gether with some original pieces, among which is the Ode
to St Cecilia’s Day. This last composition, though written
in the very decline of the author’s life, and at a period
when old age and distress had conspired to damp his poe¬
tic ardour, and enfeeble the wings of fancy, possesses never¬
theless as much of both as would have been sufficient to
render him immortal had he never written a single line
besides.
Dryden married Lady Elizabeth Howard, the daughter
of the Earl of Berkshire, who survived him about eight
years, though for the last four of them she was a lunatic,
having been deprived of her senses by a nervous fever.
By this lady he had three sons; Charles, John, and Hen¬
ry. After a long life, harassed with the most laborious
ot all fatigues, that of the mind, and continually render¬
ed anxious by distress and difficulty, he expired on the
1st of May 1701. Dryden had no monument erected to
him for several years; a circumstance to which Pope alludes
in his epitaph intended for Rowe. Upon this hint Sheffield
Duke ot Buckingham erected a tomb, for which the follow¬
ing epitaph was originally intended:
Dryden.
This Sheffield rais’d—the sacred dust below
Was Dryden once; the rest, who does not know ?
But this was afterwards changed into the plain inscription
still to be seen on the monument, containing merely the
dates of the poet’s birth and death, together with the fact
of the tomb having been erected by John Sheffield, duke
of Buckingham.
Dryden’s character has been variously estimated by dif¬
ferent writers, some of whom have exalted it by the high¬
est commendation, and others debased it by the severest
censure. The latter, however, we must charge to that
strong spirit of party which prevailed during the greater
part of Dryden’s lifetime, and which ought therefore to
be taken with great allowances. From some parts of his
history, however, he appears to have been unsteady, and
to have too readily temporized with the several revolutions
in church and state. But this might in some measure have
been owing to that natural timidity and diffidence of dispo¬
sition, which almost all writers seem agreed that he posses¬
sed. Congreve, whose authority cannot be suspected, has
given us such an account of him as must make him ap¬
pear no less amiable in his private character as a man, than
be was illustrious in his public capacity as a poet. In the
former capacity, according to Congreve, he was humane,
compassionate, forgiving, and sincerely friendly ; of exten¬
sive reading, tenacious memory, and ready communication ;
gentle in the correction of the writings of others, and pa¬
tient under the reprehension of his own deficiencies ; easy
of access himself, but slow and diffident in his advances to
others ; and of all men the most modest and the most easy
to be discountenanced in his approaches either to his su¬
periors or to his equals. In the latter the highest testimo¬
nies have been borne to his merits by some of the great¬
est men.
Pope had a very high opinion of Dryden. In a letter to
Wycherly he says, “ It was certainly a great satisfaction
to me to see and converse with a man whom in his writ¬
ings I had so long known with pleasure ; but it was a very
high addition to it, to hear you at our very first meeting
doing justice to your dead friend Mr Dryden. I was not
so happy as to know him ; Virgilium tantum vidi. Had I
been born early enough, I must have known and loved him ;
for I have been assured, not only by yourself, but by Mr
Congreve and Sir William Trumball, that his personal
qualities were as amiable as his poetical, notwithstanding
the many libellous misrepresentations of them ; against
which the former of these gentlemen has told me he will
one day vindicate him.” But what Congreve and Pope
have said of Dryden is rather in the way of panegyric
than as an exact and impartial character. Other writers,
however, have spoken of him with greater moderation,
yet probably without doing him any injustice. Thus, ac¬
cording to Felton, “ he at once gave the best rules, and
broke them, in spite of his own knowledge, and the Re¬
hearsal. His prefaces are many of them admirable upon
dramatic writings : he had some peculiar notions, which he
maintains with great address ; but his judgment in disput¬
ed points is of less weight and value, because the incon¬
stancy of his temper did run into his thoughts, and mixed
with the conduct of his writings, as well as his life.” Vol¬
taire describes him as “ a writer whose genius was too
exuberant, and not accompanied with judgment enough ;”
and he adds, that “ if he, Dryden, had written only a tenth
part of the works he left behind him, his character would
204 D !> Y
Dryden. have been conspicuous in every part. But,’’ says the philo-
V-^-y-w gopher of Ferney, “ his great fault is his having endeavour¬
ed to be universal.” “ Perhaps no nation,” says Dr John¬
son, “ ever produced a writer that enriched his language
with such a variety of models. To him we owe the im¬
provement, perhaps the completion, of our metre, the re¬
finement of our language, and much of the correctness of
our sentiments. By him we were taught ‘ sapere et fari,’
to think naturally and express forcibly. Though Davies
has reasoned in rhyme before him, it may be perhaps main¬
tained that he was the first who joined argument with
poetry. He showed us the true bounds of a translator’s
liberty. What was said of Rome adorned by Augustus,
rnay be applied by an easy metaphor to English poetry
embellished by Dryden, ‘ lateritiam invenit, marmoream
reliquit;’ he found it brick, and he left it marble.” Ihe
public voice, indeed, has assigned to Dryden the first place
in the second rank of our poets; no mean station in a table
of intellectual precedency so rich in illustrious names:
and it is allowed that, even of the few who were his supe¬
riors in genius, none has exercised a more extensive or
permanent influence on the national habits of thought and
expression. In the following noble passage from an arti¬
cle in the Edinburgh Revieiv (vol. xlvii. p. 29), the great
attributes of Dryden’s character and genius are unfold¬
ed with striking vigour of diction and splendour of illus¬
tration.
“ If Dryden had died before the expiration of the first
of the periods into which w'e have divided his literal life,
he would have left a reputation, at best, little higher than
that of Lee or Davenaot. He would have been known only
to men of letters ; and by them he wmuld have been men¬
tioned as a writer who threw away, on subjects which he
was incompetent to treat, powers which, judiciously em¬
ployed, might have raised him to eminence, whose diction
and whose numbers had sometimes very high merit, but all
whose works w'ere blemished by a false taste, and by er¬
rors of gross negligence. A few of his prologues and epi¬
logues might perhaps still have been remembered and
quoted. In these little pieces, he early showed all the
powers which afterwards rendered him the greatest of
modern satirists. But during the latter part of his life
he gradually abandoned the drama. His plays appeared
at longer intervals. He renounced rhyme in tragedy.
His language became less turgid, his characters less ex¬
aggerated. He did not indeed produce correct repre¬
sentations of human nature; but he ceased to daub such
monstrous chimeras as those which abound in his earlier
pieces. Here and there passages occur worthy of the best
ages of the British stage. The style wdiich the drama
requires changes with every change of character and si¬
tuation. He who can vary his manner to suit the varia¬
tion, is the great dramatist; but he who excels in one man¬
ner only, will, when that manner happens to be appropriate,
appear to be a great dramatist; as the hands of a watch
wLich does not go point right once in the twelve hours.
Sometimes there is a scene of solemn debate. This a
mere rhetorician may write as well as the greatest trage¬
dian that ever lived. We confess that to us the speech
of Sempronius in Cato seems very nearly as good as Shak-
speare could have made it. But when the senate breaks
up, and we find that the lovers and their mistresses, the
hero, the villain, and the deputy-villain, all continue to
harangue in the same style, we perceive the difference
between a man who can write a play and a man who can
write a speech. In the same manner, wit, a talent for
description, or a talent for narration, may, for a time, pass
for dramatic genius. Dryden was an incomparable reason-
er in verse. He was conscious of his power; he was
proud ot it; and the authors of the Rehearsal justly
DEN.
charged him with abusing it. His warriors and princesses Dryden.
are fond of discussing points of amorous casuistry, such as
would have delighted a parliament of love. They fre¬
quently go still deeper, and speculate on philosophical
necessity and the origin of evil.
“ There were, however, some occasions which abso¬
lutely required this peculiar talent. Then Dryden was
indeed at home. All his best scenes are of this descrip¬
tion. They are all between men ; for the heroes of Dry¬
den, like many other gentlemen, can never talk sense
when ladies are in company. They are all intended to
exhibit the empire of reason over violent passion. We
have two interlocutors, the one eager and impassioned,
the other high, cool, and judicious. The composed and
rational character gradually acquires the ascendency. His
fierce companion is first inflamed to rage by his reproach¬
es, then overawed by his equanimity, convinced by his
arguments, and soothed by his persuasions. This is the
case in the scene between Hector and Troilus, in that
between Antony and Ventidius, and in that between Se¬
bastian and Dorax. Nothing of the same kind in Shak-
speare is equal to them, except the quarrel between Bru¬
tus and Cassius, which is worth them all three.
“ Some years before his death, Dryden altogether
ceased to write for the stage. He had turned his powers
in a new direction, with success the most splendid and
decisive. His taste had gradually awakened his creative
faculties. The first rank in poetry was beyond his reach,
but he challenged and secured the most honourable place
in the second. His imagination resembled the wings of
an ostrich. It enabled him to run, though not to soar.
When he attempted the highest flights, he became ridi¬
culous ; but while he remained in a lower region, he out¬
stripped all competitors.
“ All his natural, and all his acquired powers, fitted
him to found a good critical school of poetry. Indeed he
carried his reforms too far for his age. After his death
our literature retrograded ; and a century was necessary
to bring it back to the point at which he left it. The ge¬
neral soundness and healthfulness of his mental constitu¬
tion, his information, of vast superficies though of small
volume, his wit scarcely inferior to that of the most dis¬
tinguished followers of Donne, his eloquence, grave, deli¬
berate, and commanding, could not save him from dis¬
graceful failure as a rival of Shakspeare, but raised him
far above the level of Boileau. His command of language
was immense. With him died the secret of the old poe¬
tical diction of England, the art of producing rich effects
by familiar words. In the following century, it was as
completely lost as the Gothic method of painting glass,
and was but poorly supplied by the laborious and tesselat-
ed imitations of Mason and Gray. On the other hand,
he was the first writer under whose skilful management
the scientific vocabulary fell into natural and pleasing
verse. In this department he succeeded as completely
as his contemporary Gibbons succeeded in the similar en¬
terprise of carving the most delicate flowers from heart
of oak. The toughest and most knotty parts of language
became ductile at his touch. His versification, in the same
manner, while it gave the first model of that neatness and
precision which the following generation esteemed so high¬
ly, exhibited, at the same time, the last examples of noble¬
ness, freedom, variety of pause and cadence. His trage¬
dies in rhyme, however worthless in themselves, had at
least served the purpose of nonsense-verses : they had
taught him all the arts of melody which the heroic coup ¬
let admits. For bombast, his prevailing vice, his new sub¬
jects gave little opportunity ; his better taste gradually
discarded it.
“ He possessed, as we have said, in a pre-eminent de-
D R Y D E N.
205
Dryden. gree, the power of reasoning in verse ; and this power
was now peculiarly useful to him. His logic is by no
means uniformly sound. On points of criticism he always
reasons ingeniously, and, when he is disposed to he ho¬
nest, correctly ; but the theological and political ques¬
tions which he undertook to treat in verse were precisely
those which he understood least. His arguments, there¬
fore, are often worthless ; but the manner in which they
are stated is beyond all praise. The style is transparent.
The topics follow each other in the happiest order. The
objections are drawn up in such a manner that the whole
fire of the reply may be brought to bear on them. The
circumlocutions which are substituted for technical phrases
are clear, neat, and exact. The illustrations at once
adorn and elucidate the reasoning. The sparkling epi¬
grams of Cowley, and the simple garrulity of the burlesque
poets of Italy, are alternately employed in the happiest
manner, to give effect to what is obvious, or clearness to
what is obscure.
“ His literary creed was catholic, even to latitudina-
rianism, not from any want of acuteness, but from a dis¬
position to be easily satisfied. He was quick to discern
the smallest glimpse of merit; he was indulgent even to
gross improprieties when accompanied by any redeeming
talent. When he said a severe thing, it was to serve a
temporary purpose, to support an argument or to tease a
rival. Never was so able a critic so free from fastidious¬
ness. He loved the old poets, especially Shakspeare.
He admired the ingenuity which Donne and Cowley had
so wildly abused. He did justice, amidst the general
silence, to the memory of Milton. He praised to the skies
the school-boy lines of Addison. Always looking on the
fair side of every object, he admired extravagance, on
account of the invention which he supposed it to indicate ;
he excused affectation in favour of wit; he tolerated even
tameness for the sake of the correctness which was its
concomitant.
“ It was probably to this turn of mind, rather than to
the more disgraceful causes which Johnson has assigned,
that we are to attribute the exaggeration which disfigures
the panegyrics of Dryden. No writer, it must be owned,
has carried the flattery of dedication to a greater length ;
but this was not, we suspect, merely interested servility :
it was the overflowing of a mind singularly disposed to
admiration, of a mind which diminished vices, and mag¬
nified virtues and obligations. The most adulatory of his
addresses is that in which he dedicates the State of Inno¬
cence to Mary of Modena. Johnson thinks it strange that
any man should use such language without self-detesta¬
tion ; but he has not remarked, that to the very same work
is prefixed an eulogium on Milton, which certainly could
not have been acceptable to the court of Charles II.
Many years later, when Whig principles were in a great
measure triumphant, Sprat refused to admit a monument
of John Philips into Westminster Abbey, because, in the
epitaph, the name of Milton incidentally occurred. The
walls of his church, he declared, should not be polluted
by the name of a republican. Dryden was attached both
by principle and interest to the court; but nothing could
deaden his sensibility to excellence. We are unwilling
to accuse him severely, because the same disposition which
prompted him to pay so generous a tribute to the me¬
mory of a poet whom his patrons detested, hurried him
into extravagance when he described a princess distin¬
guished by the splendour of her beauty and the gracious¬
ness of her manners.
“ This is an amiable temper, but it is not the temper of
great men. Where there is elevation of character there
will be fastidiousness. It is only in novels and on tomb¬
stones that we meet with people who are indulgent to the
faults of others and unmerciful to their own, and Dryden Dryclen.
at all events was not one of these paragons. His charity
was extended most liberally to others, but it certainly
began at home. In taste he was by no means deficient.
His critical works are beyond all comparison superior to
any which had till then appeared in England. They were
generally intended as apologies for his own poems, rather
than as expositions of general principles ; he, therefore,
often attempts to deceive the reader by sophistry, which
could scarcely have deceived himself. His dicta are the
dicta, not of a judge, but of an advocate, and often of an ad¬
vocate in an unsound cause; yet in the very act of misre¬
presenting the laws of composition he shows how well he
understands them; but he was perpetually acting against
his better knowledge. His sins were sins against light:
he trusted that what was bad would be pardoned for the
sake of what was good; what was good he took no pains
to make better. He was not, like most persons who rise
to eminence, dissatisfied even with his worst productions.
He had set up no unattainable standard of perfection, the
contemplation of which might at once improve and mortify
him. His path was not attended by an unapproachable
mirage of excellence, for ever receding and for ever pur¬
sued. He vvas not disgusted by the negligence of others,
and he extended the same toleration to himself. His
mind was of a slovenly character; fond of splendour, but
indifferent to neatness. Hence most of his writings exhi¬
bit the sluttish magnificence of a Russian noble, all ver¬
min and diamonds, dirty linen and inestimable sables.
Those faults which spring from affectation, time and thought
in a great measure removed from his poems ; hut his care¬
lessness he retained to the last. If towards the close of
his life he less frequently went wrong from negligence, it
was only because long habits of composition rendered it
more easy to go right. In his best pieces we find false
rhymes, triplets in which the third line appears to be a
mere intruder, and while it breaks the music, adds no¬
thing to the meaning; gigantic Alexandrines of fourteen
and sixteen syllables, and truncated verses for which he
never troubled himself to find a termination or a partner.
“ Such are the beauties and the faults which may be
found in profusion throughout the later works of Dryden.
A more just and complete estimate of his natural and
acquired powers, of the merits of his style and of its
blemishes, may be formed from the Hind and Panther,
than from any of his other writings. As a didactic poem,
it is far superior to the Religio Laid. The satirical parts,
particularly the character of Burnet, are scarcely inferior
to the best passages in Absalom and Achitophel. There
are, moreover, occasional touches of a tenderness, which
affects us more, because it is decent, rational, and manly,
and reminds us of the best scenes in his tragedies. His
versification sinks and swells in happy unison with the
subject, and his wealth of language seems to be unlimited.
Yet the carelessness with which he has constructed his
plot, and the innumerable inconsistencies into which he
is every moment falling, detract much from the pleasure
which such various excellence affords.
“ In Absalom and Achitophel he hit upon a new' and
rich vein, which he worked with signal success. The an¬
cient satirists were the subjects of a despotic government.
They were compelled to abstain from political topics, and
to confine their attention to the frailties of private life.
They might, indeed, sometimes venture to take liberties
with public men,
Quorum Flaminia tegitur cinis atque Latina.
Thus Juvenal immortalized the obsequious senators who
met to decide the fate of the memorable turbot. His
fourth satire frequently reminds us of the great political
i
Dryden poem of Dryden ; but it was not written till Domitian had
II fallen, and it wants something of the peculiar flavour which
Dry Hot. be]ongS t0 contemporary invective alone. His anger has
stood so long, that though the body is not impaired, the
effervescence, the first cream, is gone. Boileau lay under
similar restraints, and, if he had been free from all re¬
straint, would have been no match for our countryman.
“ The advantages which Dryden derived from the na¬
ture of his subject he improved to the very utmost. His
manner is almost perfect. The style of Horace and
Boileau is fit only for light subjects. The Frenchman
did indeed attempt to turn the theological reasonings of
the Provincial Letter into verse, but with very indiffer¬
ent success. The glitter of Pope is cold : the ardour of
Persius is without brilliancy. Magnificent versification
and ingenious combinations rarely harmonize with the
expression of deep feeling. In Juvenal and Dryden alone
we have the sparkle and the heat together. Those great
satirists succeeded in communicating the fervour of their
feelings to materials the most incombustible, and kindled
the whole mass into a blaze at once dazzling and de¬
structive. We cannot indeed think, without regret, of the
part which so eminent a writer as Dryden took in the
disputes of that period. There was, no doubt, madness
and wickedness on both sides; but there was liberty on the
one and despotism on the other. On this point, however,
we will not dwell. At Talavera the English and French
troops for a moment suspended their conflict to drink of a
stream which flowed between them. The shells were
passed across from enemy to enemy without apprehension
or molestation. We, in the same manner, would rather
assist our political adversaries to drink with us of that
fountain of intellectual pleasure which should be the com¬
mon refreshment of both parties, than disturb and pollute
it with the havoc of unseasonable hostilities.
“ MacFlecknoe is inferior to Absalom and Achitophel
only in the subject: in the execution it is even superior.
But the greatest work of Dryden was the last, the Ode
on St Cecilia’s Day. It is the masterpiece of the second
class of poetry, and ranks but just below the great models
of the first. It reminds us of the Pedasus of Achilles—
Of, ku) (Stwro; iajy, iTil)' ’Ittzoi; aHavariutri-
By comparing it with the impotent ravings of the heroic
tragedies, we may measure the progress which the mind
of Dryden had made. He had learned to avoid a too
audacious competition with higher natures, to keep at a
distance from the verge of bombast or nonsense, to ven¬
ture on no expression which did not convey a distinct
idea to his own mind. There is none of that ‘ darkness
visible’ of style which he had formerly affected, and in
which the greatest poets only can succeed. Every thing
is definite, significant, and picturesque. His early writings
resemble the gigantic works of those Chinese gardeners
who attempt to rival nature herself, to form cataracts of
terrific height and sound, to raise precipitous ridges of Dryden
mountains, and to imitate in artificial plantations the vast- II
ness and the gloom of some primeval forest. This manner ^r.v ft01-
he abandoned; nor did he ever adopt the Dutch taste
which Pope affected, the trim parterres and the rectangu¬
lar walks. He rather resembled our Kents and Browns,
who, imitating the great features of landscape without
emulating them, consulting the genius of the place, assist¬
ing nature, and carefully disguising their art, produced,
not a Chamouni or a Niagara, but a Stowe or a Hagley.
“ W’e are, on the whole, inclined to regret that Dryden
did not accomplish his purpose of writing an epic poem.
It certainly would not have been a work of the highest
rank. It would not have rivalled the Iliad, the Odyssey,
or the Paradise Lost; but it would have been superior to
the productions of Apollonius, Lucan, or Statius, and not
inferior to the Jerusalem Delivered. It would probably
have been a vigorous narrative, animated with something
of the spirit of the old romances, enriched with much
splendid description, and interspersed with fine declama¬
tions and disquisitions. The danger of Dryden would
have been from aiming too high ; from dwelling too much,
for example, on his kingdoms of angels, and attempting a
competition with that great writer, who in his own time
had so incomparably succeeded in representing to us the
sights and sounds of another world. To Milton, and to
Milton alone, belonged the secrets of the great deep, the
beach of sulphur, the ocean of fire, the palaces of the fallen
dominations glimmering through the everlasting shade, the
silent wilderness of verdure and fragrance where armed
angels kept watch over the sleep of the first lovers, the
portico of diamond, the sea of jasper, the sapphire pave¬
ment empurpled with celestial roses, and the infinite ranks
of the cherubim, blazing with adamant and gold. The
council, the tournament, the procession, the crowded ca¬
thedral, the camp, the guard-room, the chase, were the
proper scenes for Dryden.
“ But we have not space to pass in review all the works
which Dryden wrote. We, therefore, will not speculate
longer on those which he might possibly have written.
He may, on the whole, be pronounced to have been a man
possessed of splendid talents, which he often abused, and
of a sound judgment, the admonitions of which he often
neglected ; a man who succeeded only in an inferior de¬
partment of his art, but who, in that department, suc¬
ceeded pre-eminently; and who, with a more independent
spirit, a more anxious desire of excellence, and more re¬
spect for himself, would, in his own walk, have attained
to absolute perfection.”
Among the various editions of Dryden’s works may be
mentioned, the Prose Works, by Malone, 1800, in 4 vols.;
the Poetical Works, with notes by Warton, and edited by
Todd, 1812, in 4 vols. 8vo; and the whole of his Works,
with a Life by the late Sir Walter Scott, Edinburgh,
1808, in 18 vols. 8vo.
DRY ROT,
A most destructive, and apparently infectious disease in
timber, which, by decomposing the fibres, deprives it of all
strength, and in no great length of time reduces it to a
mass of dry dust; a circumstance from which it seems to
have derived its name, which, perhaps, would better be
expressed by that of sap rot.
1 hough this disease must from its nature have been
co-existent with timber-trees, it would not seem to have
excited much attention, and perhaps was not known, cer¬
tainly not by its present name, before the middle of the
last century ; at some period, we rather think, of Sir John
Pringle’s presidency of the Royal Society of London. But
for a long time after this little notice appears to have
been taken of it; its ravages being, in all probability, in¬
considerable, in comparison with what they have been of
late years. Even now, the disease is in fact chiefly con¬
fined to modern built houses and modern built ships, and
more particularly to the ships of the royal navy. The
proximate cause of it has, therefore, rightly enough, as it
would seem, been ascribed to the unseasonable state of
D R Y
Dry Rot. the timber, when placed in certain situations, and under
particular circumstances. It could not fail, in the course
Alarming 0p tjle jate ]ong protracted war, to become a matter of gene-
progress of. raj observation, that a more rapid decay than usual had be¬
come almost universal throughout the fleet, and especial¬
ly amongst the newest and most recently repaired ships.
Many anxious inquiries were instituted, and experiments
made, with the view of ascertaining the real cause of a
decay, the further prevention of which was so highly im¬
portant to the national welfare and security. The alarm
was greatly increased when, in 1810, the Queen Char¬
lotte, a first-rate ship of war, shortly afterwards launched
at Deptford, was discovered, after a close examination, to
have all her upper works infected with the dry rot; or,
in other words, the ends of most of the beams, carlings,
and ledges, the joinings of the planks, &c. were observed
to be covered with a mouldy, fibrous, and reticulated crust,
and the parts of the timber so covered to be perfectly
rotten. All the newspapers and journals of the day were
filled with this alarming fact, and in consequence thereof
a multitude of dry rot doctors proffered their assistance;
one having a nostrum for eradicating the disease where
it had made its appearance, and another for preventing
its further approach. Some of these specifics were ex¬
pensive and inconvenient, many of them impracticable of
application, and most of them futile and objectionable in
one way or another. These doctors, in fact, like the phy¬
sicians for the human body when the seat of the disease
is unknown, were labouring altogether in the dark, having
no other guide to direct them than their own whims and
fancies, each being ignorant of the effect of the respec¬
tive experiments which they wished to try on this dis¬
eased machine.
Treatises Since the period in question a number of treatises have
on the dry been written on the subject, for the prevention and cure
of the dry rot in ships and houses; some wild and vision¬
ary enough, and others exhibiting tbe proofs of plain prac-
Itical good sense, deduced from long observation, or the
result of judicious experiment. Of the latter description
may safely be mentioned A Treatise on the Dry Rot in
Timber, written in 1815 by the late Mr Thomas Wade,
who died previous to its publication, and whilst employed
in making experiments in the dock-yards; and also an¬
other On the Prevention of Timber from Premature Decay,
by Mr Chapman, 1817. A Treatise on the Dry Rot, by
Mr Bowden of the Navy Office, is in many respects de¬
serving of notice, in as far as the facts and his observa¬
tions on the management of timber are carried ; but he
unluckily sets out with a fanciful theory, which, however,
is not his own, concerning the generation ot fungi, and
their connection with the dry rot, to which, like most
theorists, he endeavours to make all his facts subservient.
In Mr M;William’s Essay on the Origin and Operation of
the Dry Rot, published in 1818, we find stuffed into a
large quarto almost every theory and every fact gathered
from preceding writers, from Aristotle down to Mr Ralph
Dodd, civil engineer, who has also published his Practical
Observations on the Dry Rot in Timber ; which work ap¬
pears to be little more than an advertisement of A Dry
Rot Preventive, a nostrum which, it would seem, is too
valuable to be disclosed, without calling in tbe doctor
that he may get his fee. We have also in print the opi¬
nions and the specifics of Mr Gregory, Mr Ogg, and many
others of minor note, all of whom profess to explain the
cause, to secure the prevention, and to effect the cure of
the dry rot.
^rocess of These authors are at variance amongst themselves, whe-
mon roJ ther the common rot in timber, and the dry rot, be not one
and the same disease. A little reflection, however, will,
we conceive, lead us to consider them as essentially dif-
R O T. 207
ferent, both in the symptoms, the progress, and the causes, Dry Rot.
though the effect of destroying the fibre of the wood is
pretty nearly tbe same. If a post of wood, for instance,
be driven into the ground, seasoned or unseasoned, it will
speedily begin to decay just at the surface of the ground,
or, as it were, between the earth and the air; if driven
into the earth through water, as in a pond, the decay will
commence at the surface of the water, or, as it is techni¬
cally expressed, between wind and water, whilst all above
water, and all that is constantly immerged in the water,
as well as the part in the earth, will remain sound. Thus
also a beam of wood let into a damp wall will begin to rot
just where it enters the wall; so will wooden bannisters
when they are let through the top and foot rails. In these
and similar cases the rot begins externally, and its pro¬
gress is inwards, and is more or less accelerated by tbe
alternate action of wind, beat, and moisture, being great¬
est when the alternatives of exposure to wet and drought
are most frequent, and least when constantly immersed in
water, or constantly preserved in a dry atmosphere. Such
we conceive to be the usual process of the common rot in
wood, and it is evidently occasioned by alternate expo¬
sure to tbe vicissitudes of the weather, to moisture and
dryness, to heat and cold.
If the same post be well charred or covered over with Process of
a thick coating of paint, or varnish, or tar, no such effect the dry rut-
will be produced externally, the coating being sufficient
to protect it against the action of the weather; but if it
should happen to be a green or unseasoned piece of wood
so tarred or painted, in no great length of time the wood
will be found to have begun to decay internally, whilst the
outer surface appears uninjured, but at length it will also
yield to the disease. If this piece of wood had been placed
in a warm cellar or close room where there is little or no
circulation of air, and more particularly if the room or
cellar were damp, there would be perceived, in no great
length of time, a fine mouldy coating spread over its sur¬
face, of a brownish yellow or dirty white; and shortly af¬
terwards it would be found, on examination, to resemble
in its form and structure some of the beautifully ramified
algae or sea weeds ; which in process of time would become
more compact, the interstices being so completely filled
up as to give to the whole mass the appearance and con¬
sistence of leather. “ At first,” says one writer, “ its ap¬
pearance is that of fine fibres running on the surface in
endless ramifications, resembling the nervous fibres of
leaves; presently the interstices are filled up with a
spongy or leather-like substance, assuming the character
of that order of cryptogamous plants distinguished by the
name of fungus."
By Mr Wade the general symptoms of dry rot are thus
described: “ The wood at first swells; after some time
it changes its colour, then emits gases which have a
mouldy or musty smell. In the more advanced stages of
it the mass arises, and cracks in transverse directions.
Lastly, it becomes pulverulent, and forms vegetable earth ;
and generally in some of these stages of decay the dif¬
ferent species of fungus are found to vegetate on the
mass.” ( Treatise on the Dry Rot in Timber. By Tho¬
mas Wade.)
These appearances do not invariably take place, the sur¬
face of the diseased timber sometimes remaining unchan¬
ged, while the process of rotting is going on within; they
are, however, pretty constant. But however sound the
surface may be, it will appear, on examining the piece of
wood, placed in a situation similar to those above men¬
tioned, that tbe whole of the interior fibres are decom¬
posed, and become a mass of dust inclosed within a thin
external shell. No charring of the surface, no paint, tar,
or varnish, will prevent this process from taking place,
208
D R Y R O X
Dry Rot. when the seeds of the dry rot exist, and are placed in a
situation favourable for their growth, though they may
prevent the external character of mouldiness from taking
place on the surface.
Characte- Tlie symptomatic difference, then, between the common
ristic dif- rot and the dry rot may perhaps be thus defined. Con¬
ference of mon rot is a disease in timber, occasioned by the alterna-
the two t;ons 0f the weather acting on its surface, and destroying
rots‘ its fibres externally inwards. Dry rot is a disease in tim¬
ber, occasioned by being shut up in warm, close, and moist
situations, the effect of which is to destroy its fibres by a
process acting internally outwards.
Causes of Without stopping to inquire in what manner, and by
the dry rot. what agency, chemical or mechanical, or both, the com¬
mon rot acts on the external fibres of the wood, the effect
of alternate exposure to the weather is too well known to re¬
quire any further proof as to its being the immediate cause.
The immediate cause of the dry rot is equally obvious ;
but the predisposing state of the timber to contract the
disease is not so clear a problem. Accordingly, theories
without, end have been hatched to explain the phenome¬
non. A writer in a public journal, who has slightly touched
on the subject, thus explains it. “ It is well known,” he
observes, “ that if a piece of green wood be laid across a
fire, the air within, expanded by the heat, will drive out
at each extremity a viscous fluid, possessing the property
of disposing itself on the surface in reticulated filaments.
The same appearance of nervous foliation is not uncom¬
mon in the intermediate spaces of the concentric layers
of the alburnum of wood ; and the core or heart ol trees,
and particularly of the pitch pine, after its passage in the
heated hold of a ship, is often enveloped with a membra¬
nous corticle, like that which lies immediately beneath the
bark. All these appearances are certain indications of the
dry rot; and they point out, with sufficient clearness, that
the sap, or principle of vegetation, brought into activity, is
the cause of the disease ; the effect, though infinitely more
rapid, is the same as that of the common rot. It is still a
problem in what manner this sap circulates; but there is
no doubt that the tubes and cells of the alburnum, or sap-
wood, are filled with it in the spring of the year, and that
they are empty in the winter ; that it is organized mat¬
ter, developing itself by heat in all the various forms of
new bark, leaves, and branches. rIhe stem of a tree cut
down will, on the return of summer, make an effort to push
out leaves ; a more feeble effort of this organized sap ends
in the production of fungus only.” ( Quarterly Review,
No. 15.)
It is now, we apprehend, pretty well decided, that, like
other vegetables, the fungi or mushroom tribe are propa¬
gated by seed so minute and numerous as to float about
invisibly in the air, and to be carried into all manner of
situations. The fine impalpable powder that issues from
the common puff-ball, like a column of smoke, will give
some idea of the almost inconceivable myriads of minute
seeds which it incloses. Of these seeds, though myriads
perish, yet others, by a concurrence of accidents, being
thrown into proper situations favourable for their growth,
reproduce the species. It cannot be supposed that the
fibres found in the dung of animals, and particularly of the
horse, known by the name of mushroom spawn, and from
which our gardeners construct their mushroom beds, are
generated spontaneously in the belly of the animal, but
that the seeds being devoured with his food, have found
that degree of warmth, moisture, and soil, favourable to
the development of the future plant; and this plant which
the fibres exhibit, by care and cultivation increases and
grows to the perfect state of all plants, and throws out
above the surface the parts of fructification which we call
the mushroom. If it be asked why the dung of a cow,
which feeds on the same food with a horse, does not pro- Dry Rot,,
duce the spawn of mushrooms, the only answer to be given
is, that it is not a proper nidus for the germination of the
seed.
In the same manner may the perfect plant be produced
from the seed, carried up into the longitudinal tubes of a
growing tree, by the rising of the sap ; though it would
seem that the process of vegetation in the parasite thus
lodged will not commence so long as the vital principle
of the sap in the tree remains in activity. Indeed it is
pretty evident, from numerous observations, that the pro¬
cess of fermentation is necessary to the growth of all
fungi ; and this may explain why in the diseased and
decayed parts of a tree only are fungi found to grow
whilst it is in a living state.
The sap, therefore, may be the cause of the dry rot, in
as far as it is favourable to the growth of fungi, as it would
seem to be when in a state of fermentation, though it
never can by any process be convertible into this order of
cryptogamous plants. But the appearance of fungi, though
a frequent, is by no means a constant symptom of dry rot;
and, therefore, Mr Bowden’s definition of dry rot, with his
whole doctrine, must fall to the ground. “ The nature of
dry rot is a vegetable substance” and this substance, he
tells us, is fungus. Though not very happily expressed,
his meaning is intelligible enough from what follows.
“ This secretion of nature (the juice of a tree) which was
destined to appear in the form of leaves, branches, &e.
being diverted from its original intention, assumes a new
form from its own native energies. Vegetation commences
in the various tubes of the wood, under the form of those
fine fibrous shoots which have been already described (as
mushroom spawn). It continues to increase in every di¬
rection, until, by an extraordinary manifestation, it happi¬
ly averts the otherwise unforeseen but certain destruction
of the vessel. It may confidently be asserted, therefore,
that this is the primary, chief, and predisposing cause of
dry rot; and this opinion may be further confirmed by an
inquiry into the nature of the juices and fungi, and the
manner in which the timber is affected.” (A Treatise on
Dry Rot, by A. Bowden.)
Mr Bowden having totally mistaken the nature of fun¬
gus, by adopting the erroneous principle of the writer in
the Quarterly Review, labours hard to prove, and with
considerable ingenuity, “ that dry rot is caused by a vege¬
tative substance, and that it is one of the species of fungi f
and this doctrine he illustrates in the case of spent bark
from the tan-pits, of which he says, “ when taken out and
exposed to the heat of summer, the juices appear desirous
of obeying the laws of nature; and being no longer capable
of adding to the bulk of a tree, is satisfied with wearing
the humble garb of a mushroom nay, so enamoured is
he with the similarity of oak bark, and fungus, and tan¬
nin, that “ an examination of the fungous coat taken from
the end of a timber, would afford a strong presumption,
from its exact resemblance to leather, that it owes its ex¬
istence to no other cause than that which communicates
such peculiar qualities.” Into such absurdities will crude
theories sometimes drive their authors.
Mr Wade has sounder notions on the nature of fungi;
he knew they possessed the principle of reproduction, and
that their seeds, under favourable circumstances, will ve¬
getate ; that the proper nidus for the reception of cer¬
tain species of fungus appears to be wood in a state of
progressive decomposition, or the remains of wood entire¬
ly decomposed; that, however, the effect produced by
these plants and decaying timber is reciprocal, the latter
furnishing food for the former, while the decomposition
of the wood is accelerated by the growth of the fungus,
the gaseous and soluble products being taken up by the
\
DRY
Pry Rot. plants, as quickly as these principles are disengaged. The
whole tribe of parasitic fungi may, in fact, be considered
as the wolves and tigers of the vegetable world, destroy¬
ing ultimately every plant they fix upon, and most rapid¬
ly where the principle of vegetation has ceased to act,
and the putrefactive fermentation of the juices has in con¬
sequence commenced.
The real efficient cause then of the dry rot, is that of
the juices of the timber being brought into a state of pu¬
trefaction, occasioned generally by exposure to a mode¬
rate degree of heat and moisture in a stagnant atmosphere.
“ To favour this process,” says Mr Wade, “ as much as
possible, the air and water should not be renewed, as they
undergo a decomposition, which takes place very slowly.”
From the structure of timber being composed longitudi¬
nally of an assemblage of pipes or tubes, it is only neces¬
sary that one end of a log of wood should be placed in a
damp or wet situation, to occasion the moisture to be con¬
veyed to the opposite end by capillary attraction; and
hence arises the infectious nature of the disease, which
will always spread wherever the moisture finds its way ;
and even where there is no moisture, it will be created
by the filaments of the fungi working their way through
the tubes of the dry wood, and carrying it with them.
Hence, also, the rapid decay in ships of war, from the
great internal heat occasioned by the number of men,
the moisture, and the close air. Hence, also, in houses,
the dry rot always first appears in the lower apart¬
ments, where the floors, partitions, skirting-boards, &c.
are supplied with moisture from the wet walls on the
ground. In the London houses there is generally a room
on the basement story, called the housekeeper’s room,
which is boarded, and carefully covered over with an
oiled floor-cloth. In such a room the dry rot is sure to
make its appearance. The wood absorbs the aqueous
vapour which the oil-cloth will not allow to escape ; and
being assisted by the heat of the air in such apartments,
the decay goes on most rapidly; and, as Mr Wade ob¬
serves, “ if the seed of fungus be present, the plant is de¬
veloped in all the superfluity of vigour exhibited in a hot¬
house, where the same means are resorted to, namely, an
atmosphere scientifically and artificially heated, and high¬
ly charged with aqueous vapour.” Timber may, in fact,
nhave the seeds of dry rot within it, and yet by proper
treatment be kept sound for a great length of time. Thus
ships laden with particular cargoes afford remarkable in¬
stances of the effects of such cargoes on their duration.
The warm moisture created by a cargo of hemp is com¬
municated to the timber, and promotes a rapid putrefac¬
tion. Mr Chapman says, that the ship Brothers, built at
Whitby, of green timber, proceeded to Petersburg for a
cargo of hemp. The next year it was found on examina¬
tion that her timbers were rotten, and all the planking,
excepting a thin external skin. A lading of cotton is al¬
ways injurious to the ship, and even teak is affected by a
cargo of pepper. The timber which is brought from Ame¬
rica in the heated hold of a ship, is invariably covered
over, on being landed, with a complete coating of fungus.
It was the too general use of this timber in ships of the
royal navy that at one time increased the disease to such an
alarming degree. Those ships, on the contrary, which are
employed constantly in the coal and lime trade, are very
I durable, and have been known to last for a century. These
effects are obviously to be ascribed to the exclusion of air
in the one case from, and the free admission of it in the
other to, the interior surface of the ship, assisted, in the
latter instance, by the absorption of moisture, by the coals
and lime, from the timbers and planking.
IVevcntion If we are arrived at the right conclusion as to the cause
ry rot, 0p fay rof. ;n tdmi}er} We can be at no loss with regard to
vol. vm
ROT. 209
the mode of treatment for the prevention of the disease. Dry Hot.
The experiments for this purpose have been very nume-
rous, but may be classed under three general heads; de¬
siccation or seasoning ; immersion in earth, sand, or water ;
and impregnation with some foreign matter, which will
resist putrefaction.
The most simple and common mode of preventing the by desicca-
decomposition of vegetable matter, is by depriving it 0f ^1011 or sea"
moisture. Various schemes have been put in practice for soninS-
drying the juices in large logs of timber. Time alone will
do it when the wood is placed in favourable situations,
that is to say, in a dry atmosphere, and constantly expos¬
ed to a free circulation of air ; but time will also produce
the rot in timber when piled up in stacks in the open air,
imbibing moisture from the earth, and exposed to the vi¬
cissitudes of the seasons, and the alternatives of weather ;
scorched at one time by the heat of the sun, at another
drenched with rain, and rent and split in every possible
way by the freezing of the water which has insinuated it¬
self into the pores and crevices of the wood. It was for¬
merly, and, indeed, till very lately, the practice to let
ships of war remain on the stocks in frame for two, three,
or four years, to season, as it was called; but there never
was so mistaken a notion. “ When a ship,” says Mr Wade,
“ is built, exposed to the weather, the lower part forms a
grand reservoir for all the rain that falls; and as the tim¬
bers in that part are placed as close together as possible,
the wet escapes very slowly. Those timbers are always
soaked with moisture, and, to some distance from the keel,
exhibit a green appearance ; their green matter, when
viewed through a microscope, is found to be a beautiful
and completely formed moss, which vegetates at the ex¬
pense of the timber. If to season timber be only to dry
it, the sooner it is dried the better ; and when completely
dry, it cannot too soon be employed in ship-building, when
it should be kept dry. It cannot answer any end to have
seven years wear out of a ship on the stocks.” At length
our ship-wrights are convinced of this truth, and the plan
now generally adopted in ship-building is to protect the
vessel by a roofed structure, with the sides open to admit a
free current of air, but to exclude ail moisture, as well as
the rays of the sun (See Dock Yards) ; a practice which
we have tardily adopted from the Swedes and the Vene¬
tians. A new system seems also to have been adopted
on the piling the timber stacks. Instead of their being
placed on old, useless, and often rotten logs of timber rest¬
ing on the ground, they are now insulated from the earth
on stone or iron pillars; and in place of their surfaces
coming in contact with each other, pieces of wood are
placed between them so as to admit of a circulation of air.
Nothing further appears to be wanting but to protect the
tops and the ends of the stocks or piles from the effects
of the weather.
Of the various modes of artificial and rapid desiccation,
that of charring is perhaps the best; but it is liable to
two objections, the first is, that if the surface be com¬
pletely charred, it diminishes very much the strength of
the timber; and, secondly, it the more readily attracts
moisture. The juices of timber may be drawn off or har¬
dened by kiln-drying; but this also disturbs the arrange¬
ment of the fibres, and deprives the wood of a great part
of its strength.
The experiments made by Mr Lukin for the rapid sea-Mr Lu-
soning of green oak timber, promised at one time much kin’s expe-
success, but ended in disappointment. He conceived, riment;s f’°i
that if the acid and the watery particles were driven 0llt
of a piece of oak timber by some process which should 1 eu
prevent the surface from splitting, the fibres would be
brought closer into contact, and whilst the log lost in
weight it would gain in strength. With this view he
2 D
210
D R Y R O T.
Dry Rot. buried a piece of wood in pulverized charcoal in a heated
oven. The log wore a promising appearance ; the surface
was close and compact; it had lost in its weight and di¬
mensions ; but when divided with the saw, the fibres were
discovered to have started from each other, exhibiting a
piece of fine net-work, resembling the inner bark of a tree.
His next contrivance was to supply the place of the
fluids driven out by heat, with some other substance of an
oily or resinous nature, which, while it destroyed the
principle of vegetation, should preserve the timber in a
compact state. For this purpose he erected a large kiln
in Woolwich dock-yard, capable of containing from two to
three hundred loads of timber. At each end, on the out¬
side, was a retort in which the saw-dust of the pitch-pine
was submitted to distillation. From the heads of these
retorts were iron pipes, perforated with holes like a cylin¬
der, continued along the upper part of the kiln the whole
length in the inside. By this arrangement it was expect¬
ed, that while the heat of the kiln drove off the aqueous
matter of the timber, the product of the saw-dust, which
resembled weak oil, or rather spirit of turpentine, would
drop through the holes in the tubes upon the logs, and
supply its place. But before the process of transfusion
was judged to be complete, an explosion took place, which
proved fatal to six of the workmen, and wounded fourteen,
two of whom shortly afterwards died. The explosion was
barking time, except for building or repairing his majes- Dry Rot.
ty’s houses or ships.
The old Sovereign of the Seas is the standing example
generally quoted to prove the beneficial effects of winter-
felled timber. We are informed by one writer that, when
taken in pieces, after forty-seven years’ service, the old
timber was still so hard that it was no easy matter to
drive a nail into it, and all future writers have taken it
for granted that this was owing to its being winter-felled.
Mr Pett, however, who built her, takes no notice of any
such circumstance. He merely says he was commanded
by the king, on the 14th May 1635, to hasten into the
north to procure the frame-timbers, plank, and trenails,
for the great new ship at Woolwich. But he left his son
behind to ship the moulds, provisions, and workmen, in a
hired ship, to transport them to Newcastle ; that the frame,
as it was got ready, was sent in colliers from Newcastle
and Sunderland; and that, on the 21st December, in the
same year, the keel was laid in the dock; and in less than
two years after this she was launched. Now, as it was
the middle of May before Mr Pett received his majesty’s
commands to procure timber for this ship, and as she was
on the stocks the same year, it is not very probable that
the timber procured and sent in colliers from Newcastle
to Woolwich was felled in the winter ; much less could it
have been “ stripped of its bark in the spring, and felled
like the shock of an earthquake; it demolished the wall of the second succeeding autumn,” as Mr Wade has it.
the dock-yard, part of which was thrown to the distance
of 250 feet; an iron door, weighing 280 pounds, was driven
to the distance of 230 feet, and other parts of the building
wrere borne in the air upwards of 300 feet. The experi¬
ment was not repeated.
The bad effects of applying artificial heat to the season¬
ing of green timber were strongly exemplified by a prac¬
tice introduced very generally into our ships of war which
had exhibited indications of the dry rot, particularly in
the Queen Charlotte. Enor mous fires were made in stoves
placed in various parts of the ship, and the heat led in
tubes to the cavities between the timbers, &c. The con¬
sequence of which was, as might be expected, an increase
of the mischief they were intended to prevent. Every
part of the ship was converted into a hot-house, and every
part where the seeds of fungi had been deposited began
to throw out a luxuriant crop of mushrooms; and where
these did not appear, the juices of the wood were thrown
into a state of fermentation, and, in the course of a twelve-
month, a great part of her upperworks became a mass of
rottenness. After staving the powder magazines of some
of the ships, there appeared under their floors, which are
contiguous to much moisture, numbers of large excres¬
cences of a leathery consistence, of the size and shape of
a quart glass-decanter; and in all such parts wdiere two
surfaces of the wood were imperfectly brought into con¬
tact, were whole masses of fungi.
Winter- Another mode, of very ancient standing, W'as practised
felled tim- f0r getting rid of the juices of timber. This was supposed
to be effected by felling the tree in the winter season,
wEen the sap had descended and the vessels were empty.
But by this practice the bark of the oak, so valuable in
the process of tanning, was lost, as it will strip only from
the wood in the spring of the year, when the sap is said
to be rising. The supposed superior quality of the wood
when winter-felled, and the general practice of felling oak
timber at that season, may be inferred from a statute of
James I. by which it is enacted, that no person or persons
shall fell, or cause to be felled, any oaken trees meet to
be barked, when bark is worth 2s. a cart-load (timber for
the needful building and reparation of houses, ships., or
mills, only excepted), but between the first day of Apnl
and last day of June, not even for the king’s use, out of
ber,
Neither is there the least proof of the old Royal Wil¬
liam, recently broken up, when a century old, being built
of winter-felled timber. The fact is, that she was rebuilt
half a dozen times, and the only old and original timber
remaining in her was in the lowest part of her hull, always
immersed in the salt water externally, and washed with
the bilge-water internally ; and the wood from this part of
her, when broken up, was perfectly sound, but quite black,
having the appearance of being charred.
As far as experiments have been made, there is no rea¬
son to conclude that timber felled in the winter is at all
more durable than that which is felled at the usual time.
In the year 1793, the Hawke sloop of war was ordered to
be built, one side being of timber that had been barked in
the spring and felled in the winter, and the other side
with timber felled at the usual time. In 1803 she was re¬
ported to be in so bad a state of rottenness, that she was or¬
dered to be taken in pieces, when no difference whatever
could be discovered in the state of the timbers of the two
sides. It is said, however, in Derrak’s Memoirs of the
Navy, “ that the timber had been stripped in the spring
of 1787, and not felled until the autumn 1790,” and this
is given as an explanation of the failure. Why the bark¬
ing in the spring should add to the durability of timber,
is not easily conceived, if the object be to fell the timber
when all the sap-vessels are empty, as, if the sap descends
at all, which is doubtful, it might be expected to de¬
scend more freely when the bark is on than off the tree.
This subject has not escaped the attention of the commis¬
sioners of the royal woods and forests, and various experi¬
ments have been made with a view to throw more light on
a subject so vitally important to the British navy. In France,
so long ago as 1669, a royal ordonnance limited the felling
of timber from the 1st October to the loth April; and the
conservators of the forests directed that the trees should be
felled when the “ wind was at north,” and “ in the wane
of the moon ;” and we find an instruction of Bonaparte,
that “ as ships built of timber felled at the moment of
vegetation must be liable to rapid decay, and require im¬
mediate repairs, from the effect of the fermentation of the
sap in those pieces which had not been felled at the pro¬
per season ;” the agents of the forests should abridge the
time for felling naval timber, which should take place “in
DRY ROT.
211
Dry Rot. the decrease of the moon, from the 1st November to the
15th March.”
Immersion The facts are so numerous and so strong in favour of
in earth, the durability of timber when steeped in water or buried
sand, or in earth or sand that no doubt whatever can be enter-
water- tained of the efficacy of such a practice. At Brest all the
timber used in ship-building is deposited in the narrow
creek of the harbour which runs through the middle of
the dock-yard, and it is said that the Brest built ships
never had the dry rot. The same practice prevailed at
Cadiz and Carthagena. Indeed there is reason to think
that steeping in fresh water is a preventive of dry rot, pro¬
bably by dissolving the juices of the timber. It was an
ancient practice, and we believe is still followed in some
parts of England, to place the timber intended for thrash¬
ing-floors in the midst of a stream of water, to harden it
and all the oak plants intended for the wainscotting of
the old mansions were previously steeped in running wa¬
ter.
“ I know it,” says Mr Chapman, “ to be the opinion of
some well-informed men, whose sentiments are highly de¬
serving of notice, that the sap of trees does not descend,
but, like the arterial blood, is prevented by valves from
returning; as a proof of which, it is asserted, that fresh-
cut timber, if laid in a running stream, with the but-end
towards the current, will have the water percolating
through it, and carrying off the mucilaginous matter, but
not otherwise.” “ There can be no doubt,” he adds, “ that
the effect will be produced sooner in this direction than
the other, and it should therefore be attended to.” The
reason is obvious ; the extractive matter, which is the chief,
though not the only, cause of putrefaction, is dissolved
and driven off. The usual mode of preserving timber for
masts, is to keep it immersed in water in what are called
mast-locks. Ihe mast of the Kangaroo sloop of war was
dug out of the mud at the bottom of the mast-pond, at
Deptford dock-yard, where it had been fifty years, and
was one of the most serviceable masts in the navy. Bury¬
ing timber in sand is a usual process for preserving it in
warm climates. Yet, with all these facts and long expe¬
rience, it was but very recently that the steeping of tim¬
ber in salt water was practised in the king’s dock-yards,
and this originated in an accident. The Resistance frigate
went down in Malta harbour. But as she had been re¬
ported in such a state of dry rot, or rather the surface of
her timbers so covered with fungus, as to render it expe¬
dient to send her home, she was suffered to continue un¬
der water for many months. On her arrival in England
it was observed that all appearance of fungus had vanish¬
ed, and she remains a sound ship to this day. Yet even
this fact does not seem to have attracted much attention.
But when the dock-yard was removed from the northern
to the southern side of Milford-haven, a few loads of tim¬
ber that was covered with fungus were suffered to remain
in the water for several months; and it was observed that,
after being taken out and stacked in the new yard, the
timber did not exhibit those appearances of dry rot which
the same timber did most abundantly which had not been
immersed in the salt water. This fact being reported to
the navy board, it was proposed to sink one of two sister
ships, the Mersey and the Eden, both alike infected with
the dry rot, in Plymouth Sound. The Eden was the ship
selected for this purpose. She remained under water for
about eighteen months, and, on being raised, every trace
ot fungus had totally disappeared, whilst the Mersey was
almost wholly covered with it. After remaining a year
at home perfectly sound, she was sent out to the East
Indies.
It is said, and there seems to be no reason for doubting
the fact, that the planks of ships near the bows, which are
obliged to be boiled in water or steam in order to bend
them, are never infected with the dry rot: if the water in
which they are boiled be strongly impregnated with salt,
the effects would probably be more durable and decisive.
In a lecture read by Mr Ogg, a salt refiner, to the Ply¬
mouth Institution, on the prevention and cure of dry rot
in ships of war, common salt is strongly recommended,
for its cheapness, its wholesomeness, and its easy applica¬
tion ; but he proposes a saturated solution of salt, in which
he would steep not only single logs or planks, but the
whole frame of a ship, or even the ship itself. “ Let
every ship in the navy,” says the salt refiner, “ be immers¬
ed a sufficient time in this fluid, and let every new ship
be prepared in the same way, and dry rot would be heard
of no more. But how is this to be accomplished ? I an¬
swer, provide a dock or docks sufficiently capacious to re¬
ceive five, ten, or twenty ships, and the work is done.”
As common sea-water will answer the purpose equally
well, the apparatus of extensive docks and water saturat¬
ed with salt are wholly unnecessary. But Mr Ogg, like
Mr Bowden, appears to mistake the real cause of dry rot.
“ I affirm,” says he, “ that dry rot is occasioned by the
vegetative principle; brine will destroy this principle;
then sink the ship in brine.” The experiments in the
case of the Resistance and the Eden show that brine is not
necessary.
The Dutch having observed that their busses, in which
the herrings were caught and stowed away in pickle, last¬
ed longer than any other craft, adopted the practice of
filling up the vacancies between the timbers and planks
of ships with salt, and of boring holes in the large timbers
and cramming them full of salt. The Americans also
found, that the ships employed in carrying out salt for
their fisheries and domestic purposes were the most dura¬
ble ; and both they and the Dutch are glad to get a cargo
of salt into a new ship, as the surest means of preserving
her. The carpenter of the Franklin, an American seven¬
ty-four gun ship, when at Spithead, told some of her visi¬
tors, that at the junction of the beams, and at the but-
ends of the timbers, pieces were cut, and the hollow part
filled with salt, and covered over with felt, for the pur¬
pose of preserving those parts where two surfaces are im¬
perfectly brought together, from the dry rot, where it is
always most prevalent.
There are, however, very serious objections to the im¬
mersion of ships in a strong solution of salt, and the prac¬
tice of inserting salt in the vacant space between the tim¬
bers, which may not, perhaps, apply with equal force to
their immersion in sea-water. It is observed by a writer
in the Quarterly Review for October 1814, that “ the at¬
traction for moisture which salts and acids possess, would
keep the whole interior of the ship dripping wet; which
would not only destroy the ship with the wet rot, but the
ship's company also, whose health, experience has proved,
is best preserved by keeping the ship as dry as possible;
and thus the remedy would be worse than the disease.”
These bad effects have unquestionably been experienced,
the muriate of magnesia, which exists in sea-water, being
one of the most deliquescent salts ; but whether the ab¬
straction of moisture from the atmosphere be of long du¬
ration, is a fact which remains to be proved. In corro¬
boration of the injurious effects above described, Mr
Strange, in his Evidences, observes, “ that the practice at
Venice of the fresh cut timber being thrown into salt wa¬
ter prevents its ever becoming dry in the ships, and that
the salt water rusted and corroded the iron bolts.” Mr
Chapman also observes that “ the Florida, a twenty gun
ship, taken from the Americans, and subsequently com¬
missioned in the British service, had been salt-seasoned;
and the result was, that in damp weather every thing bc-
Dry Rot.
212
DRY ROT.
Drv Rot. came moist, the iron work was rusted, and the health of and metal fastenings of a ship. He observes, that timber 'T
tj)e crew was impaired; in fine,” he adds, “ vessels so cir- impregnated with saline matter is no longer capable of
cumstanced are perfect hygrometers; being as sensible fermentation, and that, of course, the gases necessary or
to changes of the moisture in the atmosphere as lumps of the nutriment of fungi are not evo.ved. belenite is re¬
rock salt, or slips of fuci, or the plaster of inside walls commended as being insoluble, or nearly so, and not liab e
where sea-sand has been used.” to any alteration in the ordinary temperature of the at-
Mr Chapman, however, is of opinion, that vessels im- mosphere; but all salts, he observes, composed o aiy-
pregnated with bay-salt, or the large grained salt of Li- tes, should be rejected, because, though they are p enti-
mington or of Liverpool (being pure muriate of soda, ful, cheap, and have some qualities eminently fitting tiem
without admixture with the bitter deliquescent salts), to be employed for this purpose, yet they aie, witiout
will possess decided advantages, as would also vessels any exception, very poisonous.
laden with saltpetre, if it has been dispersed among their From all experiments that have been made, it appears
timbers; and Mr Ogg sees no difficulty in refining salts that the most effectual method of pi eventing tie iv lot,
so as to deprive it of its deliquescent quality. But if a and of giving durability to timber, is t lat o epnving
very weak solution of salt, or even fresh water, shall be the sap of its mucilage, more especially in the alburnum,
found to answer the purpose, the objection against im- where it most abounds; for though seasoning in tie cry
mersing timber in sea-water seems to be got rid of. That way will coagulate and harden the extiactive mattei o
it will immediately destroy all vegetable life in the deli- timber, yet when exposed to heat, moistuie, anc a sfaS"
cate fibres of the fungus, and also prevent its future nant air, the process of putrefaction will commence, and all
growth, is quite clear; and if it shall be found to prevent the symptoms of dry rot will speedily make their appear-
also the putrefactive process, it may be considered as the ance. It will be preferable, therefore, that sue i timber
most advisable way to prepare timber for all purposes of as is likely to be exposed to the vicissitudes of weather,
house carpentry and ship-building. should be seasoned by immersion or impregnation, rather
Imnregna- A great variety of substances besides common salt, in- than by the dry way. ... • i rr n
tionoftim.deed almost any salt or acid, will destroy and prevent the In this disease, as in those incident to animal life, pre-Cure of the
herwith fo-growth of fungus. Sir Humphry Davy recommends a vention is much easier than cure. In fact, there is no ry ro .
reign sub- v^eak soiution of the corrosive sublimate as the most effi- other cure for the part affected than excision, and the
stances. c;ent> a solution of sulphate of iron or copperas is much sooner it is done the better, as the disease spreads most
used in Sweden for hardening and preserving wood for rapidly when fungi are propagated, throwing then minute
wheel-carriages, &c. It is first boiled in this solution for fibres into the tubes of the contiguous sound wood, and
three or four hours, and then kept in a warm place to dry, producing that moisture which is a condition absolutely
by which process it is said to become so hard and com- necessary to the putrefactive process. If, however, the
pact that moisture cannot penetrate it. “ The wooden fibre of the wood is still sound, and the loots of the fungi
vessels,” says Mr Chapman, “ in which the sulpho-ferru- extend not beyond the alburnum near to the surface, im-
ginous solution is finally placed for the copperas to crys- mersion in sea water, as in cases of the Resistance and
tallize, become exceedingly hard, and not subject to de- the Eden, or impregnation with some of the solutions
cay.” A solution of alum has been recommended; but above mentioned, may stop the progress of the disease;
Mr Chapman seems to think that its earthy basis would but the only safe cure, we apprehend, is that of cutting
become a nidus of putrefaction. The wood, however, out the infected part. I he sinking of the Royal George
which is used about alum works, becomes hard and dur- at her moorings has not been the means of preseiving
able, and resists fire in an extraordinary manner. All her timbers. On being visited in the diving-bell, her oaken
timber, in fact, when completely saturated with saline sides were broken down into a confused mass of timber and
matter, is more or less indestructible, and absolutely in- black mud; having, no doubt, been too far gone in decay
combustible. A solution of arsenic has not been found to when the fatal accident happened ; but her fir deck appear-
prevent the dry rot. With regard to the impregnation of ed as sound as the day when she sunk.
oils there are various opinions, some thinking them bene- It is a great mistake to suppose that the ancients were Miscella-
ficial and others injurious to the durability of timber. It unacquainted with the dry rot, or premature decay of neons ob¬
is known, however, that ships in the Greenland trade have timber. Pliny has a number of valuable observations onserva lon
their timbers and planks preserved as high up as they are the preservation of timber, and on its decay occasioned
impregnated with whale oil from the blubber; and Mr by the juices; and, among other things, recommends that
Chapman says, that one of the masters of a Greenland a tree should be cut to the heart all round, in order to let
ship having payed her upperworks with twelve or more sue- the juices escape, and that it should not be felled until the
cessive coats with whale oil in hot weather, they became whole had run out. He knew that the sappy part of oak
covered with a thin varnish, much harder and more com- was more subject to rot, and advised that it should be cut
pact than if filled with successive coats of turpentine. Re- away in squaring. He knew, too, that resinous and olea-
sinous substances, however, are probably better than oil. ginous matter in wood preserved it; observing, that the
Afteravariety of experiments and sensible observations, more odoriferous a piece of timber is, the more durable.
Mr Chapman sums up the three great operations by which He knew that much depended on the close texture of tim-
timber may be brought to resist the tendency to dry rot. ber, and that box, ebony, cypress, and cedar, might almost
1. To deprive the timber of its mucilage, which is very be considered as indestructible. We also know that cedar
liable to fermentation. teak, and mahogany, are very durable woods.
2. To impregnate timber with any strongly antiseptic The felling of timber while young and full of vigour,
and non-deliquescent matter. making use of the sap-wood or alburnum, and applying it
3. To dry timber progressively by the sun and wind, to ships and buildings in an unseasoned state, have no
or by the latter alone ; and then to close its pores com- doubt contributed to make the disease of dry rot infinitely
pletely with any substance impervious to air and mois- more common and extensive than it was in former times,
ture, and at the same time highly repellant to putrescency. when our ships were “ hearts of oak,” and when in our
Mr Wade recommends the impregnation of timber with large mansions the wind was suffered to blow freely through
sulphates of copper, zinc, or iron, rejecting deliquescent them, and a current of air to circulate through the wide
salts, as they corrode metals, and would destroy the bolts space left between the pannelled wainscot and the wall.
DUB
Drysalter In those old mansions which yet remain, and in the ancient
|| cathedrals and churches, we find nothing like the dry-rot,
Dahlia. t]10ugh perhaps
  perforated sore
And drill'd in holes, the solid oak is found
By worms voracious eaten through and through.
Numerous examples of the extraordinary duration of
timber may be produced, both from complete desiccation
and exposure to the air, and from the complete exclusion
of air and immersion in earth or water. Without adducing
the surturbrandt of Iceland, covered with several strata of
solid rock, or the logs of wood dug out of peat-moss, the
antiquity of which is mere conjecture, we may instance the
mummy cases of Egypt as being in all probability the most
ancient timber in existence that has been worked by the
hand of man. When Belzoni entered the splendid tomb of
the kings of Thebes, in which was the transparent sarco¬
phagus of gypsum, he found two human figures larger than
life sculptured in wood, in as good preservation as if it had
been worked in his own time; but the sockets of the eye,
which had been copper, were entirely wasted away. We
are told by Pliny, that the image of Diana at Ephesus, sup¬
posed to be of ebony, remained entire and unchanged, though
the temple itself was ruined and rebuilt seven times. He
adds that, in his own time, the image of Jupiter in the ca-
pitol, made of cypress wood, was still fresh and beautiful,
though set up in the year after the foundation of Rome
551, nearly three hundred years before. He further says
that there was a temple of Apollo at Utica, the timbers of
which, being of Numidian cedar, are said to have stood 1188
years. The roof of Westminster Hall, which is constructed
of oak, has stood for more than three hundred years, and is
probably better now than when newly erected. Similar in¬
stances of the long duration of timber have occurred in situ-
D U B 213
ations where the atmosjdieric air has been excluded. In the lAmlism
Leverian Museum was a post said to be dug out cf Fleet ^
Ditch, charred at the lower end, having the name of Julius 1 ”’ t
Caesar cut into it. The foundation on which the stone
piers of London Bridge are laid consist of huge piles of
timber driven close to one another, on the top of which is
a floor of planks ten inches thick, strongly bolted together;
on these the stone piers rest, at above nine feet above the
bed of the river, and, at low water, may be seen or felt at a
very few inches below the surface. These piles have been
driven upwards of six hundred years, and, from the solidity
of the superincumbent weight, it may be concluded that
they are perfectly sound. In the old city wall of London,
timber is frequently dug out as sound and perfect as when
first deposited there. As the last instance of the extraordi¬
nary preservation of timber, we may mention that in dig¬
ging away the foundation of the Old Savoy Palace, which
was built about six hundred and fifty years ago, the whole
of the piles, consisting of oak, elm, beech, and chestnut,
were found in a state of perfect soundness, without the least
appearance of rottenness in any part of them, and the plank
which covered the pile-heads was equally sound. Some of
the beech, however, after being exposed a few weeks to the
air, but under cover, had a coating of fungus spread over
the surface; which affords a striking proof of the immense
length of time that the seeds of this parasite will remain
dormant, without parting with the principle of vegetable
life, which is called into activity from the moment that they
are deposited in a situation favourable to their growth. In
this instance we have only to suppose that the indurated
juices of the wood became dissolved by its exposure to the
moist atmosphere, and the phenomenon of fungous vege¬
tation is capable of receiving a satisfactory explanation.1
(j. b—w.)
County.
DRYSALTER properly signifies one who deals in dried
or salted meats, pickles, sauces, &c.; but it is also used for
a dealer in dye-stuffs, paints, chemical products, &c.
DUAL (dualis, from duo, two), in Grammar, a form of
the verb and noun in the ancient Greek, Sanscrit, and Gothic,
and the modern Lithuanian languages, in which two persons
or things are indicated, in contradistinction to plural,
which expresses an indefinite number.
DUALISM, the name given to that philosophical scheme
which endeavours to explain the phenomena of existence
by the hypothesis of two principles equally necessary, equally
eternal, and therefore independent of each other. Cosmo¬
logical or metaphysical dualism has reference to the distinct
existence of God and nature; theological or mythological
dualism to that of good and evil; and psychological dualism
to that of soul and body.
DUBLIN
A maritime county containing the metropolis of Ireland, in
the province of Leinster, bounded N. by the county of
Meath, E. by the Irish sea, S. by the county of Wicklow,
W. by the counties of Kildare and Meath. Excepting
Louth and Carlow, it is the smallest county in Ireland,—
comprising, according to the ordnance survey, an area of
354 square miles, or 229,709 acres, of which 196,063 are
arable, 19,312 uncultivated, 5519 in plantations, 170 under
water, and, exclusive of the city of Dublin, 1820 in towns.
Ptolemy, the geographer, marks the district as being in¬
habited by the tribe of the Eblani; and owing to its situa-
sion, it was at an early period much exposed to the incur-
tions of the Danes and Northmen, who, having taken pos¬
session of the Isle of Man, after their defeat at Stainford
Bridge in England, subsequently established themselves in
this neighbourhood. At the period of the English inva¬
sion, the city of Dublin and the adjoining districts were in
the possession of those active and warlike seamen, from
whom the tract of country north of the city was named
Fingal, or the country of the White Strangers, a name given
by the natives to the invaders on account of their fair hair
and complexion. The inhabitants of this locality are chiefly
of Danish or Anglo-Norman origin, and are described by
the Rev. Caesar Otway, as “ still a taller and fairer race than
is seen in almost any other part of Ireland ; and as you enter
Lusk, Skerries, or Rush, you observe the men more athletic,
1 The process termed kyanizing is similar to that already noticed, as proposed by Sir Humphry Davy,—namely, steeping the timber
in a solution of corrosive sublimate. This appears to be one of the best preservatives of wood in so far as dry-rot is produced by a fungus.
Mr Bethell’s method of preparing wood for fences, railway-sleepers, piles and other wood-work submerged in water, and for various simi¬
lar purposes, is said to render timber of any description much tougher, and greatly to promote its durability. The process is as follows:
The limber is placed in a strong close iron tank, which is filled with oil of tar and other bituminous matters containing creasote, and wilh
pyrolignite of iron; the air is then exhausted by powerful air-pumps; after which more of the saturating fluid is forced in by hydro¬
static pumps. When the wood has been subjected for six or seven hours to a pressure of from 100 to 150 pounds on the square inch, the
process is complete, and the wood is found to weigh from 8 to 12 pounds per cubic foot heavier than before. It also preserves iron 1 olts
driven into it from corrosion. Wood thus prepared has been used for sleepers on several of the great English railways, and is said to
have proved extremely durable. (See Ure’s Diet, of Ai ts, &c., vol. ii-, p. 963.)
214 DUB
County, the women better favoured, than the natives of the adjoining
v'^—v'—-' districts.” Their descent from the Northmen is further ex¬
hibited by the character they have maintained, as being the
hardiest and best sailors on the eastern coast of Ireland.
The district S. of the city was denominated Harold’s country,
a name which it long retained. After the arrival of the
Anglo-Norman invaders, grants of land, confirmed by Henry
II ., were made by Strongbow to his followers, who intro¬
duced the feudal system into Ireland without those checks,
which would have rendered it in those early times bene¬
ficial, or at least tolerable, and without having acquired that
influence over the native population which was necessary
to cement the power of the owners of the soil, and admit of
some identity of interest. These extensive grants laid the
foundations of the wealth of the chief families and religious
houses in the county ; and the possession of “ these large
scopes of land and great liberties, with the absolute power
to make war and peace, did raise the English lords to that
height of pride and ambition, as that they could not endure
one another.”
In 1210, King John formed this district and some of
the adjoining neighbourhood into a county, comprising the
chief portion of country within the English pale. The limits
of the county were very uncertain, and have undergone
many changes before they were fixed within the present
boundaries. Although so near the seat of government,
67,142 acres of profitable land were forfeited in the Rebel¬
lion of 1641, and 34,536 acres in the Revolution of 1688.
The county of Dublin is now divided into nine baronies.
Balrothery East and West, in the northern part of the
county, are of level surface and productive soil, resting al¬
most wholly upon a limestone foundation, and are principally
used in tillage ; within their limits are the village of Lusk,
with its ancient round tower, the maritime village of Rush,
enumerated by Holinshed among the chief haven towns of
Ireland, but now decayed; the considerable fishing village
and harbour of Skerries and Balbriggan, previous to 1700 a
small fishing village, but raised by the late Baron Hamilton
and his descendants to the position of a town of some impor¬
tance with a harbour, which is the only place of shelter for
vessels exposed to severe weather, between the bays of Dub¬
lin and Carlingfbrd. Coolock barony, to the north of the city
of Dublin, also rests upon limestone, excepting the remark¬
able promontory of Howth, which, like Bray Head in the ad¬
joining county of Wicklow, is formed of quartz rock ; within
this barony are the sea-bathing villages of Clontarf, Howth,
and Malahide, the islands of Lambay and Ireland’s Eye, and
the suburban villages of Artane, Coolock, Raheny, and San-
try, &c. Nethercross, another northern barony, with a level
surface resting entirely upon limestone, contains the ancient
parliamentary borough of Swords, once a corporate town,
and the most ancient place in the county, with a round
tower, and the ruins of an archiepiscopal palace, the once
classic village of Glasnevin, the residence of Dr Delany
and Tickell the poet, and occasionally of Swift, Addison,
Sheridan, Parnell, &c. It is now decayed, and chiefly known
as giving name to the neighbouring Roman Catholic ceme¬
tery, and the Botanic Gardens of the Royal Dublin Society.
Newcastle barony is an undulating limestone district lying
west of the city, watered by the Liffey and Dodder; com¬
prising the western suburbs of the city of Dublin, the plea¬
santly situated and once frequented village of Lucan, and
the small village of Newcastle, which formerly had a por-
trieve and burgesses under a charter of James I., and pre¬
vious to the Union sent two members to the Irish parlia¬
ment. Uppercross is a barony situated S. and S.W. of the
city, extending from Dublin to the N.W. borders of the
county of Wicklow, and containing Clondalkin, with its well-
preserved and elegant round tou7er, and a large portion of
the most frequented suburbs of the city. The half barony
of Rathdown is bounded by the sea, and comprises the most
L I N.
picturesque and ornamented portion of the county S. of County.
the city, including Dundrum, Blackrock, Kingstown, Dal- v 
key, and Killiney. Castleknock barony, which includes the
Phoenix Park, rests on a limestone foundation, and extends
to the county of Meath. The barony of Dublin, erected by
the act 5th and 6th Viet., cap. 96, consists entirely of the
rural portions of the former county of the city of Dublin,
comprising Ball’s Bridge, with the botanic garden of the
university, a portion of the parish of Monkstown, Sandy-
mount, and the village of Donnybrook, remarkable only for
its fair, originally granted by King John to be held for
fifteen days, but now limited to one week in duration; and
although still much frequented, gradually falling into decay
as a pleasure fair.
These nine baronies, together with the city of Dublin,
are subdivided into 83 parishes, comprised within the arch¬
diocese of Dublin. The amount of property valued in the
county, under the act 6th and 7th Viet., cap. 84 (Griffith’s
Valuation) is L.533,616, and the net annual value of property
rated to the poor in the county is L.502,873. The only
union workhouses, besides those in the city of Dublin, are
those of Rathdown and Balrothery; but portions of the
county are within the neighbouring unions of Celbridge,
Naas, and Dunshaughlin. The county is the headquarters
of the military district of Dublin, as w7ell as of the com-
mander-in-chief and staff of Ireland. The headquarters of
the county militia are stationed at Lucan. The constabulary
force, consisting of about 250 men and officers, has its head¬
quarters at Ballybough, and district stations at Clontarf, Lu¬
can, Swords, Rathfarnham, and Balbriggan. Excepting the
metropolis, w'ith its populous suburbs, and Kingstown, there
are no places of magnitude within the county, the largest
being the maritime town of Balbriggan, with 2310 inha¬
bitants.
Previous to the union with Great Britain, this county re¬
turned ten representatives to the Irish parliament; two for
the county, two for the city, two for the university, and two
for each of the insignificant boroughs of Swords and New¬
castle. The number of representatives was reduced to five
by the act of Union, one member being withdrawn from the
university, and the boroughs of Swords and Newcastle dis¬
franchised. The Reform act restored the second member
to the university, leaving the representation in other re¬
spects unchanged. The constituency of the county in 1852,
under the act 13th and 14th Viet., cap. 69, wras 6657, being
a much larger number than during the existence of the
forty-shilling freeholders before the Reform act.
The northern coast of the county from Drogheda to
Howth has generally a sandy shore, and affords only the
harbour of Balbriggan, which has been much improved of
late years, and the small fishing harbour of Skerries. In
the promontory of Howth, the coast suddenly assumes a
bolder aspect; and between the town of Howth and the
picturesque rocky islet of Ireland’s Eye, is the artifical har¬
bour constructed in an injudicious locality, at an expense of
above one-third of a million sterling, but now almost choked
up with sand, and useful only to vessels of small burthen,
fishing vessels, and to a few boats belonging to the place.
Dublin Bay, which extends from the peninsula of Howth to
Dalkey Island, is five miles in width at its entrance, and al¬
though eminently beautiful among the marine inlets of the
United Kingdom, the attempt to place it in competition as
regards scenic grandeur with the Bay of Naples, to which
it bears little resemblance, and by comparison with which it
suffers at every point, is very injudicious. On the southern
shore of the bay is the harbour of Kingstown, one of the
most splendid artificial ports in the United Kingdom, com¬
menced in 1816, from designs by the late Mr Rennie, at an
estimated cost of L.801,159, nearly the entire of which
amount has been expended in its construction. The eastern
pier is 3500 feet in length, and the western pier extends
DUB
County. 4950 feet from the shore, leaving an opening of 850 feet at
the mouth of the harbour, the whole comprising an area of
250 acres, and varying in depth from 15 to 27 feet. Owing,
however, to the width and erroneous position of its entrance,
the anchorage within is so much exposed, that it has some-
wha’t disappointed expectation, and requires an exterior
breakwater to render it a secure anchorage at all times.
At the southern extremity of Dublin Bay is Dalkey Island,
the channel between which and the mainland occasionally
affords a good roadstead for shipping, and was considered by
some engineers as the most appropriate situation on which
the public money could have been expended on a harbour
of refuge. The beautiful bay of Killiney, which is much
exposed, extends from near Dalkey to the southern extre¬
mity of the county.
The largest island off the coast is the hilly cultivated
island of Lambay, the property of Lord Talbot de Malahide,
to the north of Howth, comprehending about 600 acres.
Shell-fish, especially lobsters and crabs, are taken in abun¬
dance on the shore. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth it
was granted to Archbishop Usher, and was his favourite re¬
sidence during the composition of a considerable portion of
his writings. To the north of Lambay are the Skerries,
consisting of the islets of Innispatrick, Colt, Shenex, and
Red Island, the latter of which is connected with the main¬
land by the pier of Skerries. Innispatrick is noted in the
ecclesiastical annals of the country as being the place on
which it is supposed St Patrick first landed in Ireland, and
where he built a church. Between Lambay and Howth is
the picturesque islet called Ireland’s Eye, a craggy rock,
comprehending aboqt 54 acres, and supposed by geologists
to be an insulated portion of the neighbouring peninsula.
At the southern extremity of Dublin Bay is Dalkey Island
with an area of 22 acres, affording good pasturage.
The only stream deserving the name of river is the Liffey,
which, rising in the table-land of Wicklow, and precipitat¬
ing itself over a ledge of rocks, forms the fine cataract of
Polaphuca, near which it is joined by the mountain rivu¬
let called the King’s River, and traverses the level county of
Kildare ; on leaving which it intersects the county Dublin,
and after falling over another elevated ledge of rocks, called
the Salmon-leap, at Leixlip, the Liffey resumes its tranquil
character, and, passing through the centre of the city, dis¬
charges its waters into the Bay of Dublin. It is joined at
its mouth by the Dodder, a mountain stream which, though
too insignificant to afford depth sufficient for the smallest
boat, supplies water for several mills of various description
during its short course from Kippure Hill to its junction
with the Liffey. The other streams which are numerous
and very small, have all an eastern course.
The county is intersected in various parts by the Grand
Royal canals running injudiciously parallel to each other ;
the Dublin and Drogheda, Midland, Great Western, Great
Southern and Western, Dublin and Kingstown, and Dub¬
lin and Wicklow railways, affording great facilities for com¬
munication between different portions of the county, and
with the interior and more distant ports of Ireland.
The population of the county, apart from that of the city
of Dublin, and which had not previously been ascertained
with any approach to accuracy, was returned in 1812 as
amounting to 132,000; and subsequent parliamentary re¬
turns with greater accuracy have stated it as follows:—In
1821, 150,011; in 1831, 176,012; in 1841, 140,047, and
in 1851, 146,731.
If these returns relate to the same area, it would appear
that Dublin is the only county in Ireland the population of
which decreased between 1831 and 1841, or increased in
the subsequent decennial period.
The total number of children receiving education in
1824-26 was reported in a parliamentary return to be 33,008,
of which number 20,440 were Roman Catholics, 10,372
L I N. 215
belonged to the Established Church, 465 were Dissenters, and County,
the persuasion of the remaining 1731 was not ascertained,
In 1853, there were 159 national schools in operation, at¬
tended by 28,799 children, 13,321 males and 15,478 females.
The manners, appearance, and dress of the lower classes
differ less from what may be considered as being peculiarly
characteristic of the rural population of remoter districts,
than might be expected in the vicinity of a large metropolis.
Even in the immediate neighbourhood of the city are to be
seen groups of cabins, exhibiting, both in their external
appearance and in the dress and manners of their inmates,
much to remind the observer of the peasantry of the interior.
The greater part of this county, which presents various
features of peculiar interest to the geologist, rests on the
eastern extremity of the great bed of floetz limestone that
extends over the middle of the island, widening as it spreads
westward. It rises in its southern part into a range of
mountains, which forms the verge of an elevated district,
extending thence for more than thirty miles to the south
through the county of Wicklow. Through this tract a large
body of granite passes in a south-western direction, com¬
mencing at Blackrock and passing by Dundrum and Rath-
farnham, and forming the loftiest summit in this county;
bounded on its eastern and western sides by incumbent
rocks of great variety of structure and relations ; the mica- ,
ceous schist at Killiney and Rathfarnham; argillaceous schist,
on both sides of the granite and quartz rock, in the eastern
side alone, forming the promontory of Bray Head, and re¬
appearing in the more northern part of the county, where it
forms the picturesque peninsula of Howth, and rises to the
height of 567 feet above the level of the sea. Within the
portion of this district included in the county of Dublin,
and distinguished by its beautiful scenery, are veins of lead
ore at Dalkey and near the Scalp. The country near Bray
presents, within a small space, an instructive series of rocks;
and at Killiney schistose beds are to be seen, of consider¬
able extent, reposing on granite. Near Booterstown, in
Dublin Bay, a mass of compact limestone is visible, within
a few fathoms of the granite. The calp of Kirwan, a va¬
riety of limestone, is the prevailing rock in the immediate
vicinity of Dublin, and is much used for building; and the
granite of Dalkey and the neighbourhood is also much used
for architectural purposes in the city and environs; quantities
of it are even exported to England. Petrifactions abound
in many parts of the limestone country. In the peninsula
of Howth gray ore of manganese, with brown ironstone, and
brown iron-ore, have been obtained in abundance.
The northern portion of the county is flat, and the soil
good, particularly in the parts bordering on Meath ; but on
the southern side, the land rises into elevations of consider¬
able height, which extend into the adjoining county of
Wicklow. The highest of these, Kippure Head, on the
border of Wicklow, is 2473 feet above the level of the sea,
and the Three Rock Mountain 1763 feet. The soil in
these mountains is poor, affording no encouragement for
tillage, chiefly covered with heath, except where a subsi¬
dence in the ground affords a nucleus for the formation of
bog, with which about two thousand acres are covered.
There are also a few small tracts of bog in the northern
part of the county. The mountain district is well adapted
for timber, to the growth of which much attention has lately
been paid, and the labours of the improvers are already
rewarded by some fine plantations equally ornamental and
profitable. This range of mountain ground produces a very
striking effect on the traveller proceeding to the metropolis
from Wicklow county. On arriving at its brow, the whole of
the plain watered by the Liffey spreads itself out before him,
studded with villas, enriched with groups of trees, in the midst
of which may be seen the few elevated buildings, spires,
and domes of the city rising through the dusky canopy of
smoke that envelopes them ; whilst beyond, the beautiful
216
County.
DUBLIN.
expanse of Dublin Bay, backed by the Hill of Ilowth, the
island of Lambay, and Ireland’s Eye, and, in clear weather,
still more remote, the Mourne Mountains in the county of
Down, towering above them all on the horizon’s verge, pre¬
sent a view of highly cultivated nature seldom surpassed.
Though by much the greater part of the soil is inclined
to clay, it is not of the deep and tenacious character so
common in England; scarcely any part being without a
mixture of gravel. Due search will generally discover lime¬
stone or other beneficial substrata at no great depth, and the
operation of draining generally raises a sufficiency of gravel
to manure the whole surface. The position of the ground,
usually more or less undulating, affords peculiar facilities for
drainage ; and the circumstance of a great city being placed
in a central position in the county, furnishes large quantities
of ashes and other manure well calculated to conquer the na¬
tural stubbornness of such soils. Along the coast between
Howth and Balbriggan are salt marshes, of small extent.
The farms are in general small. Near Dublin, particularly
on the southern side of the city, a very considerable portion of
the county is appropriated to the ornamental grounds ot the
gentry,and used more for convenience and enjoyment than with
a view to agricultural profit. The rents are proportionately
high, being calculated more with reference to these circum¬
stances than the quality of the land. Although in comparison
with other counties in Ireland tillage is not in a backward state,
there is in some parts of the county more appearance of ne¬
glect than might have been expected so near the metropolis.
The number of holdings in 1853 amounted to 6741, viz.,
2275
o<!
£
2084
© *
1870
O O
*2
1028 623 622 376 125 13
The extent of land under crops in 1853 was 101'999 acres,
divided as follows :—  
Corn, Beans,
and Peas.
41,309
Potatoes.
7465
Turnips, Pars¬
nips, Mangold-
Wurzel, &c.
6009
Cabbage and
other Green
Crops.
3327 2
Mea dow
Clover, &
Rape.
43,887
The produce of the crops in the county of Dublin is in
every instance above the average production of all Ireland, and
generally greater than in any other county; not so much on
account of any natural superiority in the soil, as by reason of
the facilities afforded by the neighbourhood of a large city, and
the consequent greater expenditure of capital on the land. The
result of an inquiry recently undertaken into the state of farm
cultivation, and the condition of road-sides, &c., as to the
growth of weeds, places the county of Dublin at the head of
the list, and therefore exhibits it as the most highly cultivated
county in Ireland.
The live stock of the county in 1853 consisted of 19,448
horses, 3167 mules and asses, 44,063 cattle, 43,007 sheep,
19,041 pigs, 5229 goats, and 158,135 head of poultry. And
the total value of stock was, in 1849, L.484,078 ; in 1850,
L.520,720; in 1851, L.503,904 ; in 1852, L.518,857 ; and in
1853, L.525,586, being an increase in value of L.6729 over
the previous year.
The fishery districts are Dublin and Malahide, together
comprising 85 miles of maritime boundaries, with about 500
registered fishing vessels, employing 3000 men and boys. The
chief stations are Howth and Skerries, the former of which is
much used by the Manx and Cornish fishermen, who resort in
considerable numbers to the harbour of Howth during the fish¬
ing season. Dublin Bay haddock and herrings have long been
esteemed, and justly so, for their superior quality and flavour.
The manufactures of the county are mainly confined to the
city of Dublin and its immediate neighbourhood. There is also
at Balbriggan a manufactory of cotton hosiery in much repute.
Without leaving the county of Dublin, the antiquary would
have no difficulty in finding numerous objects of interest and
instruction, casting light upon the early history of the coun¬
try. Among the ancient raths, duns, or forts constructed by
the native Irish or the Danes, and more probably by both peo- ^
pie, for defence or security in positions of natural strength, im¬
proved by art and labour, several remain in this county. One
at Ratheny, although much reduced in its proportions, is still
traceable; several yet more imperfect are faintly visible at
Coolock ; 'one near Lucan is furnished with the subterranean
vaults and passages not unusually found in connection with
the larger specimens; and another at Shankhill or Rathmichael,
near the remarkable natural pass through the mountain called
the Scalp, is of greater extent than the others, more command¬
ing in position, and in close proximity to the ancient church,
and supposed fragment of a round tower. Numerous sepul¬
chral mounds of the same period also exist scattered through¬
out the county, occasionally somewhat similar in appearance
to the raths, but generally smaller in extent, altogether arti¬
ficial and of conical form. Among its most interesting antiqui¬
ties this county reckons three of the ancient round towers almost
peculiar to Ireland ; one at Swords ; another at Lusk, forming
one of the angles of the church steeple ; and a third in the high¬
est state of preservation at Clondalkin. “ No one who sees but
once their beautiful, lofty, and slender shafts shooting up into
the sky, and dominating in solemn grandeur the surrounding
landscape—all strikingly resembling one another, and resem¬
bling nothing else—but must be struck with admiration and
curiosity of the liveliest kind ; and yet these primary feelings
are but slight in degree when compared with those which are
excited by the consideration of all the extraordinary circum¬
stances involved in their history. That these towers have ex¬
isted, or, at least, the majority of them, for upwards of 1000
years, is certain ; that they may have existed twice or thrice
this period is far from improbable ; but that the era of their ori¬
gin, and the object of their erection remain as secrets yet to be
unfolded, are circumstances which only add to the mysterious
interest which attaches to ihem.’'—{Memorandums made in
Ireland by Sir John Forbes.) They however are probably not
older than the introduction of Christianity; and seem ot the
same origin as the detached round towers ot Abernethy in
Perthshire, and of Egilsey in Orkney.
The little church of St Douloughs is worthy of note for the
extreme antiquity of its architecture. It is 48 feet in length by
18 in width, and is covered by a double stone roof; and Dr
Ledwick ascribes its construction to the Danes in the eleventh
century, while other antiquaries suppose it to be of earlier date.
A fine cromlech of six upright stones, supporting one of 18
feet by 15, and estimated to weigh above 25 tons, is still pre¬
served near Cabinteely. The remains of a stone chair,, and a
rudely sculptured piece of granite, mark the former existence
of an ancient temple near Killiney. At Old Connaught is a
cross of considerable antiquity formed of granite, its shaft sur¬
mounted by a circle, on which the Crucifixion is rudely sculp¬
tured ; and close by the church of St Douloughs are the re¬
mains of one of the crosses which once marked the crocese or
lands of the cross, dedicated to and under the jurisdiction ot
the church. There are also the remains of many castles and
fortified houses, and, as throughout the whole of Ireland, nu¬
merous ruins of the ancient parochial churches without archi¬
tectural pretension, but picturesque in their decay. I he ad¬
joining ground is still used as a place of sepulture by the pea¬
santry, the locality being otherwise entirely neglected ; and
even in the vicinity of the metropolis neither wall nor fence
protects these burial-grounds from intrusion.—(Thom’s Irish
Almanac; D’Alton’s History of the County of Dublin;
Archer’s Survey of the Coun ty of Dublin.)
Dublin, the metropolis of Ireland, in the county to which
it gives name, and province of Leinster, ranking in import¬
ance as the second city in the United Kingdom. It is dis¬
tant 292 miles W.N.W. from London, 138 miles west from
Liverpool, and 60 miles west from Holyhead, in Lat. 58
20. 38. N., and Long. 6. 7. 13. W., agreeably situate in the
great central limestone district which reaches across the
island from the Irish Sea to the Atlantic Ocean, on the river
Liffey, and extending to the junction of that river with the
Bay of Dublin, the waters of which wash its suburban shores.
Like almost every city of importance in the Old World,
it is of very ancient origin ; but of its first establishment no
records exist, neither do any very ancient structures remain
DUB
ty. which could assist the researches of the antiquary. In the
absence of tangible proof, conjecture has been busy at work,
ingeniously constructing baseless stories of ancient grandeur
belonging to the regions of pure romance, without a particle
of historical foundation. Dublin is supposed to have been
mentioned by Ptolemy the geographer, in the second cen¬
tury of the Christian era, as one of the chief places in Ire¬
land, under the name Eblana; from a corruption of which word,
or from the Irish Duiblinn, the black or dark water, the pre¬
sent name of the city is conjectured to have derived its origin.
At the earliest period of which any records remain, Ire¬
land was governed by numerous petty princes or chieftains
constantly at strife with each other for the mastery, which
none obtained. Asa natural result of this state of affairs, the
population must have been thinly scattered over the country,
and the power of each prince of small extent. At the close of
the fifth century and subsequently, the Danes, or Northmen,
called in Ireland Ostmen, from their eastern origin as com¬
pared wfith that country, were,enabled, with various success,
to maintain themselves in the city and adjoining neighbour¬
hood, occasionally making inroads into the interior, commit¬
ting great ravages, more especially (as they were heathens)
against the religious establishments. In the middle of the
tenth century, the Danes had become converted to Chris¬
tianity, but being always exposed to attack in retaliation of
their former outrages, fortified the city of Dublin, and the
oldest remains of building were of their construction.' About
the year 1014 the Danes were defeated by the united Irish
forces under Brien Boroihme, at the memorable battle of
Clontarf, and were driven into the promontory of How th,
of which they retained possession until defeated by Sir
Amoric Tristram, ancestor of the Earls of Howth, and Sir
John de Courcy in 1177. They also, in diminished force,
reoecupied the city, which was in their possession in 1170,
when Dermod MacMorrough and his English allies wdio
had landed at Bannon in 1169 and reduced the Danish
cities of Wexford and Waterford, marching their tbrces from
the south of Ireland under the leadership of the Anglo-Nor¬
mans Milo de Cogan, Raymond le Gros, and Strongbow
Earl of Pembroke, besieged and took the city, or rather the
government of the city, from them. The Hiberno-Danish
king escaped, collected forces in the Orkneys, Hebrides, and
Isle of Man, and in the following year made an attempt to
recover possession of Dublin, but was taken prisoner and put
to death by order of Milo de Cogan, the first Anglo-Nor¬
man governor of the city ; and thus terminated the last of the
persevering attempts made by the enterprising Northmen
to establish themselves in a position of which they instinc¬
tively appreciated the commercial value. In succession to
that rude, hardy, and maritime people came the more war¬
like yet polished Anglo-Normans. Soon after his landing
in 1172 at Waterford, Henry II. arrived in Dublin, and
held his court there in a pavilion of wicker-work made “after
the country manner,” where the Irish chiefs were enter¬
tained with great pomp, and alliances entered into with
them ; “ the plenty of the English table and the goodly
courtesy of the attendants” having done much to reconcile
them to their new allies. Previous to his departure for
England, Henry bestowed the government on Hugh de
Lacy, having granted by charter “ to his subjects of Bris¬
tol his city of Dublin to inhabit, and to hold of him and his
heirs for ever, with all the liberties and free customs which
his subjects of Bristol then enjoyed at Bristol and through
all England.” In 1177 Strongbow, Earl of Pembroke, and
the chief leader of the Anglo-Norman forces, died in Dub¬
lin of a mortification in one of his feet, and was buried in
Christ Church Cathedral, where his monument still remains
well preserved, probably because the rents of many of the
tenants were made payable on Strongbow’s tomb. A fresh
charter was granted in 1207 by King John to the inhabi¬
tants, who had not yet made their peace with the neigh-
vol. vm.
LIN. 217
bourhood, but, like the settlers in other towns, were at con- City,
stant feud with the native Irish ; so that two years after the
date of this charter, whilst the citizens of Dublin were cele¬
brating Easter at Cullenswood, they were set upon by the
Irish of the neighbouring mountains and 500 of them killed.
The scene of slaughter was afterwards called the Bloody
Fields, and Easter Monday denominated Black Monday.
On each succeeding anniversary of that day, with the de¬
sire unfortunately so prevalent of perpetuating a feud, the
citizens marched out to Cullenswood with banners dis¬
played—“ a terror to the native Irish.” In 1216 Magna
Charta, a copy of which is to be found in the red book of
the exchequer, was granted to the Irish by Henry III. In
1217 the fee farm of the city was granted to the citizens at
a rent of 200 marks per annum ; and about this period many
monastic buildings were founded.
In 1227 the same monarch confirmed the charter of John
fixing the city’s boundaries and the jurisdiction of its magis¬
trates. During the invasion of Ireland by Edward Bruce,
who had landed at Carrickfergus with 6000 men, in the
commencement of the reign of Edward II., some of the
suburbs were burnt to prevent them from falling into his
hands. The inroad of Bruce had been countenanced by
the native Irish ecclesiastics, whose sentiments were re¬
corded in the statement addressed to Pope Innocent XXIII.
by Donald O’Neill:—“ That a nation governed for four
thousand years by its own princes, should by Adrian have
been made over to a horde of tyrants, far more cruel than
the teeth of wild beasts, who had seized all the best of the
soil, and driven the rightful owners to the bogs and to the
mountains—that instead of reforming the people, and ex¬
tending the boundary of the church,, its property had been
plundered, its religious houses wasted, the native clergy
persecuted, and Peter's pence had not been paid—that the
simplicity of the people had by bad treatment been changed
into the craft of the serpent—that the object of those he
had sent over was the extermination of the Irish race—that
no Irishman for any grievance however great could insti¬
tute an action in the king’s court; that if an Englishman
murdered an Irishman, be he bishop or layman, the civil
court could take no cognisance of the act; and that having
often and vainly petitioned the English king for redress,
they had offered the crown to Edward Bruce.” The ener¬
getic preparations for defence made by the citizens induced
the Scots to abandon their intention of besieging the city.
Richard II. erected Dublin into a marquisate in favour
of Robert de Vere, whom he also created Duke of Ireland.
The same weak monarch, “ as full of valour as of royal
blood,” entered Dublin in 1394 with 30,000 bowmen and
4000 cavalry, bringing with him the crown jewels; but
after holding a parliament and making much courtly dis¬
play before the native chieftains, on several of whom he con¬
ferred knighthood, the king returned to England. Five
years later, enriched with the spoils of his uncle, “ Old
John of Gaunt, time honour’d Lancaster,” Richard returned
to Ireland, landing at Waterford, whence he marched
through the counties of Kilkenny and Wicklow, to—-
“ Supplant those rough rug-headed, kerns
Which live like venom, where no. venom else,
But only they, hath privilege to live.”
{Richard II. Act II. sc. 1.)
and subsequently arrived in Dublin, where he remained a
fortnight, sumptuously entertained by the provost, as the
chief magistrate of the city was then called; until, receiving
intelligence of the invasion of his kingdom by the Earl of
Hereford, “banished Bolingbroke,” he returned to England,
having previously committed the youthful Lord Gloucester
and Henry of Lancaster (afterwards Henry V.) to Trim
Castle, in the county of Meath. In 1404 the statutes of
Kilkenny and Dublin were confirmed in a parliament held
in the city by the Earl of Ormond. The attachment of the
2 E
218
DUBLIN.
City.
people of Dublin to the bouse of York induced them to
acknowledge the impostor, Lambert Simnel, who was
crowned as Edward VI. in the presence of the lord deputy
and other of the chief authorities in Christ Church Cathe¬
dral. In the next year, 1486, after having performed the part
of a sovereign in Dublin, he sailed from the city with 2000
German troops who had arrived with Lords Loval and Lin¬
coln, together with some Irish auxiliaries, to invade England.
In 1534 Lord Thomas Fitzgerald, or Silken Thomas as he
was called, a young man of rash courage and good abilities,
son of the Lord Deputy Kildare, believing his father, who
was imprisoned in the tower of London, to have been be¬
headed, organized a rebellion against the English govern¬
ment, and marched with his followers from the mansion of the
Earls of Kildare in Thomas Court, through Dame’s Gate to
St Mary’s Abbey, where, in the council chamber, he pro¬
claimed himself a rebel. On his appearing before the walls
with a powerful force, the citizens were induced through
fear to give admission to a detachment of his troops to be¬
siege the castle; but, on hearing that he had met with a
reverse in another quarter, they suddenly closed their gates
and detained his men as prisoners. He then attacked
the city itself; but finding it too strong to be seized by a
coup de main, raised the siege on condition of having his
captured soldiers exchanged for the children of some of
the principal citizens who had fallen into his hands. Aftei
much vicissitude of fortune, Lord 1 homas Fitzgerald and
some others concerned in this rebellion were executed at
Tyburn in 1536. At the breaking out of the civil war in
1641, a conspiracy of the Irish septs, under the direction of
Roger Moore, to seize on Dublin Castle, was disclosed by
one& Owen Connolly on the eve of the day on which the at¬
tempt was to have been made, and the city was thus pre¬
served for the king’s party; but the native Irish without
commenced an indiscriminate extermination of the I lotes-
tant population. “ In a few days,” says Sir John Temple,
*‘ the city was filled with the most lamentable spectacles of
sorrow, which in great numbers wandered up and down in
all parts, desolate, forsaken, having no place to rest their
heads, no clothing to cover their nakedness, nor food to fill
their hungry bellies: those sad creatures appeared like liv¬
ing ghosts in every street. The greatest part of the women
and children thus barbarously expelled out of their habita¬
tions, perished in the city of Dublin ; and so great numbers
were brought to their graves as all the churchyards within
the whole town were of too narrow compass to contain them,
so that the lords justices took order to have two large pieces
of new ground, one on each side of the river, taken in upon
the out-greens, and set apart as burying places.” In 1646
it was besieged, but without success, by the Irish army of
16,000 foot and 1600 horse, under the guidance of the
pope’s nuncio Ripaccini and others, banded together “ to
restore and establish in Ireland the exercise of the Roman
Catholic religion.” The city had been put in an efficient
state of defence by the Marquis of Ormond, then lord-lieu¬
tenant ; but in the following year, to prevent it falling
into the hands of the Irish, he surrendered it on condi¬
tions to Colonel Jones, commander of the parliamentary
forces. In 1649 Ormond was totally defeated at the battle
of Baggotrath, near Old Rathmines, in an attempt to recover
possession. The same year Oliver Cromwell landed in
Dublin, as commander-in-chief under the parliament, with
9000 foot and 4000 horse, and proceeded thence on his
career of conquest, which commenced with the capture of
Drogheda by storm, and the subsequent massacre of its in¬
habitants. After the resignation of the government into
the hands of his brother Henry by Richard Cromwell, the
castle was surprised by a party of officers favourable to the
royal cause ; and though immediately retaken by Sir Hard-
ress Waller, it was forced to surrender again in a few days.
When James II. landed in Ireland in 1689, to assert his
right to the British throne, he held a parliament in Dublin,
which passed acts of attainder against upwards of 3000 Pro¬
testants. T he governor of the city, Colonel Luttrell, at the
same time issued a proclamation ordering all Protestants not
housekeepers, excepting those following some trade, to de¬
part from the city within 24 hours, under pain of death or
imprisonment, and restricting those who were allowed to
remain in various ways. In the hope of relieving his finan¬
cial difficulties, the king erected a mint, where money was
coined of the “ worst kind of old brass, guns, and the refuse
of metals, melted down together,” of the nominal value of
L. 1,586,800, with which his troops were paid, and trades¬
men compelled to receive it under penalty of being hanged
in case of refusal. Under these regulations the entire coin¬
age was put into circulation. After iTis defeat at the battle
of the Boyne, James returned to Dublin, but left it again
before daybreak the next day; and William HI. advancing by
slow marches, on his arrival encamped at Finglas, with up¬
wards of 30,000 men, and on the ensuing day the king pro¬
ceeded in state to St Patrick’s Cathedral to return thanks
for his victory. In 1 783 a convention of delegates from all
the volunteer corps in Ireland assembled in Dublin for the
purpose of procuring a reform in parliament; but the House
of Commons refused to entertain the proposition, and the
convention separated without coming to any practical re¬
sult. In May 1798 the explosion of a conspiracy planned
by the United Irishmen to seize the city was prevented by
the capture of Lord Edward J itzgerald and other of the
leaders. In 1800 the act of union between Great Britain
and Ireland was passed in both parliaments, and on the 1st
January following the imperial standard of the United King¬
dom was hoisted on Dublin Castle. In 1803 another in¬
surrection, headed by Robert Emmett, a young barrister of
much promise, broke out, but was immediately quelled, with
the loss of some lives in the tumult, and the death of its
leaders on the scaffold.
The population of the city of Dublin was estimated by
Rutter, in 1753, at 161,088; in 1798, by Whitelaw, at
182,037, and was ascertained by the census of 1821 to amount
at that period to 185,881, and by the census of 1831 to
204,155. The population of the city, according to the
most recent enumerations in 1841 and 1851, was as fol¬
lows :—  
Christ Church (Liber¬
ties of) 
Glasnevin, part of. 
Grangegorman, part of
St Andrew’s 
St Anne’s 
St Audoen’s 
St Bridget’s 
St Catherine’s, part of..
St George’s, part of 
St James’s, part of. 
St John’s 
St Luke’s 
St Mark’s, part of. 
St Mary’s 
St Michael’s 
St Michan’s 
St Nicholas Within 
St Nicholas Without,)
part of.   j
St Patricks (Liber- 1
ties of) )
St Paul’s 
St Peter’s, part of 
St Thomas’s 
St Werburgh’s 
Popula¬
tion in
1841.
1 2 19
4 0 27
326 0 8
42 1 35
70 3 17
29 3 18
37 1 38
288 3 14
344 1 29
500 1 23
11 3 16
38 2 20
289 2 36
150 1 32
5 2 0
122 2 6
5 0 11
58 1 9
9 0 4
108 0 37
501 1 38
630 0 34
15 2 32
Population in 1851.
Males. Females. Total,
Public Institutions.,
j 3,592 3 23
Total 13,592 3 23
15
4,857
7,634
8,808
3,966
10,629
19,871
15,048
10,661
3,931
4,802
15,234
23,904
1,271
22,793
1,694
11,955
2,044
8,422
30,210
22,008
2,969
232,726
232,726
36
i',881
3,700
3,801
1,796
4,887
9,707
6,472
3,949
1,581
1,960
10,755
10,781
591
10,965
942
5,734
850
4,038
14,331
13,000
1,375
113,132
6,051
14
2,449
3,928
4,783
2,257
5,897
10,832
9,412
4,415
1,902
2,459
10,026
13,287
726
12,428
1,057
6,604
1,037
4,598
19,678
14,637
50
4,330
7,628
8,584
4,053
10,784
20,539
15,884
8,364
3,483
4,419
20,781
24,068
1,317
23,393
i;
12,338
1,887
.8,636
34,009
27,637
1,5531 2,928
133,979
5,199
247,111
11,250
119,183 139,178 258,361
DUBLIN.
219
The city is divided into 15 municipal wards. In 1851
the poor-law valuation for the city amounted to L.531,079,
and the amount of Griffith’s valuation, including property
exempted from taxation, is L.594,886.
Dublin is the seat of the executive government, consisting
of the viceroy or lord lieutenant, assisted by a privy-council in¬
definite in number, appointed by the crown, and a member of
the House of Commons as chief secretary. In the absence of
the lord lieutenant, his place is supplied by lords justices, ge¬
nerally the primate or archbishop of Dublin, the lord chancel¬
lor, and the commander of the forces. The lord lieutenant re¬
sides chiefly at the Viceregal Lodge in the Phoenix Park, and
occasionally at Dublin Castle, W'hich is used on state occasions.
The Castle of Dublin is situate on high ground, formerly at the
eastern extremity, but now in the centre of the city, dividing
the ancient from the modern town on the south side of the Liffey.
The building was commenced in the reign of King John, by the
Lord Justice Fitzhenry, and completed in its original form by
Henri de Londres, archbishop of Dublin. It was then a place
of much strength, moated and flanked with towers ; but the
moat has been filled up, and most of the ancient structure re¬
moved at different periods to make way for the present patch-
work palace, leaving as a memorial of the old castle the Record
Tower, now used as the depository of the records of the office
of arms, consisting of volumes of the pedigrees of the nobility
and gentry of Ireland since the reign of Henry VIII., with
records of their deaths, marriages, descents, &c. The Ber-
mingham Tower, formerly a place of confinement for state
prisoners, which was taken down in 1775 and rebuilt in 1777,
also contains an extensive collection of ancient historical re¬
cords, the keeper of which formerly received L.10 per annum,
which sum was augmented to L.500 in favour of Addison when
secretary to the Earl of Wharton, then lord lieutenant. The
records are now in the custody of the officer of arms.
The building, as it exists at present, was chiefly erected in
the eighteenth century ; it is of great magnitude, covering alto¬
gether an area of about ten acres, but destitute in its exterior
of architectural beauty or regularity of form. It is used as the
town residence of the lord lieutenant and the principal officers
of state, and a very considerable portion occupied by the offices
more immediately connected with the administrative govern¬
ment, including those of the ordnance and metropolitan police.
The chief objects of interest in the castle are the ball-room,
82 feet in length by 41 feet in breadth, and 38 feet in height,
called St Patrick’s Hall, since used as the place of investiture
of the knights of St Patrick ; the Castle Chapel, an elaborate
Gothic building of the present century, erected at an expense
of L.42,000 ; and the Arsenal and Armoury, in the lower castle
yard, containing arms for 60,000 men.
Dublin is also the seat of the Irish courts of law and equity,
from which an appeal lies only to the House of Lords. The
judicial functions are exercised by the lord chancellor, the mas¬
ter of the rolls, and four judges in each of the courts of Queen’s
bench, common pleas, and exchequer. There are also judges
of the courts of prerogative and admiralty, two judges in the
bankruptcy court, one in the insolvents’ court, and a chairman
of quarter sessions ; besides a court of commissioners for the
sale and transfer of encumbered estates in Ireland, a civil bill
court presided over by the recorder, several manor courts, and
a borough record court for the trial of all records where the
debt shall amount to L.20, and for the issuing of attachment
against goods, &c.
The building called the Four Courts, in which the superior
courts are held, stands on the site of the ancient Dominican
monastery of St Saviour, on King’s Inn Quay. It is an ex¬
tensive and magnificent structure, erected after a design of Mr
Thomas Cooley between the years 1786 and 1800, at the enor¬
mous cost of L.200,000.
The prerogative, consistorial, and admiralty courts are held
in the King’s Inns, a massive imposing structure in the north¬
ern portion of the city, erected after a design of Mr Gan don,
the architect of the Custom-House. Those parts of Dublin not
under the civil magistrates are the manor of Gran gegorman,
which includes a district in the neighbourhood of Glasnevin and
Mountjoy Square, of which the dean of Christ Church is the
lord, and appoints a seneschal, who holds his court in a private
house;—the manor of Thomas Court and Donore, granted to an
ancestor of the Earl of Meath, on the dissolution of the monas¬
tery to which it had been appended : its court was first esta¬
blished in the reign of King John, and still continues open for
trial of petty debts and offences ;—the manor of St Sepulchre,
including the parishes of St Kevin and St Nicholas Without,
of which the archbishop of Dublin is lord, with extensive
powers now become obsolete. It has a court-house and prison
attached to it. The grounds immediately adjoining the cathe¬
drals of Christ Church and St Patrick were formerly exempt
jurisdictions, subject to their respective deans ; but their autho¬
rity is now nominal.
Boards of commissioners having charge of the principal
branches of revenue formerly sat in Dublin, but have been
removed and merged in those sitting in London, the details
here being superintended by subordinate officers. The offices of
the boards of customs and excise were in the old Custom-House
erected in 1707, and situated in Essex Street; the Stamp-Office
was in a building in William Street, once the private mansion
of the Earl of Powerscourt. The business of these departments,
together with that of the Irish poor-law commission, is trans¬
acted in the present Custom-House, architecturally one of the
chief ornaments of the city. It was erected at a cost of about
L.400,000, after a design of Mr James Gandon, and opened in
1791. This magnificent structure, which stands on the north
side of the river below Carlisle Bridge, presents four fronts,
three of which may be seen to advantage. The south front,
facing the river, 375 feet in length, is built of Portland stone,
finished in the Doric order, with an entablature and bold pro¬
jecting cornice. The other three fronts are composed of granite,
and from the centre rises a dome to the height of 125 feet,
after the model of that of Greenwich Hospital, surmounted by
a somewhat awkward figure intended as an emblem of Flope.
Previous to the operation of the Municipal Reform act, the
municipal government of the city was vested in the lord mayor,
two sheriff’s, a board of twenty-four aldermen, and the common
council elected every three years by the twenty-five guilds of
trades, in numbers proportioned to the estimated importance
of each guild; beside which, every person who had served the
office of sheriff had a seat in the commons for life under the
name of sheriffs’ peer. In the city assembly, the sheriffs, who
were chosen annually from among the representatives of guilds,
presided. The aldermen were chosen by the common council,
and held office during life. The lord mayor was elected an¬
nually by the aldermen, generally according to seniority, and
approved and sworn in by the lord lieutenant at Michaelmas.
The chief magistrates were originally styled provosts and
bailiffs, the former of which titles was changed for that of mayor
in 1409, and the bailiffs transformed into sheriffs in 1547. In
1660 Charles II. granted to the mayor a golden collar, a com¬
pany of foot, and the right of having a sword of state, a mace,
and*cap of dignity. In 1665 the title of lord mayor was con¬
ferred, and L.500 per annum granted in lieu of the foot com¬
pany. The Tholsel, a corruption of toll-stall, was built in 1682
as the place of assembly of the corporation, but was taken down
in 1807, and the City Assembly House in William Street
adopted in its stead.
Every third year, by virtue of an old charter, it was com¬
pulsory upon the lord mayor and twenty-four corporations to
perambulate the city and its liberties for the purpose of main¬
taining the ancient boundaries. This ceremony was called
riding the franchises, and fell into decay towards the close of
the last century, all necessity for it having ceased.
City.
“ The vigilance of the Dubliners in ancient times was princi¬
pally to be exercised against their ecclesiastical neighbours of St
Mary’s Abbey, Kilmainham, Thomas Court, and St Sepulchre’s, the
latter being the liberty of the Archbishop of Dublin. Various
were the disputes and feuds about their respective boundaries, and
many are the charters and inquisitions defining them, which are
still extant. To guard themselves from encroachment, the citizens
from time immemorial perambulated the boundaries of their char¬
tered district every third year, and this was termed ‘ riding their
franchises,’ corrupted into ‘ riding the fringes.’ In ancient times,
when the ecclesiastics were a powerful body, this was a very neces¬
sary ceremony, and in some measure a dangerous service. The
worthy citizens went forth ‘ well horsed, armed, and in good array;’
and so they are described in an account of this ceremony in 1488, still
extant in the book of Christ Church. But when the power and pos¬
sessions of their clerical neighbours passed away, there was no one
with the will or the means to interfere with them. The citizens
had long ceased to march out with a black standard before them—
220
DUBLIN.
City.
{ a great terror to the Irish enemies; ’ and their military spirit hav-
jnrr completely died avray^ the riding of the franchises hecame alto*
geiher a peaceful exhibition of civic pomp, consisting chiefly of the
following emblematic personages, and display of craft:—
“ Every one of the twenty-five corporations was preceded by a
large vehicle, drawn by the most splendid horses that could be
bouo-ht or borrowed ; indeed all were eager to lend the best they
had. On these carriages were borne the implements of the respec¬
tive trades, at which the artisans worked as they advanced. The
weavers fabricated ribbons of various gay colours, which were sent
floating among the crowd; the printers struck off hand-bills, with
songs and odes prepared for the occasion, which were also thrown
about in the same manner; the smiths blew their bellows, ham¬
mered on their anvils, and forged various implements ; and every
corporation, as it passed, was seen in the exercise of its peculiar
trade. They were accompanied by persons representing the vari¬
ous natures or personages of their crafts, mixing together saints and
demigods, as they happened to be sacred or profane. Thus, the
shoemakers had a person representing St Crispin with his last; the
brewers, St Andrew with his cross; but the smiths, though patron¬
ized by St Loy, were accompanied by Vulcan and Venus, which
last was the handsomest woman that could be procured for the oc¬
casion, and the most gaily attired. She was attended by a Cupid,
who shot numerous darts, en passant, at the ladies who crowded
the windows. The merchants, who exist under the patronage of the
Trinity, could not without profanation attempt any personal repre¬
sentation ; but they exhibited a huge shamrock as the emblem fur¬
nished by St Patrick himself, while they were also accompanied by
a large ship on wheels navigated by real sailors.
“ The course of proceeding of this motley assembly was this : they
drew up at the old custom-house, and passing along Temple Bar
and Fleet Street, they came to the sea at Ringsend. They then
proceeded to low-water mark, when a trumpet was sounded, a water
bailiff advanced, and, riding into the water as far as he could, hurled
a spear eastward. This marked the eastern boundary of the city.
They then crossed the Strand, and traversing the boundaries of the
city and county, by Merrion, Bray Road, Eonnybrook, &c., came
by Stephen’s Green to the division between the city and liberties.
Then traversing Kevin’s Port, Bolton Lane, Bride Street, Bull
Alley, &c., they again emerged at Dolphin’s Barn, from whence
they took a round by Stonybatter, Finglass, Glasnevin, and Clon-
tarf, ending a little beyond Raheny. In the course of this pere¬
grination they passed through several houses, and threw down any
fences that came in their way, particularly on the confines of the
liberties.”—{Ireland Sixty Years Ago, 3d edition.)
For the purposes of police, the city was, previous to 1830,
divided into four districts, in each of which there was an office,
at which three magistrates, one an alderman, the second a
common councilman, and the third a barrister, all appointed
by the crown, sat daily. They had under them an armed force,
consisting of 52 peace officers, 30 mounted and 170 dismounted
police, and 650 night-watchmen.
“The first appointment even of a permanent night-watch was in
1723, when an act was passed under which the different parishes
were required to appoint ‘ honest men and good Protestants ’ to be
night-watches. The utter inefficiency of the system must have been
felt; and various improvements were from time to time attempted
in it, every four or five years producing a new police act —with
how little success every one can judge, who remembers the tattered
somnambulists who represented the ‘ good Protestant watchmen ’ a
few years ago.”
Somewhat more than half a century since, the city of Dublin
was one of the most turbulent in Europe. Similar feuds to
those which have occasionally sprung up in many other cities
existed in Dublin, and, as was commonly the case elsewhere,
the butchers formed one party, the other was formed by the
Liberty boys, or tailors and weavers of the Coombe. The
author of the interesting and graphic little book, entitled “ Ire¬
land Sixty Years Ago,” states that—
“ It is in the memory of many now living that the streets, and
particularly the quays and bridges, were impassable in consequence
of the battles of these parties. The weavers, descending from the
upper regions beyond Thomas Street, poured down on their oppo¬
nents below; they were opposed by the butchers, and a contest
commenced on the quays which extended from Essex to Island bridge.
The shops were closed; all business suspended; the sober and
peaceable compelled to keep their houses; and those whose occa¬
sions led them through the streets where the belligerents were en¬
gaged were stopped, while the war of stones and other missiles was
carried on across the river, and the bridges were taken and retaken
by the hostile parties. It will hardly be believed that for whole
days the intercourse of the city was interrupted by the feuds of
these factions. The few miserable watchmen, inefficient for any
purpose of protection, looked on in terror, and thought themselves City,
well acquitted of their duty if they escaped from stick and stone, y n l
“ These feuds terminated sometimes in frightful excesses. -The - '''
butchers used their knives, not to stab their opponents, but for a
purpose then common in the barbarous state of Irish society, to
hough or cut the tendon of the leg, thereby rendering the person in¬
curably lame for life. On one occasion, after a defeat of the Or¬
mond boys, those of the Liberty retaliated in a manner still more
barbarous and revolting. They dragged the persons they seized to
their market, and, dislodging the meat they found there, hooked
the men by the jaws, and retired, leaving the butchers hanging on
their own stalls.”
Recently, however, the vital importance of an efficient police
has been recognized, and in 1836 the act 6th and 7th Will. IV.,
cap. 29, established the present metropolitan police force, con¬
sisting of about 1150 officers and men, including seven divisional
superintendents, altogether maintained at a cost of L.74,000
per annum, paid out of funds arising from police rate, carriage
and pawnbrokers’ licenses, &c., together with an annual par¬
liamentary grant of L.37,000. There are two police commis¬
sioners, whose salaries are paid out of the consolidated fund,
and under whose control the police are placed, the corporation
having no authority over them. There are three police courts,
presided over by six magistrates, in Dublin; and a court
with one magistrate is held in Kingstown, which is within the
jurisdiction of the Dublin metropolitan police commissioners.
A large military force is usually maintained in the city of
Dublin, which is the headquarters of the military district of
Dublin, and of the staff of Ireland, consisting of the commander
of the forces, adjutant-general, and quartermaster-general.
The troops are accommodated in several barracks, the most
extensive of which is the Royal Barracks, erected in 1704, and
subsequently enlarged, consisting of five squares, affording
quarters for 10 field officers, 83 officers, 2000 non-commissioned
officers and privates, and 460 horses, together with an hospital
for 260 patients. Richmond Barracks, for infantry, occupies
an elevated healthy situation, on the banks of the Grand Canal,
beyond Kilmainham, forming a neat substantial fabric, with
extensive courts and yards, covering altogether an area of 14
Irish acres, and furnishing accommodation for 76 officers and
1600 noncommissioned officers and privates, stabling for 25
horses, and an hospital for 100 patients. Portobello Barrack,
for cavalry and artillery, is on the bank of the same canal, near
Harold’s Cross. At Island Bridge, near Kilmainham, there is
an extensive artillery barrack, and one for artillery and infan¬
try at the Pigeon House Fort in the bay. Besides these, there
are barracks for infantry in Great Ship Street, near the castle,
at Aldborough House, a fine massive building erected in 1765
at a cost of L.45,000, on the North Circular Road and in the
Linen Hall. The two latter were first used for military pur¬
poses in 1848. In the Phoenix Park is Mackenzie’s Fort and
magazine.
The prisons of Dublin, which were formerly ill conducted, badly
arranged, and stored with abuses calculated still further to debase
and harden their inmates, are now managed upon the improved
principles in vogue at the present day. Besides the county gaol at
Kilmainham, there are four convict prisons which are under the con¬
trol of the Directors of Government Prisons, the Richmond Bride¬
well, and the Marshalsea of the Four Courts.
Mountjoy Government Prison, a model prison for the reformation
of convicts, is conducted on “ the separate system,” which admits
of any amount of communication not considered directly evil, the
only prohibition with respect to the intercourse of prisoners with
their fellow men being that which cuts them off from association
with other criminals. The number in custody is about 900 annually,
who are principally drawn from the other convict depdts, especially
from Spike Island, and a few directly from the county gaols. The
average duration of the detention of convicts in this prison exceeds
ten months, and they are afterwards removed to Spike Island, the
Dublin depots, or by transport ships to convict stations abroad. Each
prisoner being submitted previous to admission to a strict medical
examination, there is not much disease prevalent in this institution,
and no instance of mental disease has occurred since the opening of
the prison. The annual cost of officers’ salaries and maintenance
of prisoners is slightly above L.8000, which is reduced to about
L.7000 by the earnings of the inmates.
The prison of Newgate, in Green Street, was opened in 1781,
having been built from a design of Mr Thomas Cooley, the archi¬
tect of the Four Courts and the Exchange, at an expense of about
L.16,000. It was built to supply the place of the Old Gaol in the
Corn Market which had fallen into decay, and is one of those dis-
DUB
nfv raal, heavy structures which were formerly considered as models of
/ prison architecture, when no other method of discouraging crime
““v ^ was believed to exist but punishment and terror. It is not without
its melancholy historical interest, several gentlemen having been
executed there in expiation of the crime of high treason during the
rebellion of 1798 ; in which year also the unfortunate Lord Edward
Fitzgerald expired within its walls in a state of phrenzy, from
the effects of wounds received on the occasion of his arrest by the
late Major Sirr. Originally it was intended for prisoners of every
description; but in consequence of the numbers by which it was
thronged its use’was circumscribed. It is now used as one of the
government prisons for the reception of convicts; and notwithstand¬
ing the defects of its original construction, which cannot be wholly
obviated, the arrangements are such as to secure a constant and re¬
gular supervision ; and the whole establishment is conducted with
strict regard to discipline, and an efficient course of industrial train¬
ing. The gross total annual cost of officers’ salaries and mainten¬
ance of prisoners is about L.3500, and the number of prisoners in
custody about 500 per annum.
The Richmond Penitentiary is an extensive pile of building in
Grangegorman Lane, erected to prevent the necessity for transporta¬
tion, being intended for convicts sentenced to long periods of punish¬
ment. It^was under the immediate control of the government, by
whom the gaoler and other officers were appointed. The experiment
did not at first succeed. An inquiry into its internal management
disclosed several grave abuses, which led to the dismissal of the
gaoler ; and afterwards, in 1832, the building was used for a cholera
hospital, but is now again appropriated as a receptacle for female
convicts, under the name of the Grangegorman Female Convict
Depot; the prisoners being employed in washing for the other
government prisons in Dublin, sewing, knitting, spinning, and
embroidery.
Juvenile offenders were formerly sent on conviction to the house
of correction in Smithfield, which is now, under the name of the
Smithfield Government Prison, a convict depot. It is unfortunately
situate in a densely crowded and low district, and affords very
limited accommodation. The prisoners are furnished with employ¬
ment : the principal trades carried on are shoemaking and mat-mak¬
ing, the wmrk manufactured being disposed of for cash or appro¬
priated to prison use.
The Four Courts’ Marshalsea receives prisoners both from the
city and from all Ireland. It is situated on a rising ground near
Thomas Street, and was built to replace the wretched den on Mer¬
chants’ Quay formerly appropriated to the same purpose.
The Old Sheriffs’ Prison in Green Street is intended for all cases
of debt above L.10 contracted within the city. Previously to its erec¬
tion in 1794, debtors were detained in the residences of the bailiffs,
commonly called spunging-houses, a custom which occasioned many
gross abuses. For some time also after the opening of this prison,
the keeper was partly remunerated by the rents of the apartments.
The abolition of prison fees put an end to that abuse. It is not
now used as a prison, having of late years been a branch of the
North Dublin Union Workhouse, and more recently offered for
sale to the government by the corporation of the city of Dublin. .
The City Marshalsea, a mean building adjoining the Sheriffs’ Pri¬
son, was appropriated to debtors in sums of less than L.10, under
decrees of the lord mayor’s court and the court of conscience. The
prisoners were generally of the poorest classes, and many of them
had no resource but casual charity for the support of life; even a
lodging in the common hall had to be purchased at the rate of a
penny a-night. This and the Sheriffs Prison are now happily ex¬
tinct, leaving the Four Courts Marshalsea as the debtors prison.
The County Gaol, a spacious and well-arranged prison, is at Kil-
mainham.
It is only of late years that any provision has been made by
government for the relief of the poor of Ireland, and the penal
enactments against mendicity were consequently of no effect. There
were formerly houses of industry, mendicity institutions, and va¬
rious substitutes for a national provision, but ultimately it was ac¬
knowledged that civilization might long exist on the surface of
society without penetrating its depths, and that the only security
for the existence of a well-ordered community was to be obtained
by the formation of an organized substratum which could extract
vice and poverty, and restore life and vigour to the mass of the
population. Shortly after the establishment of the new efficient
system of police, and the national system of education, the law for
the relief of the poor in Ireland came into operation, and the city
was divided between the North and South Dublin Unions, which
also include a portion of the county contiguous to the city. The
North Dublin Union Workhouse in Brunswick Street was formerly
a portion of the House of Industry which was opened in 1773,
with a grant of L.4000 from parliament, but now supported as an
hospital by subscriptions and occasional grants from parliament.
The South Dublin Union Workhouse was formerly an asylum for
LIN. 221
the destitute and insane poor, and afterwards the Foundling Hos- City,
pital until converted to its present use in 1840. _ ^
The city is within the ecclesiastical province and diocese
of Dublin. The province includes the dioceses of Dublin, Kil¬
dare, Ferns, Leighlin, Ossory, Cashel, Emly, Waterford, Lis-
more, Cork, Cloyne, Ross, Killaloe, Kilfenora, Clonfert, Kil-
macduagh, Limerick, Ardfert, and Aghadoe. The diocese of
Dublin comprises the entire county, most of the county of
Wicklow, part of the Queen’s County, and of the counties of
Kildare and Wexford. The archbishop exercises spiritual ju¬
risdiction over the two cathedrals of Christ Church and St
Patrick. Of these the former claims the priority by right of
antiquity. Its foundation is attributed to the Danes in 1038,
but it dated its erection as a church from 1038, and its eleva¬
tion to a deanery and chapter from 1541. The entire length of
the nave and choir is 260 feet, that of the transept 1PJ feet;
the extreme breadth of either 80 feet. It stands nearly in the
middle of the old city, on the northern declivity of the hill, in
a favourable situation for etfect if entirely freed from the
neighbouring wretched habitations. This cathedral does not
contain many monuments. Among the most interesting is that
of Strongbow, the invader of Ireland, whose tomb was long the
place at which the tenants of the church were accustomed to
pay their rents. The monument was injured by the tall of one
of the cathedral walls ; but was afterwards repaired, and is
still to be seen in good preservation, with a smaller tomb by
its side, supposed to be that ot Strongbow s son who was killed
by his father. Several fine monuments are in the aisle ; and
in the chancel is that of the nineteenth Earl of Kildare, father
of the first Duke of Leinster. Synods were occasionally held
in this church, and parliaments also, before the Commons Hall
was destroyed in 1596 by an explosion of 144 barrels of gun¬
powder which were arranged in AVinetavern Street, after hav¬
ing been landed on Wood Quay, and by some accident ignited.
Here also the impostor Lambert Simnel was crowned. L nder
the same roof with the cathedral is a small building called St
Mary’s Chapel. The chapter consists ot the dean, precentor,
chancellor, treasurer, the three prebendaries of St Michael, St
Michan, and St John, and six vicars choral. The cathedral is
well endowed. Its economy fund is applied to the payment of
the dignitaries and officers, and to the maintenance of the
structure, which has undergone a thorough repair, both inter¬
nally and externally. The deanery-house was in 1 ishamble
Street, which, being considered a situation unsuitable to a dig¬
nitary of the establishment, was sold, and is now a merchant s
warehouse. The cathedral of St Patrick was founded in 1190
by John Comyn, archbishop of Dublin, in a very low situation,
subject to the bad effects of floods, by which it is liable to be
inundated. About a hundred years after its first erection it
was burnt, but was again raised from its ruins in increased
splendour. At the Reformation it was dissolved, and the build¬
ing used for some of the purposes of the courts of justice. King
Edward projected its change into a university. Sir John Per-
rott, the lord deputy, having reported that there were two
cathedrals in the city, “ this one dedicated to St Patrick being
had in more superstitious reputation than the other ought to
be dissolved but the project was defeated, a university esta¬
blished elsewhere, and in the succeeding reign.of Mary St
Patrick’s Cathedralwas restored to its primary destination. Ihe
installations of the knights of St Patrick, the first of whicii
took place in 1783, were originally held here, but now St Pa¬
trick’s Hall in the castle is used for the investiture ot the
knights of that order. This cathedral contains the monuments
of several illustrious persons, among which the most celebrated,
not so much for the execution of the sculpture as for the more
durable fame of the characters they commemorate, are those
of Dean Swift, who left by will the following epitaph—* ‘ Hie
depositum est corpus Jonathan Swift, S.T.D., hujus Ecclesiae
Cathedralis Decani, ubi sseva indignatio ulterius cor lacerare
nequit • abi, viator, et imitare, si poteris, strenuum pro virili
libertatis vindicatoremof Mrs Hester Johnson, immortalized
under the name of Stella; of Archbishop Marsh, who be¬
queathed a fine library to the public ; of the first Earl of Cork;
and of Duke Schomberg, who fell at the battle of Boyne. The
chapter consists of the dean, precentor, chancellor, treasurer,
the two archdeacons of Dublin and Grlandelagh, nineteen pre¬
bendaries, four minor canons, and twelve vicars choral. The
singing men of these cathedrals perform conjointly at both,
and at the chapel of Trinity College, at different hours on Sun-
222 DUB
City. days ; so that it may he said there is only one choir in Duh-
1 ^ J lin ; but that one, from the combination of musical talent, is
excellent. The deanery house is in the immediate vicinity of
the church. Sir James Ware, who wrote in the reign of
Charles I., pronounces this cathedral to be superior to all
others in Ireland for magnificence of structure and for extent.
It is remarkable for its undeviating adherence to the early
English pointed style of architecture, and the state of neglect
into which it had been allowed to sink. ‘ ‘ I never saw a church
in such a discreditable state,” says Sir John Forbes,—“ one part
of it may be literally said to be converted into a dovecot, as
its roof is filled with pigeons, and its floor in a state not to be
described.” It is now undergoing repair with as much rapi¬
dity as the funds at command for the purpose will allow.
Some of the parish churches possess strong claims to admira¬
tion. St George’s is a fine insulated Grecian fabric, with a
noble Ionic portico and highly ornamented spire, 200 feet in
height, erected in 1802, from design of Francis Johnston, Esq.,
at a cost of L.40,000. St Andrew’s, commonly called the
Round Church, from its elliptical form, is remarkable for a
statue of its patron saint over the entrance; this being the
only instance of a statue erected in such a locality in Dublin.
St Michan’s is of ancient foundation, being previous to 1700
the only parish church north of the Liffey, but rebuilt in 1676,
in the pointed Gothic style, and since so much altered that
nothing but the square tower of the older building remains.
The vaults of St Michan’s are remarkable for an antiseptic
quality, which preserves the relics deposited there from decay.
St Thomas’s Church in Marlborough Street is a singular
specimen of compound architecture, erected in the middle of
last century.
St Mary’s Church, in Mary Street, built in 1697, has no
architectural merit, and the other parish churches have few pre¬
tensions to notice.
The Roman Catholic Archbishop of Dublin also resides in
the city. The metropolitan church, in Marlborough Street, is
considered as more peculiarly under his charge. This is a
building of great dimensions, highly ornamented internally in
the Grecian style, and having a fine Doric portico forming the
principal front in Marlborough Street, but placed in a situation
unworthy of its architectural merit. The building, which stands
on the site of Annesley House, was commenced in 1816 at
an estimated cost of L.52,000. The number of Roman Ca¬
tholic parish churches is twelve, all large, but few externally
elegant; a circumstance easily accounted for by the fact, that
previously to the year 1745 the strict enforcement of the penal
laws prohibited the public exercise of their form of worship.
The relaxation of the law was occasioned by the falling in of
the floor of an upper apartment, where a Catholic congrega¬
tion had assembled to celebrate mass secretly, and by which
several lives were lost. After this accident, Lord Chesterfield,
then lord lieutenant, declined further to enforce the statute,
and the prohibition was removed.
St Paul’s Roman Catholic chapel on Arran Quay is an ele¬
gant building in the Ionic style. The church of St Francis
Xavier was erected at a cost of L.18,000 from a Roman Ionic
design of the Rev. B. Esmonde. The Catholic places of wor¬
ship have ever since been kept open without molestation ; but
the apprehensions of their pastors, and the jealousy of the rul¬
ing powers, induced them formerly to select places of compa¬
rative privacy for their erection. The interior of the chapels
in Anne Street, Exchange Street, and Westland Row, are
worthy of inspection. Besides the parochial chapels, there are
seven belonging to friaries of the Franciscans, the Calced and
the Discalced Carmelites, the Capuchins, the Dominicans, the
Augustinians, and the Jesuits; and several belonging to nun¬
neries,—viz. two of Discalced Carmelites, one of Poor Clares,
two of the Presentation, one of the Sisters of St Dominick, one
of the Sisters of Mercy, and three of the Sisters of Charity ;
besides various others in the neighbourhood of the city.
The Presbyterian meeting-house on Ormond Quay, in a pro¬
minent situation, is an elegant building in the Gothic style,
erected in 1845, by means of a bequest for the purpose made
by Mrs Magee. Protestant Dissenters are not numerous in
Dublin. There are congregations of Presbyterians, Indepen¬
dents, Methodists, Quakers, Seceders, Baptists, and Moravians.
The few Jews resident in Dublin have a synagogue in Mary’s
Abbey.
The centesimal proportion of the number of places of wor-
L I N.
ship is about 45 for the Episcopalian churches, 35 Roman Ca- City,
tholic and 20 Dissenters. These figures do not give material
for any accurate estimate of the number of each persuasion, on
account of the very different size of the buildings and the num¬
ber of services performed.
Each of the parish churches has a cemetery attached to it,
in which the parishioners of every religious persuasion were
interred, until the restraints imposed on Catholics by the law
called the Burial Casement act, as to performing their burial
service over the dead, obliged them to open two large ceme¬
teries, the one at Golden Bridge, the other at Glasnevin.
The vaults of the newly built Roman Catholic places of wor¬
ship are also appropriated to the reception of the dead. The
Protestants also have a cemetery at Harold’s Cross, called
Mount Jerome cemetery, comprising twenty-five acres of land
laid out with a view to ornamental effect.
Dublin has had its full share of the benefits arising from im¬
provements in education. As early as the year 1311 a uni¬
versity was erected in it, under a bull of Clement V. in St
Patrick’s Church; but it gradually declined, until it became
virtually extinct at the close of Henry VII.’s reign. After
the Reformation, Sir Henry Sidney and Sir John Perrott ex¬
erted themselves to convert that cathedral into a university;
but they were overruled by Archbishop Loftus, who protested
successfully against what he deemed an encroachment on the
rights of the church. In lieu of it, however, he prevailed on
the corporation of Dublin to apply the dissolved monastery of
All Saints or All Hallows, in Hoggins’, now College Green,
to the same purpose. Hence arose the University ot Dublin,
which is a college incorporated by charter or letters patent, 34
Eliz. (1591), as “ The Mother of an University.”
In the charter of foundation the Queen nominated one pro¬
vost, three fellows, nomine 'plurium, and three scholars, no¬
mine 'plurium, to constitute with their successors for ever a
body corporate and politic, under the name of The Provost,
Fellows, and Scholars of the Holy and Undivided Trinity of
Queen Elizabeth, near Dublin. The number of the corpora¬
tion has been increased from time to time, and at present con¬
sists of a provost, seven senior fellows, twenty-eight junior fel¬
lows, and seventy scholars. The system of instruction is su¬
perintended by the fellows, both senior and junior, together
with professors in the various departments of science and lite¬
rature. A vacancy among the fellows is filled up by the pro¬
vost and a select number of the fellows, after a strict exami¬
nation for four days in metaphysics, mathematics, natural
philosophy, ethics, history, chronology, Latin, Greek, and
Hebrew. They hold their situation during life, unless they
choose to accept of the incumbency of one of the thirty-two
benefices at the disposal of the college. Until the year 1840,
all the fellows were bound to celibacy, but that restriction was
then removed. The scholars are chosen from among the un¬
dergraduates, after an examination in Greek and Latin. They
hold their situation till they can attain the degree of master of
arts. Students, after an examination in Greek and Latin, are
admitted as fellow-commoners, pensioners, or sizars ; which
last class is limited to thirty, and is partially maintained out
of the College funds. Noblemen, noblemen’s sons, and baronets,
have the privilege of forming a separate order with peculiar
advantages, on the payment of additional charges. The course
of general instruction extends over four years, the principal
studies of each year being successively mathematics, logic, na¬
tural philosophy and astronomy, and ethics; and two com¬
mencements are held every year for the purpose of conferring
degrees. A medical school has been long attached to the uni¬
versity, to which has lately been added a school of civil en¬
gineering ; and diplomas in surgery and civil engineering are
granted by the board on the completion of the prescribed
courses. The library consists of about 106,000 printed vo¬
lumes, and 1500 manuscripts ; and the number is increased an¬
nually by about 1500 vols., which are partly purchased and
partly obtained under the copyright act. There is also a
botanic garden at Ball’s Bridge, and a museum. The funds of
the College, arising from lands and the fees of the students,
are managed solely by the provost and seven senior fellows,
who form a board, to whom the whole government of the uni¬
versity, both in its executive, and, so far as the statutes per¬
mit, legislative branches, is committed. The buildings, which
include a large extent of ground, now nearly in the middle of
the city, consist of one very large and two smaller squares. In
DUBLIN.
223
these are the chapel, the theatre for examinations, the museum,
the library, the dining hall, the printing office, and chambers
for the fellows and students. Attached to the buildings is a
large space planted for the recreation of the students, and a
smaller inclosure for the provost and fellows. The provost’s
residence and the medical school are apart from the main body
of the buildings.
The College Observatory is at Dunsinlc, about five miles
N. W. of Dublin ; it is amply furnished with astronomical ir.
struments. It w~as endowed by Francis Andrews, Esq., LL.D.,
provost of Trinity College, erected in 1785, and placed in 1791
by statute under the management of the “ Royal Astronomer
of Ireland,” an appointment first filled by Dr Henry Ussher,
and subsequently by Dr Brinkley, Bishop of Cloyne. The
Magnetical Observatory of Dublin was erected in the years
1837-8, in the gardens attached to Trinity College, and at the
expense of the university. A regular series of observations
was begun in 1838, and has been continued ever since.
By letters patent, dated 15th August 1850, a university
called “ The Queen’s University in Ireland” was founded,
with powers to grant degrees in the faculties of arts, medicine,
and law, to students who have completed their studies in any
one of the Queen’s colleges of Belfast, Cork, or Galway. The
university consists of a chancellor and senate, nominated by
the crown, and to hold office during pleasure, to be a corpora¬
tion with perpetual succession, with power to sue and be sued,
to make bye-laws, to use a common seal, and to hold lands,
the annual profits of which may amount to not more than
L.10,000. One or more visitors to be occasionally appointed
by the crown. The senate meets at Dublin Castle, for holding
examinations and granting degrees pursuant to such examina¬
tions ; the examiners are appointed annually by the senate.
The three Queen’s colleges to be colleges of the university, and
their professors to be professors of the same; but the colleges
not to be under the jurisdiction of the senate, farther than as
regards the regulations for degrees in the faculties above men¬
tioned. The senate of the university held its first meeting in
June 1851.
During the short reign of James II. a college for Roman Ca¬
tholics was opened in Back Lane, but was extinguished on his
abdication ; and in 1854 the Roman Catholic University was
established in Stephen’s Green.
The Inns of Court were intended for the instruction of law
students. Collet’s Inn, the first appropriated to this purpose
in the reign of Edward I., having been erected without the
city walls, was destroyed, together with the king’s exchequer,
by an incursion of the Irish from the Wicklow Mountains.
The inns were revived during the reign of Edward III. in a
building near the castle, given by Sir Robert Preston, chancel¬
lor of the exchequer, and thence called Preston’s Inns, where
the institution was maintained for upwards of two centuries.
But the society being dispossessed in consequence of a flaw in
the title, the inns were removed to the dissolved monastery of
St Saviour’s, where the four courts now stand, and there took
the name of King’s Inns. These buildings having been suf¬
fered to fall to ruin, a new site was chosen in the northern ex¬
tremity of Dublin, and a massive but elegant building erected
from a design by Mr Gandon the architect of the Custom-House.
The principal apartments are the dining-hall and the library,
which latter forms a detached building, erected in 1827 at a
cost of L.20,000. Law students are obliged to attend terms
here for two years previously to being allowed to practise as
barristers ; but as no arrangements have been made for liter¬
ary instruction beyond the use of the library, punctuality of
attendance is ascertained solely by their presence in the dining-
hall, and therefore they are facetiously said “ to eat their way
to the bar.”
There is no classical school on a public foundation similar to
the grammar schools of Westminster and London, but the city
is not deficient in means of instruction, as private schools and
institutions for the education of the poor are numerous.
In 1833 the grants of public money for the education of the
poor were intrusted to the charge of the lord lieutenant, to
be expended on the instruction of the children of every religious
denomination, under the superintendence of commissioners ap¬
pointed by the crown, and named “ The Commissioners of
National Education.” The principles on which the commis¬
sioners act are, that the schools shall be open alike to Chris¬
tians of every denomination ; that no pupil shall be required
to attend at any religious exercise, or to receive any religious City,
instruction which his parents or guardians do not approve, and ^
that sufficient opportunity shall be afforded to the pupils of
each religious persuasion to receive separately, at appointed
times, such religious instruction as their parents or guardians
think proper. This system of united education is one which
does not exclude children of any denomination, while it admits
to a participation of its benefits those of every religious creed
who may wish for instruction without interfering with any
onscientious scruples.
In 1845 the commissioners were incorporated under the name
of “ The Commissioners of National Education in Ireland,”
with power to hold lands to the yearly value of L.40,000, to
purchase goods and chattels, to receive gifts and bequests to
that amount, to erect and maintain schools where and as many
as they shall think proper, to grant leases for three lives or 31
years, to sue and to be sued by their corporate name in all
courts, and to have a common seal, a power being vested in the
lord lieutenant to fill up vacancies, to appoint additional
members provided the total number does not exceed 15, and to
remove members at his pleasure.
The school of medicine is partly under the control of the
board of Trinity College, which nominates and maintains pro¬
fessors of anatomy and surgery, chemistry, aud botany, and
partly under that of the College of Physicians, which nominates
the professors of the practice of medicine, of the institutes of
medicine, and of materia medica and pharmacy, which latter
are on the foundation of Sir P. Dun. To these have been added
by the university a professorship of surgery, and by the King
and Queen’s College of Physicians professorships-of midwifery
and medical jurisprudence. The College of Physicians was first
incorporated by charter of King Charles II. in 1667, and in¬
corporated by William and Mary in 1692. It enjoys some im¬
portant privileges ; among others, the right of inspecting the
shops and stores of apothecaries, druggists, and chemists, and
of destroying drugs of bad quality. The college consists of
thirty-six fellows, on whom the management devolves ; of
honorary fellows, who are excluded from any interference with
the financial arrangements ; and of licentiates, who, though
not entitled to take any part in the management of the colle¬
giate concerns, are summoned on occasions of importance. The
College Hall is in Sir Patrick Dun’s Hospital.
Surgery was long considered in Ireland, as well as in Eng¬
land, as a trade, the practitioners being included in the wor¬
shipful corporation of barber-surgeons. Nor was it till 1784
that a charter, founding a college of surgery, put the practice
of that inestimable art on a basis enabling it to advance in a
manner suited to the wants and character of a civilized nation.
The college, which was at first held in an obscure building near
Mercer’s Hospital, has been removed to an elegant range of
buildings in St Stephen’s Green, commenced in 1806, and
erected at a cost of L.25,000. Under the direction of the
Royal College of Surgeons is a school of surgery, where lectures
on the different branches of the art are delivered by the pro¬
fessors. The college building contains a board room, an exa¬
mination hall, a library, and three museums.
The governor and company of the Apothecaries’ Hall, found¬
ed by act of parliament in 1791, also had some share in the
completion of a medical education, by means of courses of lec¬
tures and examinations on chemistry and pharmacy at their
school of medicine in Cecilia Street, now discontinued, and the
building sold to the Roman Catholic University, to be applied
hereafter to purposes of medical education. In Peter Street is
the Dublin School of Medicine : the attendance on the lectures
delivered here is as a qualification for examination by the
Queen’s University in Ireland, the universities of London,
Glasgow, Aberdeen, and St Andrews ; by the Royal College of
Surgeons of Ireland, England, Edinburgh, and Glasgow; by
the Apothecaries’ Halls Dublin and London, and by the army
medical and navy boards. Practical anatomy, taken in this
school with hospital attendance, constitutes an “ Annus Medi-
cus” for the Edinburgh University. There are also the Car¬
michael School of Anatomy in North Great Brunswick Street,
and the Original Theatre of Anatomy and School of Medicine
and Surgery in Peter Street.
Hospitals or asylums for various cases of disease and classes
of persons are numerous, and liberally supported.
Lunatics are maintained in St Patrick’s Hospital, founded
in 1745, pursuant to the will of the celebrated Dean Swift,
224 DUB
City. and conducted by governors appointed under the charter of in-
v , ^ j corporation. The General Lunatic Asylum, erected near the
House of Industry, and placed under the care of officers ap¬
pointed by government, originally received patients from all
parts of the country; but, under an act of parliament, its use is
now limited to a district consisting of the counties of Dublin,
Louth, Meath, and Wicklow, each of these contributing to¬
wards its expenses in proportion to the number of patients
sent in. Besides these public establishments for the recovery
and safe custody of lunatics, there are in the vicinity of Dublin
various private asylums for the insane.
The principal institution for the blind is Simpson’s Hospi¬
tal, founded by a merchant of Dublin, who had laboured under
severe affections of the eyes and gout. The income is. up¬
wards of L.2500 per annum, by which fifty patients, either
blind or gouty, are maintained, in a large plain edifice,
situate in Great Britain Street. The apartments can accom¬
modate a hundred inmates. The Richmond National Institu¬
tion in Sackville Street was founded in order to instruct the
blind in some of the more useful handicraft occupations. The
principal branches taught are weaving, netting, and basket¬
making. The Molyneux Asylum, opened in Peter Street, in
a large building which had been an amphitheatre for eques¬
trian exhibitions, is confined to blind females, of whom those
above the age of fifty have in it a permanent asylum, while
those under that age are admitted to a temporary residence,
until they can procure a permanent livelihood elsewhere.
There is a commodious Episcopal chapel attached to this esta¬
blishment. An institution for the maintenance and education
of children born deaf and dumb is maintained at Claremont,
near Glasnevin. The plan of the Royal Hospital, for decayed
and maimed soldiers, was first suggested by the Earl of Essex,
when lord lieutenant, and carried into effect through the re¬
peated applications of the Duke of Ormond to Charles II. The
site chosen for it had been the ancient priory of Kilmainham,
founded by Strongbow for Knights Templars. Upon the ex¬
tinction of that order, and the confiscation of its property,
which was effected by a simultaneous and secret movement of
all the crowned heads in Europe, this part of their possessions
was transferred to the Knights of St John of Jerusalem, and
it became an hospital for guests and strangers only, to the ex¬
clusion of the sick and maimed. On the dissolution of monas¬
teries, it devolved to the crown, and so continued till applied to
its present use by Charles II. The building, completed in 1684,
according to a plan of Sir Christopher Wrren, is an oblong
306 feet by 288, three sides of which are dwelling-rooms, con¬
nected by covered corridors. The fourth contains the chapel,
a venerable building, of limited size; the dining hall, in which
the banners taken from the Spaniards at Gibraltar are sus¬
pended ; and the apartments of the master, who is always the
commander of the forces for the time being. Connected with
the main building are several subordinate offices, a garden,
and an avenue bordered by rows of stately trees.
Among the asylums for destitute children, the Foundling
Hospital was by much the most extensive. It was opened in
1730 for destitute children of every age, but afterwards limited
to the reception of those under a year old. The institution
was maintained partly by voluntary contributions, partly by a
local tax on Dublin, but chiefly by large parliamentary grants
and restraints put on the admission of children. The average
number annually admitted for twenty years up to 1825 was
2000. The buildings, with large gardens attached to them, are
situated in a healthy and elevated situation in the west of
Dublin, and are now converted to the use of the South Dublin
Union. The Blue Coat Hospital was originally intended as
a place of refuge for all the poor in the city. This object
being soon found impracticable, it was reduced to an asylum
for aged citizens and their orphan sons, and ultimately con¬
fined to this last-named class. The buildings in Oxmantown
originally covered a considerable space; and previously to the
building of the parliament house in College Green the parlia¬
ment held its sittings there. The present edifice is built nearly
on the site of the former. It consists of an elegant centre,
with detached wings, one used as a chapel. Of the 120 boys it
receives, 58 are named by the corporation, 50 by the governors
of Erasmus Smith’s schools, 10 by the Bishop of Meath as
trustee to a bequest, and 2 by the incumbent of St Werburghs
on a similar title. They are educated in the tenets of the Pro¬
testant church, and apprenticed to Protestant masters. The
L I N.
Hibernian School in the Park supports and educates the chil- City,
dren of soldiers. A preference is given to those whose fathers
have been killed, or died on foreign stations. The buildings,
which are spacious, have gardens and exercising ground at¬
tached to them ; and the boys, in addition to the usual routine
of scholastic instruction, are trained to the rudiments of mili¬
tary tactics. On the southern quay, near Ringsend, is the
Hibernian Marine School, instituted for sailors’ children. _ It
consists of a centre building and two wings, the latter contain¬
ing the school and chapel. At a proper age the pupils are
placed in the royal navy, or apprenticed to merchants, who
take them without fee. The number of boys was 180 ; but it
has been contracted in consequence of the reduction of the par¬
liamentary grant.
Besides these there are numerous institutions for the relief
of various classes of the distressed or vicious portions of the
population. The majority of these may be zealously and well
managed ; but whether a mass of small institutions, creating
some evil, and failing to extend relief to much misery, are of
substantial benefit to the public, may reasonably be doubted.
The progress of disease is combated, and the sufferings from
accidental injuries assuaged, by means of numerous institu¬
tions ; one of the most extensive of which is Steevens’ Hospi¬
tal. It was founded by the bequest of a physician whose name
it bears, and erected by his sister, who having been left a life
interest in the property previously to its being applied to its
final purpose, immediately devoted the greater part of it to
fulfil her brother’s intentions, reserving to herself only L.120
per annum, and apartments in the hospital. In addition to
the original estate, and to other contributions and bequests,
altogether amounting to L.2200 per annum, it receives a grant
of public money. This hospital is capable of accommodating^
30»J patients, and is provided with distinct wards for diseases of
children, diseases of the eye, &c. The City of Dublin Hospi¬
tal, in Upper Baggot Street, was founded in the year 1832. for
the purpose of affording additional hospital relief to the sick
poor of the metropolis, and is supported by voluntary contri¬
butions. The Meath Hospital, originally built in the Coombe,
for the benefit of the liberties of Dublin, and afterwards con¬
verted into a county hospital by act of parliament, has been
transferred from its former confined and low situation to an¬
other in the outlets, where a large building was erected for it,
chiefly through the munificence of Mr Thomas Pleasants, who
contributed L.6000 towards its building and maintenance. Its
annual income exceeds L.1000. The medical officers at first
received salaries of L.100 each, which they have resigned for
the benefit of the institution. The hospital on the Coombe is
now the Coombe Lying-in Hospital. The Charitable Infir¬
mary, in Jervis Street, the oldest in Dublin, and opened at
first in Cook Street, a.d. 1721, by the contributions and exer¬
tions of a few gentlemen of the medical profession, was trans¬
ferred to its present situation in 1732. It is capable of ac¬
commodating 50 patients, but the state of its funds seldom ad¬
mits of more than 30. The General Military Hospital at the
entrance of the Phoenix Park, standing on an eminence in a
healthful situation, is a general infirmary for the army. The
edifice, though plain, is much admired for the elegance of
its proportions. Sir Patrick Dun’s Hospital, opened in 1810,
is appropriated exclusively to medical cases, for the instruction
of the pupils attending the professors of the College of Physi¬
cians. The Richmond Surgical Hospital in North Brunswick
Street has attached to it the Talbot General Dispensary, and
Mercer’s Hospital, founded by a benevolent lady of that name,
in Stephen Street, on the site of the decayed hospital of St Ste¬
phen, and are set apart for surgical cases and accidents. The
House of Recovery in Cork Street, the first and largest of
the fever hospitals, is supported by subscriptions, the interest
of donations, and a grant of public money; and has contri¬
buted to check considerably the progress of low fever preva¬
lent among the ill-fed artizans and paupers in that district. It
was opened in 1804, and between that date and October 1852,
165,913 patients had been admitted, of which number 154,035
were discharged cured, 11,764 died, and 114 remained in the
house. Its beneficial effects led to the opening of a second in
the north of Dublin, on a smaller scale, called the Whitworth
Hospital, which is not now a fever hospital, but open for the
reception of patients labouring under general medical and
surgical complaints. The number of patients admitted an¬
nually to the Dublin Hospital averages above 4500 ; of which
DUBLIN.
City.
number 94 out of every 100 have been discharged cured, a
sufficient proof of skilful attendance. The Lock Hospital was
opened in Townsend Street in 1792, for the reception of vene¬
real patients of both sexes ; but in 1820 male patients were
excluded, and it has been ever since confined to females. The
number of beds, originally 300, is now reduced to half that
number. The building, of plain granite, consists of a centre,
containing apartments for the officers, and two wings in which
are the patients’ wards. It is wholly under the control of a
board appointed by the lord lieutenant.
The formation of dispensaries was encouraged by a special
act of parliament authorizing grand juries to present in aid of
them a sum equal to that subscribed by individuals. There
are several dispensaries for particular complaints; but the dis¬
trict dispensaries which are attached to the different poor-law
unions throughout Ireland, are placed under the control of the
Poor-Law Commissioners by the Medical Charities act of 1851,
which supersedes the provisions of former acts.
Most of the religious societies spring from kindred sources
in England. The chief among them is the Hibernian Bible
Society, founded in 1807. Several minor societies for the dis¬
tribution of the Bible, and differing from one another chiefly as
to the channel into which their labours should be directed, have
arisen from it, some detached, others auxiliaries or branches
of the parent association. The Irish Society was formed for
promoting the religious instruction of the Irish through the
medium of their own language, by publishing Bibles, Testa¬
ments, tracts, and rudimentary books in that tongue, and by
sending itinerant teachers through the country for their instruc¬
tion. The names of the Church Missionary, the Methodist
Missionary Societies, &c., announce the origin and objects of
each. The Religious Tract Society has an extensive store and
sale-room in Sackville Street. The Continental Society pro¬
fesses generally to promote religious knowledge and sentiments
throughout Europe.
Scientific and literary societies are few. The Royal Dublin
Society is foremost in seniority and importance. It owes its
origin to some literary gentlemen, who in 1731 formed an as¬
sociation for scientific purposes meeting in Trinity College.
In 1750 it was incorporated by charter, and received an annual
parliamentary grant of L.500, which was gradually augmented
until it amounted to L.10,000, but of late years it has been
reduced. The improvement of agriculture and rural economy
is promoted by annual cattle shows, when prizes exceeding
L.300 are awarded. There is also an exhibition of farm and
dairy produce in November; and an exhibition of manufactures
takes place triennially. The professorships of mining and the
veterinary art have been discontinued. A drawing school is
established, in which pupils of promising talents are instructed
gratuitously in landscape, figure drawing, architecture, and
modelling, and premiums are periodically awarded. The so¬
ciety is also provided with a good library, containing upwards
of 12,000 volumes. It is particularly rich in works on botany,
and in those relating to Ireland. It has likewise a gallery of
statuary, in which are casts from the Elgin marbles. The
museum and gallery are open to the public on particular days.
The members, who are admitted by ballot, on payment of an
admission fee of L.30, which covers all subsequent expenses,
have the exclusive advantage of the library, and of a reading-
room well supplied with newspapers and periodicals. By a
late bye-law, annual members are admissible to most of the
advantages of the society on payment of a subscription of three
guineas. The society held its meetings in Shaw’s Court until
1737, when it removed to Grafton Street, and thence in 1796
to a building erected for it in Hawkins Street. In 1815 it
purchased the splendid museum and grounds of the Duke of
Leinster in Kildare Street, where it still continues. The
Kirwanian Society, which takes its name from the celebrated
chemist and mineralogist, was formed in 1812 for the advance¬
ment of chemistry, mineralogy, and natural history. It is sup¬
ported wholly by individual subscription. The Zoological So¬
ciety, formed in 1830, on the model of those in Dublin, has a
garden on land granted to it by the lord lieutenant in the
Phoenix Park, in which it has already collected a menagerie
of living animals, which makes it an object of general attrac¬
tion to the citizens of Dublin. It is supported by subscriptions,
and by the money paid by the public for admission. The
Royal Irish Academy was instituted by patent in 1786, to pro¬
mote the study of polite literature, science, and antiquities. Its
VOL. VIII.
formation was chiefly owing to the exertions of its president,
the first Earl of Charlemont. It holds its meetings in Dawson
Street, where it has a library containing some valuable manu¬
scripts, and occasionally publishes a volume of transactions.
This society receives an annual parliamentary grant of L.300.
Several attempts have been made to create a taste for the
fine arts in Dublin. In 1764 an association of artists erected a
neat building in William Street for their meetings, and for the
exhibition of their works ; but the profits of the scheme did
not cover their expenses, and the building was consequently
otfered for sale, and purchased by the corporation of Dublin as
an assembly-house. Exhibitions of pictures by native artists
were afterwards opened in Hawkins Street, under the patron¬
age of the Dublin Society. Being discontinued in consequence
of the society’s removal to Leinster House, which afforded no
suitable room for exhibition, the artists attempted their revival
in the Royal Arcade in 1821, but without success. These
failures were attributable not merely to the indifference of the
public, butto dissensions among the artists themselves. The want
of a permanent place of exhibition has been supplied by the
liberality of Mr Francis Johnston, an architect to whom Dub¬
lin is indebted for several of its modern buildings, particularly
the new Castle Chapel, and the General Post-Office. He built
an elegant and appropriate structure, at an expense of L.10,000,
which, when finished, he presented to the Society of Artists.
Their exhibitions have been held in it since its opening in
1825. The society was incorporated in 1823, and receives an
annual parliamentary grant of L.300.
The principal library in Dublin, for the number and value
of its books, is that of Trinity College. It is open of right only
to such graduates of that university as take a strict oath rela¬
tive to their conduct while in it, and to their treatment of its
contents. Admission by special favour is attainable, but with
some difficulty. It contains about 110,000 printed volumes,
and 1500 manuscripts, the number of books being annually
increased partly by purchase, and partly in consequence of the
right conferred by the Copyright act of receiving a copy of
every new publication. The King’s Inns Library is next in
value. The right of reading in it is confined to the members
of the King’s Inns Society ; that is, to barristers, attorneys, and
law students. Marsh’s Library, attached to St Patrick’s Ca¬
thedral by the munificent bequest of Primate Marsh, arch¬
bishop of Armagh, and incorporated in 1707, contains a good
collection of old books, and is open to the public on liberal
terms ; but, from the very small portion of its funds, appropri¬
ated to the purchase of books, it is very deficient, in modern
publications. It possesses some valuable manuscripts. Stee-
vens’ Hospital, the Royal Hospital, Sir Patrick Dun’s Hospi¬
tal, and the College of Surgeons, have each a small library
attached to it, chiefly of medical books, for the use of the prac¬
titioners. The want of a public library easily accessible, and
provided with the works most in request, was attempted to be
supplied by a society, which, having been formed in 1791, has
collected a large number of books in a handsome and well-
arranged building in D’Olier Street. The institution is entitled
the Dublin Library Society and Hibernian Athenaeum. At¬
tached to it is a fine reading-room, well supplied with news¬
papers. But as the fund, arising solely from annual subscrip¬
tions, is not sufficient to stock the library with new publica¬
tions, and to furnish a sufficient assortment of newspapers, the
former of these demands has been made subordinate to the lat¬
ter, and the library consequently impoverished.
The increase of commercial transactions occasioned by a long
continuance of domestic tranquillity after the revolution of 1688,
excited a desire among the merchants to have a suitable place
for transacting their public business ; and consequently the
foundations of the Royal Exchange were in 1769 laid on Cork
Hill, and the building was opened ten years after—at an ex¬
pense of L.40,000, procured by subscriptions, lotteries, and
grants of public money. It is one of the most admired, struc¬
tures in Dublin. Its principal front consists of a Corinthian
portico of six columns. The interior is chiefly, occupied by a
magnificent circular hall lighted from above, with which seve-
ral°smaller apartments are connected. The progress of civic
improvements gradually threw this fine building out of the
more convenient channels of business. A more central position
for mercantile transactions presented itself in Dame Street.
Thither therefore the sagacity of speculation was directed, and
a new building has been raised, principally by L.50 shares,
2 F
225
City.
226 DUB
City. with more extensive and suitable accommodation, under the
^ ^ > name of the Commercial Buildings. The value of the Eoyal
Exchange has consequently diminished. It is now wholly ap¬
propriated to the municipal business of the city. It is also a
depository for the statues of celebrated characters, and has in
it those of George III., Henry Grattan, Doctor Lucas, Daniel
O’Connell, and Thomas Drummond. The Commercial Build¬
ings form a small square of simple architecture fronting Dame
Street. They contain a large saloon occupied as a news-room,
and offices for merchants and brokers, together with an hotel
and coffee-house, over which is the Stock Exchange. In order
still further to promote the commercial interests of Dublin, an
association was formed about thirty years ago, under the name
of the Chamber of Commerce, which soon decayed ; but the idea
was revived in 1820, when a number of merchants formed
themselves into a society under the same name, which still
exists. Its objects are the protection and promotion of the
manufacturing and commercial interests of Dublin, and of the
country in general. The business is transacted by a president,
vice-presidents, and committee, instructed to communicate with
the officers of government on the subjects of the association.
Their office is held in the Commercial Buildings. The Ouzel
Galley is another voluntary association of merchants, for deter¬
mining commercial differences by arbitration. It takes its
name trom that of a vessel, which was the occasion of a compli¬
cated and protracted suit, that was ultimately adjusted in an
amicable manner by the interference of some of the most re¬
spectable merchants in Dublin. The effect of steam naviga¬
tion on the cross-channel trade has produced a great alteration
in the state of commerce in Dublin.
The Bank of Ireland was formed in 1783, in order to give
security to commerce. It was opened at first in some old houses
in Mary’s Abbey, with a capital of L.600,000, which wTas after¬
wards increased to L.3,000,000. In the year 1802 the parlia¬
ment house was purchased by the directors, and adapted to its
present destination. This edifice was erected in 1729; and
notwithstanding the changes made in it since it was diverted
from its original purpose, the exterior has been but little al¬
tered. It consists of three fronts. The principal, towards
College Green, a colonnade of the Ionic order, formed of a facade
and two projecting wings, is much admired for the noble sim¬
plicity of its elevation. The western front, a portico of four
Ionic columns, was connected with the other by a colonnade of
the same order, forming the quadrant of a circle. The eastern
front, which was the entrance of the House of Lords, was, by
their special order, a colonnade of the Corinthian order, which
the architect found great difficulty in uniting with the other
parts. The apartment for the lords, a fine room, was hung
with tapestry. That of the commons having been burned in
1792 (whether by accident or design has never been fully as¬
certained), was reconstructed after a more elegant design, in
the form of a circle surrounded by pillars, between which was a
gallery for hearers. This fine hall was taken down by the bank
directors, and converted into a square room, now the cash-office.
The commerce of the Port of Dublin had increased so much
towards the close of the last century, that the accommodation
afforded in the river for shipping was found insufficient, and
the Irish parliament granted L.15,000 for forming docks on
both sides of it. The Floating and Graving Docks, communi¬
cating with the Grand Canal on the south side, including a basin
covering 40 statute acres, with a fine quay and store frontage
of 7500 feet, were opened in 1796 ; and St George’s, the latest
of the Custom-House Docks, in 1821. These latter cover an
area of 8 acres, have 16 feet depth of water, and 1200 yards
of quay ; they are capable of accommodating 40,000 tons of
shipping, and the stores have space for 8000 casks of sugar and
tobacco, and 20,000 chests of tea, with cellarage for 12,000
pipes of wine. The docks on the south side afford commodious
wharfage for 100 sail of merchantmen and colliers, exclusive
of that supplied by the river-quays. The formation of the
asylum-harbour at Kingstown, then Dunleary, which was com¬
menced in 1817, gave additional aid to the commerce of the
port, by the increased protection it afforded to shipping. The
improvements made on the bar, in the erection of the great
northern wall or breakwater, and the steam dredging of the
by the ballast board, by rendering the channel
sufficiently deep for the navigation of vessels of 1400 tons,
has also contributed greatly to the same effect.
1 here were in i852 belonging to the port, including steamers,
L I N.
454 vessels, of every size, from 15 to 1200 tons; the regis- City,
tered burden amounting to 39,814 tons. Most of those vessels v , .L
were employed in the coasting or cross-channel trade, there
having been but 6 or 8 in that of the West Indies, the same
number in that of Fiance and the Spanish Peninsula, and 20
or 30 in the North American timber trade. The amount of
customs collected averages about L.950,000, and has not varied
much during the last twelve years, the reduction of duties hav¬
ing more than balanced the increase in the quantity of articles
imported.
The site of the city of Dublin was long confined to the hill
on the south side of the river of which High Street forms the
crest, and the castle the eastern declivity. The walls, which
may be traced now only on maps, did not exceed a mile in
length. From the north tower of the castle they were carried
over Cork Hill, near wffiich was an entrance called Dame’s
Gate, looking towards Hoggins’, now College Green. Near
Essex Bride was another entrance called Essex Gate, erected
on the site of Isod’s Tower. The wall was then carried west¬
wards along the course of the river to the endof Fishamble Street.
Here stood Fyan’s Castle, sometimes used as a state prison.
Thence it continued along Wood Quay to Winetavern Street,
where was another castle; and, still continuing parallel to tne
river, it joined a castle through wffiich was one of the principal
entrances opposite to Bridge Street. Thence it was carried to
New Row, and up the hill to Cutpurse Row, at the end of
which was Newgate, also used as a prison. From Corn Market
it passed along the rear of Back Lane to Nicholas Gate, thence
between Ross Lane and Bride’s Alley to Pool Gate, afterwards
Werburgh Gate, and thence in a straight line till it joined the
castle at Bermingham Tower. The part of the city now called
Dame Street and College Green was a low swampy plot, sub¬
ject to inundations of the river, to the north of which were a
Danish settlement, now called Oxmantown, a corruption from
Ostmen’s Town, and the extensive monastery of St Mary’s,
with its appendage the friary of St Saviour. The only passage
across the river by land was by a bridge at the end of Bridge
Street—formerly called Old Bridge, Dublin Bridge, Ormond
Bridge, and for sometime Friars’ Bridge. It was taken down
in 1815, and its place supplied by an elegant structure of three
arches called Whitworth Bridge. All the monastic buildings,
except the Dominican Friary, were on the south side of the
river. These were the two cathedrals, the abbey of St Thomas
the Martyr, since called Thomas Court; the priory of All Hal¬
lows, now Trinity College ; the monastery of St Francis, in
Francis Street; the monastery of the Holy Trinity, on the site
of the late theatre in Crow Street; the Carmelite or Whitefriars’
Monastery, lately restored, in Whitefriar Street; and the nun¬
nery of St Mary de Hogges, on the ground where St Andrew’s
Church now stands. The precise situations of the nunnery of
St Mary des Dames, whence Dame Street has its name, of the
abbey of St Olave, somewhere in Castle Street, of the monas¬
tery of Witeshan in the west of Dublin, and of the priory of
Knights Templars in Catgott, in the southern suburbs, are now
unknown. The abbots of the Cistercians of St Mary’s Abbey,
and of the Augustinians of St Thomas the Martyr, were united,
and with the priors of the Knights of St John of Jerusalem at
Kilmainham, of the Augustinians of the Holy Trinity or Christ
Church, and of the Augustinians of All Saints (now Trinity
College), sat in the Irish parliament as spiritual peers. The hos¬
pital of St Stephen occupied the site of Mercer’s Hospital; the
Steyne Hospital stood on Lazar’s Hill, now Bank Street; and
Allen’s Hospital lay between St Kevin Street and the bounds
of the archbishop’s palace in St Sepulchre’s. Though the build¬
ings spread themselves from an early period in all directions,
the walls were never extended beyond their original limits.
In general it may be observed, that the progress of architec¬
tural improvement has taken an eastern direction. Most of the
public buildings and new streets lie on that side of the castle,
whilst those towards the west are rapidly falling into decay.
About the year 1770 a road was carried round the city, so as to
connect all the outlets ; it was called the Circular Road. The
boundary thus formed measures somewhat less than nine miles,
and comprises an area within its limits of 1264 acres, inter¬
sected by the Liffey, which has 478 acres of the entire area
on its northern, and 786 on its southern side. Latterly the
lines of the Royal and Grand Canal on the north and south
have afforded a boundary line still more comprehensive ; but
the entire of the included area is not covered with buildings.
DUB
Dubno A circle, with Essex Bridge as a centre, and with a radius of
i| one mile, will comprehend very nearly all the inhabited part
Dubos. of the city, exclusive of the outlying villages. Both sides of
i ) the river are cased by walls of granite, forming spacious quays.
These are intersected by nine bridges ; Carlisle Bridge, nearest
to the sea; Wellington, or the Metal Bridge, a single arch of cast
iron, erected in 1816, for foot passengers only ; Essex Bridge,
of five arches ; Richmond Bridge, also of five arches ; TV hit-
worth Bridge, formerly Dublin Bridge; Queen’s Bridge ; King’s
Bridge ; and Sarah Bridge. The two last-named are each ot a
single arch ; the first of them of iron, the other, a building pe¬
culiarly elegant in its proportions, of stone. All these bridges
are of modern erection, and elegant in construction.
“ First impressions of Dublin,” says Inglis, “ are decidedly
favourable. Dublin, for its size, is a handsomer city than Lon¬
don. Sackville Street will compare with any street in Europe;
Merrion Square and St Stephen’s Green surpass in extent any
of the squares in the British metropolis. There are points of
view in Dublin, the quays, and some of the finest public edi¬
fices, more striking, I think, than any that are to be found in
London; and although the Irish capital can boast of no StPaul’s,
yet, in the architectural beauty of some of her public buildings,
she has just reason for pride. I need but name the Custom-
House, and the Bank of Ireland with its magnificent yet clas¬
sically chaste colonnades, in proof of this assertion.” There is
much truth in this description, yet the chief advantage which
Dublin has in picturesque beauty lies in the concentration of
the objects of interest within a small compass, and further exa¬
mination does not confirm the first favourable impression. Sir
John Forbes, who visited Ireland in 1852, says—“ I own my¬
self to have been a good deal disappointed with Dublin as a city.
To say nothing of its extent, it is greatly inferior in many other
respects, not only to London, but to several towns in England,
and some in Scotland. Its site is flat and monotonous, and its
streets and squares possess no architectural beauty. The former,
to be sure, are often very wide, and some of thelatter, as Merrion
Square and Stephen’s Green, are of immense extent, but there
is throughout a general want of elegance and grandeur. Most
of the streets seem to want dignity, and the majority of the
DUB 227
houses are common-looking, and even mean and dingy. While Dubos.
denying both beauty and grandeur to Dublin as a city, I must
join in the universal judgment as to the splendour of many of
its public buildings, as the Bank of Ireland—formerly the Par¬
liament House, the Custom-House, the Post-Office, the Royal
Exchange, &c.”
Few cities present a more striking picture of the extremes
of splendour and destitution than Dublin. A line drawn from
the King’s Inns in the north of Dublin, directly south, through
Capel Street, the castle, and Aungier Street, will, together with
the line of the Liffey, divide the whole area into four districts,
materially differing from each other in appearance and charac¬
ter. The south-eastern district, which comprehends three of
the great squares, and the north-eastern, which includes the
two remaining squares, are chiefly inhabited by the nobility,
the landed gentry, and the liberal professions. These two dis¬
tricts present many symptoms of affluence and luxury. But on
proceeding westward the scenesuddenly changes. A considerable
portion of the south-western district, which includes the liber¬
ties of St Sepulchre’s and Thomas Court, and was formerly the
seat of the silk and woollen manufactures, and also of the north¬
western portion of the city, are iq a state of almost hopeless
decay. The squalid misery visible in the ruinous portions of
the city is relieved to the eye by the beauty of the environs of
the city ; and in its immediate vicinity is the Phoenix Park, of
which the citizens are justly proud. It comprises an area of
1753 acres, within which are contained the Viceregal Lodge,
the usual residence of the lord lieutenant, with 160 acres of
demesne and gardens, the chief and under secretary’s lodges,
and the lodges of the park rangers and their assistants, with
their respective inclosed grounds, the Hibernian school for
soldiers’ children, the military magazine, the military infir¬
mary, the zoological gardens, the constabulary barracks, &e.
Inglis, a good authority on such subjects, pronounced this park
as superior, both in extent and diversity of surface, to any
public park, promenade, prater, or prado, belonging to any
other European city.—(Whitelaw and Walsh’s History of Dub¬
lin; Thom’s Irish Almanac; Gilbert’s History of the City of
Dublin, 1854. (n- s—B-)
DUBNO, a town of Russian Poland, capital of a cogno-
minal circle in the government of Volhynia, on the Irwa,
36 miles N. by E. of Brody. The town is very irregular
and ill-built, but it has a considerable trade in cattle and
timber. Pop. 8000.
DUBOI, a town of Hindustan, province of Gujerat and
district of Chumpaneer, standing in a low and marshy situa¬
tion. Here are the remains of a Hindu city of great anti¬
quity. The fortifications which surround it are nearly three
miles in circumference. Duboi is 40 miles N. E. from Broach.
The vast quantity of massive hewn stone used in the ancient
structures of Duboi is calculated to excite surprise, insomuch
as scarcely a pebble is to be met with in this alluvial part of
Gujerat. Lat. 22. 8.; Long. 73. 25. (e. t.)
DUBOS, Jean-Baptiste, an eminent French author,
was born at Beauvais in December 1670. At first he ap¬
plied himself to theology, but soon renounced this pursuit
for the study of public law, and of the political interests of
Europe. M. de Torcy, when minister of foreign affairs,
employed Dubos with advantage in several secret negotia¬
tions ; and both the regent and Cardinal Dubois made the
same use of his talents, with the same success. Having
retired from the field of politics, he entered upon that of
history and literature; and in 1 720 his works opened to
him the doors of the French Academy, of which, in 1722,
he was appointed perpetual secretary in the room of M.
Dacier. He died at Paris on the 23d of March 1742, at
the age of seventy-two, repeating as he expired the well-
known remark of an ancient, “ Death is a law, not a punish¬
ment.” According to Dubos, “ there are three things which
ought to console us for parting with life ; the friends whom
we have lost, the few persons worthy of being loved whom
we leave behind, and lastly, the recollection of our follies,
with the certainty that we shall commit no more.” His
first work was UHistoire des quatre Gordiens, prouvee et
illustree par des Mcdailles, Paris, 1695, l'2mo. Ihe com¬
mon opinion, which only admits three emperors of this
name, has prevailed in spite of all the efforts of his erudi¬
tion and criticism. About the commencement of the war
of 1701, being charged with different negotiations both in
Holland and in England, in order if possible to engage
these powers to adopt a pacific line of policy, he, in order
to promote the objects of his mission, published a work
entitled Les J ntcrets de I Angle ter re mal entendus dans la
Guerre presente, Amsterdam, 1703, 12mo. But as this
work contained indiscreet disclosures, of which the enemy
took advantage, and predictions which were not fulfilled,
a wag took occasion to remark that the title ought to be
read thus: Les Inter ets de F Angleterre mal entendus par
VAbhe Dubos. His next work was UHistoire de la Ligue
de Cambray, Paris, 1709, 1728, and 1785, 2 vols. 12mo.
This history, says Voltaire, is profound, political, interest¬
ing ; it makes us acquainted with the manners and usages of
the time, and is a model of its kind. In 1734 he published
his Ilistoire Critique de Vetablissement de la Monarchie
Francaise dans les Gaules, 3 vols. 4to; a work the object
of which was to prove that the Francs had entered the
Gauls, not as conquerors, but at the request of the nation,
which, according to him, had called them in to govern it.
But this system, though unfolded with a degree of skill and
ability which at first procured it many zealous partizans, was
victoriously refuted by Montesquieu at the end of the thir¬
tieth book of the Esprit des Lois. “ C’est un colosse,” said
Montesquieu, “ qui a de pieds d’argile, et c’est parce que les
pieds sont d’argile que le coloese est immense. Si 3e systeme
de M. 1’Abbe Dnbos avait eu de bons fondemens, il n’aurait
pas ete oblige de faire tvois mortels volumes pour le prouver;
il aurait tout trouve dans son sujet; et sans aller chercher
228 DUG
Dubris de toutes parts ce qui en etait tres loin, la raison elle-meme
II se serait chargee de placer cette verite dans la chaine des
Duchal. autreg v4rites. L’histoire et nos lois lui auraient dit: ‘ Ne
prenez pas tant de peine; nous rendrons temoignage de
vous.’ ” His Reflexions critiques sur la Poesie et sur la
Peinture, published for the first time in 1 719, 2 vols. 12mo,
but often reprinted in three volumes, constitute one of the
works in which the theory of the arts is explained with the
utmost sagacity and discrimination. “ All artists,” says
Voltaire, “ read it with advantage. It is the most useful
book which has ever been written on the subjects of which
it treats, in any nation of Europe. The excellence of the
work consists in this, that it contains few errors, and many
reflections which are just, novel, and profound. It is not a
methodical book ; but the author thinks, and makes others
think. He was, however, ignorant of music ; he had never
been able to make verses, and he had not a single picture
in his possession; but he had read, seen, heard, and re¬
flected much.” Besides the works above enumerated, a
manifesto of Maximilian, elector of Bavaria, against Leopold,
emperor of Germany, relative to the succession in Spain, has
been attributed to Dubos, chiefly, we believe, by reason of
the excellence of the style, which has been greatly com¬
mended. (j. b—E.)
DUBRIS, the ancient Roman name of Dover. See
Dover.
DUBUQUE, the capital of a cognominal county, state
of Iowa, North America; on the W. bank of the Missis¬
sippi, 72 miles N.N.E. of the city of Iowa. Pop. 4071.
It is the great depot of the Iowa lead region, and this metal
constitutes its chief export.
DUG AS, Michael, a Greek historian who flourished
under Constantine XII., and, after the fall of Constantinople,
was employed in various diplomatic functions by the princes
of Lesbos. He is the author of a history beginning with the
death of John Palaeologus L, and extending as far as the cap¬
ture of Lesbos in 1462, which has been edited by Bullialdus
(Paris, 1649), and by Bekker(Bonn, 1834). Although bar¬
barous in style, it is both judicious and trustworthy.
DUCAT, a foreign coin, either of gold or silver, struck
in the dominions of a duke. The ducat was first coined by
Longinus, governor of Italy, who revolted against the em¬
peror Justin the Younger, and made himself duke of Ra¬
venna, calling himself Exarcha, that is without lord or
ruler ; and he struck pieces of money of very pure gold
with his own stamp, which, as Procopius relates, were called
ducati, ducats. According to Du Cange, ducats were coined
by Roger, king of Sicily, in the year 1240. The Venetian
ducat was first struck by John Dandolo in 1280, and in¬
scribed with this legend,—
Sit Tibi, Christe, datus, quem Tu regis iste Ducatus.
DUCATO, Cape, the modern name of the ancient Leu-
cate, a promontory at the S. end of Santa Maura, one of the
Ionian Islands; celebrated as the rock from which Sappho
precipitated herself into the sea.
DUCATOON, a silver coin, struck chiefly in Italy,
particularly at Milan, Venice, Florence, Genoa, Lucca,
Mantua, and Parma; though there are also Dutch and Fle¬
mish ducatoons. See Money.
DUCENARIUS, in Antiquity, the name of various
officers and magistrates under the Roman emperors. The
principal of these were—the imperial procuratores, or inten-
dants, who received a salary of 200 sesterces; ducenarii
judices, petty judges, chosen from among persons possessed of
only 200 sesterces ; ducenarii, officers who had the command
of two centuries ; and the ducenarii or household troops.
DUCEN IESIMA, in Roman Antiquity, a tax of the
two hundredth part; one-half per cent.
DUCHAL, James, D.D. (1697-1761), an Irish Noncon¬
formist divine, was born at Antrim. He studied at Glasgow,
DUG
and was minister to a Dissenting congregation at Cambridge, Duchy
Antrim, and Dublin, successively. He was the author of a ||
series of discourses on the Presumptive Arguments for the ® uclos.
Truth of Christianity. A selection from his other discourses
was published posthumously in 1764.
DUCHY, or Dutchy, the territory or dominions of a
duke.
Duchy Court, the court of the duchy or county palatine
of Lancaster in England.
DUCK. See Ornithology.
DUCKING-Stool, a chair or seat in which scolding
women in former times were tied and plunged into water.
DUCLOS, Charles Pineau, a French author of some
celebrity, was born at Dinant, in Bretagne, in 1704. At
an early age he was sent to study at Paris. The impru¬
dence of youth, and his love of pleasure, led him at first to
contract certain intimacies which were little suited to his
circumstances; but having afterwards disengaged himself
from these, he courted the society of all the wits of his time,
by whom he was well received. He became a member of
that club, or association of young men, who published their
juvenile productions under the titles of Rccueil de ces Mes¬
sieurs, Etrennes de la St Jean, (Eufs de Paques, &c. The
romance of Acajou and Zirphile, which was composed after
a series of plates which had been engraved for another work,
was one of the fruits of this association, and was produced
in consequence of a sort of wager amongst its members.
The epistolary dedication to the public, which was prefixed
to this trifle, gave umbrage to some, in consequence of the
flippant tone which the author assumed. Duclos had pre¬
viously written two other romances, which were more fa¬
vourably received: The Baroness de Luz, and the Confes¬
sions of the Count de ***. His first serious publication
was the History of Louis XI. The style of this work is
dry and epigrammatical, but the author has displayed in it
considerable powers of research, and preserved the charac¬
ter of an impartial historian. The reputation of Duclos as
an author was confirmed by the publication of his Con-
sidtrations sur les Mceurs, a w ork which is much praised by
Laharpe, and not without justice ; for although the style, as
in most of the writings of this author, is rather stiff and sen¬
tentious, the book undoubtedly contains a great deal of just
and ingenious reflection. It wras translated both into English
and German. The Memoires pour servir a VHistoire du
dix-huitieme Siecle, which were intended by the author as
a sort of sequel to the preceding work, are nevertheless much
inferior both in respect of style and matter, and are, in rea¬
lity, little better than a kind of romance. In consequence
of his History of Louis XI. he was appointed historio¬
grapher of France, when that place became vacant on Vol¬
taire’s retirement to Prussia. His Secret Memoirs of the
Reign of I.ouis XIV. and Louis X V., and his Considera¬
tions on Italy, were not published until after the Revolution.
The former work is highly spoken of by Chamfbrt.
Duclos became a member of the Academy oflnscriptions
in 1739, and of the French Academy in 1747. Of the lat¬
ter he was appointed perpetual secretary in 1755. Both of
these academies were indebted to him not only for many
valuable contributions, but likewise for several useful regu¬
lations and improvements. As a member of the Academy of
Inscriptions, he composed several memoirs on the Druids;
on the origin and revolutions of the Celtic and French lan¬
guages ; on trial by battle, and proof by ordeal; and on
scenic representations and the ancient drama. As a mem¬
ber of the French Academy, he assisted in compiling the
new edition of the Dictionary, which was published in
1762 ; and he made some just and philosophical remarks on
the Port Royal Grammar. On several occasions he reso¬
lutely supported the honour and prerogatives of the societies
to which he belonged, and maintained the respectability of
the literary character in general. He used to say of him-
DUD
DUD
229
Duct
II
Dudley.
self, “ I shall leave behind me a name clear to literary men.”
His fellow-citizens, whose interests he always supported
with zeal, appointed him mayor of their town in 1744, al¬
though he was resident at Paris. He was afterwards elected
deputy from the commons to the assembly of the states of
Bretagne; and upon the requisition of this body the king-
granted him letters of nobility.
In 1766 he was advised to retire from France for some
time, in order that the government might have an oppor¬
tunity of forgetting some opinions which he had hazarded
on the subject of the dispute between the Due d’Aiguillon
and M. de la Chalotais, the friend and countryman of Duclos.
Accordingly he set out for Italy ; and on his return he wrote
an account of his travels, which is also praised by Chamfort.
He died at Paris, March 26, 1772, in the sixty-ninth year
of his age.
The character of Duclos, although it exhibited many
singular traits, was still respectable, whether we consider
him as a man or as an author. Rousseau described him very
laconically as a man droit et adroit. In his manners he
displayed a sort of bluntness in society, which frequently
rendered him disagreeable ; and his caustic wit on many
occasions created enemies. To those who knew him, how¬
ever, he was a pleasant companion. A considerable num¬
ber of his bon mots have been preserved by his biographers.
A complete edition of the works of Duclos was published
by Desessarts, at Paris, in 10 vols. 8vo, 1806.
DUCT, any tube'or canal by which a fluid is conducted
or conveyed. It is particularly used to denote the vessels
which convey the fluids in animal bodies; and likewise
those which convey the sap in plants.
DUCTILITY (Lat. ductilis), in Physics, that property
of certain solid bodies which consists in their yielding to
percussion or pressure, or admitting of extension by draw¬
ing, without an actual fraction or separation of the parts of
their mass. Some bodies are ductile both when they are
hot and when they are cold ; as metals. Others are duc¬
tile only when heated to a sufficient degree; as wax and
glass. Other bodies, again, particularly some kinds of iron
called by the workmen red short, brass, and some other
metallic mixtures, are ductile only when cold, and brittle
when hot. Certain bodies are made ductile by the absorp¬
tion of a fluid ; as clay. It is on the property of ductility
in metals that wire-drawing depends. The following is
nearly the order of ductility of the metals which possess this
property in the highest degree—commencing with the most
ductile :—gold, silver, platinum, iron, copper, zinc, tin, lead,
nickel, palladium, cadmium. The malleability of gold
(which, like that of other metals, depends on its ductility)
is such, that five grains may be made to cover about 270
square inches—the thickness of the leaf not exceeding
1-200,000th part of an inch. Dr Wollaston succeeded in
obtaining a platinum wire of which the diameter was only
1-30,000th of an inch.
DUDLEY, Edmund (1462-1510), a celebrated lawyer
and statesman in the reign of Henry VII., who with Sir
Richard Empson, another lawyer of the same stamp, assisted
in filling that rapacious monarch's coffers by arbitrary pro¬
secutions of the people on old penal statutes. On the ac¬
cession of Henry VIII., Dudley and Empson were attainted
of high treason, and beheaded, Aug. 18, partly in order to
pacify the clamours of the people for justice.
Dudley, John (1502-1553), Duke of Northumberland,
son of the above, a statesman memorable in English
history for the part he took in placing the crown on the
head of his daughter-in-law, Lady Jane Grey. Ambrose
(1530-1589), his eldest son, was a brave general and able
statesman under Queen Elizabeth, and received the ap¬
pellation of “ the good Earl of Warwick.” Henry, the
duke’s second son, was killed at the siege of St Quentin.
Robert, the third son, a man of bad character, was created
Earl of Leicester, and became one of Queen Elizabeth’s Dudley,
favourites. His fourth son was the unfortunate Lord Guild-
ford Dudley, the husband of Lady Jane Grey. See Eng¬
land.
Dudley, Sir Robert, as he was called in England, and,
as he was styled abroad, Earl of Wancick and Duke of
Northumberland, was the son of Robert above mentioned,
by the Lady Douglas Sheffield, and was born at Sheen, Sur¬
rey, in 1573. On his father’s death, in 1588, he succeeded to
the greater part of the patrimonial estate; and being fond
of navigation, he fitted out a small squadron at his own ex¬
pense, with which he sailed to the river Orinoco, and took and
destroyed nine sail of Spanish ships. In 1595 he attended
the Earl of Essex and the lord high admiral of England in
their expedition against the Spaniards ; and for his gallant
behaviour at the taking of Cadiz he received the honour
of knighthood. He now endeavoured to prove the legiti¬
macy of his birth, in order to be entitled to his hereditary
honours. But being overpowered by the interest of the
Countess Dowager of Leicester, he retired to the court of
Florence, where he was well received ; and on his refusal to
return to England his whole estate was seized by King
James I. and vested in the crown. At the court cf Cosmo
II. grand duke of Tuscany, he acquired considerable influ¬
ence, and enjoyed distinguished honours. For improve¬
ments in shipping and manufactures which he projected, as
well as for other services, the Emperor Ferdinand, in 1620,
created him a duke of the holy Roman empire. He after¬
wards drained a vast tract of morass between Pisa and the
sea, and raised Leghorn, which was then a mean and insig¬
nificant place, into a large and beautiful town, improving
the haven, and by his influence drawing many English mer¬
chants to settle there. Fie was also a zealous patron of
literature, and held a place in the republic of letters. His
most celebrated work is his Del Arcano del Mare, Firenze,
1630, 1646, folio. This work, which has always been
scarce, has now become extremely rare. There is a copy
in the British Museum, dated 1661, called the second edi¬
tion ; but that which we have seen belongs to the Society
of Writers to the Signet, Edinburgh. The work, which
consists of a collection of tracts, comprehends a great num¬
ber of projects for the improvement of navigation and com¬
merce, with the charts and plans relating to the subject;
all of them schemes which, considering the time when they
were devised, are quite remarkable for the boldness and
originality with which they are conceived, and the extent
of scientific acquirements which they exhibit. Sir Robert
Dudley died at his castle of Carbello, near Florence, in 1639.
Dudley, a parliamentary borough and market-town of
Worcestershire (in a detached portion of it, surrounded by
the county of Stafford), 8 miles W.N.W. of Birmingham.
Pop. (1851) 37,962. Registered electors (1851-52), 912,
returning one member to parliament. The town of Dud¬
ley is generally well-built, the houses are neat, and the
streets clean and well paved. The parish church of St
Thomas is a handsome modern Gothic structure, with a
lofty spire. The other churches are St Edmund’s, St James’s,
St John’s, and St Andrew’s ; and there are also various
dissenting places of worship. The free grammar-school,
founded by Queen Elizabeth, has endowments of upwards
of L.300 a-year, and educates about 40 scholars ; besides
which there are several well-endowed charity and other
schools. It has also a mechanic’s institute, savings-bank,
subscription library, dispensary, and various charitable in¬
stitutions. Dudley is a principal seat of the iron trade, the
vicinity furnishing abundant supplies of coal and iron-ore.
The principal manufacture is iron-ware, including chain-
cables, grates, fire-irons, and iron utensils generally ; but
nails constitute its staple production. It has also extensive
glass-works. The numerous forges and furnaces in Dud¬
ley and the vicinity illuminate the sky by night in a remark-
able manner. The limestone quarries around Dudley are
very extensive, the excavations being carried more than
a mile and a half under the hill on which the castle stands.
The stratification of this district is highly interesting to the
geologist, and the organic remains are very numerous.
On a hill to the north are the remains of an ancient castle,
founded about a.d. 700 by a Saxon prince named Dudo,
from whom the town is supposed to have taken its name.
Near the castle are some remains of an ancient priory. In
the vicinity of Dudley there are some chalybeate springs.
Market-day, Saturday.
DUEL, a combat between two persons. To distinguish
it from the unpremeditated combat or rencontre, it must
take place at a time and place appointed in consequence of
a cartel or challenge, and generally in presence of two or
more witnesses or umpires.
The word is derived from duellum, an antiquated form
of the Latin word helium; and, as a judicial trial, it has
been defined “ singulars pugnus inter duos ad probandam
litem, et qui vicit probasse intelligitur.”—(Fleta.)
The origin of duelling may be traced to that barbarous
state of society in which personal courage was followed as
the ruling principle, and esteemed as the noblest ornament,
of life. Under the influence of such principles, the consi¬
derations of justice and humanity were little regarded ; and
patience under injuries being branded as infamous and
cowardly, men were naturally impelled, not only to avenge
their own wrongs, but to gratify their private resentments,
at the point of the sword.
Before the dawn of Christianity had thrown its light upon
the interesting doctrine of a providence superintending the
affairs of men, the belief of an adequate distribution of re¬
wards and punishments in the present life seems to have
been generally received. The rich, the prosperous, and the
happy, were apt to be considered as the peculiar favourites
of Heaven ; whilst disease, misfortune, and sudden or vio¬
lent death, were regarded as the inflictions of divine ven¬
geance for the crimes of the sufferers. Hence, in a super¬
stitious age, arose the practice of making a direct appeal to
the Deity in the single combat, under the persuasion that
the justice of Heaven would infallibly declare for the inno¬
cent, and visit the perjured and the guilty with dishonour
and death.
The duel, as a judicial trial, prevailed at an early period
amongst the Germans, Danes, and Franks; and by a law
instituted in 501, by Gundebald, king of the Burgundians,
it was allowed in legal proceedings in lieu of swearing.
Louis le Debonnaire was the first French monarch who
permitted to litigants the trial by arms ; and the same mode
of trial was introduced into England, with other Norman
customs, by William the Conqueror. It was only used,
however, in three cases : in the court martial or court of
chivalry, in appeals of felony, and in civil cases upon issue
joined in a writ of right ; in which last it was the only de¬
cision, until Henry II., with consent of parliament, intro¬
duced the grand assize. None were exempt from the trial
by battle but females, the sick and the maimed, and persons
under fifteen or above sixty years of age ; ecclesiastics,
priests, and monks, being allowed to produce champions in
their stead.
The trial by battle, however, soon degenerated into a
convenient pretext for gratifying private revenge under
sanction of the law, or on pretence of discovering truth and
punishing perjury. Under the feudal system it was of course
warmly patronized, being but too congenial with the feel¬
ings and habits of the fierce and haughty barons, who, un¬
controlled by any principles of law or religion, disdained to
submit their differences to any arbitration, or to seek any
reparation for an injury but by the sword. Arms were the
sport, plunder and revenge the business, of their lives. And
to such a height did the evils arising from their private
quarrels and petty warfare increase, that it became neces¬
sary to adopt some means for controlling and directing the
torrent of military violence which threatened to sweep away
every feeling of justice and humanity, and subject the peace
and "comfort of the community to the unrestrained passions
of a fierce and lawless aristocracy. Martial societies were
accordingly instituted, whose duty it was to protect the
weak and defenceless, to relieve the oppressed, to correct
abuses, and to promote the public good.
Hence arose chivalry and knight-errantry, which, al¬
though they modified in some degree the evil of duelling,
by imposing a minute and punctilious system of observances,
had yet a tendency to perpetuate the practice, by institut¬
ing false and fantastic principles of honour. With the code
of punctilious regulations, the grounds and motives of the
duel were changed and extended. Malice and revenge
gave place to the gratification of personal vanity, and the
desire of that renown for deeds of arms which was consi¬
dered as the glory of the age. Tilts and tournaments were
the pastime of the nobles, and were not only countenanced
by the presence of the prince, who not unffequently shared
the dangers of the field, but graced by the attendance of
female beauty and distinction, from whose hands the suc¬
cessful champion received the prize of his achievements,
and at whose feet he longed to lay the trophies of his vic¬
tory. See Chivalry.
The tournament continued in high estimation, notwith¬
standing the many valuable lives sacrificed on the most
frivolous occasions, until the middle of the sixteenth cen¬
tury, when the death of Henry II. of France, in a tourna¬
ment given in honour of his sister’s marriage, gave a check
to these sanguinary amusements. At this entertainment
Henry sent his lance to Count Montgomerie, the captain
of his guards, who at first declined the challenge ; but on
the king repeating his commands, he was compelled to obey.
At tbe encounter, Montgomerie purposely broke his lance
against the king’s breastplate; but unhappily for the monarch
he wore his helmet open, and a splinter of the lance flew up
into his eye, and pierced his brain. He survived for about
a month in great agony, and died on the 10th July 1559.
(Cockburn on J)uels.)
In no country has the duel on private and personal quar¬
rels prevailed to so great an extent as in France. Francis
I. encouraged the practice hy his well-known determination
“ that the lie was never to be borne without satisfaction
but by a base-born fellow.” By his challenge to the Em¬
peror Charles V. he set an example which his fierce and
haughty nobles were but too eager to follow; and under
the countenance of their monarch their native propensity
to the single combat was indulged to an extent which all
the power of his successors was scarcely able to control.
The power of the church was frequently exerted to re¬
strain these bloody proceedings, especially by a council at
Valentia in 855, and lastly by the council of Trent, session
xxv. chap. 19, which excommunicated not only the comba¬
tants, but their associates, and even the spectators of the
battle ; declaring the custom to be detestable, introduced
by Satan for the destruction both of body and soul. It adds,
that “ all advisers, supporters, witnesses, or those in any way
concerned, are likewise excommunicated. Princes also who
connive at duels are to be deprived of all temporal power,
jurisdiction, and dominion over the places where they have
permitted duels to be fought.”
Philip the Fair, at the close of the thirteenth century,
forbade all gages or pledges of battle ; but this prohibition
was afterwards relaxed in several instances ; and in 1306 a
royal ordonnance was published, prescribing rules, condi¬
tions, and ceremonies for the combat.
In the reign of Henrv II. a noted duel was fought in the
king’s presence between Guy Chabot de Jarnac and Francis
de la Chastaignerie, in which the latter was slain; and on
DUE L.
231
this occasion Henry is said to have taken an oath never to
allow another during his reign. An edict was published
accordingly; but this, which appears to have been the first
royal prohibition of the duel, was productive of no good
effects. The prohibition indeed arose rather from the king’s
grief for the loss of his friend Chastaignerie than from any
desire on public grounds to abolish the custom ; and it ap¬
pears rather to have aggravated the evil, by increasing the
number of private duels; for the same punctilious notions
of honour from which the duel generally originated, and the
same dread of the imputation of cowardice which kept it
alive, were still entertained; and as the royal permission,
without which the duel had formerly been high treason,
could not now be obtained, each man became the judge in
his own cause; and in those delicate cases, of which the
law could take no cognizance, the point of honour was more
likely to be stretched than curtailed.
The parliament of Paris in 1599 declared all persons who
had assisted or been present at the prosecution of these un¬
lawful quarrels to be rebels to the king, transgressors of the
laws, and disturbers of the public peace.
Henri IV., during the first eighteen years of whose reign
no less than 4000 gentlemen are said to have perished by
the duel, alludes in his edict at Blois, 1602, to the disorders
arising from this barbarous custom ; and in 1609 he added
to the penalties already imposed, punishment by death,
confiscation of goods, fines, imprisonment, and degradation
from honour, on all who were in any way concerned in these
combats, not only principals and seconds, or bearers of chal¬
lenges, but. spectators, and even those who, being acci¬
dentally present, did not interfere to prevent bloodshed.
The severity of these edicts might have contributed greatly
to diminish the evil ; but unfortunately they arose rather
from the complaints of the people, and the persuasions of
the Duke of Sully, than from any desire on the part of
Henri himself to abolish a custom for which he privately
entertained a great partiality, as was evident from the readi¬
ness with which he granted pardons to offenders, and even
privately encouraged particular duels. He readily gave per¬
mission to Crequi to fight Don Philip of Savoy, and even
added this encouraging compliment, “ If I were not a king
I would gladly offer myself to be your second.”
It was not to be expected that, laws, however severe, the
open violation of which was thus countenanced by the mo¬
narch himself, could be productive of any beneficial effects;
and we find the passion for the single combat continuing
unabated during the reign of the succeeding monarch Louis
XIII. To such extent indeed did it prevail, that the com¬
mon inquiry when acquaintances met was not, “what is the
news to-day,” but “who fought yesterday; ” and Lord Her¬
bert, who was ambassador at the court of Louis, says, that
“ there is scarce a Frenchman worth looking on who has
not killed his man in a duel.”
Two noblemen, however, Montmorenci Count de Boutte-
ville, the most renowned duellist of the day, and the Mar¬
quis de Beuoron, persisting to fight in defiance of the royal
interdict, were tried according to law, and both beheaded.
This execution caused for a time a cessation of the san¬
guinary custom; but it was reserved for Louis XIV. to give
the first effectual check to the continuance of the practice.
During the minority of this prince a very desperate battle
was fought between the Dukes de Beaufort and de Ne¬
mours, each attended by four friends. The seconds of the
Duke de Nemours were the Marquis de Villars, the Cheva¬
lier de la Chaise, D’Uzerches, and Compan; and the Duke
de Beaufort was attended by D’Henricourt, De Ris, Buri,
and Brillet. They fought five against five, with swords and
pistols. Nemours was shot by Beaufort, the Marquis de Vil¬
lars killed D’Henricourt, and D’Uzerches slew De Ris : the
rest were only slightly wounded.
This, with another desperate encounter fou ht in 1663,
four against four, determined the king on taking some de¬
cided step to prevent the recurrence of such disgraceful and v
bloody quarrels. The famous edict published in 1679, with
the solemn agreement entered into by the principal nobility,
“ that they would never fight a duel on any pretence what¬
ever,” and the firmness of Louis in refusing pardon to all
offenders, contributed more to restrain this unhappy pro¬
pensity than all the efforts of his predecessors.
The practice of duelling in England, although it never
prevailed to such an extent as in France, may be traced to
the same causes which gave rise to it on the Continent. The
duel, as we have already mentioned, was early in use amongst
the Franks and Normans, and was probably by them intro¬
duced into England.
One of the latest instances of the trial by battle occurred
in the reign of Elizabeth in the year 1571, of which Sir
Henry Spelman, who was eye-witness, gives an account of
the whole proceedings, which were conducted, be says, “ non
sine magna jurisconsultorum perturbatione.” A proceeding
having been instituted in the court of common pleas, for
recovery of some manorial rights in the Isle of Hartic, Kent,
the defendant offered to maintain his right to possession by
the duel. The petitioners accepted the challenge ; and as
the court does not appear to have had the power of refusal,
champions were appointed, and all the requisite forms ad¬
justed. The queen, to prevent bloodshed, had commanded
the parties to compromise ; but, anxious at once to save the
credit of the defendant, who demanded the combat, and to
support the authority of the law, which enjoined its being
fulfilled, the ceremony of the duel was allowed to proceed.
On the appointed day the justices of the common pleas and
the counsellors appeared at Tothill Fields as umpires of the
combat; but as the petitioners did not appear to acknow¬
ledge their champion, they were nonsuited, and victory de¬
clared for the defendant. Thus ended the last judicial com¬
bat we read of in a civil case. Another, however, occurred
in the court of chivalry in 1631, and one in the county pa¬
latine of Durham in 1638; and the trial by battle was claimed
so late as 1818, in the case of Ashford v. Thornton, in an
appeal of murder.
But although the duel was disused in judicial proceedings,
the fantastic notions of honour to which it gave rise still pre¬
vailed; and as the law could take no cognizance of points of
honour and personal affronts, private duelling rather in¬
creased in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I.
During the civil wars the minds of men were too much
occupied with the agitating events of the time to pay much
attention to the settlement of points of etiquette, and private
feuds for the time were forgotten. The custom, however,
again gained ground after the restoration of Charles II.;
and although he did issue a proclamation to put the existing
laws in force, this object was defeated by his great laxity in
pardoning offenders.
In consequence of a duel between the Duke of Hamilton
and Lord Mohun in 1 712, which was fought with the greatest
ferocity and apparent determination of murder, and in which
both parties were killed, the subject again came under the
consideration of government. At the meeting of parlia¬
ment in the following! year, the queen’s speech alluded to
the subject in this sentence : “ the practice of duelling re¬
quires some speedy and effectual remedy.” No precise no¬
tice was taken of tins part of the speech in the address from
the House of Commons ; and a bill which was brought in
for the more effectual restraint of the duel was thrown out
on a second reading.
When the fashion of wearing the sword was abandoned,
private duels became less frequent in this country, and we
have no longer to deplore the numerous and often fatal
rencontres which, during the last century, were so frequently
begun and concluded in the moment and heat of passion,
and not seldom on the most frivolous occasions. Such was
232
Dugdale
II
Dub aide.
D U H
D U H
the duel between Lord Byron and Mr Chaworth in 1765,
which originated in a dispute during dinner about the quan¬
tity of game on their respective manors. The parties re¬
tired to an adjoining room, where they fought by the un¬
certain light of one small tallow candle, and Mr Chaworth,
although the more expert swordsman, was mortally wounded.
By the laws of this country all the parties concerned in
a duel which terminates fatally are guilty of murder, however
fairly the combat may have been conducted, and however
great the provocation.
The suddenness of the provocation, and the agitation of
excited feelings, which in other cases may be pleaded in
extenuation ot the crime, cannot be urged in favour of those
who, after ample time for deliberation, meet for the avowed
purpose of murder.
The duel between Major Campbell and Captain Boyd,
for which the former was executed in 1808, is well known,
and was considered as little better than deliberate assassi¬
nation. But in the case of Lieutenant Blundell, who was
killed in a duel at Carisbrooke Castle, in the Isle of W ight,
in 1813, everything appears to have been conducted with
perfect fairness; yet the surviving principal, the seconds,
and two others who were considered accessary, were con¬
victed of murder at the Hampshire assizes, and sentenced
to death; and although the royal pardon was obtained, they
were all dismissed from His Majesty’s service.
It is not one of the least evils of this system, that the
word honour, which, rightly understood, denotes all that is
truly noble and virtuous, should be prostituted as a pretext
for gratifying the most malignant of human passions, or as
a cover for that moral cowardice—the fear of being thought
afraid.
With a view to repress this absurd practice in the army,
three new articles of war were issued in the year 1844. The
first of these, as embodying the chief points, is here given:
“ Every officer who shall give or send a challenge, or
who shall accept any challenge to fight a duel with another
officer, or who, being privy to an intention to fight a duel,
shall not take active measures to prevent such duel, or who
shall upbraid another for refusing, or for not giving a chal¬
lenge, or who shall reject, or advise the rejection, of a rea¬
sonable proposition made for the honourable adjustment of
a difference—shall be liable, if convicted before a general
court-martial, to be cashiered, or suffer such other punish¬
ment as the court may award.”
The most salutary effect has resulted from these regula¬
tions, and it is to be hoped that the absurd practice of duel¬
ling will no more disgrace the service.
U UGD ALE, Sir William, an eminent English antiquary
and historian, was born at Shustoke, near Coleshill, in War¬
wickshire, in 1605. He was introduced into the herald’s
office by Sir Christopher Hatton, and ascended gradually
through all the degrees, until he became garter principal
king at arms. His chief work is the Monasticon Anglica-
num, in 3 vols. folio, containing the charters and descrip¬
tions of all the English monasteries, adorned with engravings;
a work in which he was assisted by Mr Roger Dodsworth.
Nor are his antiquities of Warwickshire less esteemed. He
wrote likewise, the History of St Paul's Cathedral, London,
1658, folio; a History of Embanking and Draining, Lon¬
don, 1662, 1675, 1676, folio ; a Baronage of England; and
he completed the second volume of Sir Henry’s Spelman’s
Councils, with a second part of his Glossary. He died on
the 10th February 1686, in the eighty-first year of his age.
His son, Sir John, was norroy king-at-arms, and published
a Catalogue of the English nobility. His daughter Eliza¬
beth was married to Elias Ashmole.
DU GONG. See index to Mammalia.
DUHALDE, Jean Baptiste, was born at Paris,
Feb. 1, 1674 ; and having entered into the society of Jesus,
he was at length appointed to succeed Father Legobien,
who had been intrusted with the duty of collecting and ar- Duhamel.
ranging the letters which they received from different quar-
ters of the globe. He was also for some time secretary to
the famous Father Letellier, confessor to the king of France.
Towards the close of his life he was attacked with acute
spasms, which he endured with exemplary resignation, and
died Aug. 18, 1743. Duhalde is represented as a man of
mild and amiable character, and as remarkable alike for his
unaffected piety and unwearied industry. He was the author
of some Latin poems, which do not evince any superior de¬
gree of excellence ; but the productions for which he is
principally distinguished are, 1. Lettres Edifiantes et Cu-
rieuses ecrites des Missions Etrangeres, which he edited
with great ability from the ninth to the twenty-sixth volume
inclusively, and which have been translated into English
and German ; 2. Description Geographique, Historique,
Chronologique, Politique, et Physique, de VEmpire de la
Chine et 'de la Tartaric Chinoise, Paris, 1735, in four vo¬
lumes large folio, with figures and an atlas by D’Anville.
This work, the first in which China is described with so much
exactness and detail, is at the same time a beautiful monu¬
ment of French typography. The description contained in
this work and in the Lettres Edifiantes has contributed ma¬
terially to advance the science of geography. (j. b—e.)
DUHAMEL, de Vrigny le Monceau, Henri Louis,
author of many valuable works on agriculture, natural his¬
tory, and the arts, son of Alexandre Duhamel, lord of
Denainvilliers, and of Anne Trottier, wTas born at Paris in
1700. His family had formerly emigrated to Holland, but
returned to France as early as the year 1400, with the Duke
of Burgundy.
He was educated at the College d’Harcourt; but the
chief advantage which he derived from his residence there,
was the taste for the further acquirement of physical know¬
ledge, which he afterwards pursued with ardour at the
Jardin du Roi, having for his fellow-students a number of
young men, who afterwards acquired a high degree of cele¬
brity, and among the rest Dufay, Geoffroi, Lemeri, Jussieu,
and Vaillant. At the age of twenty-eight he obtained the
title of adjunct botanist" in the Academy of Sciences ; in
1730 he became an associate, and in 1/38 an academi¬
cian, having previously been elected a fellow of the Royal
Society of London, in the beginning of 1 /34. Upon his
first admission into the list of the academy, his assistance
was requested in the investigation of a disease which af¬
fected the saffron cultivated in the Gatinois, where his
estate was situated; and he found reason to attribute it to
a parasitical fungus attached to the roots of the plant. His
memoirs and notes communicated to the academy, as well
as his separate publications, are so multitudinous, that the
shortest possible enumeration of their subjects can barely
be brought within the ordinary limits ot a biographical
article.
1. A Disease of Plants, Acad. Paris, 1728. 2. The Multiplication
of Fruits, 1728. 3. The Growth of Plants, 1729. 4. Grafting, 1730.
5. The Pear Tree, 1730-1-2. 6. Soluble Tartar, 1732-3. 7. Ether,
1734. 8. Salt of Sulphur, 1734. 9. Sal Ammoniac, 3 parts, 1735.
10. The Purple Dye, 1736. 11. The Base of Sea Salt, 1736. 12.
The Strata of Wood, 1737. 13. Frosts, 1737. 14. Bones Tinged
Red, 1739. 15. Polygala as a Pectoral, 1739. 16. The Misletoe,
1740. 17. Botanico-meteorological Observations, continued annually
for forty-two years, 1740-1781. 18. The Union of Fractured Bones,
2 parts, 1741. 19. The Strength of Timber, 1742. 20. The Growth
of Bones, 5 parts, 1742-3. 21. Frobenius's Ether, 1742. 22. Ana¬
tomy, 1743. 23. Slips, Layers, and Offsets, 1744. 24. Moisture in
Oak Timber, 1744. 25. A Magnetic Ore, 1745. 26. The Preserva¬
tion of Seed, 1745. 27. Magnetising a Bar, 1745. 28. Cordage,
1746. 29. The Wounds of Trees, 1746. 30. Lime, 1747. 31. Cal¬
cination of a Stone, 1748. 32. Ventilation, 1748. 33. Plants raised
in Water, 1748. 34. Gunpowder, 1750. 35. The Weight of Ignited
Metals, 1750. 36. Tull s Agriculture, 1750. 37. The Compass, 1/50.
38. The Strata of Trees, 1751. 39. The Growth of Horns, 1751. 40.
Bees, 1754. 41. Madder, 1757. 42. Spontaneous Combustions, 1757.
43. Ergot, 1759. 44. An Insect Devouring Corn, 1761; and separ-
\
D U H A M E L. 233
Dahamel. ately, 12mo, Paris, 1762. 45. A Descent of the Barometer, 1763. _46.
y ij'/ie Tea Plant in Sweden, 1763. 47. Inflammable Vapours, 1763.
48. Salts in Ashes, 2 parts, 1767. 49. Overdriving Animals, 1768.
50. Rhubarb, 1768. 51. Hair Returning after fifty years, 1770. 52.
A Change of the Needle, 1771. 53. Variation Compasses, 1772. 54.
A Monstrous Apple Tree, 1775. 55. The Management of Prisons,
1780. 56. Observations and Erperiments with Madder Root, ivhich
has the Faculty of Tinging the Bones of Living Animals of a Red
Colour. Phil. Trans, xli. 1740, p. 390. 57. Traite de la Culture
des Terres, 6 v. 12nio, Par. 1750. Ac. Par. 1755-7. 58. Architecture
Navale, 4to, Par. 1752, 1753. Ac. Par. 1752. Avis pour le. Trans¬
port par Mer des Arlres, 2d edit. 12mo, Par. 1753. 59. Conservation
des Grains, 12mo, Par. 1753, 1754, 1768. Supplement, Par. 1765,
1771. Ac. Par. 1765. 60. Fabrique des Man oeuvres pour les Vais-
seaux, 4to, Par. 1757. 61. Traite des Bois et Forets, 8 v. 4to, Par.
1755-1767. Arbres et Arbustes, 2 v. 1755. Physique des Arlres,
2 v. 1758. Semis et Plantations, 1760. Exploitation, 2 v. 1764.
Transport, Conservation, et Force, 1767. Ac. Par. 1755, 1758,
1760, 1767, 1768. 62. Moyen de Conserver la Santb aux Equipages,
12mo, Par. 1759. Ac. Par. 1755, 1758, 1759, 1760. 63. Traite- des
Arbres Fruitiers, 2 v. 4to, Ac. Par. 1768. 64. Traitts des l eches,
1769. Jointly with M. de la Marre. Ac. Par. 1769. 65. Art du
Charbonnier. Par. fol. Noticed Ac. Par. 1761. QG. De la Fabrique
des Ancres, 1761. 67. Du Chandelier, 1761. 68. De VEpinglier,
1761. 69. De Reduire le Fcr en Fil, 1768. 70. Du drier, 1.762.
71. De Faire les Fnclumes, 1762. 72. Du Cartier, 1762. 73. De
Rafiner le Sucre, 1764. 74. Du Drapier, 1765. 75. De Faire les
Tapis. 76. De Friser les Etoffes, 1766. 77. Du Couvreur, 1766.
78. Du Tuilier Briquetier. 79. Du Serrurier, 1768, 80. De Preparer
le Colle. 81. De Faire les Pipes, 1772. 82. Du Potier de Terre,
1774. 83. Du Savonnier, 1775.
The earlier part of Duhamel’s life was chiefly devoted
to the study of vegetable physiology, which he had con¬
tinued for thirty years before the publication of his prin¬
cipal works. The most original of his observations related
to the growth of plants, the formation of the bark and the
wood, the effects of grafting, the inversion of a tree, the
double motion of the sap, and the influence of light, air,
and soil. In agriculture he introduced the practice of dry¬
ing corn in a particular stove or kiln, with a heat sufficient
to destroy the insects which infested it and their larvas.
He made many experiments on manures; and he conferred
a great benefit on several provinces of France, by intro¬
ducing the cultivation of potatoes into general practice, as
well as by promoting that of rhubarb in different places.
Having obtained from M. Maurepas the appointment of
inspector-general of the marine, he undertook to make
himself master of every department of nautical knowledge;
and setting out with the established doctrines of Euler and
Bouguer, where theory was wanted, he collected for his
works on these subjects an immense mass of facts and ex¬
periments, affording the means of resolving every question
on practical grounds. He established a school for ship¬
builders, which effectually secured to them an education
superior to that of simple carpenters. He also made some
very valuable improvements in the theory of rope-making,
showing especially the disadvantages arising from the ex¬
cessive twisting of cordage. His conduct in this capacity
seems to have been as judicious in a moral as in a mechan¬
ical point of view ; whilst by his modesty and good nature
he silenced the contending passions of those with whom
he was obliged to enter into discussion, and was enabled to
unite a variety of opposite interests, in the important object
of the establishment of an academy for the cultivation of
naval science.
His meteorological observations included, besides the usual
registers, accounts of the direction of the magnetic needle,
of the state of agriculture, of the diseases of the year, and
of the times of migration of birds, and of the appearance of
their young.
From his experiments on the growth of their bones, he
inferred that they are enlarged by means of the ossification
of the laminae of the periosteum, nearly in the same man¬
ner as trees are known to grow by the hardening of the
cortical layers; although the bones, while they are soft,
voi.. vni.
expand in every direction, as the very young shoots of ve- DuhameL
getables are also found to do. Flaving learned from Sir
Hans Sloane that madder possesses the property of giving
colour to the hones, he fed animals successively on food
mixed and not mixed with madder ; and he found that their
bones in general exhibited concentric strata of red and
white, whilst the softer parts showed in the mean time signs
of having been progressively extended. These experi¬
ments are still of great importance in illustrating the phy¬
siology of ossification, although the actual conversion of the
periosteum into bone may justly be disputed.
In trees Duhamel found that the graft wTas incorporated
with the stock so as to form a single substance completely
identical with it; and he showed that animal bodies were
capable of a similar union, the vessels of the animals form¬
ing communications with those of the parts inserted ; the
spur of a cock, for instance, grafted into his comb, uniting
perfectly with it, and becoming gradually furnished with a
bony core, like the horn of a bullock, which either forms
a joint with the cranium, or is firmly attached to it, and
affords nourishment for the growth of this newly adopted
member.
Having demonstrated in 1737 the different natures of
soda and potass, he made an interesting experiment on the
production of these alkalies by different vegetables. He
sowed the head of the salsola kali at Denainvilliers, and it
was found by the analysis of Cadet that its ashes produced
at first soda, but afterwards more and more potass every
year; and after several generations almost entirely potass.
Flis other chemical memoirs were of less permanent im¬
portance; and with respect to the weight of ignited iron,
he was unfortunately inaccurate in his mode of conducting
the experiment, otherwise it must necessarily have led him
to an anticipation of some of the most important discoveries
of the last century.
From his extensive correspondence in different countries,
he wras enabled to communicate to the academy from time
to time a number of detached facts, which were both amus¬
ing and instructive, and which appear perpetually in the
histories of the respective years. His works were in gene¬
ral of an elementary nature, and calculated for the use of
such as possessed but little previous information ; and hence
they may appear to some readers to contain an unnecessary
detail of explanation. “ Prolixity,” says Condorcet, “ is
injurious to perspicuity, when we are addressing ourselves
to persons accustomed to fix their attention firmly on the
subject before them, who are able to observe the slightest
shades of difference, and to receive at once a variety of
ideas ; supplying, where there is occasion, any connecting
links of the chain, which may have been emitted. If we are
too diffuse, the attention of such persons droops for want
of excitement; their memory is fatigued with the attempt
to retain impressions which have not been communicated
to them with sufficient force ; and when they are compelled
to travel slowly, the delay exhausts them, from having been
in the constant habit of a more rapid motion. But it was
not for this very limited class of readers that Ehihamel’s
works were calculated. He wrote for the use of those who
seldom go beyond the bare expressions of the author, who
find all close attention toilsome, and who read rather for
simple information than for the cultivation of the mind ;
and an author may always be said to write well when his
style is appropriate to his subject, and to the capacity of
his readers.”
Duhamel was economical in his habits of life, and disin¬
terested in his views, sacrificing his own pecuniary advan¬
tage, and that of his family, to the desire of serving the
public by his experiments and his writings. Having once
established a certain scale for his expenses, he never trou¬
bled himself with keeping a minute account of them. His
integrity sometimes wore the appearance of severity, and
234 D U H
Duharnel. his vivacity that of harshness; but no imputation was ever
v ^ ^^ cast on the goodness of his heart. He was averse to all
changes, both in political and scientific institutions, which
were not connected with obvious improvement. He was
punctual in his attention to the duties which his religion
imposed on him, but he did not sacrifice to unnecessary
parade such of his hours as he thought might be more con¬
scientiously employed in studies of general utility. His
application, though assiduous, was seldom severely laborious.
He never entered into any matrimonial engagements. On
some occasions he felt himself neglected by the public ; but
he was little disposed to lament this injustice, except from
reflecting on the effect which it would have had on an in¬
dividual less zealous or less independent than himself. Be¬
sides his election as a fellow of the Royal Society of Lon¬
don, he obtained the honour of diplomas from the acade¬
mies of St Petersburg, Palermo, Bologna, Edinburgh, and
Padua, and from several agricultural societies; and his
name has acquired a celebrity commensurate with the ex¬
tent of his varied researches.
Few persons have ever passed through life with greater
tranquillity of mind, or with a greater desire of rendering
themselves useful to mankind, than Duhamel. He was one
of the most active promoters of the kind of revolution which
took place in the cultivation of science during the last cen¬
tury, and of which the characteristic distinction was, to
endeavour to turn its chief course towards the grand ob¬
jects of public utility and domestic convenience. Upon
this modification of the pursuits of natural philosophy, Con-
dorcet very judiciously remarks, that “ if the sciences have
sometimes raised themselves too high towards heaven, and
if it has been of advantage to recall them towards the earth,
we must still shun the opposite error of condemning them
to creep on it for ever.” And when we see the paths of
discovery open before us, we must follow boldly wherever
they lead us, confident that, sooner or later, all theoretical
knowledge may eventually confer some material benefit on
society, even with regard to the more practical purposes of
life. Duhamel indeed well knew the necessity of previous
study and of extensive inquiry for the success of his expe¬
rimental investigations ; and the former half of a long life
he spent chiefly in qualifying himself for making the obser¬
vations which he recorded, and deriving from them the
instructions which he published, in the latter. At a very
advanced age his memory began to fail; he still continued
his pursuits, but without reaping any advantage from his
application; he attended the meetings of the academy, but
took little or no interest in anything that passed at them ;
and after having been present at one of these meetings, on
the 22d of July 1782, he had an attack of apoplexy, which
wholly deprived him of his remaining faculties, and on the
13th of August put an end to his life.
A few years before his death he had felt very severely
the loss of his brother, who had lived constantly at Denain-
viiliers, and had assisted him in many of his agricultural
researches and meteorological observations, though he had
always remained anonymous. His nephew, M. Fougeroux,
had also been useful to him on several occasions in his
literary pursuits ; and this gentleman became heir to the
principal part of the property of both his uncles. Eloge,
by Condorcet, Hist. Ac. Par. 1782, p. 131. (t. t.)
Duhamel, Jean Baptiste, born in 1624 at Vire in
Normandy, wTas the son of an eminent advocate. He com¬
menced his studies at Caen, and completed them at Paris.
At eighteen he wrote a treatise on the Spherics of Theodo¬
sius, and a tract on trigonometry, designed as an introduc¬
tion to astronomy. In 1666, when Louis XIV., on the re¬
commendation of Colbert, established the Royal Academy
of Sciences, Duhamel was appointed perpetual secretary, a
situation for which he was eminently qualified. He was
preparing a history of the academy, when he was cut off in
D U K
the midst of his projects on the 6th of August 1706, at the Duilias
ao-e of eighty-two. He was a laborious student and a vo- II
luminous writer. He published numerous works on philo- Duk(;-
sophy, divinity, and natural science.
DUILIUS, Caius Nepos (b. c. 260), a Roman consul,
who gained a distinguished victory over the Carthaginian
fleet on the Sicilian coast near Myle. This being the first
naval victory of the Romans, Duilius enjoyed a splendid
triumph, and was rewarded with the privilege of being at¬
tended whenever he had occasion to return ifom a banquet
after nightfall by a torch-bearer and flute-player at the
public expense. A column was raised in the Forum to
commemorate his triumph, and was still to be seen in the
days of Pliny and Quintilian. During the consulship of
Duilius the Roman senate passed a decree forbidding the
interment of dead bodies within the city.
DUIS’BURG, a town of Rhenish Prussia, capital of a
cognominal circle in the government of Diisseldorf, between
the rivers Anger and Ruhr, about a league above the con¬
fluence of the latter with the Rhine, and 18 miles north of
Diisseldorf. Pop. (1849) 8948. It has a gymnasium and
several minor sehools, botanic garden, observatory, library,
and orphan asylum. Manufactures—woollen and cotton
goods, silks, leather, glue, tobacco, soap. It communicates
by canal with the Rhine; has ship-building docks and a
considerable trade. There are iron-works in the vicinity.
DUKE (Lat. dux), a sovereign prince, without the title
or quality of king. Some sovereigns have the title of grand
duke, as the Grand Duke of Tuscany and the Grand Duke
of Muscovy. The title of grand duke belongs to the heir-
apparent of Russia; and the title of archduke is given to
all the sons of the house of Austria, and that of archduchess
to all the daughter’s.
Duke is also a title of honour or nobility, the next below
that of prince.
The word dux is derived, a ducendo, from leading or
commanding. The first Roman duces were the ductores
exercituum, leaders or commanders of armies. Under the
later emperors, the governors of provinces in time of war
were entitled duces. The same denomination was after¬
wards also given to the governor’s of provinces in time of
peace. The Goths and Vandals, upon their overruning
the provinces of the Western empire, abolished the Roman
dignities wherever they settled; but the Franks, in order
to humour the Gauls, who had long been used to that form
of government, made it a point of policy not to make any
change in these matters; and accordingly they divided all
Gaul into duchies and counties, giving to the governors of
these sometimes the names of dukes, and sometimes that of
counts, or comites.
In England, during the Saxon times, Camden observes,
the officers and commanders of armies were designated in
the ancient Roman manner, without any addition ; but after
the NormanConquestthetitle wasdisused. Theorderof duke
in England is not of older date than the eleventh year (1335)
of the reign of Edward III., who created his son Edward
the Black Prince first Duke of Cornwall; a title which has
ever since been the peculiar inheritance of the king’s eldest
son during the lifetime of his father, so that he is dux natus,
non creatus. Subsequently several more dukes were created.
In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, however, that is, in 1572,
the order became utterly extinct; but it was revived In
1627 by her successor in the person of George Villiers,
duke of Buckingham.
Though the French retained the names and forms of the
ducal government, yet under their second race of kings
there was scarcely any such dignity as that of duke. All
the great lords were called counts, peers, or barons ; except¬
ing, however, the Dukes of Burgundy and Aquitaine, and
the Duke of France, which was a dignity held by Hugh
Capet himself, and corresponded to the modern dignity of
.
D U M D U M 235
bakinfield maire du palais, or the king’s lieutenant. By the weakness
of'the kings, the dukes or governors sometimes made them-
Dumarsais. se]ves sovereigns of the provinces intrusted to their admi-
nistration.
The title of duke is no longer given to the governors of
provinces, but has become a mere title of dignity, annexed
to a person and his heirs-male, without giving him any do¬
main, territory, or jurisdiction over the place of which he
is duke. A11 the advantages of the title now consist in the
name, and in the precedence which it gives.
The dukes of our days retain nothing of their ancient
splendour except the coronet on their escutcheon, which
is the only mark of their departed sovereignty. They are
created by patent, cincture of the sword, mantle of state,
imposition of a cap and coronet of gold on the head, and a
verge or rod of gold in their hand.
The eldest sons of dukes are by the courtesy of England
styled marquises, though they are usually distinguished by
their father’s second title, whether it be that of marquis or
earl; and the younger sons are lords, with the addition of
their Christian name, as Lord James, Lord Thomas, Lord
Charles ; and they take precedence of viscounts, though
not so privileged by the laws of the land.
DuKE-Duke, a title given in Spain to a grandee of the
house of Sylva,on account of his having several duchies from
the union of two considerable houses in his person.
DUKINFIELD, a township of Cheshire, on the left
bank of the Tame, which separates it from Ashton-under-
Line, of which it may be considered a suburb. Pop.
(1851) 12,132,- chiefly engaged in the cotton manufacture,
iron-works, and collieries, which are extensive.
DULCIGNO (the ancient Olciniuni), a seaport-town of
Albania, in European Turkey, situated on the Adriatic, 15
miles W.S.W. of Scutari. Pop. about 7000. It is a place
of some trade. The inhabitants were formerly notorious
for their piratical habits.
DLJLVERTON, a market-town of Somersetshire, in a
valley on the Barle, 25 miles W.S.W. of Bridgewater. It
has some manufactures of woollens and silks. Market-day
Saturday. Pop. 1497.
DULWICH, a hamlet in the parish of Camberwell,
Surrey, 4^ miles S.S.E. of St Paul’s, London. It is beau¬
tifully situated, and has numerous pretty villas. Pop. 1632.
Dulwich is celebrated for its college, founded by Edward
Alleyn in 1619. It contains a fine collection of paintings,
chiefly of the Italian and Flemish schools. A more detailed
account of this institution is given under Alleyn, Edward.
DUMAIISAIS, Cesar Chesneau, a French philologer,
was born at Marseilles July 7, 1676. His life consisted of
a succession of misfortunes ; and his merits, considerable as
they were, seem to have been entirely overlooked and ne¬
glected by his contemporaries. His father died while he
was yet an infant; and his mother, by her extravagance,
dissipated his patrimony. He was educated in his native
town by the Fathers of the Oratory, into whose congrega¬
tion he entered; but left them at the age of twenty-five,
and repaired to Paris, where he married, and was admitted
an advocate in 1704. He soon, however, quitted the bar,
separated from his wife, to whom he gave up the little he
possessed, and went to reside with the President de Maisons,
in the capacity of tutor to his son. He was afterwards suc¬
cessively tutor to the son of Law, the famous projector, and
of the Marquis de Beufremont. It was during this last pe¬
riod that he published the results of his grammatical inves¬
tigations, which were received with great coldness. At a
subsequent period he opened an establishment for educa¬
tion in the suburb St Victor, which scarcely afforded him
the means of subsistence ; and he expired, at length, under
the accumulated pressure of years, infirmities, poverty, and
neglect, on the 11th June 1756, at the age of eighty.
Dumarsais possessed no ordinary talents. His researches
are distinguished alike by their accuracy, ingenuity, and Dumbar
depth. As a man, he combined the greatest purity of ton'
morals and simplicity of character with a rare degree of
manly fortitude in the midst of his misfortunes; yet during
the greater part of his life he was left to languish in obscu¬
rity, and his merits scarcely attracted any notice until nearly
half, a century after his death. His works on philosophy
and general grammar, however, are worthy of attention.
Of these, the best is his Histoire des Tropes. D’Alem¬
bert and Voltaire have both paid a just and discriminating
tribute to the merits of Dumarsais. An edition of his works
was collected by Duchosal and Millon, and published at
Paris in 1797, in seven vols. 8vo.
In 1804, the French Institute proposed a prize for an
Eloge on Dumarsais, which was gained by M. Degerando,
whose work was published at Paris in 1805, in 8vo. A
previous and well-written Eloge on the same author, by
D’Alembert, is to be found in the Melanges de Litlera-
ture, and prefixed to the above-mentioned edition of the
Works of Dumarsais.
DUMBARTON (anciently called Lennox), a county in
Scotland, situated between N. Lat. 55. 53. and 56. 25., and
between W. Long. 3. 55. and 4. 53., consists of two districts,
which are six miles distant from each other, and are sepa¬
rated by part of Lanarkshire. The western and larger dis¬
trict is about 35 miles long from N.W. to S.E., and 15 broad.
It is bounded N. by Perthshire; W. by Argyleshire, from
which it is separated by Loch Long; S. and S. W. by the
river Clyde and Lanarkshire ; and E. by Stirlingshire. The
eastern district, which is about 12 miles in length from E.
to W., and 4 in breadth from N. to S., is completely inclosed
by the counties of Stirling and Lanark. The whole county
contains 297 square miles, or 189,844 statute acres. It is
divided into twelve parishes, of which there are only two in
the eastern district, viz., Kirkintilloch and Cumbernauld.
This last belonged to Stirlingshire, till the Earl of Wigton,
whose property it was, became heritable sheriff of Dumbar¬
tonshire, and annexed it to this county.
The climate is on the whole salubrious, but much more
humid than in many parts of Scotland. The prevailing winds
are from the west and south-west, but easterly winds are
frequent in the spring months. Frosts are seldom severe,
and, except on the mountains, snow never lies long. The
soils of the lower grounds are schistose clay mixed with small
stones, rich black loam on the banks of the Clyde, and gra¬
velly soil on the river Leven. About two-thirds of the
county are hilly or mountainous. The most elevated por¬
tions are in the W. and N.W.; while in the S.E. is a gene¬
rally flat district, watered by the Kelvin. Benvoirlich, in
the N., attains an elevation of 3330 feet, and several other
hills rise to a height of 3000 feet.
Coal, iron-ore, limestone, freestone, and slate, are its most
valuable mineral productions. There are pits for wrorking coals
at Langfauld and Lawmuir in East Kilpatrick, and at Dun-
tocher in West Kilpatrick, where great quantities are raised
for the consumption of the cotton factories at D untocher, and
for calcining lime at the neighbouring lime works. Ironstone
is found in considerable quantities in connection with lime¬
stone in the parishes of Kirkintilloch and Cumbernauld.
Limestone is found in the higher grounds at Kilpatrick,
Dumbarton, and Row. It is wrought, in connection with
coal, at Langfauld, Lawmuir, and Duntocher; and also at
Row, Netherwood, and Cumbernauld.
Several slate quarries have been wrought with success at
Luss, Camstradden, and Roseneath.
The only river of any note which can be said to belong to
this county is the Leven, the outlet of Loch Lomond, which,
flowing for about five miles through a fine valley, joins the
Clyde a: Dumbarton Castle. Its waters, which are singu¬
larly pure and soft, are well adapted for bleaching and print¬
ing cottons, branches of trade which are established to a
it
236
DUMBARTON.
Durnbar- great extent along its course. The other streams are the
ton. Falloch, Inveruglass, and Douglas. The Clyde, Endrick, and
Kelvin, flow along its borders. Lcch Long and Gare Loch
are arms of the sea, the first of which separates this county
from Argyleshire; and the other, penetrating the land lor
about seven miles, nearly detaches the peninsula of Rose-
neath from the mainland. Additional water-carriage is pro¬
vided by the Forth and Clyde Canal, which passes through
the county for more than 16 miles. This canal is carried
over the valley of the Kelvin by an aqueduct. The only
remarkable lake is Loch Lomond, which is about 21 miles
long, and in its greatest breadth towards the south above
7. It narrows to about one mile at its north end. About
two-thirds of the shore, and most of its islands (thirty in
all), are in Dumbartonshire ; the rest belong to Stirlingshire.
It is probably not to be equalled by any hike in Britain for
the variety and magnificence of its scenery ; the picturesque
beauty of its wooded banks and islands aflording a striking
contrast to the rugged and lofty mountains that rise in its
vicinity. It has an area of about 40 square miles.
The valued rent of the county in 1674 was L.33,327 Scots.
The annual value of real property, as assessed in 1815, was
L.71,587; and in 1849 was L.150,122. The principal
gentlemen’s seats are—Rossdhu, Sir James Colquhoun;
Roseneath and Ardincaple, Duke of Argyle; Buchanan,
Duke of Montrose ; Gartseube, Sir James Campbell.
The county sends one member to parliament. The par¬
liamentary constituency in 1853 was 1297.
The arable lands of Dumbartonshire are divided into
farms ranging in extent from 30 to 300 acres, and some of
them comprise as many as 700 or 800 acres. Of late years
great improvements have been made in agriculture, and in
the breed of all kinds of stock. The rotation of crops is
almost universally practised. Wheat, cats, potatoes, and
barley, constitute the principal crops. Leases are held gene¬
rally ibr nineteen years. The dairy stock is principally of
the Ayrshire breed, and much progress has of late been
made in this department. Great improvements have also
been introduced in the construction of farm-buildings, and
in the fences of the land.
There are in this county many excellent tracts of pasture
land. Sheep of the black-faced breed, and a limited num¬
ber of black cattle, are reared with great success. The
sheep are disposed of in Glasgow, where there is a weekly
sale; and great numbers of cattle are sold at the Carman
market, for the purpose of being fattened on the rich pas¬
tures of the south. In the highland district, farms for graz¬
ing are necessarily of great extent. But it is not uncommon
for fishermen and mechanics to hold pendicles, or “ poffles,”
as they are called, below L.12 of rent; and the cottars, who
are usually employed as labourers on the larger farms, rent
small patches of arable ground for raising potatoes, with hill
pasture lor a cow.
The woods and plantations of this county are extensive
and valuable, and yield to the proprietors a yearly income
almost equal to the rent of the arable lands. On spots un¬
favourable to oak, the coppice woods consist of ash, yew,
holly, mountain-ash, birch, hazel, aspen, alder, crab, thorn,
and willow. The soil and climate of this county are par¬
ticularly favourable to plantations, which begin to make a
return to their owner in ten or twelve years, and in thirty
years afford supplies to the carpenter. The most extensive
plantations are on the estates of Luss and Bonhill. There
is a very fine ash in Bonhill churchyard, the branches of
which cover an area 100 feet in diameter. Its trunk is about
9 feet high, the smallest diameter is 6 feet, and its three
principal branches are from 10 to 12 feet in circumference.
On the banks and islands of Loch Lomondthereis a consider¬
able number of yew trees, some of them of great size.
The manufactures of this county are various and exten¬
sive. There are extensive cotton factories at Duntocher ;
there are paper-mills at Dalmuir ; two extensive ship-build- Dumbar-
ing yards and two glass manufactories at Dumbarton ; and ton.
along the course of the Leven are numerous print-works and
bleach-fields. Throughout the county the number of per¬
sons engaged in the cotton manufacture in 1851 was 4071 ;
in calico-printing, 2581 ; in the manufacture of paper, 165 ;
in the coal mines, 549; while the number of persons en¬
gaged in agriculture amounted to about 4000. The census
returns since 1801 give the following results in regard to
the population:—
Males 
Females.
Total..
1801.
9,796
10,914
20,710
1811.
11,369
12,820
24,189
1821.
13,046
14,271
27,317
1831.
16,321
16.890
33,211
1841.
22,542
21,754
44.296
1851.
22,400
22.703
45,103
Dumbarton, a royal parliamentary and municipal burgh
and seaport-town of Scotland, capital of Dumbartonshire, is
situated at the confluence of the rivers Clyde and Leven,
13 miles N.W. from Glasgow. It is a very ancient place,
and is said to have been once the capital of a kingdom of
the Britons established in the vale of the Clyde. Alcluyd
was the name of this ancient capital of the Strathclydenses ;
but whether it was situated on the site of the present town,
or confined within the precincts of the castle, cannot be
exactly ascertained. Dumbarton is built upon the eastern
bank of the Leven, which almost encircles it. The greater
part of the town is composed of one main street, lying
in a semicircular form round the head or west end of
the peninsula. It was erected into a royal burgh by Alex¬
ander II. in the year 1221, and declared to be free of all
imposts and burgh taxes. It afterwards received other
charters ifom succeeding monarchs ; and, finally, it obtained
a confirmation of the w hole from James VI. The subse¬
quent history of the burgh is destitute of interest. Besides
the main street, there are some minor thoroughfares, lanes,
and detached houses, and a suburb on the western side of
the Leven, leading to Renton. It is connected with the
latter by a good stone bridge of five arches, 300 feet long.
The waters of the Leven form the harbour, and, for the be¬
nefit of trade, a quay and dock have been formed. Ship¬
building is carried on to some extent. The principal ar¬
ticle of manufacture and export is glass. The other and
inferior manufactures of Dumbarton are leather, glue, some
linen, beer, &c., with a considerable quantity of goods for
the Glasgow market. Market-day Tuesday. The muni¬
cipal corporation consists of a provost, two bailies, fifteen
councillors, deacon of the incorporated trades, dean of guild,
chamberlain, &c. It unites with Renfrew, Rutherglen,
Kilmarnock, and Port-Glasgow, in returning one mem¬
ber to the imperial parliament. The church of the burgh
and parish is a handsome modern structure with a spire
and clock. There are also in the town a Free church,
a United Presbyterian, and a Roman Catholic chapel.
It has also a grammar-school, savings-bank, news-room,
and library. The situation of Dumbarton Castle is emi¬
nently picturesque. The buildings composing the fort
are perched on the summit of a rocky mount, shooting
up to the height of 206 feet sheer out of the alluvial
plain on the east side of the debouche of the river Leven.
To the west of the castle there are rocky eminences on
the verge of the Clyde, of a similar form, though less
isolated. The rock of Dumbarton measures a mile in
circumference at the base. It diminishes in breadth near
the top, which is cloven into two summits, of different
heights. The rock is basalt, and has a tendency to co¬
lumnar formation. Some parts of it have a magnetic qua¬
lity. The fortress, naturally strong, possesses several bat¬
teries, which command a very extensive range. Accord¬
ing to a provision in the treaty of union, the defences are
\
D U M F
Dumbness kept in constant repair, and a garrison is maintained in the
|| castle. Dumbarton is a station on the line of railway be-
Dumfries. ^ween Bowling and Balloch ; and is in constant communi-
Cation with Glasgow, Greenock, &c., by means of steamers.
Pop. 4590.
DUMBNESS. See Deaf and Dumb.
DUMFRIES, a county in the south of Scotland, is situ¬
ated between 55. 2. and 55. 31. N. I.at.; and 2. 39. and
3. 53. W. Long. Its greatest length is nearly sixty miles,
and its greatest breadth from thirty to thirty-one. The
boundaries are Kirkcudbright and Ayrshire on the S.W.;
Roxburgh, Selkirk, and Peebles, on the N.E.; Lanark on
the N.; and on the S. the Solway Firth and the county
of Cumberland. The principal rivers are the Nith, the An¬
nan, and the Esk, all of which discharge themselves into
the Solway Firth. These rivers are fed by numerous
tributaries, and the whole of them abound in salmon. The
square miles of the county are calculated at 1129, and the
acres at 722,813. Like many other Scottish counties,
Dumfriesshire is popularly divided into districts. Of these
there are three principal; Eskdale on the east, Annandale
in the middle, and Nithsdalc on the west; each taking its
name from the river which traverses it. From these larger
divisions diverge smaller vales, which likewise derive their
titles from the streams that flow through them, such as
MofFatdale, Dryfiesdale, and Ewesdale. From various cir¬
cumstances, the limits of these great divisions are but im¬
perfectly defined, and have recently been abandoned. The
Solway Firth waters the base of the county for twenty-four
miles, and along its margin the land is generally flat lor
about ten miles. Beyond this the county expands into a
series of hills and valleys, which rise gradually northward
till they reach the mountain chain which bounds it in that
quarter. The principal elevations are, Lowthers near Wan-
lockhead, which rises 3150 feet, and Hartfell in Annan¬
dale, which rises 2629 feet above the level of the sea. In
former times it was said that 86 square miles were in general
low arable land, lying on the sea-coast, 322 miles chiefly hilly,
and 598 mountainous. But this distribution has been dis¬
turbed by the steady progress of bone manure and green-
crop husbandry. Steeps which it was impossible to sharpen
by common manure, from the expense and difficulty of
transporting it thither, have been brought into excellent
heart by ground bones, and improved by at least 100 per
cent, both as crop and pasture land. Many hills which were
nearly bare have been covered to their tops with thriving
plantations. Since 1810 the Dukes of Buccleuch have in¬
closed and planted 6600 acres of land ; extensive additions
are contemplated. Large sums of money have been ex¬
pended in road-making and fencing. Still a large propor¬
tion of the county is mountainous, and is devoted almost
exclusively to sheep farming, which, since the mortality of
1829, has again become very profitable. Judging from the
map, nearly a third of the land in the county belongs to
the Duke of Buccleuch, who possesses a rental of nearly
L.200,000 yearly, L.80,000 of which are drawn from Dum-
fries-shire. In 1811, when the property-tax pressed on the
energies of the country, the whole rental of the county was
estimated at L.246,001, 12s. 6d.; and although rents have
fallen greatly since that period, so marked has been the pro¬
gress of improvement, that at present (1854) it has risen to
L.334,272, made up thus: lands L.280,885; houses and
tenements, L.46,287; quarries, mines, fisheries, gas-w'orks,
L.7100. The principal proprietors are the Duke of Buc¬
cleuch, the Marquis of Queensberry, and the Earl of Mans¬
field ; Mr Hope Johnstone of Raehills, General Sharpe
of Hoddam, Mr Rogerson ofDumcrieff, Mr Douglas Baird
of Closeburn, and Mr M‘Alpine Leny of Dalswinton.
The climate of Dumfriesshire is mild and salubrious.
Much of the land has a southern exposure, and, excepting
in very severe winters, the snow speedily disappears. The
R I E S. 237
soils are gravel or sand loam, and clay, with moor and Dumfries.
moss in some places, particularly along the bed of the
Lochar, with alluvial tracts on the banks of the rivers and
the Solway Firth. The farms vary greatly in size ; but for
years there has been a tendency to uproot almost entirely
the pendicle system. On the Buccleuch estates the farms
are generally extensive. Many excellent steadings of houses
have been built, and subdivisions formed over waste tracts,
which for centuries remained uninclosed. The usual rate
of wages for a ploughman is from L.6 to L.10 per half-year,
with board and lodging in the case of unmarried men, and
a proportionate allowance of meal, potato-land, &c., for hinds
with families. House and dairy maids receive from L.3 to
to L.3, 10s. per half-year; day-labourers Is. 6d a-day in
winter, and 2s. in summer.
At one time the quantity of lime used, or at least worked,
in Dumfriesshire, was very great, and it is still considerable.
The principal pits are those of Kilhead, Closeburn, and
Barjarg; and within the last fifteen years the supply was
estimated at 1,200,000 Winchester bushels, valued at
L.54,000. The capabilities of the pits are still great, but
the demand for lime has diminished, owing to the increas¬
ing use of bone-dust, a manure which unites to a certain
extent the qualities of lime and common dung. Mr Men-
teath of Closeburn was a great land improver, and con¬
verted bogs which were hardly worth five shillings an acre
into some of the finest pasture land in the county, by the
combined effects of pairing, careful selection of seed, the
application of lime, and irrigation. Cattle and sheep are
bought at the Falkirk trysts, and fattened during winter and
the early part of spring. The latter branch of traffic is
yearly extending. The indigenous breed of cattle is still
the Galloway, although not always pure and unmixed. Of
heavy or drove cattle, about 20,000 head are driven south
annually, and their value in good years amounts to nearly
L.200,000. Mr Charles Stewart of Hillside, who has de¬
voted much attention to agricultural statistics, gives the
following valuable information respecting the present state
(1854) of Dumfriesshire:—“In addition to drove cattle,
there are also sent to other markets in the northern coun¬
ties of England, Galloway heifers bred in Dumfriesshire,
and West Highland cattle kept a year in the county, of
both sorts about 8000, and at an average value of L.8
a-head. Taking both these, the produce of the county may
be about L. 120,000. Of fat cattle, between 2500 and
3000 are stall-fed for the butchers ; about one-half of which
are consumed in the county, the other sent to Liverpool—-
value in all about L.40,000. The sheep are of three kinds
—black-faced, Cheviots, and half-breds, the latter being a
cross between the Leicester and the Cheviot. Rather un¬
der half the extent of the county is still occupied entirely
by pure Cheviot or black-faced breeding stocks, of which
five-sixths are Cheviot. The whole number of both is
about 150,000. The annual sale from these are—lambs,
80,000 ; draft ewes about 22,000. The lower hill pastures
with portions of the arable farms are occupied with Cheviot
and black-faced ewes (four-fifths of the former) crossed with
Leicester rams, and may amount to. nearly 90,000. These
produce almost but not quite one lamb for every ewe, say
85,000. On the arable farms, winter-fed nearly all on tur¬
nips, there are at least 110,000; of which in average years
there may be 20,000 ewes and Highland wedders, and the
remainder lambs or hogs, partly pure Cheviots and partly
Leicester crosses, there being rather more of the latter.
Then of the 165,000 lambs sold, one-half or rather more
are fed in the county, and the other sold out of the county.
Total sheep in the county, computed in November yearly,
350,000. Taking thq_ last three years, the gross returns to
the farmers would be—cattle store L.l 20,000, fat L.40,000,
total L.160,000. Sheep, first class, 150,000, giving an annual
clear return of 11s. each, L.82,500; second class, 90,000,
238
DUMFRIES.
Dumfries.
do. of 16s.,L. 72,000; third class, 110,000, do. of 17s., L.93,000.
Total L.248,000. Exclusive of this, there are sales o/f the
farms, the produce of the dairy cows and grain ; but these
do not amount to L.100,000. Allowing another L.100,000
for the produce of pigs, we have thus the sum total of
L.608,000 of sold produce for the county of Dumfries.”
Swine-rearing is much cultivated in Dumfriesshire and
Galloway ; and a large proportion of the hogs reared in the
stewartry are sold in Dumfries, and cured in Annandale
and Cumberland. The curing trade lasts for about three
months, commencing in December and ending in February.
The sales are all paid in ready money; and instances have
occurred in which green pork to the amount of L.6000 has
been sold before breakfast-time on a market-day. The
curers have good and bad seasons ; but the capital required
induces caution, and it is a fact that bankruptcy is nearly
unknown among the bacon traders of the district. The
hams of Dumfriesshire are so much esteemed that they are
frequently sold in London under the name of Westphalian.
Those who farm pendicles trust mainly to their pigs when
rent-day comes round; and the trade every year brings
L.2000 into Johnstone. Its annual value to the district,
including the curer’s profit, must be very nearly L.100,000
sterling.
The manufactures of the county are dressed leather, ho¬
siery, clogs, and carpets. The cotton mill at Langholm
has ceased to work, and such weavers as remain there are
supplied with webs by the manufacturers of Carlisle. In
Dumfries and other parts of the district the weaving po¬
pulation derive employment from the city of Glasgow. The
hosiery trade exceeds L.30,000 per annum; but that of
dressed leather has much decreased. The carpet and spin¬
ning and dyeing manufactory at Crawick Mill, in the neigh¬
bourhood of Sanquhar, employs 150 persons, young and
middle-aged. It consumes nearly 5000 stones of wool,
and produces 70,000 yards of carpeting yearly. The wages
average from L.180 to L.200 monthly.
Although, as we have already remarked, Dumfriesshire
is mountainous, its lakes are inferior to those of Galloway,
both as to number and extent. We must make an excep¬
tion, however, in favour of the Castle Loch of Lochmaben.
Bruce’s castle stood on a promontory on the farther side of
the loch ; but it is so much dilapidated that such artists as
sketch it contrive to hide the nakedness of bare unashlared
walls by the enlivening screen of green trees. In some of
the lakes a singular fish is found, known under the name of
vendace, and which is supposed to be peculiar to this place,
if we except, perhaps, the lake of Geneva. At the “ four
towns of Hightae,” in the neighbourhood, King Robert
granted feus to a class of persons who were known as “the
king’s kindly tenants.” Their possessions are small, but
the land is rich, and they sit at almost a nominal rent.
They are a peculiar race, who live in a little world of their
own, and are beginning to feel the effects of continued iso¬
lation and intermarriage among the members of their own
tribe. Loch Skene, about ten miles from Moffat, is the
only other lake of consequence. It is 1300 feet above the
level of the sea; the scenery around is stern and savage in
a high degree; and its superfluous waters, in escaping to
the strath or valley below, foam and leap from the dizzying
heights above, and form the fine cascade called the Gray
Mare’s Tail.
Considerable quantities of salmon are caught in the Nith,
and in the stake-nets at Caerlaverock and Annan Water
Foot. The finny tribes push into other streams, such as
the Milk, the Esk, the Ewes, and the Wauchope ; and in
former times were speared in Moffat Water. The supply of
red fish is augmented by importations from Galloway.
I he lower parts of Dumfriesshire consist of different va¬
rieties of sandstone, the strata of which generally dip to the
Solway. Ihere is a considerable body of limestone, as we
have already observed. Iron in different forms is also found Dumfries,
in the strata. Marl abounds in various parts ; and of free-
stone and whinstone there is abundance everywhere. Mar¬
ble is also procured, and employed for some purposes. A
little slate is likewise found. Coal in considerable quanti¬
ties exists at the two extremities of the county, Sanquhar
and Langholm; and, with one or two exceptions, all the
pits belong to the Duke of Buccleuch. Lengthened land-
carriage prevented the tacksmen from competing with the
coal miners of England; and consequently the town of
Dumfries and many parts of the amnty were supplied with
fuel from Workington and Maryport; but the opening of
the Glasgow and South-Western railway has completely
changed the state of matters. Abundance of coals is now
supplied from Kilmarnock, Cumnock, and Sanquhar. The
lead mines at Wanlockhead belong to the Duke of Buc¬
cleuch, and are distant two miles from Leadhills in Lanark¬
shire, which belong to the Earl of Hopetoun. Both have
declined greatly from the increased difficulty of working
the shafts, and the poverty of the ore. For 30 years pre¬
viously to 1828, each of the places mentioned produced
about 700 tons of melted lead annually ; the price L.23 per
ton, and the gross revenue L.20,700. The Duke of Buc¬
cleuch now works Wanlockhead mines on his own account,
and erected in 1846 a mill for separating the silver from the
lead. The following are the quantities of silver and lead
procured during the last six years.
1848  4168 oz. of silver. 614 tons of lead.
1849  5307 ... 797
1850  5286 ... 715
1851  4596 ... 701
1852  3774 ... 549
1853   530
During that period the price of lead has varied from L.15
to L.20 per ton. The number of persons employed on
Wanlockhead at present (1854) amounts in all to 245. Each
miner on an average may be supposed to earn at present
L.28 during the year. Whether we regard the comforts
or the intelligence of the mining population, we shall find
it equal, and even superior, to that of any former period.
The mineral waters of Moffat are well known ; but the
spas in other parts of the county are too obscure to require
special notice. The chalybeate at Hartfell acts as a power¬
ful tonic, and contains, of sulphate of iron 84 grains, sul¬
phate of alumina 12, oxide of iron 15, and 5 inches of azotic
gas, in a wine gallon. This spring was discovered about
100 years ago, but is too remote from the village to be of
much use. The other spring, which is much more acces¬
sible, is strongest and best at the fountain-head, and pro¬
bably the walk or ride (about a mile and a half) does as
much good to invalids as the water. The Moffat Spa con¬
tains, muriate of soda 36 grains, sulphuretted hydrogen gas
10 cubic inches, azotic gas 4 inches, carbonic acid gas 5
inches. More than two centuries have elapsed since this
spring was discovered. Many years ago baths, with a pump
and reading-room, were erected by subscription in Moffat,
at an expense of L.2000; an immense improvement, which
has greatly increased the annual number of visitors. Annan,
Lockerby, and Langholm, are all thriving, well-built towns.
The scenery of the latter place is much admired, particu¬
larly the ride along the banks of the Esk to Longtown.
The county sends one member to parliament, and the
united burghs of Dumfries, Annan, Lochmaben, Sanquhar,
and Kirkcudbright, a second. The population amounted
in 1841 to 72,830, and in 1851 to 78,123. The parlia¬
mentary constituency in 1853 was 2530.
Dumfries, the capital of the above county, is a royal
burgh of considerable antiquity, although the period at which
it became incorporated is not exactlv known. During the
border wars it was frequently stormed, and the public re¬
cords were destroyed. The current belief, however, is, that
it received its charter before the middle of the eleventh cen-
DUMFRIES. 239
Dumfries, tury, as a gravestone was discovered a number of years ago,
bearing the date 1079, and mentioning that the individual
whose ashes it covered had been conspicuous as a merchant
and burgess of the town. From this time it gradually in¬
creased in importance ; and in the year 1307, Edward the
Second appointed the estates of Scotland to assemble on
the banks of the Nith. In certain chronicles the ancient
name of the town is said to have been Cotiac, but this we
suspect is mere fancy. It seems much more probable that,
like many other places, it derived its name from its physical
appearances and character. In remote times the Gaelic was
spoken on both sides of the Firth of Forth ; and we concur
in the etymology of Mr George Chalmers, who conceives
the word to be composed of dun a castle, and fries a ridge.
Dumfries, which may be regarded as the capital of the south
of Scotland, is beautifully situated on the left bank of the
river Nith, 35 miles below its source, and upwards of 10
above the point where its waters mingle with and are lost
in the Solway. The Nith in point of size ranks fifth among
the rivers of Scotland, and is navigable from Carsethorn to
Glencaple quay, even for vessels of considerable burthen.
In consequence of the extraordinary manner in which the
tides ebb and flow in the Solway during the winter months,
the river is similarly affected.
The origin of the town appears to have been owing to a
strong castle, which flourished as a border fortress during
the twelfth century, and frequently became an object of
contention, both prior and subsequent to the times of Wal¬
lace and Bruce. Of this stronghold not a vestige remains;
but the street occupying the ground on which it stood re¬
tains the name.
In razing what remains of this place of strength, the local
authorities, more than a century ago, found materials for
building the new church. The Gray Friars, like the castle,
attracted settlers; and, as early as the thirteenth century,
the old bridge was planned and built at the expense of the
Lady Devorgilla, third daughter of Alan, lord of Galloway,
and grandmother to John Comyn, whowas slain by Robert
Bruce in the above-mentioned cathedral in the begjnnins:
of the year 1305. Originally it consisted of thirteen arches,
and was guarded at the middle by a gate or port, which was
removed in 1769, to lessen the central pressure when the
structure became frail. This bridge, which still remains,
and is crossed every day by foot passengers, was certainly
a wonderful erection for the time; and, accordingly, the
writer of a work entitled A Journey through Scotland, pub¬
lished by J. Pemberton, London, in 1723, says, “ I passed
the river Nith from Galloway to Dumfries over a fair stone
bridge of thirteen arches, the finest I saw in Britain next
to London and Rochester.” A right of toll was attached to
the bridge, which in 1789, according to Captain Grose,
yielded a yearly rental of L.300, and which at the present
day, a little higher up the river, produces to the town L.500
sterling. The new bridge was commenced in 1793, and
finished in 1795. The original contract price was L.4500 ;
but as no rock could be found at one point, the landstool on
the Dumfries side was founded on piles of wood, and for
this the commissioners of supply allowed an additional sum
of L.500.
After Bruce had committed the crime already mentioned,
and commenced that career which terminated at last in the
redemption of his country from a foreign yoke, he became
a mark for the vengeance of Edward of England. His
friends and adherents also suffered alongwith him. Amongst
these, Sir Christopher Seaton was betrayed by a pretended
friend of the name of Macnab, apprehended at the Castle
of Lochore in Fifeshire, marched to Dumfries, and barbar¬
ously executed on the Gallows-Hill, a slight eminence on
the north-eastern side of the town, better known by the
name of the Christell Chapel. Bruce sincerely regretted
his fate, and, in the wrords of Sir Richard Maitland of Leth-
ington, said, “ ‘ It is ane pity that sa noble ane knight should Dumfries,
die sa cruel ane dead.’ And incontinent in the same place v r-*-'
where he was standing when the tidings came to him, garred
found a chapel in honour of the Virgin Mary; and, in re¬
membrance of the said Sir Christell, founded a priest to de-
vine service therein perpetually, and pray for the said Sir
Christell; and gave to the said priest and his successors the
sum of L.5 sterling, to be taken of the barony of Carlaver-
ock, for their sustentation.” The ruins of the Christell
Chapel were visible in the beginning of 1715; but when
the Jacobite rebellion broke out in Scotland, the inhabitants
of Dumfries hastily constructed a rampart, and during the
operation the ruins of the old chapel disappeared, the line
of fortification having passed close by their site. It is evi¬
dent, from the traces of the foundation, that the building
must have been very small. When Lord Scroop made an
excursion in 1570 for the purpose of plunder, the chief ma¬
gistrate of Dumfries, at the head of the burgesses, joined
Lord Maxwell in opposing the invaders. They fought gal¬
lantly, but were at length defeated. Dumfries suffered
considerably during the reigns of Charles I. and II. In 1617
it was visited by James VI. whilst returning to England.
It was at this period that the incorporated trades received
from James what is called the “ siller gun,” which was or¬
dered to be shot for at stated periods, with the view of fos¬
tering their martial spirit, and skill in the exercises per¬
formed at the wappinshaw. This relic is still in existence,
and the custom till lately was observed at the distance of
seven or nine years, more as a holiday exercise than for any
other purpose. The trades mustered in great strength,
borrowed guns far and wide, spent three-fourths of the day
in shooting, returned to an entertainment in their hall in
the evening; and the “ siller gun,” after being wmn, was
worn for a short period by the best marksman. This festi¬
val forms the subject of a poem, written by Mr John Mayne,
and which is praised for its humour and spirit in the notes
appended to the Lady of the Lake.
Almost no towm in Scotland stood forward half so pro¬
minently as Dumfries did at the period of the union in 1707.
On the 20th of November of the preceding year, according
to Chalmers, two hundred Camei’onians entered the burgh,
issued a manifesto against the great pending measure, and
burnt the articles at the market-cross. The last commotion
of any consequence occurred in 1715, when the Viscount
Kenmure hung on the heights of Tenwald, willing to do
mischief, and yet timid as to the means and manner of at¬
tack. By a well-managed stratagem he was induced to de¬
part ; and this is believed to have been the last occasion on
which the ancient war-cry of the town, “ Loreburn,” or “ A
Loreburn,” was heard.
Dumfries is the seat of a presbytery, synod, sheriff’s court,
record of sasines, and seven banks, branches of the prin¬
cipal companies of Scotland. There are three churches in
connection with the Establishment, an Episcopalian, a Catho¬
lic, and a number of other chapels supported by Dissenters.
In 1745, the Pretender and his rebel army, whilst retreat¬
ing from England, paid a domiciliary visit to the town of
Dumfries; and for a misdemeanour committed against some
of his followers on their march southward, the town was
compelled to pay a fine, which amounted altogether to
L.4000 sterling. In 1750, however, the crown granted to
Dumfries L.2800 out of a forfeited estate.
Hosiery, leather, hats, wooden shoes, and baskets, are the
only manufactures worth naming in Dumfries. Cotton
checks at one time were woven on speculation in consider¬
able quantities; but the trade has declined. The stocking
trade gives employment to about 300 persons, and produces
annually not less than L.30,000 sterling. At Kingholm
Mills, the property of Messrs Scott, near Dumfries, there are
spinning frames in operation, each containing 1200 spindles,
which produce per frame 750 miles length of yarn daily, with
240
D U M
Dumfries, thg aid of only one man and four young pei sons. The
tanning trade, as regards value, is very considerable. The
extensive grazing district in the midst of which Dumfries
stands produces annually large quantities of hides, notwith¬
standing the great number of bullocks that are driven south ;
and in good years dressed leather brings a letui n amounting
to about L.30,000. Wooden shoes or sabots were long
peculiar to Dumfriesshire and the lower part of Galloway ;
but the trade is increasing. These promote greatly the
health of such as are exposed to outdoor labour. Of these
shoes more than L.1000 worth are annually disposed of
in Dumfries alone.
In the year ending 10th June 185T the tonnage of Dum¬
fries stood as follows: Foreign vessels inwards 959 tons,
coasting do. 6866, goods 4935, coal 3654, and lime 2-2 ;
income to the commissioners of navigation L.385, 5s. 4d.,
it having been in 1831, L.870, 12s. 8d. In the same year
vessels that cleared outwards paid duty on 712 tons regis¬
ter, and on goods 2475 tons, yielding L.150, 6s. 3d. Total
revenue for year, L.585, 11s. 7d. Foreign vessels are
charged at the rate of 6d. per ton, coasters 2d.; goods
Is. 2d., and lime and coal Id. The revenue and tonnage
have decreased greatly since the opening of the Glasgow
and South-Western Railway Company. The navigation of
the Nith has been much improved of late years by the
formation of embankments, and the deepening and straight¬
ening of the course of the river. The exports consist chiefly
of grain, bark, wool, and hosiery ; and the imports of coal,
timber, and goods.
The infirmary was built more than 70 years ago, and the
hospital or poor-house in 17o3. Roth are well endowed,
though supported partly by subscriptions ; and the foimer
expends fully L.1100 annually on medicine and other ne¬
cessary outlays. Its present capital amounts to L.8400.
The infirmary, since the time it was founded, has received
in the shape of donations L.18,000, and the hospital L.6000 ;
and the expenditure of the latter is about L.600 annually.
In connection with such institutions it may be noticed that
the late Dr Crichton of Friar’s Carse left in 1823 upwards
of L, 100,000 to his widow and certain trustees to be applied
to such charitable purposes as they might think proper.
With L.60,000 of this money the Crichton Royal Institu¬
tion for Lunatics has been erected near to Dumfries. A
building for first-class patients was opened in 1889, and the
Southern Counties’ Institution for paupers from the shires of
Dumfries, Kirkcudbright, and Wigton was opened in 1849.
Paupers are supported and clothed for L.17 each. Dum¬
fries possesses an excellent academy, where Greek, Latin,
French, English, mathematics, geography, drawing, &c. are
taught. It has also a very handsome theatre. In 1826 a
gas-work was erected in Dumfries, and has since flourished
well. There is a weekly market, which is held on Wednes-
day, when a great deal of business is transacted.
St Michael’s churchyard attracts the notice of all stran¬
gers. It is to a great extent a city of tombs, and has been
frequently referred to as tbe W estminster of Scotland. Many
of the monuments are very beautiful ; and amongst these
there is a sumptuous one over the ashes of the celebrated
poet Burns.
The situation of Dumfries is admired by all tourists.
With the exception of the point where it dips to the ocean,
it is surrounded by a chain of hills, many of which are green
to the top, and undulate in a very pleasing manner. In
point of latitude, Dumfries is nearly a degree farther south
than Edinburgh, and considerably more than a degree in
climate. The chilling east winds which prevail so much on
the east coast of Scotland are but little felt on the banks of
the Nith ; and pulmonary complaints, though not unknown,
are comparatively unfrequent.
The parliamentary boundary of the burgh, which differs
from the municipal, consists of part of the parish of Dum-
D U M
fries, containing 12,298 inhabitants, and parts of the fol- Dumont
lowing parishes, viz. Terregles, containing 566 inhabitants, W,—'
and Troqueer, containing 4925 inhabitants (both m the
stewartry of Kirkcudbright). Total pop. (1851) 13,166.
DUMONT, Etienne, or Stephen, the friend, and of¬
ten the Mentor, of Mirabeau, the redacteur of the princi¬
pal works of Jeremy Bentham, and one of the most re¬
markable men of his time, was born in the month of July
1759 at Geneva, of which his family had been citizens of
good repute from tbe days of Calvin. Shortly after his
birth his father died, leaving a widow and five children
wholly unprovided for. But the good widow, though
placed in such destitute circumstances, and supported by
little except the courage inspired by maternal affection,
found means to educate her children in a place where ne¬
cessary knowledge was accessible, and poverty not dis-
graceful. Induced by an anticipation of future eminence,
seldom more happily realized, she accordingly contrived to
send Stephen to the College of Geneva, where he justified
her determination and the sacrifices necessary to carry it
into effect, not only by his ability and proficiency, but by
the virtuous purpose to which he turned his earliest attain¬
ments; for ere long, he not only defrayed the cost of his.
own education, but even contributed to the support of the
family, by assisting the private studies of his comrades in
the capacity of repetiteur ; an office somewhat resembling
that of a private tutor in our academical system, and hav¬
ing for its object to prepare the students for examination
in the public class, by “ grinding” them on the contents
of the preceding lecture. Having completed his acade¬
mical course, he took clerical orders ; and in the year 1781
he was chosen one of the pastors of the city, where his ta¬
lents as a preacher soon attracted general notice, and gave
promise of his becoming one of the most brilliant and per¬
suasive of pulpit orators. But the political troubles which
disturbed Geneva in 1782 suddenly turned the course of
his life into a different channel.
Two parties of opposite principles, one being attached to
the authority of the magistrates, and the other anxious to
extend the privileges of the people, but most widely sepa¬
rated as to the extension or limitation of the right of suf¬
frage, had long divided that republic; and the disputes of
these parties gained lustre from Jean-Jacques Rousseau,^
the most wayward, moody, and perverse of all the men of
genius who have approached the borders of insanity, which,
indeed, he appears more than once to have overpassed.
The more liberal party received the name of representans,
or petitioners, from a representation presented by them
against the legality of the proceedings of the magistrates
respecting the writings and person of that celebrated but
unhappy man; whilst, on the other hand, the magistrates,
who refused the prayer of the petition, and their adhe¬
rents who supported them in this refusal, were thencefor¬
ward called the negatives. During twenty years a strug¬
gle had been maintained between these parties with va¬
rious success, but without bloodshed, though certainly not
without violence. At length, in the autumn of 1782,
when the petitioners had gained the ascendency, the
courts of Versailles and Turin, in concert with the canton
of Berne, surrounded Geneva with an armed force, and,
under pretence of some ancient guarantees, imposed a new
constitution on the republic, and at the same time com¬
pelled the leaders of the representative party to fly from
their country.
Dumont was not included in the proscription. But his
heart had been touched with the love of liberty ; he could
endure chains nowhere patiently, and chains at home,
where he was free by birthright, not at all. He therefore
became a voluntary exile, and w ent to join his mother and
sisters at St Petersburg, a city to which many Genevese
had carried their honourable patrimony of ability, and
DUMONT.
241
knowledge. In this he was probably influenced in part by
the example of his townsman Lefort, who was the first
tutor, minister, and general of the Czar At St Peters¬
burg be became pastor of the French church, an office
be filled for eighteen months, during which time he ob¬
tained the consideration due to his great merit and excel¬
lent character. But his views were directed towards Great
Britain, where most of the Genevese exiles had taken re¬
fuge, and where some of them were actually employed in
negociating with government for permission to establish a
Swiss colony in Ireland. He left St Petersburg in 1785;
and soon after his arrival in London went to reside with
Lord Shelburne, then a minister of state, who confided to
him the education of his sons. Lord Shelburne, after¬
wards Marquis of Lansdovvne, a man distinguished for
his cultivation of the society of men of letters, foreign
as well as native, soon discovered the great talents of
Dumont, who gradually became a friend, or rather mem¬
ber of the family; and it was at the house of this mi¬
nister that he became acquainted with some of the most
illustrious men of the country, amongst whom may be
mentioned Fox, Sheridan, Lord Holland, and Sir Samuel
llomilly. His connection with these and other distin¬
guished individuals, founded upon friendship, similarity
of opinions and literary occupations, and the pursuit of
great objects of public utility, gave them full opportuni¬
ties of appreciating his worth. He was generally known
as a man of profound knowledge, correct judgment, irre¬
proachable character, and brilliant wit, and esteemed for
the possession of these high and invaluable qualities, which
were exemplified throughout the whole course of his life.
About this time began his close connection with Sir
Samuel Romilly, “ a man,” says Sir James Mackintosh,
“ whose whole excellence will be little understood by the
world, until they see the narrative traced by himself of
those noble labours of self-education, by which he taught
himself every sort of ability which is necessary to serve
mankind, and still more of that self-discipline by which
he at length formed a character yet more exalted than his
genius, composed of a probably unparalleled union of ten¬
der affection with unbending principle, and producing those
dispositions towards the magnanimous and heroic which
were hidden from the vulgar by the solemn decorums of
a formal profession, and are seldom found to be capable of
breathing so long under the undisturbed surface of a well-
ordered and prosperous community. The habitual or me¬
chanical part of Romilly’s life was necessarily governed
by those of his profession and country. The higher ele¬
ment, however, secretly and constantly blended itself with
every thought and feeling; and there were moments when
his moral heroism carried the majesty of virtue into the
souls of the perplexed and affrighted vulgar.” The friend¬
ship which united these two remarkable men increased
daily; nor did its ardour or activity cease, until death un¬
expectedly rent asunder the tie which bound them toge¬
ther, and left Dumont inconsolable for the loss of his de¬
parted friend, whom he never mentioned without tears.
There was a third in the circle, who is very strikingly
described by Sir James Mackintosh.
“ Among the closest friends of Romilly and Dumont
was George Wilson, a man little known beyond the circle
of his friends and that of his contemporaries in the pro¬
fession of the law, and one whom it would be difficult to
make known to others, without the use of that language
of vague panegyric, the abuse of which had more lowered
it in his own eyes, than even in those of most men of mo¬
desty and taste. It might be said by as unaffectedly con¬
scientious a man as himself, if such another there be, that
among those who thoroughly knew him, the degree of es¬
teem for him was always considered as exactly indicative
VOL. vm.
of the degree of sagacity and purity of the man who en- Dumont,
tertained it. Yet even he was not more upright and be-
nevolent than his two friends; though, having less vivacity
than the one and less ardour than the other, he was not so
liable to be allured by imagination from the rigid observ¬
ance of the severe maxims of that moral prudence which
is the safeguard of virtue. With a keen relish for plea¬
santry, and perfectly exempt from all gloom and harsh¬
ness, he yet shunned the amusement of Wilkes’s conver¬
sation, solely from deference to morality. When Mira-
beau visited England about 1786, Wilson did not follow
the example of his friends in cultivating the society of
that extraordinary man, whose ill-trained fancies were
better adapted to sudden felicities than to composition,
and whose conversation was animated by an irregular be¬
nevolence, neither smothered by the profligacy of his
youth, nor altogether extinguished by the intrigues and
corruptions of his latter years.”
In 1788 Dumont undertook a journey to Paris in com¬
pany with Romilly; and it was under the auspices of the
latter that he first became acquainted with Mirabeau.
During a sojourn of two months in the French capital, he
saw that extraordinary man almost every day; and a cer¬
tain affinity of talents and pursuits led to an intimate con¬
nection between two persons diametrically opposed to
each other in habits and in character. It was after his re¬
turn from Paris that Dumont commenced his acquaint¬
ance with Mr Bentham; a circumstance which exercised
a powerful influence over his future opinions, and, as it
were, fixed his career as a writer on legislation. Filled
with admiration for the genius of Bentham, and profound¬
ly impressed with the truth of his theory, and the impor¬
tant consequences to which it immediately led, Dumont
applied all his talents to make the writings of the great
English jurist generally known, and devoted the greater
part of his life in order to render available to the world
at large the inexhaustible store of knowledge which the
active mind of Bentham was continually increasing. We
may mention here, that the following works are the result
of that confraternity of genius, talents, and labour, which
was thus established, viz. Treatises on Legislation,
ed in 1822, in 3 vols. 8vo, now (1833) in the third edi¬
tion ; Theory of Punishments and Rewards, 2 vols. 8vo,
also in the third edition; Tactics of Legislative Assemblies,
two editions, 1815 and 1822; Judicial Evidence, publish¬
ed in 1823, second edition 1830; Judicial Organiza¬
tion and Codification, 1828, 8vo. Of course we make no
mention here of the numerous editions published in foreign
countries.
In the summer of 1789, that season of promise and of
hope, especially to a Genevese exile, Dumont suspended his
labours in England in order to proceed to Paris along with
his friend Duroverai, ex-attorney-general of the republic
of Geneva. The object of the journey was to obtain through
M. Necker, who had just returned to office, and by means
of the events which were then passing in France, an unre¬
stricted restoration of Genevese liberty, by cancelling the
treaty of guarantee between France and Switzerland,
which prevented the republic from enacting new laws
without the consent of the parties to this treaty. The pro¬
ceedings and negociations to which this mission gave rise,
necessarily brought Dumont into connection with most of
the leading men in the Constituent Assembly, and made,
him an interested spectator, sometimes even a participator,
indirectly, in the events of the French revolution. The
same cause also led him to renew his acquaintance with
Mirabeau, whom he found occupied with his duties as a
deputy, and with the composition of his journal, the Cour-
rier de Provence, in which he was assisted by Duroverai,
Claviere, and other Genevese patriots. For a time Du-
2 H *
242 D U M O N T.
Dumont, mont took an active and very efficient part in the conduct shallow philosophy which then reigned, metaphysical prin- Dumont,
of this journal, supplying it with reports as well as origi- ciples were a novelty, in the contemplation of which he
nal articles, and also furnishing Mirabeau with speeches was too agreeably employed to examine the solidity of
to be delivered or rather read in the assembly. This is the foundation on which they rested. Wearied with the
now completely established by his highly instructive and common-places of philanthropic declamation, which pass-
interesting posthumous work entitled ed for philosophy, he ran with eagerness into the opposite
beau. In fact, his friend George Wilson used to relate, extreme of new terms, dry definitions, and simple princi-
that one day, when they were dining together at a table -pies. The method of Bentham is undoubtedly a powerful
d'hote at Versailles, he saw Dumont engaged in writing instrument for the discovery of truth, especially in the
the most celebrated paragraph of Mirabeau’s address to juridical part of moral science. It is, however, a method
the king for the removal of the troops, which was believed which may become more than mischievous, by the very
to have been written by the orator himself. He also re- circumstance of its apparent perfection,
ported such of Mirabeau’s speeches as he did not write, “ Supposing every other objection to that system to be
and, with a disinterested sacrifice of his own reputation answered, it will still be evident that the value of its ap-
to the diffusion of what he considered as truth, embellish- plication in every particular instance must be in propor-
ed and strengthened them from his own stores, which tion to the exactness and completeness with which every
were inexhaustible. But this co-operation, so valuable for circumstance is enumerated that can affect the determina-
Mirabeau, and so self-devoted on the part of Dumont, was tion of the question. But the enumeration is not complete,
destined soon to come to an end; for, being attacked in merely because the names of all such circumstances are
pamphlets as one of Mirabeau’s writers, he felt hurt at enumerated. It is not thus that the philosopher proceeds
the notoriety thus given to his name in connection with a in those sciences where the success is uncontested. He
man occupying Mirabeau’s peculiar position, and resolved calculates the degree of every force that acts on a body;
to return to England, which he accordingly did in 1791. he ascertains the proportion of every elemen t which goes
The reputation of being a subaltern writer was, as he him- to make up a compound ; and an error in either of these
self states, by no means flattering; and the credit of an respects is, in truth and effect, a want of exact and corn-
influential connection with a man whose character was far plete enumeration, which may lead to the most false re-
f'rom being untainted alarmed his delicacy. He saw that suits. Such mistakes in the physical sciences are easily
he had no alternative but to put an end to a copartnership detected. In the moral sciences it is extremely easy to
of which Mirabeau was certain to reap all the advantage, seem to form a complete theory by such general and vague
whilst the odium or discredit would alone fall to the lot of inductions, because the means of quick and palpable de-
Mirabeau’s associate; and he acted upon this conviction tection are wanting. Wherever analysis is really exhaus-
with a promptitude and decision worthy of his character, tive, it is the most perfect of instruments; but where it
In the eventful years which followed he continued to only reaches a semblance of exactness, it produces or per-
live chiefly at Lansdowne House, or at Bowood, where petuates error in the exact proportion of its seeming ap-
the most remarkable men of Europe as well as of Britain proach to truth. There is no remedy against this dan-
were frequent and welcome guests. Latterly, he began gerous distemper but the habit of never forgetting that,
to form an intimate friendship with Lord Llolland, whom in each case, the main question always must be, ‘ How
he had known from childhood ; and he became a member much of each enumerated cause is likely to act in the in-
of the society of familiar friends, the habitual visitors at stance before me ?’ No show of accuracy, no superiority
Holland House, who, during many years, saw a succession of method, can dispense with this question, or enable any
of celebrated guests of every country, party, religion, and man to answer it otherwise than by approximation. But
of every liberal profession or station, which is likely to with these high and arduous matters we must not deal
continue unmatched until another house be found that more largely in this place. The talent with which M.
boasts such a master. “ His mind was at that time in Dumont performed his task is as generally acknowledged
a most perfectly mature state, with much experience of as the perfect disinterestedness which led him to employ
very memorable events, and familiar intercourse with the so much talent in expounding the opinions and enlivening
most eminent men,” besides an abundant store of amus- the reasoning of others. It is due to him to say, that he
ing and striking anecdotes. “ He had entirely subdued always considered tbe system as a model, to be always
the popular and declamatory propensities which charac- consulted and approached, but never imposed without a
terize youthful genius, yet without being in the least cautious regard to circumstances. It must also be ob-
degree withdrawn from the love of letters and the de- served, that however entirely he adopted the speculations,
lights of society by those scientific pursuits which occu- delighted in the method, and even acquiesced in the lan-
pied a subsequent period.” In 1801 be travelled over guage of Bentham, that for which he really felt a warm
various parts of Europe with Lord Henry Petty, now Mar- zeal, and consecrated the labour of his life, was the prac-
quis of Lansdowne, and brought back a fresher acquaint- tical establishment of that grand reformation of law, which
ance with the mental occupations of the continental na- owes indeed much to the writings of Bentham, and to the
tions, from whom England had for years been separated discussions which they daily contribute to spread and
by a wider and deeper channel than that formed by the keep up, but which, so far from being peculiar to him, is
hand of nature. But Dumont had then opened a new zealously supported by those who dissent from his moral
course of more serious occupations. theories, and was common to him, at least in that more
“ In 1801 he published the Traites de Legislation ; the obvious part of it which relates to criminal law, with the
first fruits of his zealous labours to give order, clearness, philosophers of the eighteenth century, who pursued the
and vivacity, to the profound and original meditations of same object, though with less distinctness of view, less
Bentham, hitherto praised only by a very few patient precision of language, and less knowledge of the abuses
readers, and but little better known, even by name, to the to be reformed. The mind of Dumont moved onward
English than to the European public. The extraordinary with that of the reformers of jurisprudence throughout
merit of these writings, manuscript and printed, chiefly Europe. He does not needlessly question the singulari-
attracted his mind towards them; inferior circumstances, ties of his venerable master; but his attachment was to
however, contributed their part to the fervour with which the main stock of reforming principle. Those who knew
he devoted himself to them. Trained in the hasty and him need not be reminded, that if his principles have any
D U M
Dumont tendency to a cold and low morality, they were in that re-
|| spect altogether defeated by the nature of Dumont; a man
Dumou- 0f t],e utmost simplicity and frankness, of a most unusually
nez' t affectionate and generous disposition.”
In 1814 the restoration of Geneva to independence in¬
duced Dumont to return to his native place, and he soon
became at once the leader and ornament of the supreme
council. At the time of his death, he was on the eve of
proposing a complete code of law by which he fondly hoped
to make the legislation of Geneva an example to Europe.
He died at Milan when on an autumn tour of relaxation in
October 1829, in the seventy-first year of his age. (j.b—E.)
Dumont, Jean, a well-known publicist, was born in
France in the seventeenth century. He followed the pro¬
fession of arms ; but not obtaining promotion so rapidly as
he expected, he quitted the service, and travelled through
different parts of Europe. He stopped in Holland with the
intention of there publishing an account of his travels. But
in the interval, at the request of his bookseller, he wrote
and published several pamphlets, which were eagerly sought
after, by reason of the unceremonious manner in which he
treated the ministry of France. This freedom having de¬
prived him of all hope of employment in his own country,
he now thought of forming a permanent establishment in
that where he resided; and the knowledge which he had
already acquired of the relations and interests of different
nations having led him to entertain the idea of opening a
course of lectures on public law, he lost no time in carrying
it into effect. The project succeeded far beyond his ex¬
pectations ; and some useful compilations which he pub¬
lished about the same period made him favourably known
in foreign countries. The emperor of Germany appointed
him his historiographer, and some time afterwards conferred
on him the title of Baron de Carlscroun. He died at Vienna
in 1726, at an advanced age. Dumont wrote with facility,
but his style is deficient in vigour and correctness ; never¬
theless, his works are esteemed as containing a great num¬
ber of documents valuable for history.
The following is a list of the works published by Dumont: 1.
Nouveau Voyage au Levant, Hague, 1694, reprinted under the title
of Voyages en France, en Italic, en Allemagne, d Make et en Tur-
quie, Hague, 1699, 4 vols. 12mo; 2. Memoires Politiques pour ser-
vir d la parfaite intelligence do VHistoire de la Paix de Ilyswick,
Hague, 1699, 4 vols. 12mo; 3. Memoircs sur la Guerre prhente
(1700), Hague, 1703, 12mo, reprinted under the title of Recherches
modestes des Causes de la qyresente Guerre, en ce qui concerne les Pro¬
vinces Unies, 1713, 12mo; 4. Recucil de Traites d'alliance, de paix,
et de commerce entre les Rois, Princes, et Flats, depuis la paix de
Munster, Amsterdam, 1710, 2 vols. ].2mo ; 5. Soupirs de VEurope d
la vue du projet de paix contenu dans la harangue de la reine de la
Grande-Bretagne, 1712, 12mo ; 6. Corps Universel Diplomatique du
Droit des Gens, contcnant un Recueil des Traitts de paix, d'alliance
etc. fails en Europe, depuis Charlemagne jusqu'd present, Amsterdam,
1626, and following years, 8 vols. fol., continued after Dumont’s
death by J. Rousset; and 7. Battailles gagnies par le Prince Eugene
de Savoie, Hague, 1723. To the Corps Universel Diplomatique, du
Droit des Gens ought to be subjoined, 1. L'Histoire des anciens
Traites jusqu'd Charlemagne, by Harbeyrac, 1739, in 2 vols. folio •
2. Supplement au Corps Diplomatique, avec le ceremonial des Cours
de VEurope, collected by Dumont, and arranged by Rousset, 1739,
in 3 vols. fol. ; 3. Histoire des Traites de Paix du dix-septieme Steele,
by St Priest, 1725, in 4 vols. folio. Dumont was also the author
of Lettres Historiques contenant ce que se passe de plus important en
Europe, 12mo. This periodical, which was commenced in 1992,
and two volumes of which appeared annually, Dumont conducted
till 1710, from which time it was continued by Basnage, with the
aid of several collaborateurs, until 1728. The earlier volumes are
much esteemed. (j.b —e.)
DUMOURIEZ, Charles-Francois, general of the
French republican army, was born at Cambray in 1739 of
a respectable family of Provence. His father was an inten-
dant of the royal army, and had acquired some celebrity
from an important publication on military affairs; and from
him young Dumouriez received his earliest instructions. His
studies were continued at the college of Louis-le-Grand for
D U M 243
three years ; but in 1737, his father having been attached Dumou-
to the army under d’Estrees about to invade Hanover, he riez-
accompanied him to Mauberge, and there, at nineteen years
of age, made his first campaign qs cornet in the regiment of
Escart. In 1763 he attained the rank of captain; but in
consequence of a reform reducing the numbers of the army
lie retired with a small pension, and the cross of St Louis.
He afterwards received a subaltern situation in the secret
missions.
On his return from a pedestrian tour in Italy, he ad¬
dressed a memorial to the Due de Choiseul, urging him to
embrace the cause of the Corsicans against the Genoese;
and in a public audience which he had with the minister on
the subject, it led to a violent altercation, the result of which
was a lettre de cachet which forced Dumouriez to leave
France. But the expedition which he had advised being
afterwards resolved on, Choiseul made him an honourable
public reparation, and appointed him quartermaster-general
of the troops.
The political conjunctures of the times offered an un¬
limited scope for the fertility of his diplomatic expedients,
and he mingled in all the intrigues of the age. In 1770 he
was sent on a secret mission to Poland with the view of
neutralizing the efforts of Catherine II., and succeeded in
securing fifty senators for the cause of independence, ef¬
fected a unity of action among the confederates, and dis¬
ciplined a militia; but when there was some appearance of
the resurrection of Poland being effected, Choiseul fell under
a cabal of the Due d’Aiguillon and Madame Du Barry, and
Dumouriez was recalled to Paris. He was soon, however,
sent back on a similar mission by D’Aiguillon. He endea¬
voured to assist the revolutionists in Sweden, and to raise
troops in the Hanse towns to menace Stockholm, but "this
was contrary to the views of the French cabinet; and the
Due d’Aiguillon, having discovered his project, had him ar¬
rested and thrown into the Bastile, where he was impri¬
soned six months, and then sent to the castle of Caen.
Disgusted with the dangerous career of intrigue, he now
directed his attention to the improvement of his own country.
He wrote a memoir on the great importance of the harbour
of Cherbourg; and in the month of June f 786 he there met
Louis XVI., who had come to assist at laying the first stone.
In 1788 Dumouriez was promoted to the rank of marechal-
de-camp, and pronounced in favour of political reform with¬
out breaking with the court. The connections which he
held with the leading men of the Girondist party greatly
advanced his political career. At the opening of the second
legislative assembly he was appointed minister for foreign
affairs in place of Delessart. This portfeuille, however, he
only held for three months. During his short tenure of office
he exerted himself to the utmost in reforming abuses, and in
introducing the greatest economy into every department.
He held for one month the office of minister of war after
the dismissal of his colleagues Roland, Servan, and Claviere.
At length his own resignation followed, which increased his
popularity. When the troops of the coalition advanced
against France, he was appointed to the command of the
army of the north as lieutenant-general under Marshal Luck-
ner. (For the military operations which followed, see France.)
After the unsuccessful battle of Neerwinden in January
1793, being recalled by the Convention and threatened with
the scaffold, he sought refuge in the camp of the Austrians,
accompanied by the Due de Chartres (afterwards Louis
Philippe) and his brother.
Lost without hope of return to his native country, Du¬
mouriez wandered a long time an exile in Brussels, England,
Switzerland, Germany, Denmark, and Petersburg. At last
he returned to England, where the government conferred
on him a pension of L.1200 a-year. In 1814 and 1815 he
endeavoured to procure from Louis XVIII. the baton of a
marshal of France, but was refused.
f
244
Dun
II
Dunbar.
DUN
After a long residence in England, where he enjoyed the
hospitality and friendship of many distinguished men, he
died at Turville Park on the 14th March 1823, in the
eighty-fourth year of his age.
DUN, or Burgh, the name of an ancient species of
building, of a circular form, common in the Orkney and
Zetland Islands, the Hebrides, and the northern parts of
Scotland. The latter term indicates the founders, who at
the same time bestowed on them their native name of borg,
a Sueo-Gothic word signifying a defence or castle ; and the
Highlanders universally apply t° these places the Celtic
name dun, signifying a hill—a term easily transferred to the
tower itself by which a hill was usually defended. They
are confined to the countries once subject to the crown ot
Norway. With few exceptions, they are built within sight
of the sea, and several of them within sight of each other ;
so that, on a signal by fire, by flag, or by trumpet, they
could give notice of approaching danger, and afford mutual
support. In the Orkney and Zetland Islands they are most
frequently called wart or ward hills, which shows that they
were garrisoned. 1 hey had their wardmadher, or watch¬
man, a sort of sentinel, who stood on the top, and challenged
all who came in sight. The gackman was an officer of the
same kind, who not only had to watch against surprise, but
was also bound to give notice if he saw any ships in distress.
He was allowed a large horn of generous liquor, which he
had always by him, to keep up his spirits. Along the Ork¬
ney and Zetland shores they almost formed a chain, and by
that means not only kept the natives in subjection, but were
situated commodiously for covering the landing of their
countrymen, who were perpetually roving on piratical ex¬
peditions. These towers were even made use of as state
prisons; for we learn from Torfaeus, that after Sueno had
surprised Paul, count of Caithness, he carried him into
Sutherland, and confined him there in a Norwegian tower.
Out of this kingdom no buildings similar to these are to be
found anywhere, except in Scandinavia. On the mountain
of Swalberg in Norway is one; on the Stir-biskop, at Upsal,
in Sweden, is another ; and on Umsborg, in the same king¬
dom, is a third.
These towers vary in their inner structure, but externally
they are universally the same, though some have an addi¬
tion of strength on the outside. The burgh of Culswick,
in Zetland, notwithstanding it is built on the top of a hill,
is surrounded with a dry ditch 13 feet broad ; that of Sna-
burgh, in Unst, has both a wet and a dry ditch, the fiist
being cut with great labour through the solid rock. The
burgh of Moura is surrounded by a wall, now reduced to a
heap of stones, and the inside is cylindrical, not tapering,
as is usual with others. The burgh of Hogster, upon an
isle in a loch of the same name, has also the addition of a
wall; a peculiarity in a causeway to join it to the main¬
land, and a singular internal structure. Numbers of little
burghs, with single cells, are scattered about in the neigh¬
bourhood of the greater, and were probably built by the
poorer sort of people, in order to enjoy their protection. A
multitude of places in these islands have the addition of
burgh to their names, notwithstanding there is not a vestige
of a tower near them, the materials having long since been
carried away and applied to various uses.
DUN A, or southern Dwina, a river of Russia. See
Russia.
DUNABURG, a strongly fortified town of Russian Po¬
land, capital of a cognominal circle in the government of
Vitebsk, on the right bank of the Diina, 60 miles W.N.W.
of Drissa. It has some trade, and 6000 inhabitants.
DUNBAR, a royal and parliamentary burgh, and sea¬
port of Scotland, county of Haddington, situated on an
eminence, near the mouth of the Firth of Forth. It con¬
sists of one wide main street, with several other streets and
lanes which diverge from it. Dunbar is a place of great
DUN
antiquity. It originated in a castle, once of great strength Dunbar,
and importance as a bulwark against English invasion. The
site of the fortress was well chosen both for defence and
convenience. The coast is here bold, and studded with
rocky islets. The rocks on the shore in early times afforded
room for the battlemented walls of a fort, which gradually
increased by connection with the adjoining land, and with
the islets by walls of great strength. It was thus admirably
adapted to receive succour by sea, or to favour the escape of
its defenders. We find it mentioned as early as 856; and sub¬
sequently it stands conspicuously prominent in the various
conflicts in which Scotland was engaged. It endured se¬
veral memorable sieges, the most remarkable of which was
that by the English in 1337, when it was defended by
Black Agnes countess of March and a member of the Dou¬
glas family. Montague the English commander had con¬
structed a machine called a sow (resembling the Roman
pluteus), with which he began to undermine the walls. The
countess, discharging a great stone from the rampart, de¬
stroyed this machine, calling out at the same time,
“ Marry, Montagow,
For farrow shall thy sow.”
The castle is now a total ruin. The harbour and quay of Dim-
bar are on a confined plan, and the usual depth ot water is
scarcely sufficient to float vessels of 300 tons burden. The
main evil of the port arises from the existence of various
craggy islets and sunken rocks near the entrance, which
render the navigation somewhat dangerous. Market-day
Tuesday. Dunbar is chiefly famous for its herring fishery,
which is extensively carried on. There are in the town a
soap-work, and several iron foundries, breweries, and dis¬
tilleries. Ship-building is also carried on to a small extent.
The most remarkable house in Dunbar, a large plain
mansion, facing the west end of the main street, is tlm
property, and was formerly the residence of the family of
Lauderdale; but it is now in a neglected condition. At
the entrance to the town from the west there are remains
of an ancient monastery of Greyfriars, founded in 1218.
In 1819 a handsome new Gothic church was erected upon
the site of a previous one, founded in the fourteenth century.
There are also two United Presbyterian chapels, a Free
church, and a Methodist chapel. There are two public
schools, several private seminaries, a mechanics’ institute,
and a subscription library. There are also several charitable
institutions. The town is governed by a provost, three
bailies, a treasurer, town-clerk, and chamberlain, with 15
councillors. The annual revenue ot the burgh is about
L.1700. It was created a royal burgh by David II., and
unites with Haddington, Jedburgh, Lauder, and North
Berwick, in returning a member to parliament. Pop.
(1851), 3038. Dunbar is a station on the North British
railway, 25| miles E.N.E. from Edinburgh.
Dunbar, William, the most eminent of all the early
Scottish poets, appears to have been born about the middle
of the fifteenth century. Notwithstanding the high repu¬
tation which he enjoyed among his contemporaries, the re¬
cords of his personal history and character are extremely
scanty; and although he belonged to the church, his pro¬
gress is not to be traced by successive preferments. He
describes himself as a native of Lothian. Kennedy repre¬
sents him as related to the earl of March ; but this perhaps
is only to be considered as a poetical fiction, introduced for
the purpose of heightening his invective. His latest bio¬
grapher, however, supposes that he may have been the
grandson of Sir Patrick Dunbar of Beill in the county of
Haddington, a younger son of George the tenth earl of
March. “ This Sir Patrick,” we are informed, “signalized
himself on many occasions, and was one of the hostages for
James the First in 1426; and it also appears from an ori¬
ginal charter, dated 10th August 1440, that one of his
sons was named William, who in all probability was either
D U N B A B.
245
Dunbar, the father or uncle of the poet. No other person of the
v-n/ ' same baptismal name can be traced during the whole of
that century; and as such names generally run in families,
the circumstance of our author’s alleged descent from the
earls of March, in connection with his own avowal respect¬
ing his birth-place, adds some strength to the conjecture
of his being the grandson of Sir Patrick Dunbar of Beill.”1
During the present age, the births, marriages, and deaths
of persons possessing little property and less distinction
may in a great variety of instances be very easily traced ;
but as the same diurnal records did not exist in the fif¬
teenth century, it is only where names are connected
with property, rank, or office, that in most cases we can
succeed in an attempt to discover the outlines of private
or domestic history. Neither the name nor the surname
was uncommon : at that period Scotland certainly con¬
tained many Williams and many Dunbars; and if nu¬
merous instances of this combination of name and sur¬
name have not been detected, it is not difficult to assign a
reason.
In the year 1477, William Dunbar of St Salvator’s
College took the degree of A. B. in the university of St
Andrews ; and as the statutes required the candidate to
be of three years standing, he must have been matricu¬
lated in 1474. In 1479 he took the degree of A. M.2
Whether this was the poet, or another individual of the
same name, we have no means of ascertaining : but there
is an apparent coincidence in the time ; and the supposi¬
tion that he studied at St Andrews, is highly probable in
itself. There is likewise some reason to suppose that he
studied in the university of Oxford : “ Quod Dunbar at
Oxenfurde,” is the colophon of one of his poems; and we
need scarcely remark that Oxenford was once the current
name of this seat of the Muses. But it is also to be re¬
collected that the poet might visit Oxford in some other
capacity than that of a student. In his youth he appears
to have been a novice of the order of St Francis. His sen¬
timents with regard to this profession we are enabled to
glean from one of his poems ; and those sentiments we
shall here endeavour to exhibit in plain prose. “ Before
the dawn of day,” says Dunbar, “ methought St Francis
appeared to me with a religious habit in Ids hand, and
said, go, my servant, clothe thee in these vestments, and
renounce the world. But at the sight of him and his ha¬
bit I was scared like one who sees a ghost. And why art
thou terrified at the sight of the holy weed ? St Francis,
reverence attend thee, and thanks for this intended bene¬
fit; but with regard to those garments of which thou art
so liberal, it has never entered into my mind to wear them :
sweet confessor, take it not in evil part. In holy legends
have I heard it alleged that bishops are more frequently
canonized than friars ; if therefore thou vvouldst guide my
soul towards heaven, invest me with the robes of a bishop.
Had it ever been my fortune to become a friar, the sea¬
son is now long past : between Berwick and Calais, in every
flourishing town of the English dominions, have I made
good cheer in the habit of thy order ; in friar’s weeds have
I mounted the pulpit at Dernton and Canterbury, in them
have I also crossed the sea at Dover, and instructed the
inhabitants of Picardy; but this mode of life compelled
me to have recourse to many a pious fraud, from the guilt
of which no holy water could cleanse me. What had thus
appeared to me as St Francis, was a fiend in the likeness
of a friar : he vanished away with stench and fiery smoke ;
methought he carried one end of the house along with him,
and I awoke like a wight in perplexity.”3
From this and some other passages of his works, it is
evident that Dunbar had in some degree imbibed the spirit
of a reformer ; and it is obvious that in all countries which
have in any measure been extricated from the supersti¬
tions and delusions of the Romish church, the poets have
contributed to prepare tbe way for tbe theologians. Wit
and satire, when thus directed, are formidable weapons ,
and although ridicule is no test of truth, it has often been
found a powerful instrument for exposing inveterate erroi
The best arguments may be employed in vain, and force
commonly interposes in behalf of established opinions
but poets have in all ages claimed and exercised consider¬
able freedom of animadversion ; and, as light troops are
sometimes more serviceable than the heavy-armed soldiery,
the gay satirist is sometimes more successful in his attacks
than the learned controversialist. Another inference to
be drawn from this poem is equally obvious : as the au¬
thor had preached in England and France, he must have
been familiarly acquainted with the languages of both
countries; or, if we suppose him to have preached at
Canterbury in his native tongue, we must at least con¬
clude that he spoke French when he instructed the inha¬
bitants of Picardy. His travels are likewise mentioned in
Kennedy’s Flyting, where we must however make some
allowance for satirical exaggeration.
Dunbar.
Fra Atrik Forrest furth ward to Drumfreiss
Thow beggit with ane pardoun in all kirkis,
Collapis, crudis, nieill, grottis, gryee, and geiss,
And undir nycht quhylis thow stall staigis and stirkis.
Becauss that Scotland of thy begging irkis,
Thow schaipis in France to be a knycht of the feild ;
Thow hes thy clamschellis, and thy burdoun keild,
Unhonest wayis all, wolroun, that thow wirkis.4
Dunbar, in one of his invectives against Kennedy, has
furnished us with some further information respecting his
own adventures.
Or thow durst move thy mynd malitius,
Thow saw the saill abone my held updraw;
But Eolus full woid and Neptunus,
Mirk and moneless, wes met with wind and waw,
And mony hundreth myle hyne cowd us blaw
By Holland, Seland, .Zetland, and Northway coist,
In desert [place] quhair we wer famist aw ;
Yit come I hame, f'als baird, to lay thy boist.
After the period of his travelling noviciate, Dunbar ap¬
pears in the character of a court poet, and of a candidate
for preferment in the church. On one occasion he speaks
of his dancing “ in the quenis chalmer.”
Than cam in Dunbar the makkar,
On all the flure thair was nane frakkar,
And thair he daunsit the Dirrye dantoun;
He hoppet lyk a fillie wantoun,
For luiff of Musgraiff'e, men tellis me ;
He trippet quhill he tint his pantoun :
A mirrear dance mycht na man see.
Than cam in Maistriss Musgraiffe ;
Scho mycht haiff lernit all the laiffe.
Quhen I saw hir sa trimlye dance,
Hir guid convoy and countenance,
Than, for hir saik, I wissit to be
The grytast erle or duik in France:
A mirrear dance mycht na man see.
But neither his dancing nor his solicitations seem to
have procured him any considerable preferment. From
the strain of his earlier compositions, it is evident that his
first hopes were sufficiently sanguine, and from that of his
Laing’s Memoirs of Dunbar, p. 8,
Ibid. p. 9.
• Dunbar’s Poems, vol. i. p. 28.
4 Ibid. vol. ii. p. 81.
246
Dunbar.
DUN
later compositions, that those hopes had been completely
frustrated. “ Why shouldst thou,” says the desponding
poet, “ be induced to hope for preferment, when an Ita¬
lian impostor finds means to thrust himself into the chair
of an abbot ? How the affairs of the church are managed,
I know not ; but assuredly its benefices are not distribut¬
ed with an impartial hand. Wdiile some enjoy seven, I
am not possessed of one; and some, unworthy as they
are to fill a stab, would fain climb to the rank of cardinal,
a bishopric being too mean an object for their ambition.”
He addressed some stanzas to the king when many bene¬
fices were vacant; he frequently renewed his petition, and
frequently complained that his life was suffered to wear
away in fruitless expectation. From the wish which he
expresses “ To the King, that he war Johne Thomsounis
Man,” it may be inferred that Queen Margaret was anx¬
ious to promote his interest: the tenor of his prayer is,
that the king were more subservient to the wishes of his
consort.
My advocat, bayth fair and svveit,
The hale rejosing of my spreit,
Wald speid in to my errandis than,
And ye war anis Johne Themsounis man.
Whether Dunbar’s advancement was in any degree re¬
tarded by his own imprudence, can only be conjectured.
The clergy of that age do not appear to have been gene¬
rally promoted for their piety or learning; and so very
moderate was the ordinary standard of external decency,
that it must only have been the most gross and flagrant
profligacy that could operate as a disqualification for pre¬
ferment. It must however be acknowledged that some
of his strains are highly reprehensible: his compositions
are occasionally tinctured with expressions which we can¬
not but regard as grossly indecent and profane ; one of his
addresses to the queen is such as might offend a modern
courtezan ; the more solemn observances of the church he
has converted into topics of ridicule ; the litanies are bur¬
lesqued in a parody which is not easily to be paralleled
for its profanity. But it is more than probable that such
indecent levities excited little or no disgust in his con¬
temporaries : the age was not distinguished by any un¬
common share of piety, nor had it attained to that degree
of refinement which frequently secures a certain osten¬
sible decorum, a decent appearance of virtue, where vir¬
tue itself is not to be found. To whatever cause his fail¬
ure may be attributed, there is reason to suspect that he
never obtained a benefice. But we learn from the public
records that he was indebted to the king for a regular pen¬
sion, as well as for occasional grants of money. The re¬
gister of the privy seal, 15th August 1500, mentions a
yearly pension of ten pounds, payable at Whitsuntide and
Martinmas, to “ Maister William Dunbar for all the dayis
of his life,” or until he should be promoted by the king to
a benefice of the yearly value of forty pounds or upwards.
It appears from the treasurer’s accounts that the payment
due at Martinmas 1501, was deferred on account of his
being then in England ; and it has been considered as
“ probable that he accompanied the ambassadors who were
sent to England to conclude the negociations for the
king’s marriage in October 1501; and that he remained to
B A R.
witness the ceremony of affiancing the princess Marga- D
ret, which took place at St Paul’s cross, with great so-'>-
lemnity and splendour, on the 25th of January 1502.
Under this supposition, we can have little hesitation in
believing that Dunbar was the person then styled the
Rhymer of Scotland, who received L.6. 13s. 4d. in reward
from Henry VII. on the 31st of December 1501, and a
similar sum on the 7th of January following.”1 He speaks
of his long and faithful services to the king, and of his
having been employed in many foreign countries, in Eng-
land, Ireland, France, Spain, Italy, and Germany. Mr
Laing conjectures, perhaps with sufficient probability,
that in these extensive peregrinations he was attached to
diplomatic missions, in which his knowledge of Latin and
French might be available to persons of higher rank and
inferior learning.
On the 17th of March 1504, or, according to our pre¬
sent computation, 1505, Dunbar for the first time said
mass in the king’s presence; and on that occasion he re¬
ceived a gratuity of seven French crowns, which was a
larger sum than the king usually allotted for a priest’s first
mass. At the term of Martinmas 1507 his pension was
encreased to twenty pounds; and on the 26th of August
1510 it was encreased to eighty pounds, to be paid during,
his life, or until he should be promoted to a benefice of
the yearly value of one hundred pounds or upwards. How
long he enjoyed this pension, and whether he ever exchan¬
ged it for a” benefice, no research has yet ascertained.2
On the 9th of September 1513 the king perished at Flod-
don-field ; and there may be some reason to apprehend
that his interest wras not unaffected by that fatal event.
From one of his poems, written “ quhen the Governour
past into France,” it is evident that he must have surviv¬
ed for several years. John duke of Albany, regent of the
kingdom, sailed for France in June 1517, again in Octo¬
ber" 1522, and finally in May 1524 ; nor can we safely de¬
cide to which of those three voyages the poet refers. It
is at least certain that he was dead in the year 1530,
when Sir David Lindsay composed his Complaynt of the
Papingo.3 He describes himself as having attained loan
advanced age ; nor does he appear to have been so unwise
as to continue his levities to the utmost verge of life; se¬
veral of his poems are written in a moral and religious
strain, not unbecoming an aged priest.
The poems of Dunbar are numerous and miscellaneous,
but none of them extends to any considerable length.
Fie evidently unites a brilliant imagination with an ele¬
gant taste; nor is he less conspicuous for his skill in the
mechanical part of poetry. The elasticity of his mind
and the versatility of his talents enabled him to arrive at
eminence in different departments of composition : his
allegorical poems display a rich and fertile invention ; and
he is equally distinguished for his powers of description
and satirical humour. His diction is of ten remarkable for
its terseness and forcible simplicity ; but it is not always
free from the vicious and pedantic phraseology with which
the English poetry of that period is so deeply infected.
Dr Nott observes that Dunbar, “ a poet of a rich and
lively fancy, and possessing great natural command of lan¬
guage,” was nevertheless induced to use such pedantic
diction as occurs in the opening of his beautiful moral
1 Laing’s Memoirs of Dunbar, p. 20.
2 “ The treasurer’s accounts from the 8lh of August 1513 (a month previous to the battle of Floddon) to the 2ftth of January
1515, which might have thrown some light on the subject, have not been preserved; and in those from that date to the 4th of Sep¬
tember 1518 (from which time to the 5th of June 1522 there is another blank in the series) there is no mention of Dunbars name.
We ^annot therefore discover the date of the last payment of his pension; but although we now lose all trace of his name, it by no
means follows that his pension was entirely withdrawn : it might either have been transferred to some other branch of the royal
revenue, or the poet might at last have been promoted to a benefice, when consequentlv his pension would cease.” (Laing’s
Memoirs of Dunbar, p. 34.) The treasurer’s accounts, 1st April 1513, mention a payment to Dunbar of so small a sum as forty-
two shillings. » Lindsay’s Works, vol. i. p. 285.
D UNBAR.
247
Dunbar, poem, entitled the Goldyn Targe.1 He has employed a
great variety of measures; and his versification, when
compared with that of his most eminent contemporaries
in both kingdoms, will in general appear highly ornamen¬
ted and poetical.
Mr Ellis, after having quoted three of his shorter
poems, subjoins the following remarks: “ In these spe¬
cimens we see much good sense and sound morality, ex¬
pressed with force and conciseness. This indeed is Dun¬
bar’s peculiar excellence. His style, whether grave or
humorous, whether simple or ornamented, is always ener¬
getic; and though all his compositions cannot be expect¬
ed to possess equal merit, we seldom find in them a weak
or redundant stanza.”2 The accomplished historian of
English poetry likewise mentions him with no faint ap¬
probation. “ I am of opinion,” says Mr Warton, “ that
the imagination of Dunbar is not less suited to satirical
than to sublime allegory; and that he is the first poet
who has appeared with any degree of spirit in this way
since Pierce Plowman. His Thistle and Rose and Gold¬
en Terge are generally and justly mentioned as his capi¬
tal works: but the natural complexion of his genius is of
the moral and didactic cast.”3 But, subjoins Mr Pinker¬
ton, “ this remark must not be taken too strictly. The
Goldin Terge is moral, and so are many of his small
pieces; but humour, description, allegory, great poetical
genius, and a vast wealth of words, all unite to form the
complexion of Dunbar’s poetry. He unites in himself,
and generally surpasses, the qualities of the chief old
English poets; the morals and satire of Langland, Chau¬
cer’s humour, poetry, and knowledge of life, the allegory
of Gower, the description of Lydgate.”4
But the most striking proofs of his genius are certainly
to be found in his two allegorical poems. The Thrissill
and the Rois was composed in celebration of the nuptials
of James the Fourth and Margaret Tudor; an event pro¬
ductive of very important consequences to both kingdoms,
inasmuch as it ultimately led to that happy union which
the nature of the territory and the kindred origin of the
people rendered so suitable and so desirable. In the plan of
this poem Dunbar displays boldness of invention and beau¬
ty of arrangement; and some particular passages are re¬
markable for their strength and even beauty of colouring.
The Goldyn Targe, which is written in a different stanza,
is another allegorical poem of nearly equal merit. The
golden targe, or the shield of reason, is found an insuffi¬
cient protection against the assaults of the train of love.
Some of his short poems, of a serious character, are
likewise to be distinguished from the ordinary composi¬
tions of that period. The stanzas bearing the title of
Learning vain without guid Lyfe possess superior merit as
a moral descant. His Meditatioun in Wyntir is also to
be classed among the best of his serious pieces: some of
the stanzas are beautiful and pathetic; and they may all
be perused with more than common interest as the soli¬
tary musings of neglected genius.
Nor are his satirical less remarkable than his serious
productions. His poem entitled the Dance of the sevin
Deidly Synnis presents many admirable strokes of comic
and grotesque description. On the eve of Lent, the poet
falls into a trance, and is presented with a glimpse of hea¬
ven and hell. Mahoun, or the devil, proclaims a dance of Dunbar,
those wretches who have died without absolution ; he com-
mands them to prepare a mummery, and to “ kast up ga-
mountis” according to the newest French fashion. The
seven Deadly Sins immediately present themselves, and
are each accompanied by a select band of votaries. Pride
is with evident propriety represented as leading the dance,
and is dressed in the first fashion of that period : his hair
is thrown back, his bonnet is placed on one side of the
head, and his gown flows to his heels in ample folds.
Lat se, quoth he, now quha begynnis :
With that the fowll sevin Deidly Synnis
Begowth to leip at anis.
And first of all in dance was Pryd,
With hair wyld back, and bonet on syd,
Lyk to mak vaistie wanis;
And round abowt him, as a quheill,
Hang all in rumpillis to the heill
His kethat for the nan is.
Mony prowd trumpour with him trippit;
Throw skaldand fyre ay as thay skippit,
Thay gyrnd with hyddouss granis.
This group is succeeded by holy harlots; but Mahoun and
the other fiends are not much entertained till a company
of priests present their shaven crowns.
Heilie harlottis on hawtane wyiss
Come in with mony sindrie gyiss,
Bot yit luche nevir Mahoun,
Quhill priestis come in with bair schevin nekkis:
Than all the feyndis lewche and maid gekkis,
Black-belly and Bawsy-Broun.
Anger, who next makes his appearance, is very forcibly
described in a single distich.
Than Yre come in with sturt and stryfe,
His hand wes ay upoun his knyfe.
He is attended by a band of ruffians, who follow in pairs, all
equipped for war; and, as they move along, they frequent¬
ly wound each other with swords and knives. The train
of Anger is followed by that of Envy. He is attended by
many a dissembler, flatterer, and back-biter, with “ rown-
aris offals lesingis,” or whisperers of lies ; from whom the
poet cannot avoid expressing his regret that the courts of
princes are never free. The next prominent figure in the
dance is Covetousness, who is accompanied by catives,
wretches, usurers, and hoarders of wealth. From their
throats they discharge at each other torrents of molten
gold; and when this ammunition is exhausted, the fiends
replenish them with the same metal.
Nixt him in dans come Cuvatyce,
llute of all evill, and grund of vyce,
That nevir cowd be content:
Catyvis, wrechis, and ockeraris,
Hud-pykis, hurdaris, and gadderaris,
All with that warlo went.
Out of thair throttis thay schot on udder
Hett moltin gold me thocht a fudder,
As fyre-flawcht maist fervent;
Ay as thay tumit thame of schot,
Feyndis fild thame new up to the thrott
With gold of allkin prent.
Sloth, after being twice called, joins unwillingly in the
dance, attended by many suitable companions. He drags
1 Nott’s Dissertation on the State of English Poetry before the Sixteenth Century, p. cxci.
2 Ellis’s Specimens of the Early English Poets, vol. i, p. 385.
3 Warton’s History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 10!).
4 Pinkerton’s List of the Scotish Poets, p. xciv—>• It is evident,” says Dr Drake, “ that a union of talents of this wide range
must necessarily be ot rare occurrence ; nor can we wonder that a century should elapse before a poet in any high degree approach¬
ing the genius of Chaucer made his appearance in our island. Not indeed until Dunbar arose in the sister kingdom, had we another
instance ot the combination ot first-rate abilities for humour and comic painting, with an equally powerful command over the higher
regions of fiction and imagination.” (Mornings in Spring, vol ii. p. 4. Lond. 1828, 2 vols. 8vo.)
■a a
248
Dunbar.
DUNBAR.
tliGm alonsj witli a cliairi) and IBclial lasliGS tlicrn on tliG
loins; but "their motion is nevertheless so tardy, that they
are occasionally roused by being scorched in fire. The
succeeding group consists of Lust and his loathsome train ;
he snorts like a stallion, is led by Idleness, and is attend¬
ed by many foul associates who have died in their sins.
When they engage in the dance, their visages become as
red as the turkis stone. The foul monster Gluttony next
presents himself, followed by many a drunkard and prodi¬
gal. When they become clamorous for drink, the fiends
drench them with melted lead. All these terrific exhibi¬
tions might have been expected to satisfy Mahoun him¬
self ; but he is nevertheless pleased to close the entertain¬
ment with a Highland pageant.
Than crvd Mahoun for a Heleand padyane,
Syne ran a feynd to feche Makfadyane,
Far northwart in a nuke :
Be he the correnoch had done schout,
Ersche men so gadderit him abowt,
In hell grit roume thay tuke.
Thae tarmegantis, with tag and tatter,
Full lowd in Ersche begowth to clatter,
And rowp lyk revin and ruke.
The devill sa devit wes with thair yell,
That in the depest pot of hell
He smorit thame with smuke.
Dunbar’s tale of “ The twa maryit Wemen and the We-
do” presents us with the only specimen of blank verse
which the ancient Scotish language affords. The rhythm
is of that species which the author of Piers Plowman, or
some of his predecessors, borrowed from the Anglo-Saxon
poets, and which appears to have derived its origin from
a remote era. It was employed by the Islandie as well as
by the Anglo-Saxon poets, and was constructed with some
degree of nicety.1 Their lines are generally short, and
they do not rigorously confine themselves to a definite
number of syllables. Here alliteration supplies the place
of rhyme ; the corresponding sounds are at the commence¬
ment, not at the termination of words. In two contiguous
and connected lines there must be three words beginning
with the same letter; and, according to the strictest rule,
two of those words ought to occur in the first, and the other
ought to begin the second^ line. It was on such a model
that Dunbar and the author of Piers Plowman constructed
their verses, though they have not observed all the niceties
of their predecessors. In the editions, and indeed in the
manuscripts of their respective poems, what is exhibited
as a single verse is in reality a distich, and admits of a di¬
vision without any degree of violence.
This work of Dunbar presents us with a lively though
indelicate picture of ancient manners, and is a very curious
relique of ancient poetry. Bishop Percy considers it as
equal to one of the most humorous productions of Chaucer.
The peculiarity of the versification has compelled the au¬
thor to adopt many uncouth terms; and accordingly the
language of this tale is more difficult to be understood,
and appears more obsolete, than that of his other poems,
but his shrewdness of remark and strength of description
shine through the mist of obscure phraseology in which
they are sometimes involved. Soon after midnight in a
morning of June, the poet walks by a goodly garden, and,
on hearing the sound of voices, is induced to look through -
the lofty hedge, when he perceives three ladies seated in
a preen arbour, and regaling themselves with wine: he
secretly listens to their conversation, of which he profess¬
es to give a faithful report. As the wine circulates, they
become more communicative, and, at the suggestion of the
widow, they successively detail their experience of a mar¬
ried life. The sentiments which they utter, are as profli¬
gate as can well be imagined; and it is to be hoped that
Dunbar did not intend this as a general representation of
the ladies of his own age and nation.
Two of his satirical poems relate to a certain Italian,
named John Damian, on whom James the Fourth had be¬
stowed the abbacy of Tungland in Galloway. This adven¬
turer appears to have been an empiric and an impostor,
and to have persuaded the king that he had discovered
the secret of converting baser metals into gold; nor is it
surprising that Dunbar should feel some degree of indig¬
nation on seeing high preferment bestowed upon such a
person. The abbot having failed to produce the promised
gold, made a still more desperate attempt to maintain his
reputation as an adept in science and art: he provided him¬
self with a pair of wings, and appointed a particular day
for taking his flight from the walls of Stirling castle;
when the day arrived, he indeed plunged from the ram¬
part, but instead of mounting in the air, he fell to the
mound, and broke his thigh-bone. These anecdotes do
not rest on the authority of a satirical poet, for this must
commonly be regarded as a very dubious authority; but
they are circumstantially related by Bishop Lesley in his
history of that reign ;2 and the one account may so far be
considered as a confirmation of the other, although the
poet has added many particulars of ludicrous exaggera¬
tion. Thus, according to Dunbar’s dream, he slew a friar
in Lombardy, in order to obtain possession of his habit;
and having ‘fled to France, he began to practise physic,
and in this way committed many new murders. Hie
course of his adventures at length conducted him to bcot-
land, where he followed his leechcraft with similar suc¬
cess. When raised to the dignity of a prelate, he was not
to be seen at mass; he did not appear at matins in his
stole and scarf, but was generally to be found in Ins labo¬
ratory, as sooty as a blacksmith.
In lechecraft he was homocide;
He wald haf for a nycht to byd,
Ane haknay and the hurt mannis hyd,
So mekle he was of myans.
His irnis was rude as ony rauchtir,
Quhar he leit blude it was no lauchtir,*
Full mony instrumentis for slauchtir
Was in his gardyvians.
Dunbar.
He couth gif cure of laxatif,
To gar a wicht horse want his lyf;
Quha evir assay wald, man or wyf,
Thar hippis yeid hiddy-giddy.
His praktikis nevir war put to preif
Bot sudand deid, or gret mischeif;
He had purgacioun to mak a theif
To de without a wedye.
1W .. T . . T, • Hafnise 1636 4to. Olafsen om Nordens gamle Digtekonst, dens Grundregler, Yersarter,
* Woman Literatura Itunica, p. llasks Vejledning til det Islandske eller ga.nle Nordiske Sprog, S. 211.
Sprog og Foredragsmaade, S. 5?. Kmbenha% n,17«o Stokholm, 1817, 8vo. Hickesii Grammatica Anglo-Saxomca, p. 195.
Kiobenh. 1811, 8vo. Basks Angelsaksisk Sprogtere, S. 108. stokno , of A lo.Saxon Poetry, p. Ixv. Percy s
217. Bosworth’s Elements of Anglo-Saxon Grammar, ^ ^ Whitaker’s Introductory Discourse on P. Ploughman,
Essay on the Metre of Pierce Plowmans Vision, itenques, p
P" . . c oi- Tfomae 1578 4to “ Eadem tempestate rex (ut hoc quoque, quod vulgo non sine
risu ^uc^que mmioratur^dkam^Itadum ”qiiendam,°cujus f£e\osennone ingemoque delectatus erat, abbatem Tunglandi, creavit.
See likewise Lesley’s History of quiestoit medecin de la reyne, et de mon temps en Angleterre, il
* Lors que mon frere fut en Escosse, i! n y aa oit qu u , q ^ tondoient seulement.” (Scahgerana,
n y avoit gueres de medecms. En Escosse un menuisiei &«ugiiuiw, j ^
p. 223 )
DUNBAR.
249
Dunbar. Unto no mess preissit the prelat,
^ For sound of sacrying bell nor skellat;
As blak smyth brukit was his pellat,
For battiring at the study.
Thocht he come hame a newe maid channoun,
He had dispensit with matinnis cannoun ;
On him come nothir stole nor fannoun,
For smwking of the smedye.
His unfortunate flight is afterwards related in a very lu¬
dicrous manner. The abbot of Tungland has furnished
Dunbar with the subject of another poetical dream, which
contains one passage remarkable for the strength of its sa¬
tirical conception.
He sail ascend as ane horrible griphoun,
Him meit sail in the air ane scho dragoun ;
Thir terrible monsteris sail togidder thrist,
And in the cludis gett the Antechrist,
Quhill all the air infeck of thair puysoun.
Many of the comic and satirical compositions of Dun¬
bar are valuable memorials of ancient manners; and, if
incapable of gratifying the reader of taste, they are at
least objects of curiosity to the antiquary. Of this de¬
scription are the stanzas entitled the Devill’s Inquest;
which strongly evince that our ancestors were grossly ad¬
dicted to profane swearing. “ It might,” as Dr Ogden
remarks, “ puzzle a philosopher to trace the love of swear¬
ing to its original principle, and assign its place in the
constitution of man.” This vice is now regarded as a
characteristic of the vulgar, of those who are truly vulgar
in their habits and associations, whatever may be their
external circumstances; but during the age of Dunbar, it
seems to have been practised by all ranks and denomina¬
tions. To swear like a Scot, was once a proverbial ex¬
pression.1 In this general muster of swearers, the priest
takes precedence.
3Ie thocht as he went throw the way,
Ane priest sweirit braid, be God verey,
Quhilk at the alter ressavit he.
Thou art my clerk, the devill can say,
llenunce thy God, and cum to me.
Bishop Douglas, who certainly did not fall below the com- Dunbur.
mon standard of clerical decorum, has not scrupled to be-
deck bis compositions with abundance of oaths. The vice
of profane swearing at length arrived at so scandalous a
height as to require the interference of the legislature^
and it was found necessary to extend the penalties to the
clergy as well as the laity : by an act of Q. Mary in 1551,
a “ prelate of kirk,” earl, or lord, was to be fined in twelve
pence for the first offence committed within the next three
months; different penalties were apportioned to different
ranks during the first year; and for the fourth offence
committed after the expiration of that period, a prelate,
earl, or lord was to be banished or imprisoned for the
space of a year and a day.2
Dunbar has left some examples of a motley species of
composition, which at that period was not uncommon, and
in which shreds of different languages are fantastically
combined. It does not strictly come under the denomi¬
nation of macaronic poetry, in which Latin are mingled
with vernacular words of Latin terminations, and in which
the rules of prosody are observed with at least some de¬
gree of care.3 The earliest macaronic poet is sometimes
supposed to have been Teofilo Folengo, a Benedictine
monk, better known by the name of Merlinus Cocaius,
who was born near Mantua in the year 1491.4 Of his
Macaronics the first edition bears the date of 1518; but
during the preceding century a work had appeared under
the title of “ Typhis Odaxii Patavini Carmen Macaroni-
cum de Patavinis quibusdam Arte magica delusis.”5 This
model was followed by Folengo, and by Antonius Arena,
or Antoine du Sablon, a French lawyer; and these two
are the most celebrated poets of this fantastic school.
Among the Scotish poets they have found a few imitators,
particularly Drummond and Dr Geddes. Dunbar has not
adhered to the same model; without regarding the rules
of prosody, he intermingles Latin with Scotish lines, and
produces an effect sufficiently ludicrous. Of this particu¬
lar mode of composition, much earlier specimens are to be
found; and Dante himself has written a canzone which
1 “ I have never been able to discover,” says Lord Hailes, “ from what cause our ancestors became so monstrously addicted to
profane swearing. I remember Tom Brown some where uses, ‘ swear like a Scotsman,’ as a proverbial expression. There cer¬
tainly must be a tradition on the continent, that the inhabitants of the whole island were apt to swear in common conversation ; for
in Holland, the children, when they see any British people, say, ‘ there come the G—dams and the Portuguese, when they acquire
a smattering of English, say, ‘ How do you do Jack, G— damn you ?’—Queen Elizabeth was a common swearer.” (Notes on Ancient
Scottish Poems, p. 241.) Of the truth of one of these remarks we find a curious confirmation in the collection of Norman chansons
subjoined to the “ Vaux-de-Vire d’Olivier Basselin.” Caen, 1821, 8vo.
Mauldicte en soyt trestoute la lignye 1
Us ont charge 1’artellerye sus mer,
Force bisquit et chascun ung bydon,
Et par la mer jusq’ en Bisquaye aller
Pour couronner leur petit roy Godon.
Their little king G— damn was Henry the Sixth, who succeeded his father at a very tender age. The subsequent passage occurs in
the works of Cretin, a Norman poet who wrote about the beginning of the sixteenth century. (Les Poesies de Guillaume Cretin, p.
168. Paris, 1723, 8vo.)
Cryant qui vive aux Godons d’Angleterre.
2 Acts of the Parliaments of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 485. See likewise p. 482.
3 Dr Good has made the following remarks in reference to the English translators of Blainville’s Travels through Italy: “ When
they tell us that macaronic poetry, which is a mixture of Italian and Latin words, possessing a Latin termination, ‘ is so called from
its being supposed to resemble (as being a mixture) the Italian maccheroni, these being composed of flour, cheese, and butter’—they
display a woeful ignorance of the subject they attempt to elucidate. Maccherone is a term in the Italian language, significative of a
blockhead, an ignoramus, or in equivalent English a pudding-pated fellow : and Maccheronea (Macaronics) are obviously, therefore,
burlesque imitations of the unclassical style of such writers.” (Memoirs of the Bev. Alexander Geddes, LL- D. p. 256. Lond. 1803,
8vo.) The style, of blockheads must generally be unclassical; but the origin of the term macaronic, as applied to this motley species
of composition, is nevertheless very truly explained by the translators. For this explanation we have the authority of Folengo him¬
self, who in the Apologetica prefixed to his Opus Macaronicorum speaks in the following manner: “ Ars ista poetica nuncupatur ars
macaronica, a macaronibus derivata, qui macarones sunt quoddam pulmentum, farina, caseo, botiro compaginatum, grossum, rude, et
rusticanum ; ideo macaronice nil nisi grassedinem, ruditatem, et vocabulazzos debet in se continere.” See likewise Menage’s Origini
della Lingua Italiana, p. 301.
* Tiraboschi, Storia della Letteratura Italiana, tom. vii. p. 1469.
3 Morellii Bibliotheca Pinelliana, tom. ii. p. 456. Tiraboschi, tom. vii. p. 1468. Specimens of Macaronic Poetry, p. xi. Lond.
1831, 8vo
VOL. VIII. 2 1
250 RUN
Dunbar, contains a mixture of three languages, Latin, Romance,
■V"-'' and Italian. It concludes with the following lines :
Chanson, vos pogues ir per tot le mond ;
Namque locutus sum in lingua trina,
Ut gravis mea spina
Si saccia per lo mondo, ogn’ uomo il senta :
Forse pieta n’ avrk chi mi tormenta.1
Skelton, the contemporary of Dunbar, has occasionally in¬
dulged in this vein of humour; and a poem of the same
description occurs among the works of Dr Arbuthnot,
though it has likewise been attributed to Meston. The
following stanza, which forms the conclusion of Dunbar’s
Testament of Kennedy, may be considered as a sufficient
specimen.
I will na priestis for me sing
Dies ilia, dies irae,®
Na yit na bellis for me ring,
Sicut semper solet fieri;
Bot a bag-pipe to play a spryng,
Et unum ail wosp ante me;
In stayd of baneris for to bring
Quatuor lagenas cervisise,
Within the graif to set sic thing
In modum crucis juxta me,
To fle the feyndis, than hardely sing
De terra plasmasti me.
The Flyting of Dunbar and Kennedy is an extraordi¬
nary effort of unrefined wit; and is at least sufficient to
evince that the ancient Scotish tongue was not deficient
in terms of abuse.3 Lord Hailes is inclined to believe that
this altercation may have been a mere play of illiberal
fancy, without any real quarrel between the antagonists;
and this opinion he supposes to be confirmed by the affec¬
tionate manner in which Dunbar afterwards speaks of
Kennedy, and of Quintin Shaw, who in this literary duel
seems to have acted the part of Kennedy’s second. A
similar altercation was maintained by Luigi Pulci and
Matteo Franco ; although for the amusement cf their
readers they loaded each other with the grossest abuse,
yet the intimacy of their friendship is said to have conti¬
nued without interruption.4 The example of Dunbar and
Kennedy was followed by James the Fifth and Sir David
Lindsay, and at a later period by Montgomery and Hume.
It is not to be imagined that a king and one of his cour¬
tiers were engageci in actual hostilities; and in the verses
prefixed to the “ Flyting betwixt Montgomery and Pol-
wart,” it is expressly stated that their altercation was not
the result of a real quarrel, but of w hat is there described
as generous emulation.
A comic tale, entitled the Freiris of Berwik, and pos¬
sessing a large fund of genuine humour, seems to have
been composed about the period to which our attention
is now directed. Mr Pinkerton supposes it to have been
written by Dunbar; but this opinion is founded on no his¬
torical evidence, nor can the internal evidence, of style
and manner be considered as very striking or satisfactoiy.
“ But this tale,” he remarks, “ cannot at any rate be above
thirteen years later than Dunbar, who must have died
BAR.
about 1525. In 1482, Berwick was wrested from Scot- Dunbar,
land, and w'as ever after in the possession of the English. i *
Now this poem speaks of all the monasteries as actually
standing and flourishing while it was written; and it is
well known that in 1535 Henry VIII. suppressed the lesser
monasteries, and in 1539 the greater. It follows that this
tale must, at all events, have been written before 1539.”5
But the poet, whoever he may have been, does not speak
of the monasteries of Berwick as actually flourishing;
he merely avers, that when the adventures took place,
friars of the different orders w'ere not to seek, but were
dwelling in the town. It is therefore evident that this
chronological argument is by no means satisfactory, and
that the tale may have been written after the suppression
of the English monasteries.
In the Freiris of Berwik, every reader acquainted with
the poems of Allan Ramsay must recognize the original
of the Monk and the Miller’s Wife; and we will venture
to add that the ancient is greatly superior to the modern
tale. Ramsay’s tale, says Lord Wroodhouselee, “ would
of itself be his passport to immortality, as a comic poet.
In this capacity he might enter the lists with Chaucer
and Boccaccio, with no great risk of discomfiture. Though
far their inferior in acquired address, his native strength
was perhaps not widely disproportionate. Of this admi¬
rable tale, I conceive he has the merit of the invention;
as the story is not to be found in any of the older writers,
as Sachetti, Boccaccio, or in the Cento Novelle antiche. In
a few circumstances there is indeed a small resemblance
to the 73d of the Cent nouvelles Nouvelles, entitled ‘ L Oi-
seau en la Cage,’ which barely affords a presumption that
Ramsay may have read that story; but in all the material
circumstances, his Monk and the Miller’s Wife is original.
A story of more festive humour could not have been de¬
vised. The characters are sustained with consummate
propriety ; the manners are true to nature ; and poetic
justice is most strictly observed in the winding up of the
piece.”6 But whatever merit this comic tale may possess,
it is evident that the praise of invention does not belong
lo Ramsay: he had doubtless read the old Scotish tale in
Bannatyne’s MS. from which he transcribed other poems
less capable of arresting his attention. It may scarcely
be worth while to remark that the ecclesiastic whom he
introduces is a secular, a parish-priest, and is therefoie
most improperly described as a monk, lhat the author
of the Freiris of Berwik was likewise indebted to some
preceding poet, may perhaps be considered as highly pro¬
bable. In the collection of Le Grand d’Aussy there is a
fabliau which exhibits some lineaments of the story. A
poor clerk, after having studied at Paris, is returning
homeward without any money in his pocket, and, on the
approach of night, calls at a solitary house to entreat a
lodging; but the farmer’s wife very unceremoniously re¬
fuses to shelter him during the absence of her husband.
As he is leaving the house, he observes a servant bringing
some wine in a basket; and at the same time the maid
1 Opere di Dante Alighieri, tom. iv. p. 342. ed. Yenezia, 1758, 4 tom. 4to—Rodrigo de Valdes, a Jesuit, has written a long and
extraordinary poem, containing a mixture of Latin and Spanish, and entitled “ Poema heroyco Hispano-Latino panegynco de la
Fundacion y Grandezas de la muy noble y leal Ciudad de Lima.” Madrid, 1(187, 4to. , j i ,,<•
2 This is an allusion to an ancient sequence, known to many English readers from the translations of Drummond and the ea.l ot
Roscommon. It begins in the following manner:
Dies irae, dies ilia
Solvet seclum in favilla,
Teste David cum Sybilla.
3 The Poems of William Dunbar, with notes, and a memoir of his life, by David Laing: to which are added Poems by Walter
Kennedy, and other contemporaries. Edinb. 1833, 2 vols. 8vo—Of the poems of Dunbar this is the first collective edition that lias
yet been undertaken; and it is fortunate that the task was reserved for so industrious and so skilful an editor.
4 Roscoe’s Life of Lorenzo de’ Medici, vol. i- p. 252.
* Ancient Scotish Poems, vol. ii. p. 394. Lond. 1786, 2 vols. 8vo.
6 Woodhouselee’s Remarks on the Genius and Writings of Ramsay (p. cvii.) prefixed to his Poems. Lond. 1800. 2 vols. 8vo.
DUN
DUN
251
Dunblane, places in a cupboai'd a cake which she has just made,
i together with a piece of fresh pork which she has taken
out 0f the pot. A priest, wrapped in his cope, soon af¬
terwards passes the clerk in silence, and glides into the
house. The wayfaring scholar, overwhelmed with fatigue,
and dying of hunger, seats himself by the road-side : there
he is found by the farmer, who happens to return sooner
than he is expected ; and they procure admittance, after
the priest has found a place of refuge in the stable,
which seems to be the ground-floor under the family¬
dwelling. While the maid is preparing some refreshment,
the laboureur proposes that the clerk should either sing
a song or tell a story: he declares that he knows neither
song nor story, but offers to relate an adventure which
happened to him in the morning; and by detailing this
supposed adventure, he very dexterously contrives to take
his revenge on the farmer’s wife. As he w^as traversing a
wood, he saw a numerous herd of swine : some of them
were large, others small, some white, others black ; in a
word, they were of all sizes and of all colours. But above
all he admired the leader of this herd; he was fat, shinr
ing, plump—in a word, just such another as must have
been that of which Catherine lately took a morsel from
the pot. The clerk prosecutes his tale with the same
arch simplicity, and contrives to reveal the secret of the
wine, the cake, and finally of the priest concealed in the
stable. The enraged farmer, having seized a cudgel, chas¬
tises his wife ; and the priest, anticipating the same dis¬
cipline, makes an attempt to escape, but is unmercifully
beaten, stripped naked, and in this condition turned out
of the house, leaving the clerk to enjoy his joke, together
with the supper and wine provided for another guest.1
This is certainly not the identical story of the Freiris of
Berwik: several of the incidents are essentially the same,
but the comic scene of the pretended conjuration is want¬
ing. Still however the Scottish tale may have been bor¬
rowed from some preceding writer. A story not mate¬
rially different occurs in a French collection published in
1665, and probably in many others: the scene is laid in
Granada; the unfortunate gallant is an advocate, and the
pretended magician a soldier.2 This publication is indeed
of a recent date ; but such a tale is too pungent and cha¬
racteristic to have been devised by the obscure compiler
of the collection ; and it is sufficiently probable that this
tale and the Freiris of Berwik were both derived from one
common source.3 * * (d. r.)
DUNBLANE, a market-town of Scotland, Perthshire,
pleasantly situated on the E. bank of the Allan, a tributary
of the Forth, 4 miles N. of Stirling. In the middle ages it
was the seat of a convent of Culdees, and continued to be
so till about the twelfth century. It was constituted the seat
of a bishop by David I., by whom the cathedral, founded in
1142, was richly endowed. Among its bishops was the cele¬
brated Robert Leighton, who bequeathed his valuable library
to the cathedral and diocese. This library still exists, and
has been greatly augmented by subsequent donations. Dun¬
blane is at present only a village, consisting of a single old-
fashioned street, with various diverging lanes. A mineral
well in the neighbourhood causes an influx of visitors during
the summer months. The chief attraction of Dunblane is
the cathedral, the choir of which is now the parish church.
It is a large Gothic edifice, with a steeple of modern erec¬
tion, 128 feet in height. The prebendal stalls of richly
carved dark oak have fortunately been preserved. Market- Duncan,
day Thursday. About 2 miles from the town is Sheriff-
muir, which gives name to the battle fought there on 13th
November 1715, between the Earl of Mar and the royal
forces under the Duke of Argyle. In this engagement the
left wing of each army was defeated, and the right of each
was victorious, but the fruits of the victory remained w ith
the Duke of Argyle. At a short distance from Dunblane
is the small village of Ardoch, m the immediate neighbour¬
hood of which is the celebrated Roman camp, esteemed
the most entire in the kingdom. The measure of the en¬
tire area of this camp is 1060 feet by 900, and it is calcu¬
lated to have contained at least 20,000 men. The praeto-
rium rises above the level of the camp, but is not exactly
in the centre. It measures exactly twenty yards on each
side. Pop. of Dunblane (1851) 1816.
DUNCAN, Adam, Lord Viscount, an illustrious naval
commander, the second son of Alexander Duncan, of Lundie,
in the county of Angus, Scotland, by Helen, daughter of
Haldane of Gleneagles, in the county of Perth, was born in
the month of July 1731. He received the rudiments of his
education at Dundee, which is only about 4 miles distant
from the family residence; and as his elder brother Alex¬
ander was designed for the army (in which he died lieu¬
tenant-colonel in 1771), Adam appears to have been early
intended for the naval service. Accordingly, about the year
1746, he was placed under Captain Haldane, who then com¬
manded the Shoreham frigate, and he remained two or three
years with that officer. In 1749 he w'as entered as mid¬
shipman on board the Centurion of fifty guns, which then
bore the broad pendant of Commodore Keppel, commander-
in-chief on the Mediterranean station. In the beginning
of 1755 he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant, and
appointed to the Norwich, a fourth rate, one of the squad¬
ron under Keppel, destined to convoy to America the trans¬
ports having on board the land forces commanded by Gene¬
ral Braddock. After the debarkation of this armament he
was transferred to the Centurion, where he continued until
that ship returned to England; when Captain Keppel, who
had for a short time commanded the Swiftsure, procured his
appointment as second lieutenant of the Torbay seventy-
four, to which he himself had just been appointed. Having
remained on the home station for three years, he proceeded
with the expedition sent against the French settlement of
Goree, or the coast of Africa, and w7as slightly wounded in
the attack of the fort; after which he became first lieutenant
of the Torbay, and in this capacity returned to England.
His promotion was now rapid. In September 1759 he was
raised to the rank of commander; in February 1761 he
was advanced to that of post-captain; and having been ap¬
pointed to the Vaillant, of seventy-four guns, he again be¬
came connected in service with his original friend and pa¬
tron Keppel, who, having received the command of the
naval part of the expedition against Belleisle, now hoisted
his broad pendant on board the Vaillant. After this affair
Captain Duncan accompanied the commodore in the same
ship to the attack of the Havanna, and commanded the
boats in which the troops were landed, the commodore
covering the disembarkation. He was afterwards very ac¬
tively employed in the siege, during which he greatly dis¬
tinguished himself; and when the town surrendered, he
was despatched to take possession of the Spanish ships in
the harbour, namely, five of seventy and four of sixty guns.
1 Fabliaux ou Contes du Xlle. et du Xllle. Siecle, tom. iv. p. 1. edit. Paris, 1781, 5 tom. 12mo.
2 Les Recreations Franfoises; ou nouveau Recueil de Contes a rire ; pour servir de divertissement aux melancholiques, et de joyeux
entretien dans les cours, fes cercles, et les ruelles, part, i., p. 178. A Rouen, dies David Berthelin, dans la Cour du Palais, 1665, 2 part.
8vo. The compiler, whose name is Nipe, professes to have gleaned from all the ancient and modern books of tales, and to have added
new stories of his own invention, “ plus capables de faire mourir de rire, que de faire dormir de bout.”
3 A similar incident occurs in Ravenscroft’s London Cuckolds, a Comedy, act ii., sc. ii., Lond. 1683, 4to. In reference to this scene
Langbaine has remarked that “ Loveday’s discovering Eugenia’s intrigue, and pretending to conjure for a supper, is borrowed from Les
Contes d'QuviUe, part ii. p. 235.” (Account of the English Dramatick Poets, p. 421. Lond 1691, 8vo.)
252
Duncan.
DUNCAN.
After the capture of the Havanna, he, in the same capacity
as formerly, accompanied Admiral Keppel, who had been
appointed to the command on the Jamaica station, and
continued with him as captain of the flag-ship until the
conclusion of the war, when he returned to England.
On the recommencement of war with France in the year
1778, Captain Duncan was appointed to the Suffolk, of
seventy-four guns ; but before the end of the year he was
removed into the Monarch, of the same rate, which, during
the summer of 1779, was employed in the Channel fleet
under Sir Charles Hardy, who, owing to the junction of the
French and Spanish fleets, was now acting upon the defen¬
sive. Towards the close of the same year, the Monarch was
one of the ships placed under the orders of Sir George
Bridges Rodney, who had received instructions to force his
way through all impediments into Gibraltar, and to relieve
that fortress, then closely invested by a Spanish army on
the land side, whilst it was blockaded on the seaward face
by a flotilla sufficiently powerful to oppose the entrance of
any ordinary force. In the beginning of 1780, the British
fleet, when off Cape St Vincent, fell in with a Spanish squa¬
dron under Don Juan de Langara, which had been sta¬
tioned there to intercept Sir George Rodney, who was
supposed to have only a squadron of four sail of the line.
On this occasion Captain Duncan carried the Monarch
into action before any other ship of the fleet; and the St
Augustin, of seventy guns, struck to him, aftei having
been so much disabled that he was obliged to abandon
her. In this action the disparity of force was great; the
British fleet consisting of nineteen ships of the line, and
the Spanish of only eleven ships and two frigates. Of the
latter, four were taken, one was blown up, three surrender¬
ed, but afterwards got away much damaged, one was re¬
duced almost to a wreck, and two others, together with
the frigates, made their escape. Soon after his arrival in
England Captain Duncan quitted the Monarch, and re¬
mained without employment until the beginning of 1780,
when he was appointed to the Blenheim, of ninety guns,
and continued in command of this ship during nearly the
whole remainder of the war. He was constantly employ¬
ed with the Channel fleet, then under the command of
Earl Howe; and in September 1780, having accompanied
his lordship to -Gibraltar, he was appointed to lead the
larboard division of the centre, or squadron of the com¬
mander-in-chief, and greatly distinguished himself in the
encounter with the combined fleets of France and Spain,
which took place off the entrance of the Straits. Soon after
the return of the fleet to England Captain Duncan was re¬
moved into the Foudroyant, of eighty-four guns ; and on the
conclusion of the peace in the spring ensuing he passed
into the Edgar, of seventy-four guns, one of the guard
ships at Portsmouth, where, as is customary in such cases,
he continued in command during the three succeeding
years
This was the last commission which he ever held as cap¬
tain of a ship. In September 1789 he was promoted to the
rank of rear-admiral of the blue, and in September 1790 he
was made rear-admiral of the white ; in February 1/93 he
was raised to be vice-admiral of the blue, and in Apnl 1 / 94
he became vice-admiral of the white; in June 1795 he
was appointed admiral of the blue ; and lastly, in February
1799 he received the rank of admiral of the white. But
during all these periods, excepting the two last, the merit Dunran.
of Admiral Duncan, which was never of an obtrusive, bust-
ling, or forward kind, seemed to have been wholly over¬
looked ; and though he frequently solicited employment,
his applications proved unavailing; in consequence of
which he had it in contemplation to retire altogether from
the service. This period of obscuration, however, at length
passed away. In February 1795 he received an appoint¬
ment, constituting him commander-in-chief of the North
Seas, that is, from the North Foreland to the Ultima
Thule; and he accordingly hoisted his flag on board the
Prince George, of ninety-eight guns, at Chatham, but af¬
terwards shifted it to the Venerable, of seventy-four guns,
the Prince George being considered as too large for the
particular quarter in which he was destined to act. Hav¬
ing thus attained the object of his wishes, Admiral Dun¬
can lost no time in proceeding to carry into execution the
important trust which had been confided to him; and du¬
ring the whole time he held the command, he exhibited
that inexhaustible patience and unwearied constancy,
which, with cool judgment and determined gallantry, form¬
ed the great attributes of his professional character. In
the midst of many discouragements, and on a station ex¬
posed to peculiar dangers from the shoals and sand-banks
which cover the coasts of the United Provinces, and the
storms with which the North Sea is frequently visited, he
never shrunk from the duty which had been assigned him,
or failed at any season, however tempestuous, to show his
squadron off the coast which it domineered over and in¬
sulted.
For more than two years, however, nothing occurred
beyond the ordinary routine of such a service; namely,
occasional captures, and smart affairs with the coast bat¬
teries and the craft which took shelter under their guns.
The Dutch trade, however, was nearly annihilated; their
merchant-vessels were frequently captured in sight of their
own ports ; and the whole coast was so completely blockad¬
ed that few vessels could venture out to sea, and escape the
vigilance of the British fleet or its cruisers. The Batavian
fleet, though consisting of five sail of the line, six frigates,
and five sloops, was also obliged to remain quietly in port,
or to confine itself to short cruises, at times when want of
water or provisions compelled the British ships to repair
for a few dayrs to their own coasts ; and in the beginning
of June 1797, it even suffered itself to be blocked up in
port, although for several days Admiral Duncan s force
was limited to his own ship the Venerable, of seventy-four
guns, and the Adamant, of fifty. Phis was owing to the un¬
happy and dangerous spirit of mutiny wrhich at that period
had infected in succession almost every portion of the Bri¬
tish navy. It first broke out amongst the ships at Ports¬
mouth, then extended itself to the fleet at the Nore, and
afterwards reached the North-Sea fleet, in which almost
every ship hoisted the flag of defiance. At this alarming
and unprecedented crisis, the conduct of Admiral Duncan
proved him to be equal to the fearful exigencies of the oc¬
casion, and perhaps contributed more to the safety and true
glory of the country than even his subsequent victory. Al¬
though by the secession of the disaffected ships his fleet had
been so thinned that, towards the end of May 1797, he found
himself at sea with only his own ship and another, he never¬
theless proceeded to his usual station off the lexel,1 where
1 On the 3d of June 1797, Admiral Duncan having assembled the officers, seamen, and marines of his own ship (the Venerable),
addressed them from the quarter-deck as follows:—“ My lads, I once more call you together with a sorrow u eax , 10m v ia
have lately seen of the disaffection of the fleets; I call it disaffection, for the crews have no grievances. To be deserted by my nee tin
the face of an enemy, is a disgrace which 1 believe never before happened to a British admiral; nor could 1 have supposed it. J-Viy
greatest comfort, under God, is, that I have been supported by the officers, seamen, and marines of this ship; tor wbicb, witn a neari
overflowing with gratitude, I request you to accept my sincere thanks. I flatter myself, much good may lesu t rom youi examp ,
by bringing those deluded people to a sense of the duty which they owe, not only to their king and country, but to t erase ves.
DUN
Duncan, there lay at anchor the Dutch fleet of fifteen sail of the
]jnej under the command of Vice-Admiral de Winter; and
in order to detain the latter in port until a reinforcement
should arrive, he caused repeated signals to be made, as if
to the main body of his fleet in the offing; a stratagem
which, it was supposed, had the desired effect. At length,
about the middle of June, several line-of-battle ships, in
detached portions, joined the British admiral, and in a
short time thereafter the two fleets were again placed on
an equal footing.
But the Venerable having been upwards of eighteen
weeks at sea, and during part of that time exposed to
boisterous weather, was now in want of almost every de¬
scription of stores; whilst others of the ships had also
suffered by the recent gales, and were besides short of
provisions. In these circumstances, the admiral, on the 3d
of October, put into Yarmouth roads in order to refit and
revictual; having left off the Dutch coast a small squadron
of observation under the orders of Captain Trollope of the
Russell. But early on the morning of the 9th, the Black
Joke hired armed lugger showed herself at the back of
Yarmouth sands with the signal for an enemy flying at
her mast-head. Immediately all was bustle and prepara¬
tion, and, by incredible exertions, Admiral Duncan, with
eleven sail of the line, was enabled, a little before noon,
to weigh and put to sea; directing his course with a fair
wind right across to his old station. On the following
day, the Powerful, Agincourt, and Isis joined, and on the
afternoon of the 11th the advanced ships were near enough
to count twenty-two sail of square-rigged vessels at anchor
in the Texel. Meanwhile the admiral having received from
Captain Trollope information of the course the enemy’s
fleet was steering, now stood along shore to the south¬
ward. At about seven on the morning of the 12th,
the Russell, Adamant, and Beaulieu were descried in the
south-west, bearing at their mast-heads the signal of an
enemy in sight to the leeward; and about half-past eight,
a strange fleet, consisting of twenty-one ships and four
brigs, made its appearance in the quarter pointed out by
the signal.
This was the Dutch fleet, under Vice-Admiral de Winter,
consisting of four seventy-fours, seven sixty-fours, four fif¬
ty gun ships, two forty-four gun frigates, two of thirty-two
guns, two corvettes, four brigs, sloops, and two advice-
boats, all which had quitted the Texel at ten o’clock in
the morning of the 10th, with a light breeze at east and
CAN. 253
by north. As soon as Admiral de Winter had learned that Duncan,
the British fleet was approaching, he recalled some ships
which he had previously detached, and edged away with
the wind at north-west, towards Camperdown, the ap¬
pointed place of rendezvous. At daylight on the 11th,
the Dutch fleet was about nine leagues off the village of
Schevenningen, in loose order ; but on receiving additional
information, Admiral de Winter ordered his captains to
their respective stations, and, to facilitate the junction of
the ships to leeward, stood towards the land. On the Wy-
kerdens bearing east, distant about four leagues, the
Dutch fleet hauled to the wind on the starboard tack,
and shortly afterwards discovered the British fleet in the
north-north-west; upon which it put about, and as soon
as a close line was formed, with frigates and other smaller
vessels opposite the openings, the Dutch ships throwing
their main-top-sails aback, resolutely awaited the approach
of the British.
When the Dutch appeared in sight, the British fleet
was, owing to the inequality of the ships in point of sail¬
ing, in very loose order. To connect the squadron, there¬
fore, and enable the heavy-sailing ships to take their allot¬
ted stations, the admiral made the signal to shorten sail,
and bring to on the starboard tack; but observing, soon
afterwards, that the Dutch ships were drawing fast in
shore, and finding there was no time to be lost in making
the attack, he made the signals to bear up, break the ene¬
my’s line, and engage them to leeward, each ship her op¬
ponent, and also tor the van to attack the enemy’s rear. In
his dispatch the admiral states that his signals were obeyed
with the greatest promptitude; but it has been asserted
that, owing to the thickness of the weather, the signal to
pass through the enemy’s line and engage him to leeward
was not generally understood during the short time it was
displayed, and that hence some uncertainty prevailed in
the fleet as to the precise mode of attack. In fact, the
admiral perceived that if he waited to form line, there
would be no action ; and, with equal judgment and bold¬
ness, he dispensed with this preliminary arrangement, and
notwithstanding the still disunited state of the ships, he
hurried them into action as fast as possible. The signal
above mentioned was replaced by that for close action,
which continued flying for an hour and a half, until it was
shot away by the enemy. This signal could not possibly
be mistaken.1
About forty minutes past twelve o’clock (12th October)
British navy has ever been the support of that liberty which has been handed down to us by our ancestors, and which, I trust, we
shall maintain to the latest posterity, and that can only be done by unanimity and obedience. The ship’s company, and others who
* have distinguished themselves by their loyalty and good order, deserve to be, and doubtless will be, the favourites of a grateful coun¬
try ; they will also have, from their individual feelings, a comfort which must be lasting, and not like the fleeting and false confidence
of those who have swerved from their duty- It has often been my pride with you to look into the Texel, and see a foe which dreaded
coming out to meet us. My pride is now humble indeed. My feelings are not easily to be expressed. Our cup has overflowed, and
made us wanton. The all-wise Providence has given us this check as a warning, and I hope we shall improve by it. On Him, then,
let us trust, where our only security can be lound. I find there are many good men among us: for my own part, I have had
full confidence of all in this ship, and once more beg to express my admiration of your conduct. May God, who has thus far con¬
ducted you, continue to do so ; and may the British navy, the glory and support of our country, be restored to its wonted splendour,
and be not only the bulwark of Britain, but the terror of the world. But this can only be effected by a strict adherence to our duty
and obedience; and let us pray that the Almighty God may keep us in the right way of thinking. God bless you all.” If this
speech has but little to recommend it on the score of rhetoric, it has qualities of a nobler kind to compensate for the want of the
graces of diction or oratory : it is indeed affecting and impressive in a very high degree ; and it is recorded that, among the crew of
the Venerable who listened to it, there was not a dry eye when the good admiral had concluded his address.
1 The following anecdote, which is told by Admiral Sir Charles Tkins {Naval Baltics, p. 23G), shows that the instinct of true va¬
lour sometimes supplies the place of knowledge, if not of genius. Captain Inglis of the Belliqueux, sixty-four guns, owing either to
long absence from active service, or an inaptitude for the subject sometimes apparent in naval officers, had neglected to make himself
competently master of the signal-book ; and hence, on the morning of the day of battle, when it became necessary to act with promp¬
titude, in obedience to the signals, he found himself more puzzled than enlightened by it; so, throwing it with contempt upon the
deck, he exclaimed in broad Scotch, “ Damn me, up wi’ the hellem, an’ into the middle o’t.” In this manner he bravely anti¬
cipated the remedy in such cases provided by the illustrious Nelson, who, in his celebrated Memorandum on the eve of the battle of
Trafalgar, observed, that “ if a captain should be at a loss, he would not do very wrong if he laid his ship alongside of the enemy.” In
strict conformity with this doctrine, the Belliqueux was carried by her brave and honest captain into the very thickest of the fight,
and got very roughly handled by the van of the enemy.
254
DUNCAN.
Duncan, the action commenced, when Vice-Admiral Onslow in the
Monarch, which led the advanced or larboard division of
the British fleet, cut through the Dutch line between the
Haerlem and Jupiter, pouring into each in passing a well-
directed broadside ; and then leaving the Haerlem to the
Powerful, luffed up alongside of the Jupiter, upon which
the two ships became warmly engaged. In rounding, the
Monarch received the raking fire of the Monnikendam
frigate and the Atalanta brig, stationed in the rear or se¬
cond line. The remaining ships of the larboard division,
particularly the Monmouth and Russell, were soon in ac¬
tion with those of the enemy’s rear; amongst which the
last to surrender was the Jupiter, which had been first
engaged. About twenty minutes after the Monarch had
passed through the Dutch line, the Venerable, frustrated
in her attempt to pass astern of the Vryheid, by the prompt¬
ness of the States-General in closing up the interval, ran
under the stern of the latter, and soon compelled her to
bear up; whilst the Triumph, theVenerable’s second astern,
found immediate employment for the Wassemaer, the se¬
cond astern of the States-General. In the meanwhile the
Venerable had ranged up close on the lee-side of the Vry¬
heid, with which, on the opposite side, the Ardent was also
warmly engaged, and, in front, the Bedford, as she cut
through the enemy’s line astern of the Gelykheid. The
Brutus, Leyden, and Mars, not being pressed by opponents,
advanced to the assistance of their admiral, and did consi¬
derable damage to the Venerable, Ardent, and other ships
of the British van. At this time the Hercules, having
caught fire on the poop, bore up out of the line, and came
drifting near the Venerable to leeward ; but although the
Dutch crew contrived to extinguish the flames, yet hav¬
ing thrown their powder overboard, they were compelled
to surrender their ship to the nearest opponent. The Ve¬
nerable, which had sustained serious damage, was now
obliged to haul off, and to wear round on the starboard
tack. As soon as this was observed, the Triumph, which
had compelled the Wassemaer to strike her colours, ap¬
proached to give the finishing blow to the Vryheid, which
still persisted in defending herself. At length, from the
united fire of the Venerable, Triumph, Ardent, and Direc¬
tor, the three masts of the gallant ship fell over her side,
and disabled her starboard guns; upon which the Vryheid
dropped out of the line an ungovernable hulk, and then
struck her colours. With the surrender of De Winter’s
ship the action ceased, and the British found themselves
in possession of the Vryheid and Jupiter, seventy-fours;
Devries, Gelykheid, Haerlem, Hercules, and Wassemaer,
sixty-fours; Alkmaar and Delft, fifties; and the frigates
Monnikendam and Ambuscade. The victors then hastened
to secure their prizes, in order that, before night-fall, they
might get clear of the shore.
This battle presented on both sides the singular specta¬
cle of heroic courage and determined perseverance, con¬
trasted with conduct little, if at all, short of downright
cowardice or disaffection ; and from first to last the oppos¬
ing forces were, from various causes, pretty nearly equal.
Seven Dutch line-of-battle ships quitted the action in
order to return home, and nearly as many British seem
scarcely to have entered it. The actual combatants, how¬
ever, maintained the strife with fierce, unflinching valour;
and hence the loss on both sides was proportionally
severe. That of the British amounted to 203 killed and
622 wounded, while the Dutch had 540 killed and 620
wounded. During the action the latter directed their
shot solely at the hulls of their adversaries, and this not
until they were so near that scarcely any aim could miss ;
which accounts for the unusual severity of the loss sus¬
tained. On the other hand, the captured ships were all
either dismasted outright, or so injured in their masts
that most of these fell in the passage home ; whilst as to Duncan,
their hulls, they were completely riddled, and only worth
bringing into port as trophies of the victory.
If any proof were wanting of the superior efficacy of
Admiral Duncan’s mode of attack, it would be found, first,
in a manly declaration made by the gallant Dutchman,
and, secondly, in the practical testimony to its excellence
borne by Lord Nelson. “ Your not waiting to form a line,”
said De W inter to Admiral Duncan, “ ruined me; if I
had got nearer the shore, and you had attacked, I should
probably have drawn both fleets on it, and it would have
been a victory to me, being on my own coast.” And after
the battle of the Nile, Nelson, although unacquainted with
Lord Duncan, wrote his lordship to tell him how he, Nel¬
son, “ had profited by his example.” Besides, the British
squadron was composed of very indifferent and inadequate
ships; many of them having been intended for Indiamen,
and otherwise ill conditioned and deficient. Had Lord
Duncan’s fleet been composed of the same materials as
Lord St Vincent’s, every Dutch ship would have been
taken ; and had all the ships imitated the example of their
chief, the same result must have followed. Few people are
aware of the merits of the chief on that memorable day.
When the action ceased, the ships were in nine fathoms
water, within five miles of a lee shore, with every appear¬
ance of the gale which followed; a situation as critical as
it is possible to imagine. And it should also be recollected,
that when the Dutch put to sea, the admiral had only
been two days in port, after a blockade of nineteen weeks.
It was the opinion of Lord Duncan that, upon such occa¬
sions, the commander-in-chief should hoist his flag on
board of a frigate ; and he stated that, if he should ever
fight another battle, he would certainly do so. He was
often heard to declare that, if his flag had been flying on
board of a frigate in this action, not one of the Dutch fleet
would have escaped.
No victory was ever more seasonable, none more gratify¬
ing to the nation, than that of Camperdown. Politicians
beheld in it the annihilation of the marine of Holland, long
our most formidable rival on the seas ; naval men admired
the promptitude, decision, and address displayed by the
admiral in approaching to the attack, in circumstances alto¬
gether unprecedented ; and the people at large were trans¬
ported with admiration and delight, though they did not
very well know why. Hence the honours which were
immediately conferred on the admiral received the appro¬
bation of all parties. On the 21st of October he was created
Lord Viscount Duncan of Camperdown, and Baron Dun¬
can of Lundie, in the county of Angus ; his second in
command, Vice-Admiral Onslow, was made a baronet; gold
medals were struck and presented to the flag officers and
captains ; and the thanks of parliament were voted to the
fleet. A pension of L.2000 per annum was likewise grant¬
ed to Lord Duncan for his own life, with remainder to
the two next heirs of the peerage.
After the victory of Camperdown, Lord Duncan con¬
tinued to hold the same command until the commence¬
ment of 1800, when, being advanced in years, he withdrew
from the service, and passed the remainder of his life in
retirement, chiefly at his patrimonial residence. At the
period of his death, however, which happened on the 4th
August 1804, he was, we believe, about to be recalled
into active service ; and he had signified his determination
to obey the call of his country at a season of unexampled
difficulty and danger, when his career was terminated for
ever by a sudden and fatal illness. In June 1777 he had
married Henrietta, daughter of the Right Honourable
Robert Dundas, lord president of the Court of Session in
Scotland, and father of Lord Viscount Melville ; and by
this lady he had a large family. Lord Duncan was sue-
DUN
Duncan ceeded in his titles and estate by his second son, Robert,
|| now Earl of Camperdown.
Duncombe, Lord Duncan was a man as remarkable in appearance
as he was distinguished for character and worth. In per¬
son he was of a colossal and athletic form, six feet four
inches in height, erect in his carriage, and, notwithstand¬
ing his great size, graceful in his movements, with a coun¬
tenance strongly expressive of intelligence and benevo¬
lence. In him, singular meekness of disposition, extreme
modesty in all that concerned himself, and the most un¬
affected dignity of mind, were blended with genuine spi¬
rit, high professional genius, vigorous and active wisdom,
singular alacrity and ability for performing great achieve¬
ments, and a decided indifference about success, except¬
ing in as far as it might contribute to advance the good
of his country. His private character was that of a man
most exemplary in all the social relations of life; an affec¬
tionate relative, a steady friend, and a pattern of virtue
and true piety. Lord Duncan was a most sincere and
devout Christian, nor did he ever lose sight of the duties
belonging to that character. He encouraged religion by
his own practice, and, wherever he held a command,
caused the public observance of it to be maintained. Im¬
mediately after the victory, which has immortalized his
name, was decided, he ordered the crew of his ship to be
called together, and, at their head, upon his bended knees,
in the presence of the Dutch admiral, who was greatly
affected with the scene, he solemnly offered up praise and
thanksgiving to the God of battles for having crowned
with success the arms of his country. In like manner,
when all eyes were upon him, in the cathedral of St Paul’s,
on the day of general thanksgiving, in December follow¬
ing, his demeanour was so humble and devout, as not only
to increase the admiration which his services had other¬
wise gained him, but to impress on all present a sense of
the real dignity as well as importance of religion. In a
word, Lord Duncan afforded a conspicuous instance of
the truth of the remark, that piety and true courage are
naturally allied, and that death loses its terrors to those
who have placed their hope jejond it. (Collins’s Peerage,
by Sir E. Brydes ; Naval Chronicle, vol. iv.; Charnock’s
Biographia Navalis; Chalmers’s Biographical Dictionary,
art. Duncan; James’s Naval History of Great Britain,
vol. ii.; Exins’s IS aval Battles, p. 231.) (j. B—e.)
Duncan, Thomas, one of the most distinguished portrait
and historical painters that Scotland has produced, was born
at Kinclaven in Perthshire, May 24, 1807. He was edu¬
cated at the Perth Academy, and afterwards began the
study of the law, which, however, he speedily abandoned
for the more congenial pursuits of art. Commencing his new
career under the directing guidance of Sir William Allan,
he early attained distinction as a delineator of the human
figure; and his first pictures established his fame so com¬
pletely, that at a very early age he was appointed professor
of colouring, and afterwards of drawing, in the Academy of
Edinburgh. In 1840 he produced one of his finest pieces,
“ Prince Charles Edward and the Highlanders entering
Edinburgh after the Battle of Prestonpans.” This painting
secured his election as an associate of the Royal Academy
in 1843. In that same year he produced his no less famous
picture of “ Charles Edward asleep after Culloden, protected
by Flora Macdonald,” which, like many other of his pieces,
has been often engraved. In 1844 appeared his “ Cupid”
and his “ Martyrdom of John Brown of Priesthill,” the last
effort of his pencil, with the exception of a portrait of him¬
self. He died at Edinburgh, May 25, 1845.
DUNCANSBY HEAD, a promontory forming the
N.E. extremity of Scotland, county of Caithness, about l^
miles N.E. of John O’Groat’s House.
DUNCOMBE, William, younger son of John Dun¬
combe of Stocks, in Hertfordshire, was born at London in
DUN
235
Dundas.
1690. He published in 1722 a translation of Racine’s Dundalk
Athalie, which was well received by the public, and has
gone through three editions. In 1724 he was editor of the
works of Mr Needier; in 1735, of the poems of his de¬
ceased brother-in-law Mr Hughes, two vols. 12mo; in
1737, of the miscellanies of his younger brother Mr Jabez
Hughes, for the benefit of his widow, in one volume 8vo ;
and in 1745, of the works of the Rev. Samuel Say, in one
vol 4to. In 1726 he married the only sister of Mr John
Hughes, whom he long survived. In 1734 his tragedy of
Lucius Junius Brutus was acted at Drury Lane Theatre.
It was published in 1735, and again in 1747. The works
of Horace, in English verse, by several hands, were pub¬
lished by him in two vols. 8vo, with notes, in 1757; and a
second edition, in four vols. 12mo, with many imitations,
appeared in 1762. In 1763 he collected and republished
“ Seven Sermons by Archbishop Herring, on public occa¬
sions, with a biographical preface.” He died in February
1769, at the age of eighty.
DUNDALK, a parliamentary borough and seaport
of Ireland, county Louth, on the S. bank of the Castletown
river, near its mouth in Dundalk Bay, 50 miles N. of Dub¬
lin. Fop. (1851) 9995. It possesses some good streets,
but a great part of the town is filthy and wretched. The
parish church is an old and spacious edifice. The other
public buildings are—a Roman Catholic chapel, Presbyte¬
rian and Methodist meeting-houses, county court-house,
infirmary, prison, guildhall, market-house, linen-hall, en¬
dowed grammar-school, national schools, and barracks. It
has also two breweries, two flour mills, a large distillery, a
flax spinning mill, and a pin factory. It carries on a brisk
trade, chiefly in agricultural and dairy produce. The mu¬
nicipal government is vested in a bailiff, a recorder, and 16
burgesses. Dundalk returns one member to parliament.
The port and harbour of Dundalk have recently been un¬
dergoing extensive improvements. The course of the river
has been straitened, and the bar and harbour deepened from
5 to 8 feet, so that vessels drawing 16 feet water can now
come up to the town. The channel, when completed, will
be 150 feet wide at the quays, and 300 at the point. A
lighthouse, on the screw-pile principle, has been erected at
the bar. Steamers ply regularly to Liverpool three times
a-week. On 31st December 1852 the registered shipping
belonging to the port was 23 vessels of 1871 tons, and 2
steamers of 844 tons. The number and tonnage of vessels
that entered and cleared at the port during 1852 were—
inwards, sailing vessels 519, tonnage 35,928; steamers
109, tonnage 77,782 : outwards, sailing vessels 224, ton¬
nage 17,074; steamers 105, tonnage 46,235. Market-
day Monday. Three newspapers are published in Dun¬
dalk. In the reign of Edward II. Dundalk was a royal
city ;—the last that we read of where a monarch of all Ire¬
land was actually crowned and resided.
DUNDAS, Henry, Viscount Melville, an eminent
British statesman, was born about 1741. He was a younger
son of the Right Honourable Robert Dundas, lord presi¬
dent of the Court of Session in Scotland; and his mother
was a daughter of Sir William Gordon of Gordonston, Bart.
He was educated at the High School and University of
Edinburgh; and having been brought up to the profession
of the law, was admitted a member of the Faculty of Advo¬
cates in 1763. He soon distinguished himself at the bar,
and rapidly attained to extensive practice. The first pro¬
motion he obtained was the situation of one of the assessors
to the magistrates of Edinburgh ; after which he became
successively an advocate-depute and solicitor-general. In
1775, wdieii Sir James Montgomery was appointed lord
chief baron, Mr Dundas succeeded him in the office of lord
advocate, which situation he continued to occupy until 1783.
In March 1777, he vtis appointed joint keeper of the Signet
for Scotland.
256
Dundas.
DUN
From the period of his appointment to the office of lord
advocate, Mr Dundas in a great measure abandoned the
ordinary practice of the bar, and devoted himself to public
business. In 1774 he became a member of parliament,
having been elected representative for the county of Edin¬
burgh. Some years afterwards he resigned the represen¬
tation of the county, and was chosen member for the
city of Edinburgh, which he continued to represent until
his advancement to the peerage. Although originally
returned to parliament in opposition to the ministerial
interest, he soon joined the party in power, and became
a strenuous supporter of Lord North’s measures during
the American war. He frequently spoke in the House
of Commons ; and, notwithstanding the disadvantages of
an ungraceful manner and a provincial dialect, he was
always listened to with great attention, on account of
the clearness of his statements and the weight of his argu¬
ments. , , ...
In 1782, Mr Dundas was admitted a member of the privy-
council, and appointed treasurer of the navy, under the
administration of the Marquis of Lansdowne, then Earl of
Shelburne;—and he continued to fill that office, and. to
support the measures of government, until the dissolution
of that ministry. During the short coalition administration
he was out of place, and made a conspicuous figure in op¬
posing the memorable East India bill, a measure which oc¬
casioned the overthrow of the ruling party. Upon that oc¬
casion he displayed a knowledge of the affairs of the East
India Company, which was evidently the result of much
study and laborious investigation. In December 1788,
when Pitt became prime minister, Dundas was restored to
the same office which he had previously held ; and was ap¬
pointed president of the board of control, under the new
East India system. In 1791 he became a member of the
cabinet, in consequence of his appointment to the office of
principal secretary of state for the home department. I he
duties of this office he discharged with energy and ability.
The volunteer system, which, undoubtedly, contributed
much to rouse the spirit of the country during a period of
peculiar difficulty and danger, has been ascribed to Dun¬
das On the accession of the Duke of Portland to the ad¬
ministration of Pitt, he resigned the home department and
became secretary at war. At this time he also held the
offices of lord privy seal, and governor of the Bank of Scot¬
land, and enjoyed an extent of patronage in his native
country which has seldom or never fallen to the share of any
individual, and has been considered by many as more ex¬
clusive than can be safely confided to. the hands of any
one man. For many years he was the intimate friend and
coadjutor of Pitt, and took a leading part in all the im¬
portant measures of his administration. I he details o
these measures, and Lord Melville’s conduct in regard
to them, belong to history. In the present article we
must restrict ourselves to a general outline of the events
of his life, and a short summary of the leading traits of his
character.
Upon the resignation of Pitt in 1801, Dundas also le-
signed his political offices ; and in 1802, under the admi¬
nistration of Mr Addington, afterwards Lord Sidmouth, he
was elevated to the peerage, by the titles of Viscount Mel¬
ville and Baron Dunira. The last public situation wine i
he held in the government was that of first lord of the ad¬
miralty, to which he was appointed on Pitt s return to power,
in the room of Lord St Vincent. It was in his administia-
tion of the affairs of the naval department that his lordship
incurred the charge relative to the balances of public
money remaining in his hands, which produced his cele¬
brated impeachment. We conceive it unnecessary to dwell
upon the proceedings of that well-known trial. It is suffi-
eient to say that the House of Lords finally acquitted him
of all the charges brought forward in the articles of im-
D U N
peachment exhibited by the Commons; but he had pre
viously resigned all his offices in the administration. —
Subsequently to his acquittal, Lord Melville was restored
to his seat in the privy-council; but he did not return to
office. He sometimes took a share in the debates in the
House of Lords ; and, in 1810, he brought forward a motion
the object of which was to recommend the employment of
armed troop-ships, instead of hired transports, for the ac¬
commodation of such troops as it might be found expedient
to embark in furtherance of the public service. But the
oreater part of his time was spent in Scotland, where he
died suddenly at the house of his nephew, the Right Hon.
Robert Dundas, lord chief baron of the Exchequer, May
27, 1811, at the age of seventy-one. He appeared in his
usual health for some time preceding, and his death is sup¬
posed to have been hastened by the affliction he felt for the
loss of his old and valued friend the Lord President Blair,
who died a few days before.
In his person Lord Melville was tall, stout, a.nd
formed. In public life he was principally distinguished by
his great capacity for business, by the.unwearied attention
which he paid to the details of all official measures, and by
the manliness and decision of his conduct, f or many years,
as we have already observed, he was the steady friend and
firm supporter of the measures of Pitt, to whom he proved
a very powerful auxiliary. Whilst he held the offices of
treasurer of the navy and first lord of the admiralty, his
exertions are admitted to have been attended with great
advantage to the public service. He devised several im¬
provements in the details of that department, which have
been found of great utility; and, in particular, the regula¬
tions with regard to the payment of seamen’s wages, trans¬
mission of letters, and other matters connected with that
branch of the public service, contributed much to the com¬
fort of that class of men, and are highly honourable to the
character of their author. In parliament he was a clear,
acute, and argumentative speaker. His eloquence, how¬
ever, was that of a man possessed of strong natural talents,
wholly unadorned by literary taste or acquirements; and
his speeches produced their effect from the solidity of his
arguments, and the fearlessness with which he delivered
his opinions, rather than from any powers of oratory or graces
of style. The ornamental parts of eloquence, indeed, he
seemed to despise, and was satisfied to bring his audience
at once to the object he had in view. Political power was
his passion, and the bustle of official life was the element
in which he loved to move.
In private life his lordship was a most agreeable com¬
panion ; easy, frank, and convivial; careless of money, even
to a fault; always disposed to do kind offices ; affectionate
in his domestic relations, and greatly beloved by tie nu¬
merous circle of his friends.
Lord Melville was twice married: first, to Miss Rannie,
daughter of Captain Rannie of Melville, by whom he had
one son and three daughters. His second wife was La y
Jean Hope, sister of the late Earl of Llopetoun, by w 10m
he left no issue. , _ .
Although not, strictly speaking, a literary man, Lord
Melville was the author of several pamphlets on political su -
jects, which were distinguished by his usual sense and know¬
ledge of business. These are, 1. The Substance of a Speec i
in the House of Commons, on the British Government and
Trade in the East Indies, April 23, 1193. Lon non, 18 < ,
8vo. 2. Letter to the Chairman of the Court of Directors^
of the East India Company, upon an open Trade to India.
London, 1813, 8vo. 3. Letters to the Right Honourable
Spencer Percival, relative to the Establishment of a JSava
Arsenal at Northfieet. London, 1810, 4to.
DUNDEE, a'royal and parliamentary burgh mid sea¬
port town of Scotland, county of borfar, 42 miles N.N. .
from Edinburgh; N. Eat. 56. 2.; W. Long. 3. 2. It is
Dundee.
DUNDEE.
Dundee, situated on the north side of the river Tay, about 12 miles
from its mouth. Pop. (1851) 78,931 ; and as a considerable
increase has since taken place, it may now be estimated at
from 90,000 to 100,000. Dundee is thus the third town
in Scotland in respect of population. The name applied
to it by the earliest writers is Alectum or Taodunum. It
was subsequently designated Deidonum, of which the pre¬
sent name is supposed to be a corruption. The early his¬
tory of the town is involved in obscurity, but it appears to
have been a place of importance as early as the twelfth
century. Frequent mention is made of it in connection
with the disputes regarding the succession to the crown of
Scotland; and it was the scene of severe conflicts between
the English forces, who invaded the country in the reign of
Edward I., and the Scots, under the patriot Wallace, and
the other supporters of Scottish independence. Those na¬
tional feuds were finally extinguished by the union of the
crowns in the person of James VI.; but during the protec¬
torate of Oliver Cromwell, Dundee having refused to sub¬
mit to the republican General Monk, was in 1651 taken
by assault, and given up to plunder and massacre. A large
booty fell to the republican soldiers, and sixty vessels laden
with plunder were sent off to England, but suffered ship¬
wreck, and were totally lost.
The early records of the towm were destroyed during the
civil wars; but it appears that the first charter constituting
it a royal burgh was granted by William the Lion in 1210.
Subsequent charters were granted by king Robert in 1327,
and James IV. in 1511; and the privileges of the burgh
were finally confirmed in 1651, and by act of the Scottish
parliament passed in the same year.
The municipal government of the town is vested in a
provost, 4 bailies, and 15 councillors, chosen by the parlia¬
mentary electors w ithin the royalty. The Dean of Guild,
who is elected by the merchant guild, or Guildry incor¬
poration, is likewise a member of the town-council. The
subordinate corporations are the Nine Trades, the Three
Trades, the f raternity of Maltmen, and the Trinity House
or Fraternity of Masters and Seamen. Since the abolition
of exclusive privileges in trading within burgh, the minor
corporations have lost much of their importance; but most
of them have the privilege of choosing members to repre¬
sent them in the harbour trust and charitable institutions
of the place. Previous to the passing of the Reform act in
1832, Dundee, along with Perth, Forfar, Cupar, and St An¬
drews, sent only one member to the imperial parliament.
By that act the right of sending a representative of its ow n
was conferred upon the town.
Dundee was at one time surrounded by strong walls, and
portions of them are yet to be seen. The Cowgate port
still stands, and is regarded with veneration as a memo-
morial of George Wishart, the Reformer, who is said to have
preached from it in the year 1544, when the plague pre¬
vailed in the town, the sick being placed on one side of the
wall, and the healthy on the other.
The ground on which the town is built slopes gently to¬
wards the river, and is bounded on the north by the Law
of Dundee, and the Hill of Balgay. The former rises to
the height of 535 feet, and tnust in warlike times have been
a strong position. The walls of a fortification are still to
be traced on its summit. The town in general is irregularly
built; but within the last 20 or 30 years several new and
spacious streets have been opened up. The principal pub¬
lic buildings are the Exchange reading room; the Royal
Arch erected by public subscription to commemorate the
landing of Queen Victoria in 1844, at a cost of nearly
L.8000 ; the Public Seminaries; and the New Baltic Ex¬
change coffeeroom, a splendid specimen of the Flemish-
Gothic style. Of the ecclesiastical buildings the finest
are the Town churches, on the north side of Nethergate
Street. These were originally reared by David earl of Hun-
VOL. vm.
257
tingdon, during the twelfth century, in gratitude for his Dundee,
deliverance from shipwreck, and were dedicated to the Vir-
gin Mary. A portion of the building was destroyed when
Monk sacked the town, and a new church was erected
upon the site of that portion in 1788. In 1841 the remain¬
ing portion of the ancient cathedral was accidentally de¬
stroyed by fire, and was replaced by two elegant churches in
the pure Gothic style. The square tower or old steeple is
the only part of the original edifice which still remains. It
is a fine building of massive proportions, and 156 feet in
height. Besides these, there are St Andrew’s church, King
Street, a neat building with a spire 139 feet high ; St Paid’s
Free Church, on the south side of Nethergate Street, a fine
structure, surmounted by a light and tasteful spire 160 feet
high ; and St Paul’s Episcopal church, Castlehill, a very
handsome edifice, adorned with a lofty spire about 210
feet in height. Some of the other places of worship are
neat and tasteful buildings. The Established Church pos¬
sesses 8 of these ; the Free Church, 10 ; United Presby¬
terians, 6; Congregationalists, 4; Episcopalians, 2; Ro¬
man Catholics, 2 ; and the other religious bodies have about
10 places of worship.
Among the other public buildings deserving of notice
are the Town-house surmounted by a spire of handsome
proportions ; the Custom-house ; the New Infirmary, with
accommodation for upwards of 300 patients; the county
prison and bridewell; Dudhope Castle and barracks. The
inhabitants enjoy the privilege of recreation on the top of the
Law. Besides the Magdalen Yard, a fine pleasure-ground
at the west end of the town, the bleaching green and bar¬
rack park have been lately opened as places of public re¬
creation ; and a new pleasure-ground has also been formed
at the east end of the town, to which skating and curling
ponds are attached.
The charitable and benevolent institutions are numerous.
The principal of these are the royal infirmary and dispen¬
sary, the royal lunatic asylum, the orphan institution, and
industrial or ragged schools. There are likewise several mor¬
tifications for purposes of education, and the support of aged
and infirm persons.
Within a comparatively recent period a number of im¬
portant public undertakings have been completed. The
Dundee and Newtyle railway was opened for traffic in
1826 ; the Dundee and Arbroath railway in 1838 ; and the
Dundee and Perth railway in 1847. By means of these
railways, and of the Edinburgh, Perth, and Dundee rail¬
way, which joins the Dundee and Arbroath railway by
means of a ferry and branch line at Broughty Castle, 4
miles east from the town, Dundee has direct communication
with all parts of the kingdom. There are twm gas-light com¬
panies, each of them with a capital of about L.50,000 in¬
vested in their works and apparatus. The Dundee water
company was formed in 1846. Its capital is about L.130,000.
Its reservoirs are situated in the parish of Monikie about 10
miles distant from the town; and from these an abundant
supply of water has been procured.
The most important of the public works are the harbour
and docks. Previously to 1815 the harbour was of very
limited extent. In that year an act of parliament was ob¬
tained for enlarging it, and erecting a wet dock of 6} acres
(King William’s), a tide harbour of 4f acres, graving dock,
and other accommodation suitable for the increasing trade
of the port. The plan was afterwards greatly enlarged,
embracing new docks (Earl Grey’s of 5^ acres, and Victo¬
ria dock of 14| acres), patent slip, careening-beach, and ad¬
ditional tide harbours. The Victoria dock, though for some
years open to vessels, is not quite completed. The quays
are wide, and afford convenient berthage for about 70 ves¬
sels. On the south quay of Earl Grey’s dock is erected a
large crane capable of raising 30 tons. It is used chiefly
for lifting the boilers and heavy machinery of steam-vessels.
258 DUN
Dundee. Besides the ordinary branches of shipbuilding, the building
of iron vessels is carried on at the port. Owing to the in¬
creased burden of the vessels now employed in the trade of
the place, and the greater depth of water required by them,
additional works at the harbour are projected. The cost of
the docks and harbour may be stated at L.600,000.
The number and tonnage of vessels entered at the har¬
bour for the year ending 31st May 1854 was as follows:—
Vessels in foreign trade, 682 Register tonnage, 110,637
coasting trade, 1755 ... 158,334
river trade, 633 ... 28,262
Total, 3070 297,233
The following statement shows the progressive increase in
the harbour and shipping dues. It was—
In 1780   L.305
1795   965
1805     1272
1815   4400
1835   11,908
1854   23,402
The staple trade of Dundee is the manufacture of linen
and hempen fabrics, chiefly of the coarser descriptions.
The manufacture of linens appears to have been intro¬
duced from Germany in the beginning of last century. In¬
significant in extent at first, it gradually increased till the
close of that century, when, machinery having been applied
to the spinning of flax, a great impulse was given to it.
Spinning mills were erected, and of these there are now
about sixty in Dundee and its immediate neighbourhood.
Handspinning has been entirely superseded by mill-spin¬
ning. The coarser fabrics are still woven in hand-looms ;
but there are now six or seven large power-loom factories,
and some smaller ones. The chief articles of manufac¬
ture are sheetings, sail-cloth, drills, dowlas, sacking, and
bagging. Nearly one-half of the quantity made is sent to
London, Manchester, Glasgow, and Leeds, for home con¬
sumption. The remainder is exported either directly or
indirectly to foreign countries. The manufacture of jute
carpeting is also now carried on to a large extent. The
number of persons employed in the linen trade of the
place is estimated to be from 20,000 to 25,000.
The quantity of flax, hemp, codilla, and jute, imported
for the year ending 31st May 1854, was as follows:—
At the harbour  54,341 tons.
By railway      11,406
Total, 65,747
The quantity of linen goods sent away for exportation
and home consumption for the same period was as follows:—
Linens of all descriptions shipped ! ,91^00 •
at the harbour j Pieces'
By railway    686,110
Total, 1,107,542 pieces.
Assuming the value of the material at L.30 per ton, its
total value used in manufactures will be L.1,872,410.
Assuming the value of the goods manufactured to be
60s. per piece, their gross value will be L.3,322,626; and,
on this assumption, the balance of L.1,450,216 represents
the cost of the manufacture, including wages, the rents of
premises and machinery employed in it, and the profits of
the manufacturers.
From the foregoing statements, some idea may be formed
of the rapid increase of the town in commerce, wealth, and
population. Dundee is now the principal seat of the linen
trade ot the United Kingdom, and its fabrics are to be met
with in all quarters of the world. In proof of the pruden¬
tial habits of the people, it may be mentioned that a national
security savings-bank, opened in ] 838, now contains up¬
wards of L.70,000, lodged by 4632 depositors.
DUN
Dundee was remarkable at an early period for its ardent Dunferm-
attachment to the principles of the Reformation, and it was line,
long designated the “ Geneva of Scotland.” Many eminent v**'
ministers of the gospel laboured here, amongst whom may
be mentioned John Willison and Dr Robert Small. It is
the native place of the Fletchers and Scrimgeours, of Ad¬
miral Viscount Duncan, and George Dempster of Dun-
nichen.
The country surrounding the town is fertile and well cul¬
tivated ; and has shared largely in its prosperity, the rents
having increased much, and the value of the land being
augmented in proportion. With the natural advantages
which it enjoys, and the energy and enterprise for which
the inhabitants are distinguished, Dundee may be expected
to maintain the position which it now holds among the com¬
mercial towns of the British empire.
DUNFERMLINE, a royal burgh of Scotland, situated
in the western district of the county of Fife, 15 miles N.W.
of Edinburgh, in W. Long. 3. 27. 11.; N. Lat. 56. 5. 3.
The town is built on an extensive eminence, having a
pretty steep and uniform declivity towards the south, and
likewise declining into a ravine on the west, which divides
the more ancient part of the town from the extensive
suburb of Pittencrieff. This ravine is crossed by an earthen
mound, on which an excellent street is built, and is equal
to the second-rate streets of the metropolis, and surpasses in
its uniformity, and the appearance of its shops, the princi¬
pal streets of most country towns. The town is situated
about 270 feet above the level of the sea, and about three
miles distant from Limekilns, the nearest place on the coast.
It maybe described as consisting of one principal thorough¬
fare, and several parallel streets stretching from east to
west, near the top of the eminence on which the town is
built, which is intersected at right angles bystreets running
up and down the hill, terminating in a plain both at the top
and bottom. From its elevated situation, the prospect all
around is very extensive. Seen from the south or west,
the town has a very noble appearance, principally from its
irregular outline, and the many prominent objects, such as
steeples and public buildings, with which the whole is
adorned; and it is here and there interspersed with gar¬
dens and trees, which give it a very pleasing and picturesque
appearance, flanked as it is on the west by the extensive
parks of Pittencrieff, and on the east by the grounds of
Viewfield and Comely Park. The building most worthy of
notice is the Abbey Church, which has been erected on the
site of the Church of the Holy Trinity, built by Malcolm
Ceanmore, about the middle of the eleventh century. This
was demolished by Edward I. on the 10th February 1304,
and subsequently at the Reformation, on the 28th March
1560. However at the latter period, the nave escaped de¬
struction, and was used as a place of worship till September
1821, when the new church was opened for divine service.
It is a splendid edifice, in the Gothic style. Over the cen¬
tre of the cross is erected a square tower ninety feet high,
terminating in a flat roof, round the four sides of which, in
open hewn work, are the words “ King Robert the Bruce,”
in capital letters four feet in height, surmounted by royal
crowns and lofty pinnacles on the four corners. The old
church forms a very fine entrance to the new; and the ex¬
tensive repairs recently made on it by the Commissioners
of Woods and Forests have rendered it still more impres¬
sive. It is of various orders of architecture, accordant with
the different ages in which it has been altered and repaired.
The interior of the New Abbey Church is extremely ele¬
gant. Its tower and galleries are supported by magnificent
piers, moulded on the solid mason-work with Roman ce¬
ment, into small columns, which form the aggregate pier,
the capitals of which are adorned with exquisite imitations
of foliage. The ribs of the arches composing the different
roofs and the central ornaments are in the purest style, and,
1
DUN
Dunferm- seen from any point, the effect of the whole is at once mag¬
line. nificent and pleasing. Exactly below the pulpit, "which is
of wainscot, and in the Gothic style, lie the remains of
Robert Bruce; and in the north transept lie seven other
kings, two queens, and numbers of the nobility. Besides
the old church and steeple, the remains of the ancient
buildings consist of the south-west wall of the palace, which
hangs on the brink of a deep hollow, through which runs a
small stream, a building over a gate, probably the principal
entrance to the palace yard, the south wall of the Refectory
or Praters Hall, and a large window of elegant "workman¬
ship. There are likewise some slight traces of Malcolm
Ceanmore’s tower, which formed the original nucleus of the
town. The Guildhall, which was erected in 1808, is an edi¬
fice of Roman architecture, with a spire 132 feet in height.
It consists of a large hall intended for meetings of guildry.
It has lately been acquired by the county, and is used for
sheriff and justice-of-peace courts and other public offices.
The town-house is a narrow building. It now contains
the burgh-court rooms, the council-hall, and chambers for
r the town-clerk, the prison having been removed and a su¬
perior modern prison built in the outskirts of the town. In
the same locality there has also been erected a commodious
and well arranged poor-house, with a fever hospital adjoin¬
ing. The council-hall is adorned with some good paint¬
ings, and is surmounted by a spire.
The educational institutions of the town are numerous,
consisting of the High School, under the patronage of the
town-council, and partially endowed ; the Commercial
Academy, the property of the guildry; the Maclean Schools,
built and endowed by bequest of the late Rev. Allan Mac-
lean, a minister of the parish ; the Free Abbey Church
Schools, and several others—all well conducted ; but for a
complete educational course there is still wanting one good
academy taught by several masters for the different branches.
A school of art has lately been instituted in connection
with the Board of Trade Department of Science and Art,
and for its accommodation a tasteful and appropriate build¬
ing has been erected by public subscription.
The linen trade is of considerable antiquity in Dunferm¬
line. It began originally with ticks and checks. The first
table-linen manufactured here was a kind called huckaback;
this was followed in course of time by damask, the richest
and most ingenious kind of table-linen, which has been for
the last century improving in quality and pattern, and is
still continuing to be improved. The value of table-linens,
diapers, and table-covers annually manufactured here is
estimated at about L.450,000. Power looms for the weaving
of all descriptions of diaper, and some varieties of damask,
have been in use for several years. There are now two
power-loom factories, employing about 700 hands.
At one period there were eight flax-spinning mills here ;
they have now dwindled to one, and that chiefly for the pro¬
duction of sewing thread; the yarns used in the trade being
now imported from various places in England, Scotland,
and Ireland, chiefly from the two latter. The decline of
the flax-spinning trade is attributed to the want of facility
for the importation of the bulky raw material. A proposal
is now on foot for connecting Dunfermline by railway with
a harbour at Queensferry, about 5^ miles distant. Were
this scheme carried out it would give the town the advan¬
tage of a shipping port, and probably re-establish in it the
trade of flax-spinning.
Extensive works are in operation in the immediate vici¬
nity of the town for the manufacture of malleable iron.
They were originally erected by a joint-stock company, and
are now the property of the Weardale Iron Company.
This town is remarkable as having been the theatre in
which the principal dissents from the Established Church
have taken their rise; that, namely, of the Seceders under
Ralph Erskine, and that of the Relief body under George
DUN 259
Gillespie. It is amply supplied with places of worship in Dungan-
connection with the various denominations; there being non
three congregations of the Established Church, three of the j)unJ[ej(]
Free Church, four of the United Presbyterian, and one each v ^ ,
of the Independent, Baptist, Episcopalian, Morrisonian,
Roman Catholic, and Rowite persuasions.
The population in 1851 was 8577 within the municipal
boundaries ; and 13,836 within the parliamentary bounds.
DUNGANNON,a municipal and parliamentary borough
and market-town of Ireland, county Tyrone, standing on
the acclivity of a hill, 8 miles from Lough Neagh. Pop.
(1851) 3854. It consists of a square, with several diverg¬
ing streets, and is generally well built. The chief public
buildings are the parish church, Roman Catholic chapel,
two Presbyterian, and two Methodist meeting-houses, court¬
house, bridewell, market-house, savings-bank, fever hospital,
temperance hall, and an endowed school. Manufactures—
chiefly linens and coarse earthenware. Market-day Thurs¬
day. Dungannon returns one member to parliament.
DUNGARVAN, amunicipal and parliamentary borough
and seaport-town of Ireland, county of Waterford, and 25
miles W.S.W. from the town of that name. It is situated
in the bay of Dungarvan at the mouth of the Colligan, which
divides the town into two parts, and is crossed by a bridge
with a single arch. The eastern portion is called Abbey-
side. The town generally has a neat appearance, and has
recently been much improved by the exertions of the Duke
of Devonshire. In summer it is resorted to for sea-bathing.
The principal public buildings are the parish church, two
Roman Catholic chapels, a convent, fever hospital, union
workhouse, market-house, and an ancient castle now used as
barracks. Pop. (1851)6417, chiefly engaged in the fisheries.
The principal exports consist of grain, butter, and cattle.
Vessels of more than 250 tons burden cannot come to the
quay. Market-day Saturday. The borough returns one mem¬
ber to the imperial parliament; constituency (1851) 314.
DUNKELD, a burgh of barony and market-town of
Scotland, county of Perth, on the north bank of the Bay,
15 miles N.N.W. from Perth. The river is here crossed
by a fine bridge of seven arches, built in 1809, and com¬
municating with Little Dunkeld, a suburb on the opposite
side of the river. Pop. (1851) 1104. The situation of Dun¬
keld is truly romantic, and the surrounding scenery highly
picturesque. It stands in the centre of a valley surrounded
by mountains of considerable elevation, which are wooded
to the summit. With the exception of one new street,
the houses are generally old and mean. The most strik¬
ing object in the town is the ancient and venerable ca¬
thedral—an edifice partly Saxon and partly Gothic, the
remains of which are both extensive and in good preser¬
vation. The centre of the nave is 120 feet by 60, the
walls 40 feet high, and its aisles 12 feet wide. It is now
roofless; but the choir was rebuilt and handsomely fitted
up by the late Duke of Atholl, and is now used as the pa¬
rish church. On the north side of the choir is the charter-
house, built by Bishop Lauder in 1469; beneath which is
the sepulchral vault of the Atholl family. In the porch of
the church is the tomb of Alexander Stuart Earl of Buchan,
better known as the Wolf of Badneoch, who died in 1384.
Here, so early as 729, the Culdees had a monastery, which
was converted into a cathedral by David I. in 1127. Among
the bishops of Dunkeld were i?n<ce’,s bishop Sinclair, Gavin
Douglas the translator of the sEneid, and Henry Guthrie
author of “Memoirs of Scottish Affairs from 1637 to the
death of Charles I.” Immediately behind the cathedral
stands the ancient mansion of the dukes of Atholl. A mag¬
nificent new mansion was commenced by the late duke, but
at his death in 1830 its progress was suspended. The
magnificent grounds of the ducal residence are not surpassed
in extent and beauty by any in Scotland. The larch
woods alone cover an area of 11,000 acres. The late duke
r,
260 DUN
Dunkerque planted about twenty-seven millions of these trees, besides
II several millions of other kinds. The site of Birnam Wood,
Dunkers. g0 famous for its connection with the fate of Macbeth, is
about three miles S. of Dunkeld. The Braan, a mountain
stream which falls into the Tay, nearly opposite to Dun¬
keld, forms a magnificent cascade of 80 feet in height, and
known as the “ Rumbling Brig,” from a narrow bridge made
by the fall of two rocks across the stream. The stream has
a second fall which, but for the other, would be deemed
superb.
DUNKERQUE, Dunquerque, or Dunkirk, a strongly
fortified seaport-town of France, capital of an arrondisse-
ment in the department of the Nord, is situated on the E.
shore of the Straits of Dover, 174 miles from Paris, and 50
miles from Lille ; N. Lat. 51. 2.; E. Long. 2. 23. Pop.
(1851) 26,886.
Dunkerque is a handsome and well-built town, with an air
of greatbustleandcommercial prosperity. Its principal public
squares, the Place Jean Bart and the Champ-de-Mars, are
wide and spacious, planted with trees and adorned with
statues. The public buildings worthy of notice are the
church of St Eloi, a motley edifice, partly Gothic and partly
Corinthian in architecture ; the barracks and military maga¬
zines, the belfroi, the lighthouse, and the theatre. The
trade of Dunkerque is already very considerable, and has
increased with great rapidity ever since the town was made
a free port in 1826. The chief articles of manufacture are
soap, beet-root sugar, starch, and leather. There are also
some important shipbuilding-yards and iron-foundries. The
fisheries of the coast are valuable and extensive. Dun¬
kerque possesses tribunals of first instance and of commerce,
a chamber of commerce, a custom-house, and a school of
navigation ; and the consuls of various foreign countries re¬
side in the town.
Dunkerque traces its existence as far back as the days
of St Eloi, who is said to have founded on the site of the
present town a chapel round which a small village speedily
sprang up. In the tenth century Baldwin III., Count of
Flanders, raised the village to the rank of a town : and in
the sixteenth century Charles V. built a fort for the pro¬
tection of the harbour, no traces of which, however, now
exist. In 1558 the English, who had for some time held
possession of the town, were expelled from it by the French,
who in the ensuing year surrendered it to the Spaniards. In
the middle of the seventeenth century it once more passed
into the hands of the French, who, after a few years’ occupa¬
tion of it, again restored it to Spain. In 1658 it was retaken
by the French and made over to the English. After the res¬
toration, Charles II. was compelled by his extravagance to
sell the town to the French king Louis XIV., who fortified
it. In 1793 it was attacked by the English under the Duke
of York, who, however, was compelled to retire from before
its walls with severe loss.
DUNKERS (First-day or German Baptists), a sect
founded by Alexander Mack in Schwarzenau about the year
1708. The origin of the name is unknown. Having been
persecuted in Germany, they fled to Holland and thence
to America, where they founded their first church in Ger¬
mantown in 1723. They repudiate the practice of judicial
oaths, mercantile interest, and warfare. Celibacy is not
enjoined, but the sexes dwell apart, and have separate di¬
vine service. Their mode of life is simple, and they con¬
fine themselves to vegetable diet. They believe in the doc¬
trines of human merit and works of supererogation ; and
get rid of eternal punishments by the hypothesis of periodi¬
cal purgations. Their liturgy is simple. They celebrate the
Lord’s Supper at night with a love feast, the kiss of charity,
washing the feet, and striking the hand as a pledge of mu¬
tual confidence. By their industry they are generally in com¬
fortable circumstances, and have about 50 churches and 40
preachers. Dr Klose estimates their numbers at 30,000.
DUN
DUNMANWAY, a market-town of Ireland, county of Dunman-
Cork, on the Brandon, near the junction of the three streams way
which form that river, 33 miles W. by S. of Cork. Pop. II >
(1851)2222. It has two Episcopalian churches,a Roman Ca- Dunning-
tholic and a Methodist chapel, and a bridewell. The linen
trade, formerly rather flourishing, has declined; but tanning
and brewing and the corn trade are actively carried on.
DUNMOW, Great, a market-town and parish in the
county of Essex, on the river Chelmar, 38 miles from Lon¬
don. It is a town of very ancient date, supposed to be the
Caesaromagus of the Romans ; and here remains of the road
to Colchester, constructed by that people, are still visible.
Pop. of parish (1851) 3235, chiefly engaged in the manu¬
facture of sacking and coarse cloth. Market-day Saturday.
Near it is Little Dunmow, remarkable for the ancient right
which a happy couple have to demand a flitch of bacon at
the end of a year from their marriage.
DUNNAGE, in Commercial Navigation, denotes loose
wood, boughs, or other materials, laid above the ballast of
a ship, to preserve the cargo from injury.
DUNNING, John, Lord Ashburton, an eminent
English lawyer, was the second son of Mr John Dunning
of Ashburton, Devonshire, an attorney. He was born at
Ashburton Oct. 18, 1731, and was educated at the free
grammar-school of his native place, where he soon distin¬
guished himself in classical literature and mathematics. On
leaving school he was taken into his father’s office, where
he remained until the age of nineteen, when he was sent
to the Temple. At the bar he came very slowly into prac¬
tice. In 1762 he was employed to draw up A Defence of
the United Company of Merchants of England trading to
the East Indies, and their Servants, particularly those at
Bengal, against the Complaints of the Dutch East India
Company to His Majesty on that subject; and the masterly
style which characterized the document procured him at
once reputation and emolument.
In lt63 he distinguished himself as counsel on the side
of Wilkes; and his professional business from that period
gradually increased to such an extent, that in 1 776 he is
said to have been in the receipt of nearly L.10,000 per an¬
num. In 1766 he was chosen recorder of Bristol, and in
December 1767 he was appointed to the office of solicitor-
general. This latter appointment he held till May 1770,
when he retired, along with his friend Lord Shelburne. In
1771 he was presented with the freedom of the city of
London. From this period he was considered as a regular
member of the opposition party, and distinguished himself
by many able speeches in parliament. He was first chosen
member for Caine in 1768, and continued to represent that
burgh until he was promoted to the peerage. In 1782,
when the Marquis of Rockingham became prime minister,
Dunning was appointed chancellor of the duchy of Lancas¬
ter ; and about the same time he was advanced to the peer¬
age, by the title of Lord Ashburton. He died while on a
visit to Exmouth, Aug. 18, 1783.
The person of Lord Ashburton was by no means agree¬
able or prepossessing. He was a short, thick man, with a
sallow countenance, a constant shake of the head, and a
hectic cough, which frequently interrupted the stream of
his eloquence. His oratory, however, was at once fluent,
elegant, and argumentative, and he possessed a sound know¬
ledge of the laws, and of the theory of our constitution.
His language was pure and classical, yet peculiar to him¬
self ; and he had a great fund of wit and humour. His dis¬
position was originally timid, but this defect he overcame
by practice, as he became more familiar with forensic ha¬
bits. Of the great extent of his practice some notion may
be formed from the fortune he left behind him, which was
all earned by his own exertions, and amounted to no less a
sum than L. 180,000.
Sir William Jones has pronounced a splendid eulogium N
D U N
DUN
261
Dunoon on the character of Lord Ashburton. “ His language,”
|] says that accomplished scholar, “ was always pure, always
Duns, elegant; and the best words dropped easily from his lips
into the best places, with a fluency at all times astonishing,
and, when he had perfect health, really melodious. His
style of speaking consisted of all the turns, oppositions, and
figures, which the old rhetoricians taught, and which Cicero
frequently practised, but which the austere and solemn
spirit of Demosthenes refused to adopt from his first mas¬
ter, and seldom admitted into his orations, political or fo¬
rensic. That faculty, however, in which no mortal ever
surpassed him, and which all found irresistible, was his wit.
This relieved the weary, calmed the resentful, and animated
the drowsy ; this drew smiles even from such as were the
objects of it; scattered flowers over a desert ; and, like
sun-beams sparkling on a lake, gave spirit and vivacity to
the dullest and least interesting cause. He was endued
with an intellect sedate yet penetrating, clear yet profound,
subtle yet strong. His knowledge, too, was equal to his
imagination, and his memory to his knowledge.”
Besides the Answer to the Dutch Memorial, Lord Ash¬
burton is supposed to have assisted in writing a pamphlet
on the law of libel, and to have been the author of A Let¬
ter to the Proprietors of East India Stock, on the subject
of Lord Clive's Jaghire, occasioned bg his Lordship’s Let¬
ter on that Subject, 1764, 8vo. His lordship was at one
time suspected of being the author of the celebrated Letters
of Junius. (See Chalmers’s Biog. Diet., and Sir W. Jones’s
Works, vol. iv.)
DUNOON, a favourite watering-place in Argyleshire,
on the Firth of Clyde, 9 miles W. of Greenock. It has an
excellent pier, and many well-built houses and elegant vil¬
las. Numerous steamers from Glasgow and other places
touch there. The castle was once a royal residence and a
strong fortress, of which no remains except a wall are now
visible. Pop. (1851) 2229.
DUNS, John (commonly styled Duns Scotus), a school¬
man of the highest reputation, is said to have been born in
the year 1274, but the place of his birth has been long and
much disputed. Dempster has asserted the claims of Scot¬
land by twelve arguments J but a less formidable number
might perhaps have been sufficient. The designation Sco¬
tus, which is commonly added to his name, evinces him to
have been a native either of Scotland or of Ireland; but
the pretensions of the latter country cannot be supported
by the authority of a single early writer. Wadding and
other Irish authors who claim him as their countryman, per¬
suade themselves that he was born at Dunum, or Down¬
patrick, and must thence have derived the name of Duns ;1 2
but this is obviously a mere conjecture, unsupported by tra¬
dition, and carrying with it no great plausibility. Leland
claims him as an Englishman, on the authority of certain
manuscript copies of his works, preserved in the library of
Merton College, and bearing a colophon which describes
him as born at the village of Dunstane in the county of
Northumberland.3 But if this had been the place of his
birth, his surname ought to have been Dunstane. It ap¬
parently belongs to the class of local surnames, or those
derived from places of birth or habitation; and we have
little or no hesitation in supposing him to have been a na¬
tive of Dunse in the county of Berwick. This surname is
still to be found in Scotland. He is mentioned as a native
of Scotland by Trithemius,4 and likewise by Paulus Jovius,
Sixtus Senensis, Possevin, and many other writers of va¬
rious countries. We are told that when a boy he became
accidentally known to two Franciscan friars, who, finding
him to be a youth of very extraordinary capacity, took him
to their convent at Newcastle, and afterwards persuaded Dunse
him to become one of their fraternity. From thence he II
was sent to Oxford, where he became a fellow of Merton Dunsta^'
College, and professor of divinity; but it appears that he " v
had likewise studied at Paris. His lectures were frequented
by a prodigious concourse of students. His fame was now
become so universal, that the general of his order removed
him to Paris, that the students of that university might also
have the benefit of his lectures. He went to Paris in the
year 1304, where he is said to have been honoured first
with the degree of bachelor, then of doctor of divinity, and
in 1307 to have been appointed regent of the divinity
schools ; but as he had taught divinity at Oxford, he must
previously have taken at least one degree in that faculty.
During his residence at Paris arose the famous controversy
about the immaculate conception of the Virgin Mary. Al-
bertus Magnus maintained that she was born in original
sin. Scotus advanced two hundred arguments in support
of the contrary opinion, and convinced the university of
Paris that she was really conceived immaculate. This im¬
portant nonsense, however, continued to be disputed till
1496, after the council of Basel, when the university of
Paris made a decree, that no student who did not believe
the immaculate conception should be admitted to a degree.
Duns had not been above a year at Paris, when the same
general of the Franciscans ordered him to remove to Co¬
logne, where he was received with great pomp and cere¬
mony by the magistrates and nobles of that city, and where
he died of apoplexy soon after his arrival, in 1308, in
the thirty-fourth year of his age. Some writers have re¬
ported that he was buried in an epileptic fit, and that, upon
removing his bones, he appeared to have turned himself
in his coffin; or, according to another account, to have
gnawed the flesh from one of his arms. The genius of this
renowned schoolman, who obtained the appellation of Doc¬
tor Subtilis, oi the Subtle Doctor, reflects no inconsider¬
able lustre on the nation to which he belonged: he main¬
tained a reputation almost unrivalled till the scholastic theo¬
logy and scholastic philosophy were finally exploded. His
followers, who were called Scotists, opposed the opinions of
the Thomists, or followers of St Thomas Aquinas. An
edition of his works, accompanied by a life of the author by
Luke Wadding, was published at Lyon in 12 volumes
folio. See Scotists, and Second Preliminary Disser¬
tation to this work, § iii.
DUNSE, a burgh of barony and market-town of Ber¬
wickshire, Scotland, 15 miles W. from Berwick, and 44
miles S.E. from Edinburgh. Besides the town-house, a mo¬
dern Gothic building, it contains a parish church, a Free
church, 3 United Presbyterian chapels, and chapels for
Episcopalians and Independents. There are fairs for cattle
in June, August, and November; for wool in July; and
for sheep in March, May, July, and September. The she¬
riff-courts for the county are held here. Dunse was the
birth-place of Duns Scotus; and in the parish were born the
Rev. Thomas Boston and Dr M‘Crie. Near it is Dunse
Law, which still retains vestiges of its occupation by General
Leslie in 1639. Pop. (1851), 2567.
DUNSTABLE, a market-town of Bedfordshire, in the
parish of Dunstable, and hundred of Manshead, 33 miles
N.W. from London (47| by N.-Western railway), and 18
miles S.S.W. from Bedford. It is situated on the ancient
Watling and Icknield streets, and is generally supposed
to have been the Magiovinium of the Romans. It rose
into importance after the erection (by Henry L), in 1131, of
a priory of black canons, of which the present parish church
formed part. The present building presents a remarkable
1 Dempsteri Asserti Scotiae Gives esse sui; S. Bonifacius rationibus ix. Joannes Duns rationibus xii. Bononise, 1621, 4to.
2 Wadding Scriptores Ordinis Minoruna, f. 201, a. ftomse, 1650, fol. 3 Lelandus de Scriptoribus Britannicis, tom. ii., p. 317.
4 Trithemius de Scriptoribus Ecclesiasticis, f. 76, a. Basil. 1491, fol.
262 DUN
Dunstan. fine front in the mixed Norman style ; and, besides several
v-—' ancient brasses, contains the “ Last Supper” by Thornhill.
There are also chapels for Baptists and Wesleyan Metho¬
dists, and several schools and almshouses. Many of the fe¬
males are engaged in the manufacture of straw-plait. There
is a weekly market on Saturday, besides quarterly fairs prin¬
cipally for sheep. The neighbouring chalk downs furnish
a breed of larks of unusual size. Pop. (1851) 3589.
DUNSTAN, Saint, a famous archbishop of Canterbury.
He was descended from a noble family in Wessex, and edu¬
cated in the abbey of Glastonbury, where he studied so hard
that he was seized with a violent fever, which brought him
to the very point of death. When the whole family were
standing about his bed, dissolved in tears, and expecting
every moment to see him expire, an angel came from heaven
in a dreadful storm, and gave him a medicine which restored
him to perfect health in a moment. Dunstan immediately
started from his bed, and ran with all his speed towards the
church to return thanks for his recovery ; but the devil met
him by the way, surrounded by a great multitude of black
dogs, and endeavoured to obstruct his passage. This would
have frightened ordinary boys, but it had no effect what¬
ever upon Dunstan, who, having pronounced a sacred name,
and brandished his stick, put the devil and all his dogs to
flight. The church doors being shut, an angel took him
up in his arms, conveyed him through an opening in the
roof, and set him softly down on the floor, where he per¬
formed his devotions. After his recovery, he pursued his
studies with the greatest ardour, and soon became a perfect
master in philosophy, divinity, and music; painting, writ¬
ing, and sculpture; besides working in gold, silver, brass,
iron, and other metals. Whilst still young he entered into
holy orders, and was introduced by his uncle Athelm, arch¬
bishop of Canterbury, to King Athelstan, who, being
charmed with his person and accomplishments, retained
him at his court, and employed him in many great affairs.
At leisure hours he used to entertain the king and his
courtiers with playing on the harp, or some other musical
instrument; and now and then, byway of variety, he wrought
a miracle, which gained him great admiration. But his old
enemy the devil was much offended at this, and prompted
some envious courtiers to persuade the king that his favour¬
ite was a magician ; a story which that prince too readily
believed. Dunstan, however, having discovered by the
king’s countenance that he had lost his favour, resolved to
resign rather than be dismissed, and accordingly retired
from court to another uncle, who was Bishop of Winches¬
ter. This good prelate prevailed upon his nephew to for¬
sake the world and become a monk ; and Dunstan retired
to a little cell built against the church w^all of Glastonbury.
Here he slept, studied, prayed, meditated, and sometimes
amused himself with forging several useful things in brass
and in iron. One evening as he was working very busily
at his forge, the devil, putting on the appearance of a man,
thrust his head in at the window of his cell, and asked him
to make something or other for him. Dunstan was so in¬
tent upon his work that he made no answer, upon which
the devil began to swear and to talk obscenely. This be¬
trayed the lurking fiend. But the holy blacksmith was pre¬
pared for all casualties ; so putting up a secret ejaculation,
he pulled his tongs, which were red hot, out of the fire, and
seizing the devil by the nose, squeezed the Satanic organ
of smell with a degree of energy which caused his infernal
majesty to bellow and scold at such a rate that he awakened
and terrified all the people for many miles around. Thus
far the legend.
However ridiculous these fictions may seem, they served,
in those times of ignorance, to procure Dunstan a reputa¬
tion which has been confirmed by the authority of several
succeeding historians. It appears that this extraordinary
person was called to court in 941 by King Edmund, who
DUN
bestowed upon him the rich abbey of Glastonbury, which Dunstan.
for his sake he honoured with many peculiar privileges.
Dunstan enjoyed in a very high degree the favour of this
prince during his short reign of six years; but he stood
much higher in the grace of his brother and successor King
Edred, to whom he was confessor, chief confidant, and prime
minister. During this period of court favour he employed
all his influence in promoting the interest of the monks of
the Benedictine order, to which he belonged, and of which
he was a most active and zealous patron. Having the trea¬
sures of these two princes, especially of the last, at his com¬
mand, he lavished them away in building and endowing
monasteries for these monks, because almost all the old
monasteries were in the possession of secular canons; and
not contented with this, he persuaded Edred to bestow, by
his last will, such immense treasures on the churches and
monasteries, that the crown was stripped of its most valu¬
able possessions, and left in a state of indigence. This con¬
duct of Dunstan, whilst he was in power, rendered him very
odious to Edwy, who succeeded his uncle Edred in 955;
and his rude behaviour to the king himself, and his beloved
queen Elgiva, raised the resentment of that prince to such
a height that he deprived Dunstan of all his preferments,
and drove him into exile. The banishment of Dunstan,
the great patron, or, as Malmsbury calls him, the prince of
monks, was a severe blow to that order, who were in con¬
sequence expelled from several monasteries. But their suf¬
ferings were not of long continuance ; for Edgar, the
younger brother of Edwy, having raised a successful re¬
bellion against his brother, and usurped all his dominions
on the north side of the Thames, recalled Dunstan, and in
957 conferred on him the bishopric of Worcester. From
this moment he was the chief confidant and prime minister
of King Edgar, who in 959 became sole monarch ot Eng¬
land, by the death of his elder brother Edwy. In the fol¬
lowing year Dunstan was raised to the archiepiscopal see of
Canterbury ; and being thus possessed of the primacy and
assured of the royal support and assistance, he prepared to
execute the grand design which he had long meditated, of
compelling the secular canons to put awray their wives and
become monks, or, in case of resistance on their part, of
driving them out, and introducing Benedictine monks in
their stead. With this view he procured the promotion of
Oswald to the see of Worcester, and of Ethelwald to that
of Winchester, two prelates who were monks themselves,
and animated with the most ardent zeal for the advance¬
ment of their order; and these three great champions of
monachism found means, by their arts and intrigues, in the
course of a few years, to fill no fewer than 48 monasteries
with Benedictines. But on the death of Edgar in 957 they
received a check. The sufferings of the persecuted canons
had excited much compassion ; and many of the nobility,
who had been overawed by the power and zeal of the late
king, now espoused their cause and promoted their restora¬
tion. Elferc duke of Mercia drove the monks by force out
of all the monasteries in that extensive province, and brought
back the canons, with their wives and children ; whilst Elf-
win duke of East Anglia, and Brithnot duke of Essex, raised
troops to protect the monks in these countries. In order
to allay these commotions, several councils were summoned,
and Dunstan was so hard pushed by the secular canons and
their friends, that he was obliged to practise some of his
holy stratagems ; but finally, by dint of miracles, he over¬
came all opposition.
St Dunstan died in 988, in the sixty-fourth year of his
age ; having held the bishopric of London, together with the
archbishopric of Canterbury, about 27 years. As this pre¬
late was the great restorer and promoter of the monastic
institutions, the grateful monks, who were almost the only
historians of those dark ages, have loaded him with the
most extravagant praises, and represented him as the \
D U P
Punster greatest wonder-worker and highest favourite of Heaven
II that ever lived.
Duppa. DUNS TER, a market-town of Somersetshire, situated
in a beautiful vale, at the foot of the Quantoch Hills, about
a mile from the Bristol Channel. It consists chiefly of two
streets, one running north and south, and the other branch¬
ing off1 towards the west. The principal buildings are the
castle and the parish church, the latter a spacious and hand¬
some edifice with a tower. Pop. of parish (1851) 1184.
DUNUM, a Celtic term denoting a hill or eminence,
which frequently enters into the composition of the ancient
names of towns, to indicate their elevated situation as places
of strength or citadels. See Dun.
DUNWICH, in Suffolk, 26 miles N.E. of Ipswich, the
Domoc or Dunmoc of the Saxons, and the capital of East
Anglia, was formerly an important seaport-town, and the
seat of an extensive trade. Its harbour and the greater part
of the town have been destroyed by encroachments of the
sea, and it is now only a poor fishing village with 294 in¬
habitants.
DUODECIMO (abbreviated 12mo) is applied to a book
of which each sheet is folded into 12 leaves.
DUODENUM, the commencement of the intestinal
canal; the first of the small intestines. See Anatomy.
DUPIN, Louis Ellies, doctor of the Sorbonne, and
professor of philosophy in the Royal College, one of the
greatest ecclesiastical critics of his time, was born at Paris
in 1657. When he published the first volume Biblio-
theque Universelle des Auteurs Ecclesiastiques, in 1686,
the liberty with which he discussed the merits of some
ecclesiastical writers gave so much offence that, at the in¬
stigation of Bossuet, M. de Harlay, archbishop of Paris,
compelled Dupin to make a retractation, and to suppress the
work. He was, however, afterwards permitted to continue
it, by altering the title from Bibliotheque Universelle to
Bibliotheque Nouvelle. This great undertaking was ulti¬
mately brought to a close in 47 vols., and several transla¬
tions of it appeared almost immediately. Dupin was a man
of prodigious reading, and had an easy, happy way of writ¬
ing, with a singular talent for analysis ; a quality which
renders tiis Bibliotheque very valuable. He was for some
time editor of the Journal des Sfavans. He was banished
for a time from his chair in the Royal College for having
subscribed the famous Cas de Conscience, and thus identi¬
fied himself in some measure with the Jansenists. He after¬
wards, however, withdrew his subscription, and was restored
to office. He corresponded with Archbishop Wake in re¬
gard to the proposed union of the English and French
Churches, and is said to have been consulted by the czar of
Russia in regard to a similar union of the French with the
Greek Church. Dupin died in 1719.
DUPLE (Lat. duplus), double. Duple ratio is that of
2 to 1. Thus the ratio of 8 to 4 is duple, or as 2 to 1.
Sub-duple ratio is the reverse, or as 1 to 2, 4 to 8, 6 to
12, &c.
DUPLICATE, a copy or transcript of anything; as of
a deed, letter, bill of exchange, &c.
DUPLICATION, the act of doubling; the multiplica¬
tion of a number by 2. Also a folding ; a fold.
Duplication of the Cube, a celebrated problem of the
ancient geometry, by which it was required to construct a
cube whose solid contents should be double the solid con¬
tents of a given cube. See Mathematics.
DUPLICATURE, a doubling; a fold. In Anatomy,
the folds of a membrane or vessel.
DUPONDIUS, in Antiquity, a weight of two pounds,
or money of the value of two asses. See As; Libra ;
Pound.
DUPPA, Brian, a learned English bishop, was born in
1589, at Lewisham, Kent, where his father was then vicar.
In 1634 he was constituted chancellor of the church at
D U P , 263
Sarum, and soon afterwards made chaplain to Charles I. Dupuis.
He was appointed tutor to Charles prince of Wales and
his brother James duke of York in 1638 ; and in the same
year nominated to the bishopric of Chichester. In 1641 he
was translated to the see of Salisbury, but received no bene¬
fit from this preferment, owing to the suppression of epis¬
copacy. Charles I. held him in high esteem, and is said
to have derived assistance from him in composing the Eikon
Basilike. Alter the Restoration he was made bishop of
Winchester, and lord high almoner. Duppa died at Rich¬
mond in 1662, aged seventy-three, and was buried in West¬
minster Abbey. He published a lew sermons and tracts on
practical religion.
DUPUIS, Charles Francois, an eminent French writer,
and member of the Institute, was born of poor parents at
Trye-Chateau, between Gisors and Chaumont, Oct. 26,
1742. His father, who was a teacher, instructed him in
mathematics and land-surveying. The Duke de la Roche-
foucault, who accidently became acquainted with young
Dupuis, took him under his protection, and gave him a bur¬
sary in the College of Harcourt.
Dupuis made such rapid progress in his studies, that at
the age of twenty-four he was appointed professor of rhe¬
toric at the college of Lisieux. In his hours of leisure he
applied himself to the study of the law, and in 1770 was
admitted an advocate before parliament. He was charged
by the rector of the university with the task of delivering
the customary discourse at the distribution of prizes; and
he was also employed in the name of the university to com¬
pose the funeral oration of the Empress Maria Theresa of
Austria. These two works having been printed, they were
admired on account of their elegant Latinity, and laid the
foundation of the author’s lame as a writer.
The mathematics having been the object of his early
studies, he now devoted his more serious attention to that
science; and for some years he attended the astronomical
lectures of Lalande, with whom he formed an intimate friend¬
ship. In 1778 he constructed a telegraph on the principle
suggested by A montons; and employed it in keeping up
a correspondence with his friend M. Fortin in the neigh¬
bouring village of Bagneux, until the Revolution rendered
it necessary that he should destroy his machine to avoid the
danger of suspicion.
Much about the same time, Dupuis formed his ingenious
theory with respect to the origin of the Greek months. In
the course of his investigations upon this subject, he com¬
posed a long memoir on the constellations, in which he en¬
deavoured to account for the dissimilarity of the groups of
stars in the heavens with their representations even on the
most ancient planispheres, by supposing that the zodiac was,
for the people who invented it, a sort of calendar at once
astronomical and rural. It seemed only necessary, there¬
fore, to discover the clime and the period in which the con¬
stellation of Capricorn must have arisen with the sun on
the day of the summer solstice, and the vernal equinox must
have occurred under Libra. It appeared to Dupuis that
this clime was Egypt, and that the perfect correspondence
between the signs and their significations had existed in
that country for a period of between fifteen and sixteen
thousand years before the present time ; that it had existed
only there; and that this harmony had been disturbed by
the effect of the precession of the equinoxes. He therefore
ascribed the invention of the signs of the zodiac to the
people who then inhabited Upper Egypt or Ethiopia. This
was the basis on which Dupuis established his mythological
system, and endeavoured to explain the curious subject of
fabulous history, and the whole system of the theogony and
theology of the ancients.
Persuaded of the importance of his discoveries, which,
however, were by no means entirely original, Dupuis pub¬
lished several detached parts of his system in the Journal
1
264 D U P
Dupuy- des Spavans for the months of June, October, and Decem-
tren. ber 1777, and of February 1781. These he afterwards col-
v «-v ' lected and published, first, in Lalande’s Astronomy, and then
in a separate volume in 4to, 1781, under the title of Me-
moire sur V Origine des Constellations, et sur VExplication
de la Fable par VAstronomic. The theory propounded in
this memoir was refuted by M. Badly, in the fifth volume
of his History of Astronomy; but, at the same time, with
a just acknowledgment of the erudition and ingenuity ex¬
hibited by the author.
Condorcet proposed Dupuis to Frederick the Great of
Prussia as a fit person to succeed Thiebault in the profes¬
sorship of literature at Berlin ; and Dupuis had accepted
the invitation, when the death of the king put an end to
the engagement. The chair of humanity in the college of
France having at the same time become vacant by the death
of M. Bejot, it was conferred on Dupuis ; and in 1788 he
became a member of the Academy of Inscriptions. He
now resigned his professorship at Lisieux, and was appointed
by the administrators of the department of Paris one of the
four commissioners of public instruction.
At the commencement of the revolutionary troubles
Dupuis sought an asylum at Evreux; and having been
chosen a member of the national convention by the depart¬
ment of the Seine-et-Oise, he distinguished himself by
the moderation of his speeches and public conduct. In the
third year of the republic he was elected secretary to the
assembly, and in the fourth he was chosen a member of the
council of Five Hundred. After the memorable 18th Bru-
maire he was elected by the department of Seine-et-Oise
a member of the legislative body, of which he became the
president. He was afterwards proposed as a candidate for
the senate ; and here terminated his political career.
In 1794 he published his large work, entitled Origine de
tons les Cultes, ou la Religion Universelle, 3 vols. 4to, with
an atlas, or 12 vols. 12mo. This work made a considerable
sensation at first; it gave umbrage to many, was attacked
and defended with warmth, at length ceased to be read, and
fell into utter neglect. In 1798 he published an abridgment
of this work in one volume 8vo, which met with no better
success. Another abridgment of the same work, executed
upon a much more methodical plan, was published by M.
de Tracy. The other works of Dupuis consist of two me¬
moirs on the Pelasgi, inserted in the Memoirs of the Insti¬
tute; a memoir On the Zodiac of Tentyra, published in the
Revue Philosophique for May 1806; and a Memoire Ex-
plicatif du Zodiaque Chronologique et Mythologique pub¬
lished the same year, in one volume 4to. It was from the
perusal of the poem of Nonnus, which he once thought of
translating into French, and of which a fragment was printed
in the Nouvel Almanack des Muses for 1805, that Dupuis
caught the first idea of his astronomical system.
Dupuis died at Is-sur-Til, Sept. 29, 1809, leaving behind
him several manuscripts on subjects connected with the
works which he had published during his life. He was a
member of the Legion of Honour; and his character was that
of an honest man and a paradoxical writer. He was sprung
from poor parents, and never acquired any fortune. M.
Dacier, secretary to the third class of the Institute, deli¬
vered his Eloge; and an historical account of his life and
writings wras published by his widow. (See also Biographic
Universelle.) m
DUPUYTREN, Guillaume, Baron, one of the most
distinguished of French surgeons, was born October 6,1777,
at Pierre Buffiere, a small town of Limousin. He was sprung
from poor parents, and was furnished with the means of
receiving an ordinary education at the College de la Marche,
by some charitable persons to whom he had been intro¬
duced. At the Ecole de Medecine, he began the study of
medicine with invincible ardour, and w'as appointed prosec¬
tor of the faculty when only 18 years of age. When only
D U R
26 he succeeded Peletan as head surgeon at the Hotel- Dura
Dieu ; and he was appointed professor of surgery at the age Mater
of 33. At the same time he became inspector of the univer- II
sity, a chevalier and afterwards an officer in the Legion of v uraDg°-
Honour, chevalier of St Michel, baron, member of the In-
stitute, and first surgeon to the king.
Dupuytren’s energy and industry were alike remarkable.
He visited the Hotel Dieu morning and evening, perform¬
ing at each time several operations, lectured to vast throngs
of students, gave advice to his out-door patients, and ful¬
filled the duties consequent upon one of the largest prac¬
tices of modern times. By his indefatigable diligence and
activity, he amassed a fortune of L.300,000, the bulk of
which he bequeathed to his daughter, but deducting con¬
siderable sums for the endowment of the anatomical chair
in the Ecole de Medecine, and the establishment of a bene¬
volent institution for distressed medical men.
Dupuytren’s writings are by no means numerous. The
most important of them is his Treatise on Artificial Anus,
in which the principles laid dowm by John Hunter are hap¬
pily applied. In his operations he was remarkable for the
skill and dexterity with which he overcame the numerous
difficulties incidental to so extensive a practice as he enjoyed.
Instead of attempting to introduce new methods of pro¬
cedure, he commonly limited himself to modifying and adapt¬
ing to his particular exigencies the established laws of sur¬
gery. In private life, Dupuytren was cold and reserved;
his brow, furrowed with wrinkles, betrayed the weight ot
cares with which he was burdened; and it was seldom that
a smile, except one of irony or disdain, played about his
lips. His unsocial coldness was further heightened by his
constant struggle against a consumptive tendency, which
ultimately carried him off, 8th February 1835.
After death Dupuytren’s head was opened, and his brain
taken out and weighed. Its weight was found to be exactly
the same with that of Dr Abercrombie, viz. 64 ounces.
DURA Mater, the outer enveloping membrane of the
brain, overlying the pia mater, and adhering to the inner
surface of the cranium. See Anatomy.
DURANCE (the ancient Druenlid), a river in the south
of France, rising in Mont Genevre, in the department of
Hautes-Alpes, and falling into the Rhone 4 miles below
A vignon, after a course of about 160 miles. It flows at first
southward, through the departments of the Alps; and then,
turning westward, forms the boundary between the depart¬
ments of Vaucluse and Bouches-du-Rhone. Its chief af¬
fluents are the Buech and the Verdon. The current of the
river is rapid, and large quantities of timber are floated down
from the mountains, but no part of its course is navigable.
DURANDUS, Gulielmus (1237-1296), one of the
most learned lawyers of the thirteenth century, was born at
Puymoisson, in Provence. He was a pupil of Henry of Susa,
and taught canon law at Modena. He was afterwards made
chaplain and auditor of the sacred palace, legate of Gregory
X. at the council of Lyons, and in 1286 was raised to the
see of Mende. His works are, 1. Speculum Juris, Rome,
1474, folio, whence he derived the name of Speculator; 2.
RationaleDivinorum OJficiorum, Mentz, 1459, folio, scarce ;
3. Repertorium Juris, Venice, 1496, folio.
DURANGO, a province of Mexico. See Mexico.
Durango, or Guadiana, a city of Mexico, capital of
the province of the same name, is situated in a wide plain
6847 feet above the level of the sea. Lat. 24. 25. N., Long.
105. 55. W. It was originally founded in 1559 by the
viceroy Velasco, as a military post for the control of the
Chichimecas. Its present importance is owing to the mine¬
ral wealth of the vicinity. As late as 1 783 it contained not
more than 8000 inhabitants, but its present population is
estimated at from 30,000 to 40,000. The town is regularly
built with many fine streets, and an elegant jo/aza or square.
Among its public buildings are the cathedral, theatre, and
D U R
D U R
265
Durazzo mint. Its chief manufactures are woollen and cotton stuffs,
|| glass, leather, and tobacco. In the vicinity are rich iron
Durer. mines.
DURAZZO (the ancient fijndamnus and Dyrrachium),
a seaport-town of Albania, European Turkey, in Lat. 41, 17
N., Long. 19. 27. E. It stands on the S. side of a project¬
ing tongue of land, and has a safe harbour for vessels of
small size, but larger vessels must anchor about a mile from
the town. It has an active import trade in British goods
by way of Triest, and an export trade in tobacco and corn
to Italy. Pop. probably about 6000. See Epidamnus.
DUREN (the ancient Marcoduruni), a town of Rhenish
Prussia, capital of a cognominal circle on the Roer, here
crossed by a stone bridge, and on the Cologne and Aix-la-
Chapelle railway, 18 miles E. by N. of the latter city.
Pop. (1849) 8054. It has several Roman Catholic and Pro¬
testant churches, a Roman Catholic gymnasium, and three
nunneries. The manufactures are extensive, and include
cotton and woollen stuffs and cassimeres, cutlery, nails,
wire, and other hardware goods; soap, leather, paper, and
brandy. Charlemagne held two diets here in 775 and 779,
when on his way to attack the Saxons. It afterwards be¬
came an imperial city, and was taken by assault and burned
by Charles V. in 1543. In 1794 it fell into the hands of
the French, and was made the capital of the department of
Roer, but was ceded to Prussia in 1814.
DURER, Albrecht, one of the best engravers and
painters of his age, was descended of a Hungarian family,
and born at Nuremberg in May 1471. He was the son of
a goldsmith, but early relinquished his father’s trade for the
study of art under Michael Wohlgemuth. After obtaining
his mastership, Durer travelled in Holland and Italy, where
he gained the friendship of Raphael. He was appointed
painter to Maximilian I. and Charles V. He was a man of
letters and a philosopher, and an intimate friend of Erasmus,
who revised some of the pieces which he published. He
was a man of business also, and for many years the leading
magistrate of Nuremberg. Though not the inventor, he
was one of the first improvers of the art of engraving ; and
he also wrought in wood, on which he engraved the life and
passion of Christ in thirty-six pieces, which were highly
esteemed. In many of those prints which he executed on
copper, the engraving is exceedingly elegant. His Hell
scene particularly, engraved in 1513, is as highly finished
and as happily executed a print as ever was engraved. In
his wood prints too, it is surprising to find so much mean¬
ing in so early a master; the heads being well marked, and
every part admirably executed. His composition is often
pleasing, and his drawing generally good ; but he knew very
little of the management of lights, and still less of grace.
Yet his ideas are purer and more elegant than might have
been expected from the awkward archetypes which his
country and education afforded. Albert Durer was certainly
a man of great natural genius; and, as Vasari remarks, he
would have been an extraordinary artist if he had had an
Italian instead of a German education. His prints are very
numerous, and were much admired and eagerly bought up
in his own lifetime. He was rich, and chose rather to
practise his art as an amusement than as a business. He
died at Nuremberg, April 6, 1528; and the well-known dis¬
comforts of his marriage have induced his countrymen to
attribute his death principally to domestic misfortune. He
was interred in St John’s Church, where a public monument
was erected to his memory. He is sometimes regarded as
the inventor of woodcuts and etching. Besides his artistic
productions, Durer wrote several books in German, wdiich
were translated into Latin by other persons, and published
after his death. Among these we may mention, \. De Sym-
rnetria Partium in rectis formis Humanorum Corporum,
Nuremberg, 1532, Paris, 1557, fol.; 2. Institutiones Geo-
metricce, Paris, 1532; 3. De Ur bibus, Arcibus, Castellisque
VOL. VIII.
condendis et muniendis, Paris, 1531 ; 4. De Varietate Ui¬
gur arum, et flexuris Pariium, et gestibus Imaginum, Nu¬
remberg, 1534. (See Peliquien von Albrecht Durer, seinen
Verehrcrn geiveiht, Taschenbuch fur Deutschland’s Kunts-
freunde, zu Albrecht Durer’s dritter Secular-feier, Niirn-
berg, 1828.)
DURESSE (duritas, hardness), is used in law to denote
such constraint, either by illegal imprisonment, or by threats
occasioning a reasonable fear for personal safety, as renders
invalid a legal act (as the execution of a deed, &c.) per¬
formed by the person suffering such constraint. Duresse
by threats {per minas) is interpreted to mean such as oc¬
casion fear of life or limb.
D’URFE Y, Thomas, more generally known by the fami¬
liar name of Tom d’Urfey, an English satirist and song¬
writer, was descended from a family of French Protestant
refugees, and was born at Exeter. He was originally bred
to the law, which he forsook for the more congenial employ¬
ment of writing plays and songs. His humour both in writ¬
ing and singing the latter procured him access to the highest
circles, and made him a favourite even at court. A writer
in the Guardian (No. 67) relates that he remembered more
than once to have seen Charles II. leaning on Tom d’Urfey’s
shoulder and humming over a song with him. His drama¬
tic pieces were eqiuilly well received, but are too licentious
to be reproduced upon the stage. D’Urfey, by imprudence
and extravagance, became poor as he grew old ; and having
prevailed on the managers of the playhouse to act his comedy
of the Plotting Sisters for his benefit, Addison wrote the
above-mentioned paper in the Guardian, with another (No.
82) giving a humorous account of his eccentricities, in order
to procure him a full house. He died at an advanced age,
in 1723. His collected works, under the title of Pills to
Purge Melancholy, command a high price.
DURHAM, County Palatine of, one of the shires of
England. Before the arrival of the Romans it was included
injthe British principality of the Brigantes; and after their ar¬
rival it made part of the province of Maxima Ccesariensis.
During the heptarchy it formed part of the kingdom of
Northumberland, the fifth established, which began in 547,
and ended in 827, having been governed by thirty-one
kings. It was not mentioned by Alfred in his division of
counties, being at that time considered as a part of York¬
shire. At present it is included in the northern circuit, in
the province of York, and is a diocese and principality un¬
der the government of its own bishop, being a county pala¬
tine, the second in rank, and the richest in England. It is
bounded on the N. by Northumberland, on the S. by York¬
shire, on the E. by the North Sea, and on the W. by Cum¬
berland. It extends over 973 square miles, and contains
one city of the same name, fourteen market-towns, and
above 330 villages and hamlets. It is divided into four
wards. Until the passing of the Reform act, it returned two
members to the House of Commons for the county and two
for the city. The county has been formed by that law into
two divisions, for the purpose of parliamentary elections;
each of which returns two members. The northern division
comprehends the wards of Chester and Easington ; and the
polling places are Durham, Sunderland, Lancheton, \\ ick-
ham, Chester-!e-Street, and South Shields. The southern
division comprehends the wards of Darlington and Stock-
ton ; and the polling places are these two towns, and Bishop-
Auckland, Stanhope, Middleton-in-Teesdale, Barnard Cas¬
tle, and Sedgefield. Durham city and Sunderland return
two members each. The following places within the county
have by the same law obtained the privilege of electing
one member each, viz. Gateshead and South Shields; the
whole number returned amounting to ten. The popula¬
tion in 1851 was 390,997—an increase of 160 per cent, in
50 years. The number of inhabitants to a square mile was
399; to a house 6. The total number of houses was
2 L
Duresse
II
Durham.
u
DURHAM.
266
Durham. 68,341 ; 64,977 being inhabited, 2794 uninhabited, and 570
in the course of erection.
This is one of the county palatines remaining in England,
and it is called palatine (a palatio) because the owners
thereof had, in this county, the authority to use the royal
prerogative, as fully as the king had in his palace. These
privileges were granted to this county probably on account
of its bordering upon the inimical kingdom of Scotland, in
order that the inhabitants, having justice administered at
home, might not be obliged to go out of their county, and
leave it open to an enemy’s incursions ; and that the own¬
ers might be the more watchful in its defence. There is
a court of chancery in this county, and the bishop is at the
head of the administration of justice.
The western angle of the county of Durham is hilly and
mountainous, with black, naked, and barren regions, crossed
by a ridge of high hills, from which issue numerous streams
flowing to the sea. There are some beautiful and fertile
valleys in the eastern and central parts, pleasantly varied
with hill and dale, and alternately appropriated to corn
and pasture. About 1200 to 2000 acres, principally in
the western part of the county, are waste, but rich in mi¬
nerals.
In the southern districts many acres have been inclosed
and cultivated within the last few years. The common
fields are now but few ; for the land belonging to the town¬
ships has been inclosed for above a century. There is a
great portion of w et ground still remaining, although drain¬
ing is carried on to a great extent.
°Near the river Tees, and in some spots bordering on the
other rivers, the soil is loam or a rich clay. At a farther
distance from these rivers the soil is of an inferior quality,
and marshy, with patches of gravel interspersed. The hills
between the sea and an imaginary line from Barnard Castle
on the Tees to Alansford on the Derwent, are covered with
a dry loam, the fertility of which varies with its depth.
From this line westw ard the summits as well as the sides of
the hills are moorish wastes.
The woodlands of Durham are not of very considerable
extent, trees being chiefly confined to the parks and seats
of the nobility and gentry ; but many plantations have been
made of late years. The banks of the rivers and brooks,
however, particularly in the vicinity of Durham, are fringed
with wood of long growth and much value.
The port of Stockton-upon-Tees is well situated for com¬
merce. Hartlepool, situated on a promontory, nearly en¬
compassed by the German Ocean, which on the south side
of the town forms a capacious bay, is advantageously placed
for the reception of vessels, and communication with the
Continent; and South Shields sends out many ships.
Mines. The mineralogical substances found in Durham are nu¬
merous and valuable. The coal mines are some of the
most extensive and productive in the kingdom, and the
quantity of this important article is so great as to exceed all
calculation. At Sunderland the coal trade furnishes em¬
ployment for 520 vessels, independently of the keels which
convey the coal from the staiths to the ships, which are 492
in number. This coal is chiefly conveyed to the metropo¬
lis, though great quantities are sent to the different ports of
the Baltic, and also of late years to France and Holland.
The whole quantity annually exported from Sunderland
alone amounts to about 315,000 Newcastle chaldrons, each
chaldron being equal to 53 cwt. The number of persons
dependent on this trade is very great. The seams or strata
now worked are five in number, extending horizontally for
many miles, and are from twenty to one hundred fathoms
beneath the surface; while each stratum is from three to
eight feet thick. Below these are several other seams of
coal; and many parts of the county, besides those where the
pits are now open, abound with this substance.
The principal lead mines of Durham are in the districts
of Teesdale and Weardale. Those of the former place have Durham,
not been very productive, but the produce of the latter is
of considerable value. The general method of working
them is similar to that pursued in other mining counties.
The ore of Weardale is melted by the blast-hearth ; but in
Teesdale air-furnaces have been introduced with much suc¬
cess.
Ironstone is found in the neighbourhood of Swalwell and
Winlaton, where there are extensive iron works.
Some excellent quarries of slate for buildings have been
opened in different parts of the county. A beautiful black
spotted limestone is dug up near Walsingham, and made
into hearths, chimney-pieces, and other ornaments. This
neighbourhood abounds also with fine millstones. The
Newcastle grindstones are procured at Gateshead Fell;
and firestone of high estimation, for building ovens, fur¬
naces, and the like, is obtained in various parts of Durham,
and exported in considerable quantity.
Several extensive works for manufacturing salt from sea¬
water have long been established in the neighbourhood of
South Shields ; but owing to the discovery of a very singu¬
lar salt spring at Birtley in this county, that process is not
now so much attended to. This water rises at the depth
of seventy fathoms, in an engine pit constructed for draw¬
ing water out of coal mines. It has for many years pro¬
duced 20,000 gallons per day, four times more strongly im¬
pregnated with salt than any sea-water. In consequence
of the discovery of this spring, a large and extensive manu¬
factory of salt has been established near the spot, the quality
of which is excellent. At Butterby, near Durham, is an¬
other salt spring, which issues from a rock in the river Wear,
but is only visible when the water is low. It contains more
of the sulphate of magnesia or Epsom salt, than the spring
at Birtley. Within a few yards of the Watergate, on the
south side of the town of Hartlepool, is a chalybeate spring,
covered every tide by the sea. It is impregnated slightly
with sulphur, which evaporates very quickly, leaving a
sediment with salt of tartar. A gallon will yield 120 grains
of sediment, two parts of wdiich are nitrous, and the rest
limestone.
No county in England presents a closer net-work of rail¬
ways than Durham. The York, Newcastle, and Berwick
trunk line enters a few miles south of Darlington, and conti¬
nues due north until at Gateshead it crosses the I yne and
enters Northumberland. From this main line a great many
lines diverge to the ports and mineral fields. There are
not less than 160 miles of rail for mineral produce between
the mines and ports.
Improvements in agriculture have been pursued with
considerable spirit and success in the environs of Darling¬
ton, chiefly through the pati’onage of a society of county
gentlemen, who hold their meetings in the town, and be¬
stow premiums upon merit. On some spots of gravelly
soil, turnips and barley are grown in almost perpetual suc¬
cession, a crop of clover being sometimes interposed. The
produce of wheat on good land is from twenty to thirty
bushels per acre; the produce of barley is from thirty to
forty; of oats, from twenty to forty. The manures are
chiefly lime and the produce of the fold-yard ; and though
abundance of sea-weed might be collected on the coast, the
farmers make but little use of it. The farms are of a mid¬
dling size, few of them exceeding 200 acres. I he largest
portion of each farm is appropriated to tillage, but towards
the western extremity of the county the whole is applied
to pasture. The leases seldom exceed six years, and are
too frequently rendered of little value by injudicious re¬
strictions. The leases held of the see of Durham £re ge¬
nerally for life, or for twenty-one years, renewable every
seven years on payment of a fine. The farm-houses aie
well situated and commodious; and improvements in farming
and farming machinery become more and more common.
D U R II A M. 267
Durham. The cattle of Durham are at present in great repute;
as, in point of form, weight, produce of milk, and quickness of
fattening, there are none better. The individual known as
“ the Durham Ox,” when slaughtered, weighed, including
tallow and hide, 197 stone, 2 lbs. The cows yield from
from 25 to 30 quarts of milk daily. The sheep also, par-
ticularly the Tees-Water breed, stand high in estimation
It is the largest breed in the island; the legs being longer,
finer boned, and supporting a thicker and more firm and
heavy carcass than the Lincolnshire. They are also much
wider on the backs and sides, and afford a fatter and finer-
grained mutton. The weight per quarter, in two-years-
old wethers, is from twenty-five to thirty-five ponnds, and
in particular instances fifty-five pounds or more. The wool
is shorter and lighter than some other English breeds.
The Weardale sheep are small, but the meat is finely fla¬
voured. When fat, the quarters seldom weigh more than
fourteen or eighteen pounds each. The stock of sheep is
about 230,000, yielding 7000 packs of wool.
Durham, taking its dimensions into consideration, is in¬
ferior to no county in Great Britain for its numerous ma¬
nufactures. It has cast-metal founderies, iron manufacto¬
ries, potteries, glass-houses, copperas works, coal-tar and
salt-wmrks, quarries of marble, &c.; besides linen and woollen
manufactories.
At the distance of about three miles from Darlington,
at Oxenhall, are cavities in the earth, denominated Hell
Kettles, to the origin of which are attached many fabulous
conjectures. The diameter of the largest is not less than
114 feet, and that of the least 75. About five miles from
Hartlepool is one of the most singular and romantic clusters
of rocks in the north of England, called Black Halls, formed
by the force and constant action of the waves, which have
separated enormous masses from the coast, washing some
entirely away, but leaving others standing, like the vast
towers of a cathedral. In some places the rock is perforated
so as to resemble a fine pointed archway.
Near the north wall of the churchyard at Ryton is a
large barrow, about 20 feet in perpendicular height, now
planted with trees. A similar one, near Bradley Hall, in
the same parish, inspected some years ago, was found to
contain a square cavity, formed by stones placed edge¬
wise, in which a human body had been interred. Between
one and two miles north of Brancepeth is Brandon Hill,
a lofty eminence, on the summit of which is a remarkable
tumulus, of an oblong form, 120 paces in circumference
at the base, and about 24 feet in perpendicular height.
One mile north of Eggleston is an ancient structure called
the Standing Stones. This originally consisted of a cairn
in the centre, surrounded by a trench, and that again en¬
compassed by a circular arrangement of rough stones, many
of which have been removed and broken, to repair the roads.
Near a brook, at a small distance, is a large barrow, crossed
from east to west by a row of stones.
On Fullwell Hill, a gigantic skeleton and two Roman
coins were discovered some years ago, together with a small
urn of unbaked clay. Several copper coins have been
found at the village of Whitburn. Some coins of the Em¬
peror Hadrian were found while widening the road near
Gateshead, which is supposed to have been a Roman station.
South Shields was the ad finem of Richard of Cirences¬
ter’s itinerary, as appears from the Roman altars, coins, and
other relics found there. Evchester, a small irregular vil¬
lage, is supposed to be the Vindomara of Antoninus ; many
Roman inscriptions, and an urn of uncommon form, nearly
a yard high and seven inches wide, with a small cup in the
centre, having been found there. Chester-le-Street has
been supposed to be the Condercum of the Romans, situ¬
ated on the military way leading to Newcastle. Glani-
banta, near the village of Lanchester, is another Roman
station, which has hitherto been left untouched in the course
of improvements, and is one of the most perfect in the Durham.
kingdom. It occupies a fine eminence, and is of an oblong 'v'*"-'
figure, being 174 paces from north to south, and 160 from
east to west, within the vallum. In some parts the wall
still remains perfect; the outside is perpendicular, twelve
feet in height, and built of ashler work in regular courses,
each stone being about nine inches thick and twelve long.
The site of the praetorium is clearly distinguishable. Bin-
chester, the seat and manor of the Wren family, is the site
of the Roman station called Vinovium by Antoninus. Its
figure and extent seem nearly similar to those of the station
just mentioned ; but the walls have been destroyed, and the
area inclosed and cultivated. A military way, it is supposed,
issued from it, leading towards Chester-le-Street. Innu¬
merable fragments of Roman remains have been discovered
here.
The most ancient part of Durham Castle is the keep,
now a mere shell; the magnificent hall is fast going to
decay. Hilton Castle, an ancient baronial residence of the
Hyltons, is situated in a pleasant vale on the north side of
the Wear, about three miles from Wearmouth : its present
form is that of an oblong ; the interior consists of five
stories; the rooms are small, and exhibit every symptom
of neglect and decay. Ravensworth Castle, the seat of
Lord Ravensworth, occupies part of the site of an ancient
castle, which seems to have formed a quadrangle, having a
square tower at each angle, connected by a curtain wall.
Two of the towers are built up in the offices, the others are
partly in ruins. Lumley Castle, about a mile to the east
of Chester-le-Street, is one of the seats of the Earl of Scar¬
borough. It forms a quadrangle, with an area in the cen¬
tre ; at each angle are projecting turrets of an octangular
form ; it is a grand model of the taste of its age. Brance¬
peth Castle, an irregular but stately pile, was erected about
Stephen’s reign, by the family of Bulmers. The original
building has had many modern improvements effected on
it by the present proprietor. The castle of Bishop-Auck-
land stands on the north angle of the town, and, together
with its courts and offices, covers about five acres of ground.
Raby Castle, the magnificent seat of the Duke of Cleveland,
owes its splendour to the Earl of Westmoreland, who en¬
larged a more ancient castle which stood here prior to the
year 1379. The present mansion of Streatham Castle was
erected on the foundation of the old castle at the beginning
of the last century, and several of the apartments are re¬
tained in it. Barnard Castle is situated on the southern
acclivity of an eminence, rising with a steep ascent from the
x’iver Tees ; its ruins cover an extensive plot of ground.
Kepier Hospital, near Durham, was founded in 1112;
but the only part of the monastic buildings now standing
is the gateway, a strong and not unhandsome piece of ma¬
sonry with pointed arches. The ruins of a monastery for
gray friars may be seen at Hartlepool. Several remains of
monastic buildings occur near the church at Monk-Wear-
mouth. The monastery of Jarrow may still be traced in
its ruins on the summit of an elevated ridge near the church.
On the east side of the main street of Gateshead are the
ruins of St Edmond’s Monastery, which appears from Bede
to have been established before the year 653. Finchall
Priory was beautifully situated in a vale on the banks of
the Wear ; the ruins cover an extensive plot of ground, but
are so much dilapidated that the original appropriation of
their respective parts can be traced only with great diffi¬
culty. The remains of a chapel at Bear Park are most
perfect, and display some neat ornamental architecture.
There are at Walsingham the ruins of a considerable build¬
ing, inclosed with a deep moat, supposed by some to have
been a part of a monastery.
The ecclesiastical buildings now remaining, and most
worthy of notice, are, the Cathedral of Durham, begun in
1093, in the Saxon and Norman style ; Sedgefield Church,
268
Durham.
W-'
D U R
D U R
in the Saxon style ; Bishop-Wearmouth Church, supposed
to have been founded very soon after the restitution made
by Athelstan ; and the parish church of Brancepeth, an an¬
cient structure of the conventual form, but apparently ot
different ages. . i r i oq«
Annual value of real property assessed L.l,6/9,Jdb.
Places of worship belonging to Church of England 169,
sittings 68,958 ; other denominations 452 places of worship,
sittings 112,874 : day schools 837, scholars 49,231; Sunday
schools 490, scholars 47,771. . .
Durham, the capital of the above county, is a city ot
great antiquity. About the end of the tenth century the
monks of Lindisfarne rested here with the remains ot St
Cuthbert; and soon afterwards a church was built by
Bishop Aldun, and dedicated to that saint, whose re¬
mains were enshrined in it. Durham suffered seveie y
from the cruelties of William the Conqueror, who repeatedly
laid waste the surrounding country with fire and sword. In
1072 a strong castle was built here ; and Walcham, a Nor¬
man, was appointed to the bishopric, and assumed the title
of Count Palatine. In 1093 the old church built by Aldun
was pulled down, and the present magnificent edifice com¬
menced by King Malcolm, Carilepho the bishop, and 1 ar¬
got the prior. Durham figured conspicuously in all the
great transactions that have agitated the north. It Ire-
quently suffered from the invasions of the Scots; and was
often the headquarters of Edward III. and other monarchs
and commanders in their excursions against Scotland.
Durham is governed by a mayor, 6 aldermen, and 18 coun¬
cillors, and returns two members to parliament. Pop. (ISdi;
13 188. The city is irregularly built on a rocky eminence,
and is nearly surrounded by the river Wear. fhe cathe¬
dral and castle occupy the highest part of the eminence, an
are fully 80 feet above the bed of the river. The cathedral
was founded in 1093, and is one of the noblest edifices in
the kingdom. The successive additions which have been
made ufit afford a striking illustration of the gradual changes
in the English style down to the beginning of the fifteenth
centurv. This remarkable edifice has been admirably de¬
lineated in Billings’ Architecture of Durham. Cathedral. It
is 507 feet in length, by 200 in extreme breadth, with a cen¬
tral tower 214 feet in height, and two smaller ones 138 teet
high at the west end. the Galilee or western chapel was
built by Bishop Pudsey between 1153 and 1195, and contains
the remains of the Venerable Bede. In the chapel of the
Nine Altars are the remains of St Cuthbert, brought to light
in 1827. The cathedral library contains a number of curi¬
ous and interesting works, MSS., and relics. I he castle of
Durham, which stands opposite the cathedral, was erected
bv William the Conqueror, and till recently was the residence
of the bishops of the Palatinate. It is now appropriated to
the uses of the university, with the exception of a suite of
rooms reserved for the use of the bishop when he visits the
city. A university was founded here by Cromwell in 16o7,
but on the Restoration it was dissolved. The present uni¬
versity was opened in 1833; an account of it will be found
under the head Universities. The see of Durham was
long the richest bishopric in England. At an average of
* the three years ending 1831, it yielded a nett revenue ot
L. 19,066 a-year. The total revenue of the dean and chapter
during the seven years ending 1834 amounted to L.36,9 7
a-year. On the demise of the incumbent in 1836, at the
recommendation of the ecclesiastical commissioners the in-
come of the bishop was fixed at L.8000 per annum—-the
surplus revenues of the see being reserved to form a fund
for augmenting the incomes of the poorer bishops. Besides
the cathedral, Durham has six parish churches, and places
of worship for Independents, Methodists, Quakers, and
Roman Catholics. The grammar-school connected with
the cathedral has four exhibitions of L.25 each for the sons
of clergymen, and of L.50 each at either of the English
universities, besides several scholarships at Peterhouse,
Cambridge. There are also a diocesan training school, a blue
coat, national, infant, charity, and other schools. Durham ^
likewise possesses a mechanics’ institute, savings-bank, sub¬
scription library, news-room, assembly rooms, theatre, innr'
mary, alms-houses, and various charities. The banks ot
the river are ornamented with gardens and plantations,
forming an agreeable public promenade. The district called
the North and South Bailies, between the precincts ot the
cathedral and the river, is occupied chiefly by houses of a
superior class. The principal shops are in the old town,
which also contains the market-place, with a fountain in the
centre. The suburbs extend on both sides of the nvei.
On the west side is Framwellgate, with a detached suburb
called Crossgate; while on the east side is the suburb Elvet,
which contains the magnificent new county gaol and court¬
house, erected in 1809, and some of the best houses in the
place. These suburbs are connected with the town by
several bridges. The town-hall is a spacious and handsome
edifice in the Tudor baronial style. The manufactures,
consisting chiefly of hats, woollens, paper, leather, and brass
and iron wares, are not important. 4 here are extensive
coal mines in the neighbourhood, as well as some saline,
chalybeate, and sulphurous springs. About three-quarters
of a mile from the city is the site of the Maiden Castle—a
fortress ascribed to the Romans—as well as some remains
of the Iknield Street. One mile to the west of Durham
is Neville’s Cross—erected by Ralph Lord Neville to com¬
memorate the defeat and capture of David II. of Scotland.
Market-day Saturday. The Great North of England rail¬
way connects this city with Newcastle-on-Tyne, 14 miles
DURLACH, a town in the grand duchy of Baden,
circle of the Middle Rhine, on the Pfinz, 3 miles east of
Carlsruhe, with which it is connected by an avenue of pop¬
lars. It was formerly the residence of the margraves of
Baden-Durlach, whose castle, on a contiguous height, is
now in ruins, but the garden contains some Roman anti¬
quities. Durlach has manufactures of porcelain ware and
tobacco, and some trade in wine, fruit, corn, and other
agricultural produce. Pop. about 5000. ,
1 DUROTRIGES, an ancient British people, established
in Dorsetshire, and the west of Somersetshire. Their name
is derived from the two British words, dur, water, and tngo,
to dwell; which corresponds to the situation of their coun¬
try. which lies along the coast. It is not certain whet ler
they formed an independent state, or were united with their
neighbours the Damnonii, since they were reduced by Ves¬
pasian at the same time as the latter, and never afteiwar s
revolted. The peaceable disposition of the ‘inhabitants was
probably the reason why the Romans had so few towns,
forts, and garrisons in this part of the island. Their c ne
town was Dunium, now Dorchester. Many Roman couT’
have been found at Dorchester. The military way, called
Jeening Street, passed through it; and some vestiges o
the ancient stonewall with which it was encompassed, an o
the amphitheatre with which it was adorned, are sti visi¬
ble. The country of the Durotriges was included in tie
Roman province called Flavia Ccesariensis.
DURRESTEIN, a town of Lower Austria, capital of
the circle of Upper Manhartsberg, on the left bank of the
Danube, 3 miles west of Krems. Pop. about 400. Above
the town are ruins of the castle in which Richard Cceur-t e-
Lion was imprisoned on his return from the Holy Lam.
DURSLEY, a market-town in the hundred of Berkeley,
county of Gloucester, and 14 miles S.S.W. of the town o
that name. It is situated at the base of a steep hill, an
contained (1851) 2617 inhabitants, chiefly engaged in the
manufacture of cloth. Market-day 1 hursday.
DURY, John, a Scotch divine of the seventeenth cen¬
tury, who laboured with great zeal to reunite the Lutherans
Durlach
Dury.
DUS
Dussara with the Calvinists. He published his earliest work on this
]! subject in 1634, and prosecuted his scheme at the Frank-
:Diisseldorf. fort assembly, in Sweden, Denmark, Holland, Germany,
and Switzerland. He was present at the London assem¬
bly of’ divines in 1641. His discouragements in this scheme
started another still more impracticable, namely to reunite
all Christians by means of a new explication ot the Apoca¬
lypse, which he published at Frankfort in 1677. He after¬
wards retired to*the country of Hesse ; but the time of his
death is unknown. His letter to Peter du Moulin, con¬
cerning the state of the churches of England, Scotland,
and Ireland, was printed at London in 1658, under the su¬
perintendence of Du Moulin, and is extremely curious.
DUSSARA, a fortified town of Hindustan, province of
Gujerat, containing about 1300 houses, which are chiefly
possessed by Kurbatties; the remainder of the population
being Coolees, Rajpoots, and other castes, besides a few
Banyans. This place, with 25 surrounding villages, is
shared among several chiefs (members of the same family),^
called the Maliks of Dussara, who pay an annual tribute of
L.1200 to the British government. Lat. 23. 18.; Long.
71. 52.
DUSSAULX, Jean, a French writer, best known as
the translator of Juvenal, was born at Chartres, Dec. 28,
1728. He studied first at La Fleche, and afterwards at
Paris ; and having obtained the situation of a commissary
in the gendarmerie, he served under the Marshal de Riche¬
lieu, in Hanover, during the seven years’ war. At the age
of twenty-one he was admitted a member of the academy
at Nancy ; and in 1770 he published his translation of Ju¬
venal. This work procured him admission into the Aca¬
demy of Inscriptions ; and he was also appointed ordinary
secretary to the Duke of Orleans.
For some years he quietly prosecuted his literary occu¬
pations at Paris ; but, upon tbe breaking out of the Revo¬
lution, his enthusiastic disposition led him to adopt its prin¬
ciples : and he took part in the debates of the legislative
assembly. He spoke and voted, however, at all times for
moderate measures; and, on several occasions, he was em¬
ployed to calm the passions of the people during public tu¬
mults. At the memorable sitting of the convention 15th
Jan. 1793, he voted that the king should be detained in
custody during the war, and banished on the return of
peace. It is rather remarkable, that when the committee
of public safety wished to send him to the scaffold, his par¬
don was obtained by Marat, who represented him as an old
dotard, incapable of becoming dangerous. He became pre¬
sident of the council of ancients in July 1796, but left it in
1798. At the sitting of 27th April, he took leave of the
assembly in a speech which was ordered to be printed. He
died March 16, 1799, after a long and painful illness.
Dussaulx was a man of considerable literary attainments, and
amiable, upright, and disinterested in his conduct. His translation
of Juvenal is esteemed the best version of that poet in the French
language. His other works are, Mbmoires sur les Satiriques Latins ;
Lettres et Reflexions sur la fureur du Jeu, auxqudles on a joint une
autre Lettre Morale, Paris, 1775 ; Biscours sur la Passion du Jeu
dans les differents Siecles ; De la Passion du Jeu, depuis les temps
anciens jusqu’d nos jours, 17 ^9, 8vo ; Viede l AbbS Rlanchet, prefixed
to the Apologues and Tales of that author, Paris, 1784, 8vo; De
VInsurrection Parisienne, et de la prise de la Bastille, Paris, 1790 ;
Lettre au Citoyen Freron, 1796, 8vo ; Voyage d Barrege, et dans les
Hautes-Pyrenees, Paris, 1796, 2 vols. 8vo; De mes Rapports avec
Jean-Jacques Rousseau, &c., Paris, 1798, 8vo, a curious work, which
throws considerable light on the character of that celebrated man.
Marie-Jeanne Lieutau, the widow of Dussaulx, published memoirs
of his life, which are exceedingly interesting. See also Palissot,
Memoires sur la Litterature; and Biographic Universelle.
DUSSELDORF, formerly capital of the duchy of Berg,
but now of a cognominal government in Rhenish Prussia.
It is situated at the confluence of the Diissel with the
Rhine, 22 miles north from Cologne. The old town of
Diisseldorf existed previously to 1288, when it became a
D U T 269
municipal town. In 1815 it was annexed with the whole Rust
duchy to the Prussian dominions. It was at one time putgns
a considerable fortress, but after having been bombarded by v y
the French in 1794, the fortifications were destroyed at the *
peace of Luneville in 1802. One of the wings of the old cas¬
tle, however, has been rebuilt, and contained down to 1805
the collection of paintings which is now at Munich. It is
divided into three quarters, viz. the Altstadt, Neustadt,
and Carlstadt; the last deriving its name from Charles
Theodore, the elector Palatine, who projected a variety of
improvements in the town. The streets are generally spa¬
cious, and the suburbs are laid out in ornamental pleasure-
grounds. The Hof-garten is one of the finest in Ger¬
many. In the market-place is an equestrian statue of
Johann Wilhelm the elector; and a marble statue of the
same individual adorns the courtyard of the old electoral pa¬
lace. The principal public buildings of Diisseldorf are the
governor’s palace, the town-hall, courts of law, observatory,
library, and churches. Of these last the oldest is St An¬
drew’s. In it, and in the church of St Lambert, are monu¬
ments of the former princes of Diisseldorf. A native school
of art has arisen since 1828, and is peculiarly vigorous in
the department of historical painting. Diisseldorf derives
its mercantile importance from its position on the Rhine,
and serves as a port to the various manufacturing districts
of the duchy. Manufactures—woollens, cottons, leather,
ironware, jewellery, &c. Its principal trade is in raw pro¬
duce, coals, and timber. It has constant communications
by steamers on the Rhine, and also by railways, with va¬
rious parts of Germany. Pop. (1851) 27,762.
DUST, or Dustee, a river of Persia, flowing from the
interior through the province of Mekran, from the southern
shore of which it falls into the Indian Ocean. Its course
is supposed to extend, under different appellations, about
1000 miles. *
DUTCH Gold, the commercial name of a coarse imi¬
tation of gold Iqaf, made of copper, of brass, or of bronze.
It is chiefly used for ornamenting toys.
DU TENS, Louis, a French writer of some celebrity,
was born at Tours, of Protestant parents, Jan. 15, 1730.
In his youth he devoted himself to poetry; and in 1748
he repaired to Paris and composed a tragedy, entitled The
Return of Ulysses to Ithaca, which he showed to the co¬
median Lanoue, requesting him to bring it on the stage.
The latter, however, returned the piece, advising the author
to retouch it. Irritated at this advice, Dutens went to Or¬
leans, where he got his play represented with great applause;
but he soon became sensible of the faults of his work, and
abandoned a species of composition in which he found he
was not destined to excel. He soon afterwards went to
England. Before leaving France, he accidentally became
acquainted with Miss Pitt, sister to the Earl of Chatham,
who gave him a letter to her brother; but after a shoi t
stay in London he returned to France. Not long after¬
wards, he was recalled to London by one of his uncles, to
accompany a young English nobleman on his travels, boon
after his arrival, the young nobleman changed his intention ;
but, at the same time, he procured for Dutens the situation
of a tutor in a private family. The father of the pupil was
a man of considerable literary and scientific attainments,
who instructed Dutens in those branches of knowledge in
which he was deficient. In this manner he learnt Greek
and mathematics ; and he at the same time applied himself
to the oriental languages, and to Italian and Spanish. At
the end of three years his pupil died ; but one of his sisters
being deaf and dumb, her education was entrusted to
Dutens. His young pupil, however, having become eiu
amoured of her instructor, Dutens deemed it a matter of
delicacy and of duty to leave the house.
About this time he was appointed chaplain and secretary
to the Honourable Stuart Mackenzie, the English minister
270 D U T
Dutka. at the court of Turin, and left England in October 1758.
v v-r^ In 1760, when Mr Mackenzie returned to England, the se¬
cretary remained at Turin as charge d’affaires. Dutens
came to England in 1762, and attached himself to the fa¬
mily of Lord Bute, who, before retiring from office in 1763,
procured him a pension. He again went to Turin as charge
d’affaires; and during this second mission he undertook the
task of collecting and publishing a complete edition of the
works of Leibnitz, and wrote his work on the Discoveries
of the Ancients. He afterwards quitted Turin, returned to
Britain, and attached himself to the Duke of Northumber¬
land, who procured him a living in the north of England.
He accompanied the duke’s son, Lord Algernon Percy, in
his travels through France, Italy, Germany, and Holland ;
and while at Paris he was chosen a member of the Aca¬
demy of Inscriptions. In 1776 he returned to England,
and soon afterwards accompanied Mr Mackenzie and his
wife on a tour to Naples. On his return he was invited by
Lord Mountstuart, who had been appointed envoy extra¬
ordinary, to accompany him to Turin; and Dutens found
himself for the third time charge d’affaires at that court,
during a short absence of the envoy. From Turin, which
he left on account of some unpleasant circumstances, he
went to Florence, and thence to Rome. He was in Paris
in 1783, and returned to London the following year. The
revenue he derived from his living of Elsdon, amounting to
L.800 per annum, together with a considerable legacy left
him by Mr Mackenzie, and estimated at L.15,000, enabled
him to pass the remainder of his life in affluence. He died
at London, May 23, 1812.
Dutens was the editor of the works of Leibnitz, published at
Geneva, 1769, in 6 vols. 4to; of the Greek pastoral romance of
Laphnis and Chloe, by Longus, 1776, 12mo, and of Dacier’s trans¬
lation of the Manual of Epictetus, 1775, 18mo. He was also the
author of the following works : Le Caprice Poetique, a collection of
poems, 1750, 16mo. Recherches sur I'origine des Decouvertes attri-
buees aux Modernes, 1766, 2 vols. 8vo, 4th edition, 1812. Poesies,
1767, 12mo, and 1677, 8vo. Le Tocsin, Rome, 1769, 12mo, re¬
printed under the title of Appel au bon Sens, London, 1777, 8vo.
This work was directed against the French philosophers, and was
published anonymously. Explication de quelques medailles de Peuples,
de Villes, et de Rois, Grecques et Pheniciennes, 1773, 4to. Explica¬
tion de quelques medailles du cabinet de Euane, .1774, 4to. Trosieme
Dissertation sur quelques medailles Grecques et Pheniciennes, ou se
trouvent des observations, pour servir d Vetude de la Paleographic Nu-
mismatique, 1776, 4to. Dutens at the same time published a more
complete edition of the two preceding works. Logique, ou VArt de
Raisonner, 1773,12mo, 1777, 8vo, and reprinted also in his miscel¬
laneous works. Du miroir ardent d’Archimede, 1755, 1777, 8vo ;
Des pierres pr&cieuses et des pierres fines, avec les moyens de les con-
naitre et de les ivaluer, 1776, 12mo, and reprinted at London and
Paris. Itin&raire des routes les plus frequenties, ou Journal d un
Voyage aux principales Villes d,Europe, 1775, 8vo, and frequently
republished with additions and improvements. Lettre d M. D. B.
(Debure) sur la refutation du livre VEsprit, par J. J. Rousseau, 1779,
12mo, which contains some letters of Helvetius and Rousseau. De
VEglise, du Pape, de quelques points de controverse, et moyens de re¬
union de tons les Eglises Chretiennes, 1781, 8vo; several times re¬
printed, and finally under the title of Considerations Theologiques
sur les moyens de reunir toutes les Eglises Chretiennes, 1798, 8vo.
(Euvres melees, 1.784, 8vo. Under the same title almost the whole
works of Dutens were collected and published at London, 1797, 4
vols. 4to. L'Ami des etrangers qui voyagent en Angleterre, 1789,
8vo, frequently reprinted. Histoire de ce qui s'est passS pour le rS-
tablissement d’une rSgence en Angleterre, 1789, 8vo. Recherches sur
le terns le plus recult, de Vusage des Voutes chez les anciens, 1795.
M&moires d'un Voyageur qui se rbpose, Paris, 1806, 3 vols. 8vo. The
first two volumes contain the life of the author, written in a romantic
style; the third bears the title of Dutensiana, and is filled with re¬
marks, anecdotes, bon-mots, and so forth. Dutens is the author of
the Catalogue of Medals in Swinburne’s Travels, and of the French
text to the second volume of the Marlborough Gems. There is a
Memoir of his in the Collection of the Academy of Inscriptions; and
he also published a small tract on the Iron Mask. He was a mem¬
ber of the Royal Society of London, and had the title of historio¬
grapher to the king. (See Memoirs of Dutens in the Gentleman s
Magazine for 1812; Chalmers s Biographical Dictionary; and Bio¬
graphic Universelle.)
D W A
DUTKA, or Schweran, a very ancient Russian wind- Duty
instrument, consisting of two flutes of different lengths united II
together, and having one mouthpiece, and each flute three Dwarf-
finger-holes.
DUTY, in Commerce. See Excise, and Taxation.
DUUMVIRI (i.e. the two men), in Roman Antiquity, an
appellation given to various magistrates, commissioners, and
officers, where two were joined together in the same functions.
Duumviri Capitales were the judges in criminal causes.
From their sentence it was lawful to appeal to the people,
who alone had the power of condemning a citizen to death.
These judges were taken from the body of the decuriones^
and had'great power and authority : they were members of
the public council, and had two lictors to walk before them.
Duumviri Municipales were two magistrates in some
cities of the empire, answering to the consuls at Rome.
They were chosen out of the body of the decuriones, and
their office commonly lasted five years, upon which account
they were frequently termed quinquinales mayistratus.
Their jurisdiction was of great extent. They had officers
who walked before them, carrying a small switch in their
hands; and some of them assumed* the privilege of having
lictors carrying axes and the fasces or bundles of rods be¬
fore them.
Duumviri Navales were the commissaries of the fleet,
first created at the request of M. Decius, tribune of the
people, in the time of the war with the Samnites. The
duties of their office consisted in giving orders for the fitting
out of ships, and issuing their commissions to the marine
officers, &c.
Duumviri Sacrorum were magistrates created by lar-
quinius Superbus for the performance of the sacrifices, and
for keeping the Sibylline books. I hey were chosen from
among the patricians, and held their office during life : they
were exempted from serving in the wars, and from the offices
imposed on the other citizens : and without them the oracles
of the sibyls could not be consulted.
DWALE, in Heraldry, the herb deadly nightshade, used
for sable or black by such as blazon with flowers and herbs
instead of metals and colours.
DWARACA, a town and celebrated temple of Hindu¬
stan, province of Gujerat, situated at the south-west extre¬
mity of the peninsula of Kattywar. There are 21 villages
belonging to Dwaraca, containing 2500 houses, and, on the
most accurate calculation, 100,000 inhabitants. Ihe inha¬
bitants were formerly much addicted to piracy, but of late
years have been restrained by a treaty with the British. 1 he
temple is fabled to have been the residence of Krishna, at
which 15,000 pilgrims annually pay their devotions, which
is an abundant source of wealth to the Brahmins. N. Lat.
22. 15.; E. Long. 69. 1. (e- t.)
DWARF (Sax. dwerg, dweorg), a general name for an
animal or a plant greatly inferior in size to that which is
usual in their several kinds. Thus there are dwarfs of the
human species, dwarf dogs, dwarf trees, &c.
The Romans, in their admiration of dwarfs, whom they
called nani or nance, sometimes employed artificial means
to check the growth of children whom they designed for
dwarfs, by the use of bandages, &c. Dwarfs were also held
in high estimation during the middle ages, when they were
employed to carry the messages of the knights, and to wait
as pages on the feudal nobility. In France, in particular,
they shared with the court-jesters the intimacy and favour
of the reigning monarch. At Constantinople they are to
this day held in much esteem in the seraglio. Augustus’s
niece, Julia, greatly prized a dwarf called Coropas, who
was only two feet and a handbreadth in height, and An¬
dromeda, one of her freed maids was of the same stature.
But the most famous of all the ancient dwarfs was Philetus
of Cos, who was remarkable, not only for his diminutive
size, but in a far higher degree for his learning. He was
D W A
Dwarf, likewise distinguished as one of the best poets of his day,
and his general character was so high, that he was chosen
to superintend the studies of Ptolemy Philadelphus. His
person was so light and tiny, that he was obliged to carry
leaden weights in his pockets to prevent himself from being
blown away by the wind. We have many other ac¬
counts of remarkable human dwarfs, but most of them
have been deformed in addition. Many relations concern¬
ing dwarfs must necessarily be regarded as not less fabulous
than those concerning giants. The following remarkable
history, however, which there is reason to regard as authen¬
tic, is deserving of notice :—
Jeffery Hudson, the famous English dwarf, was born at
Oakham in Rutlandshire, in 1619; and about the age of
seven or eight, being then but 18 inches high, he was re¬
tained in the service of the Duke of Buckingham, who
resided at Burleigh-on-the-Hill. Soon after the marriage
of Charles L, at an entertainment given to the king and
queen at Burleigh, little Jeffery was served up at table in a
cold pie, and presented by the duchess to the queen, who
retained him as her dwarf. From seven years of age till
thirty he never grew taller; but after thirty he shot up to
3 feet 9 inches, and there remained fixed. Jeffery afforded
much entertainment at court. Sir William Davenant wrote
a poem called Jeffreidos, on a battle between him and a
turkey-cock ; and in 1638 was published a very small book
called the Neio Year’s Gift, presented at court by the
Lady Parvula to the Lord Minimus, commonly called Little
Jeffery, Her Majesty’s servant, written by Microphilus, with
a little print of Jeffery prefixed. Before this period Jeffery
was employed on a negotiation of great importance—he
was sent to France to fetch a midwife for the queen ; and
on his return with this gentlewoman and Her Majesty’s
dancing-master, and many rich presents to the queen from
her mother Mary de Medicis, he was taken by the Dun-
kirkers. Jeffery, being thus made of consequence, began
to think himself really an important personage. He had
borne with little temper the teasing of the courtiers and
domestics, and had had many squabbles with the king’s gi¬
gantic porter. At last, being provoked by Mr Crofts, a
young gentleman of family, a challenge ensued ; and when
Mr Crofts came to the rendezvous armed only with a squirt,
the little creature was so enraged that a real duel was the
consequence. The appointment was on horseback with
pistols, to put them more on a level; and Jeffery, with the
first fire, shot his antagonist dead. This happened in France,
whither he had attended his mistress in the troubles of the
times. He was again taken prisoner by a Turkish rover,
and sold into Barbary. But he probably did not remain
long in slavery ; for at the beginning of the civil war he was
made a captain in the royal army ; and in 1644 he attended
the queen to France, where he remained till the Restora¬
tion. At last, upon suspicion of his being concerned in the
Popish plot, he was seized in 1682, and confined in the
Gatehouse, Westminster, where he died in the sixty-third
year of his age. This little hero cuts a considerable figure
in Sir Walter Scott’s novel of Peveril of the Peak.
In the Memoirs of the Poyal Academy of Sciences, a
relation is given by the Count de Tressau of a dwarf called
Bebe, retained by Stanislaus, king of Poland, and who died
in 1764 at the age of twenty-three, when he measured only
32 inches. At the time of his birth he measured only be¬
tween 8 and 9 inches. Diminutive as were his dimensions,
his reasoning faculties were not less scanty, appearing, in¬
deed, not to have been superior to those of a well-taught
pointer. But that the size and strength of the intellectual
powers are not affected by the diminutiveness or tenuity of
the corporeal organs, is evident from a still more striking
instance of littleness, given us by the same nobleman, in
D W I 271
the person of M. Borulawski, a Polish gentleman, whom he Dwight
saw at Luneville. This miniature of a man, consider- pjjna
ing him only with reference to his bodily dimensions, ap- '
peared a giant with regard to his mental powers and attain- ^
ments. He is described by the count as possessing all the
graces of wit, united with a sound judgment and an excel¬
lent memory ; so that we may with justice say of M. Boru¬
lawski, in the words of Seneca, and nearly in the order in
which he has used them, posse ingenium fortissimum ac
beatissimum sub quolibet corpusculo latere. His growth was
at one year of age, 14 inches ; at six, 17 inches ; at twenty,
33 inches, and at thirty, 39 inches. He had a sister named
Anastasia, so much shorter in stature than himself that she
could stand under his arm. Borulawski visited many of the
courts of Europe, and finally died in England in 1837 at the
advanced age of ninety-eight.
There is preserved to this day in the Louvre at Paris a
picture by Francesco Torbido of a favourite dwarf of Charles
V. of Spain, by name Corneille. He is represented on foot,
dressed in the costume of a knight, his left hand resting on
the back of a large dog, which serves to indicate the stature
of the dwarf.
Another remarkable dwarf was Jean d’Estrix, a native of
Malines, who was exhibited to the Duke of Parma in 1592.
He was at that time thirty-five years of age, and measured
barely three feet in height. He did not, however, show
any traces of the stupidity usually attributed to dwarfs, but
was remarkable for his general intelligence, and especially
for his skill in the languages of modern Europe. But the
smallest of all the dwarfs of whom any record has been
preserved, was an Englishman name Birch, who when full-
grown measured only twenty inches.
DWIGHT, Timothy, D.D., one of the most dis¬
tinguished Presbyterian divines that America has yet pro¬
duced, was born in 1752, at Northampton, in the state of
Massachusetts. From his mother, who was a daughter of
Jonathan Edwards, he inherited those principles and that
piety which he developed in his writings and manifested in
all his actions. He studied at Yale College ; which he had
no sooner left than he was appointed teacher of a grammar-
school at New Haven, where he remained for two years.
At the early age of nineteen he was appointed tutor in Yale
College, where he distinguished himself by the skill with
which he taught the higher mathematics. In this same year
he began his epic poem entitled the Conquest of Canaan,
which was published in 1795. In 1777 he was licensed to
preach the gospel, and accepted the office of chaplain to the
forces; in which situation he remained till obliged by his
father’s death to return home and exert himself for the sup¬
port of his family. Towards the close of the war of inde¬
pendence he was twice elected a member of the legislature.
In 1783 he was ordained minister of Greenfield in Connec¬
ticut, when he opened an academy which speedily acquired
a very high reputation, and attracted scholars from all parts
of the Union. In 1795 he was elected president of Yale Col¬
lege, and by his judicious management restored that institu¬
tion to the high place from which it had fallen before his ap¬
pointment. Besides his Travels in New England and New
York, written from notes taken in these countries during a se¬
ries of journeys undertaken for the recovery of his health, Dr
Dwight published a valuable treatise entitled Theology Ex¬
plained and Defended in a series of Sermons, 5 vols. 8vo.
It is upon this work that his fame as a theologian chiefly de¬
pends. After a long and honourable career, Dr Dwight died
in the ninetieth year of his age. In 1827 two additional
volumes of sermons (a small portion, however, of the MSS.
which he left behind) were published, and were exceedingly
well received in England as well as the United States.
D WINA, or Dvina, two rivers of Russia. See Russia.
272
D Y E I N G.
History. Is the art of communicating a new and permanent co-
]0Ur to any substance whatever; but it is usually con¬
fined to the art of giving colours to wool, silk, feathers,
cotton, or flax, or the thread or cloth formed of any of
these substances. To this more limited signification we
shall restrict ourselves in the following treatise. For dye¬
ing or staining joajocr, wood, bone, leather, marble, &c. the
reader is referred to these articles. We shall divide this
article into six chapters. In the first we shall give a rap'd
sketch of the history of the art; in the second we shall
treat of the nature and properties of wool, feathers, silk,
cotton, and flax, of which the fabrics to be uyed are compos¬
ed ; in the third chapter we shall treat of mordants, or the
substances by means of which the colours are fixed on t ie
cloth or thread. The fourth chapter will be occupied with
the mode of dyeing the simple colours, or red, yellow, blue,
black, and brown. The object of the fifth chapter will be
the compound colours, or the different shades of green,
purple, orange, and gray. The sixth chapter will be occu¬
pied with a sketch of the processes of calico-printing.
The first five chapters were written by the late Thomas
Thomson, professor of chemistry in the University of
Glasgow, and the sixth, embracing all the latest improve-
ments, by Professor F. Grace Calvert, Royal Institution,
Manchester.
CHAPTER I.
HISTORY OF DYEING.
Nature has implanted in man a sense of pleasure which
he derives from beholding lively colours properly dis¬
played and contrasted. And this sense receives ample gra¬
tification from the gay plumage of the feathered tribes, and
the endless variety displayed’ in the blossoms of the vege¬
table kingdom. The diversity in the colours of flowers
must have early attracted the attention of man, and he
could scarcely avoid feeling a desire to employ them to
adorn his person ; but their fading nature fitted them only
for a temporary ornament. It would naturally occur to
attempt to transfer some of the most lively colours of the
vegetable kingdom either to the skin of the naked savage,
or to the different articles of dress with which he covered
himself up from the cold, or with which he decorated his
person.
A few trials would speedily show that the gay colours
of most flowers could not be transferred to any article of
dress, at least without a great diminution of their splen¬
dour; but a considerable difference would be observed
depending upon the colour of the flower. Ihe red floweis
would either lose their colour altogether, as they would
communicate to cloth, not a red, but a blue colom. I ie
yellow coloured berries, on the other hand, would be
found in some instances to communicate a very lively and
beautiful, though not a permanent colour.
By multiplying trials, various roots, barks, and fruits
would be found capable of communicating certain colouis
to cloth. These facts would be treasured up, and thus a
beginning would be made of the art of dyeing. Accord¬
ingly we find this art practised to a greater or smaller
extent in the most remote ages, and among the most
savage and barbarous nations. Even the lowest of the History.
American tribes, in point of civilization, understood how to
communicate several very fine colours, and considerable im¬
provements in dyeing were borrowed from the Americans.
It would be in vain, therefore, to attempt to discover Produced
to whom the art of dyeing is indebted for its origin, as early in
the practice of it precedes the origin of history. From
the writings of Moses, who led the Israelites out of Egypt
about 1555 years before the commencement of the Chris¬
tian era, it is obvious that the art of dyeing had in his
time made great progress in Egypt. He mentions blue,
and purple, and scarlet, and badgers' skins dyed red.1
There are some reasons for believing that what is trans¬
lated in the Old Testament fine linen was in reality a cloth
made of cotton wool. Indeed it is certain that cloth made
of cotton was used in India and Egypt in the most remote
ages. Cotton wool would naturally attract the attention
of mankind in those countries where the plant which yields
it grows. Now we know that the cotton plant is a native
of^India. India and Egypt are countries in which the
processes of dyeing are as likely to have originated as any
other; for they constitute the cradle of the human race,
and civilization appears to have made earlier progress in
them than in any other.
The art of dyeing was brought to a considerable degree Tyrian
of perfection at a very early period in Phoenicia. It appears dye.
that it was in Tyre where the method of dyeing woollen
c\otX\ purple was first discovered ; and this discovery, theie
is reason to believe, is at least as old as the time of Moses.
The purple was communicated by means of several species
of* univalve shell-fish, which no doubt abounded on the
coast of Phoenicia. Pliny, in the thirty-sixth chapter of
his sixth book, gives us an account of two species of shell¬
fish from which the purple was obtained, dhe fiist spe¬
cies was called bnccinum, doubtless from some resemblance
to a hunting horn ; the second was called purpura. A
single drop of the dyeing liquor was obtained from each
fish by opening a vessel situated in the throat of the ani¬
mal. ' The liquor, when extracted, was mixed with a con¬
siderable portion of salt, to prevent putrefaction. It was
then diluted with five or six times as much water, and
kept moderately hot in leaden or tin vessels, for the space
of ten days, during which the liquor was frequently skim¬
med, to separate all impurities. After this, the wool, being
first washed, was immersed and kept in the liquor for five
hours. It was then taken out, carded, and again immers¬
ed and kept in the liquor till all the colouring matter was
extracted. To produce particular shades of colour, car¬
bonate of soda, urine, and a marine plant called fucus,
were occasionally added. Several of these colours are
particularly described by Pliny, though it is difficult tc
form an accurate conception of his meaning. Ihe purple
itself seems to have been similar to the colour of blood.
Pliny says the Tyrians first dyed their wool in the liquor
of the purpura, and afterwards in that of the buccinum.
We find allusions to this practice in several passages of
the Old Testament. Doubtless Horace alludes to the
same process when he says,
 te bis Afro
Murice tinctae
Vestiunt lanae.
.■i. ii. 16, line 3.5.
1 Exodus, xxv. 4 and 5.
DYEING.
273
Purple.
History. The shell-fish employed in this process were found abun-
dantly both on the European and African shores of the
Mediterranean. They still exist on these shores, and have
been also met with abundantly on the coasts of England
and France.
The purple mentioned in Exodus was probably that
dyed by the Tyrians. Ezekiel, who wrote about 593
years before the Christian era, in his prophecy against
Tyre, says, “ Fine linen with broidered work from Egypt,
was that which thou spreadest forth to be thy sail ; blue
and purple from the isles of Elishah, was that which co¬
vered thee.”1 By Elishah it is generally supposed that
Elis, on the west side of the Greek Peloponnesus, was
meant. Hence it would appear that the Tyrians in Eze¬
kiel’s time drew their supply of shell-fish for dyeing pur¬
ple from the coast of Greece.
From Herodotus it appears that purple was worn in
Greece 559 years before the Christian era. It gradually
made its way to Rome, and was purchased with avidity,
notwithstanding its high price. After the establishment
of the emperors upon the ruins of Roman liberty, the use
of the purple was limited to the emperor, people of infe¬
rior rank being prohibited from wearing it, on pain of
death. This of course sadly diminished the extent of the
manufactory. It continued to languish for some centuries,
and then became extinct; and the mode of dyeing the
Tyrian purple was lost for many ages, but was again
revived during the seventeenth century by Mr Cole of
Bristol, and during the eighteenth century by M. Reau¬
mur of France. But by this time finer colours had been
discovered, and cheaper processes brought into use. It
was not therefore thought advisable by the dyers to re¬
sume the methods followed by their Tyrian predecessors.
With the exception of the processes followed in the dye¬
ing of purple, we are ignorant of the practices of the an¬
cient dyers, or of the degree of progress which this art had
made. Pliny, under whose province an account of dyeing
naturally came, has passed it over in silence, and has as¬
signed as a reason for his conduct that it was not reckon¬
ed among the liberal arts. Nec tingendi rationem omisis-
semus, si unquam ea liberalium artium fuisset.
The fine colours given in India to cotton cloths are uni¬
versally known. The methods practised are no modern
inventions, but were in common use when India was visit¬
ed by Alexander the Great, and probably many ages be¬
fore. These colours, which are both beautiful and perma¬
nent, prove that the methods of fixing gaudy colours on
cotton were pretty far advanced. But these methods, as
they have been described by Beaulieu and Bancroft, are
so complicated, tedious, and imperfect, that they could be
followed only where the wages of labour are exceedingly
low, and never would answer in any part of Europe. There
is reason to believe that the processes of dyeing cotton and
linen were introduced into Greece only after the expedi¬
tion of Alexander the Great into India.
The common people in Athens were very idle and very
poor, spending their time in the public places, and receiv¬
ing a daily pension of three oboli, or about fourpence half¬
penny. But this sum would have purchased as much corn
as three times the amount would do in this country; so
that the income of a common Athenian citizen was equi¬
valent to about thirteen pence halfpenny of our money.
They went barefooted, and were dressed in garments
which never had been dyed, but which were occasionally
washed. The rich citizens wore garments which had been
Dyeing in
troduced
into
Greece.
dyed; and the most common colour was scarlet, commu- History,
nicated to the cloth by kermes, a dyestuff still in use, and '
which we shall describe in a subsequent part of this trea¬
tise. This colour, as Pliny informs us, was scarcely less
esteemed than the Tyrian purple. Cloths of the scarlet
colour were worn by the emperors; and scarlet and pur¬
ple seem to have been often confounded together.
The modes of dyeing black, blue, yellow, and green,
were brought by Alexander the Great into Greece from
India, as Pliny informs us.
Among the Romans, new-married women wore a yellow
veil, and this colour was reserved for the women. In the
circus the four different factions were distinguished by
four different colours, one belonging to each faction. These
were the green (prasinus), the orange (rufatus), the blue
(venetus), and the white. These factions, with their colours,
were transferred to Constantinople, and long distracted
that city.2 We are ignorant of the dyestuffs by means of
which these colours were given to cloth.3
The want of soap, which was unknown to the Greeks,
and only known to the Romans in Pliny’s time as a po¬
matum for the hair, must have greatly cramped the pro¬
cesses of the ancient dyers; nor have we any evidence
that alum was known to them, though they must have
employed some substitute, otherwise the red colour of the
kermes could not have been fixed upon the cloth. Alum
appears to have been well known to Geber, who wrote in
the eighth century. He mentions different manufactories
of it, and talks of it as a substance familiarly known in his
time. Is it not possible that the mode of making it had
been known to the Tyrian dyers, but kept by them as a
profound secret? The purple and scarlet dye was still in
use during Geber’s time, and even continued to be prac¬
tised in the eleventh century. Alum, then, was certainly
used by the Tyrian dyers before their manufactory was
finally extinguished; but even if we admit that the an¬
cients were unacquainted with alum, yet it is obvious,
from Pliny’s account of alurnen, that it was a substance
found native; that there were different species of it, for
he enumerates four or five, and one of these may have been
a native combination of sulphuric acid and alumina, which
(if pure) would doubtless answer all the purposes of a
mordant.
The ancient dyeing processes, such as they were, con¬
tinued to be practised in Constantinople as long as the
Greek empire lasted. It was during the crusades that the
republics of Venice and Genoa reached the highest sum¬
mit of their power. They were trading and manufac¬
turing communities, and made a point of making them¬
selves acquainted with the different arts at that time
practised in Greece. Dyeing was not neglected by them ;
but the art and trade of the dyers of Constantinople were
transferred by them to Italy.
About the year 1300 a merchant of Florence acciden-Discovery
tally discovered the method of making archil. He ob-of archil,
served that a certain species of lichen {lichen roccellus),
when macerated in urine, acquired a fine purple colour.
This led him to try various experiments, which terminated
in the discovery of archil, and in the application of it to
the art of dyeing.
In the year 1429 the first collection of processes em- j'jrst trea_
ployed in dyeing was published in Venice, under the title tise on (tye-
Mariegola dell' arte dei Tentori. A second edition of this big
book, with many additions, was published in 1510. Gio-
van Ventura Rosetti formed the project of making this
1 Ezekiel, chap, xxvii. ver. 7- * See Gibbon’s Decline and Fall, vii. 78.
3 Berthollet has given a catalogue of the dyestuffs of the ancients, after Bischoff, Elements de l'Art dc la Teincture, i. 14. We do not
consider it as worth transcribing, because it is altogether conjectural.
VOL. VIII. 2 M
ii
274
History.
Introduc¬
tion of
indigo and
cochineal.
Improve¬
ments in
France.
DYEING.
work more comnlete and more useful. He travelled into
those parts of Italy and the neighbouring countries where
attention was paid to the processes^ of dyeing, in order to
acquire the requisite information. The result of Ins acqui¬
sitions was published under the name of Plictho dell arte
de tentori, ehe insegna tenger panni, tele banbasi e sede, si
per Varte magiore, come per la commune. It was published
at Venice in the year 1548.
In the Plictho no notice is taken either of cochineal or
indigo. Hence we may conclude that, in 1548, neither ol
these important dyestuffs had made their way into Europe.
Pliny mentions indigo under the name of indicum ; but
it appears to have been used by the Greeks and Romans
only as a paint; yet there can be little doubt that in India
it had been employed from time immemorial as a dyestuff.^
Cochineal could not be known till after the discovery of
America. It was used by the Mexicans as a dyestuff. In
1523 Cortes received orders from the court of Spain to
multiply this precious insect, to collect it, and send it to
coloured.
of colouring matters, and of the forces which made them Substances
attach themselves to cloth. Hellot published a well-ar- to be
ranged treatise on dyeing woollen cloth, such as it was prac- ^
tised in the best dyeing establishments in France ; and
Macquer gave an equally detailed account of the processes
followed by the silk dyers. .
Berthollet, who was named his successor as superintendent
of d vein o', published an excellent treatise under the title of
Elements de VArt de la Tevicture, a second edition of which
appeared in the year 1804.
Scarcely any work upon dyeing deserving the name ot a
scientific treatise appeared in the English language till
Bancroft published his Experimental Researches concern¬
ing the Philosophy of Permanent Colours, and the best
means of producing them by dyeing, calico-printing, &c.,
in 1794.
Great improvements have been made ot fate years in
calico-printing, which will be noticed at the conclusion of
this article.
Spain. .
Cochineal by itself gives only a crimson colour ; it dyes
scarlet when mixed with a solution of tin. This fact was
discovered accidentally by Cornelius Drebbel about the
year 1630. He communicated his observation to his son-
in-law Kuffelar, who was a dyer at Leyden. He soon
brought the process to perfection, kept it a secret, and
brought the scarlet colour into fashion. Soon after, the
same process was discovered by a German chemist called
Keffler, who carried his secret to London in 1643. A
Flemish dyer called John Kloeck got information of the
process in“ 1647, and it gradually made its way through
every country of Europe.
Indigo, though a much more important dyestuff than co¬
chineal, did not make its way into general use without the
greatest difficulty. 1 he use of it was prohibited in Eng¬
land during the reign of Elizabeth; and the prohibition was
not taken off till the time of Charles II. It was equally
prohibited in Saxony, where it was styled in the piohi-
bition a corrosive substance, and called food for the devil.
Restrictions on the use of indigo in dyeing were imposed
also in France, though it was not altogethei piohibited, as
it had been in England and Saxony.
The improvements in dyeing which took place in Fiance
may be dated from the administration of Colbert, who paid
particular attention to the different branches of manufac¬
ture which were carried on by the French. In the year
1672 he caused a book of instructions for dyers to be pub¬
lished in Paris. This book was republished in 1708 under
the following title : Le teincturier parfail, ou instruction
nouvelle et gentrale pour la teincture des lames et manu¬
factures de laine de toutes couleurs, et pour la culture des
drogues ou ingredients quon y emploie.
But Colbert’s encouragement of dyeing was clogged with
restrictions and prohibitions which would have been fatal
to the art, had it not been for the facility with which they
were evaded. The revocation of the edict of Nantes in
the year 1685 was a fatal blow to the pre-eminence of
France in manufactures. I he most industrious and skilful
workmen and artists were driven cut of the country, and
carried their knowledge and dexterity into Great Britain,
Holland, and Prussia. Succeeding administrations endea¬
voured as far as possible to correct the fatal policy of Louis
XIV. The art of dyeing in particular drew their attention,
and the most eminent chemists which the country possessed
were placed as a kind of superintendents of the art of dye¬
ing. Their business was to endeavour to improve the pro¬
cesses, and to bring the art to a state of perfection. Dufay,
Hellot, Macquer, and Berthollet, successively filled this im¬
portant office ; and each of these eminent men contributed
somewhat to the improvement of the theory of dyeing.
Dufay first formed tolerably accurate notions of the nature
CHAPTER II.
OF THE NATURE AND PROPERTIES OF THE SUBSTANCES TO
WHICH COLOURS ARE COMMUNICATED.
There has been much speculation among philosophical
dyers respecting the nature of the colouring matters, and
the way in which the different colours are induced by dye-
ino-; but these speculations have not led to any informa¬
tion of much value. There is reason for believing that the
colouring matters employed as dyestuffs are all transparent,
and that the colour is produced by their action on the light
transmitted through them from the white fibres of the cloth.
Those colouring matters that transmit all the rays equally
leave the cloth white ; if the blue ray be transmitted and
the rest absorbed, the colour of the cloth will be blue, and
so on. This is all that we know about the mechanical
nature of the dyestuffs.
With respect to the aptitude of being dyed, and the Silk and
brilliancy of the colours thus communicated, there is found wool dye
to be very great difference in different tissues. Animal t ®anercot_
substances are much more easily dyed than vegetab e ton an(j
substances. Of animal substances, silk receives colour ^nen-
and the shades given are brighter and more beautiful than
those which can' be imbibed by any other tissue. Wool¬
len cloth is also very fit for being dyed, and receives very
brilliant colours with avidity; though in this respect it is
inferior to silk. Cotton and linen are much more difficult
to dye, and cannot be made to imbibe such brilliant colours
as silk or woollen. Thus the rich scarlet given to cloth
by the combined action of cochineal and the oxide of tin,
has never been communicated to cotton cloth or linen.
The Turkey-red dye, which is by far the finest and most
permanent red that has ever been communicated to cotton
cloth, is a crimson, or rather a crimson with a shade of
brown. It has not the least approach to a scarlet.
Sect. I.—Of Wool.
Wool, which is well known as the covering of sheep, structure,
derives its value from the length and fineness of its fila¬
ments. The filaments of wool are considerably elastic,
for they may be drawn out beyond their usual length, and
when the force is removed they recover it again. I le
surface of the filaments of wool or hair is not perfectly
smooth ; for although no roughness or inequality can be dis¬
covered by the microscope, yet they seem to be forme
of small laminae placed over each other in a. slanting
direction, from the root of the filament towards its point,
resembling the arrangement of the scales of a fish, which
cover each other from the head of the animal to its tail,
or perhaps they consist of zones placed over each other,
DYEING. 275
Substances as is observed in the horns of animals. This peculiarity
to be 0f structure of the filaments of hair and wool is proved by
coloured.^ a sjmple experiment. If a hair be laid hold of by the
r00t in one hand, and drawn between the fingers of the
other band, from the root towards the point, scarcely any
friction or resistance is perceived, and no noise is heard ;
but if it be grasped by the point, and passed in the same
manner between the fingers from the point towards the
root, a resistance is felt, and a tremulous motion is percep¬
tible to the touch, while the ear is sensible to a slight
noise. Thus it appears, that the texture of the surface of
hair or wool is not the same from the root towards the
point, as it is from the point towards the root. This is
further confirmed by another experiment. If a hair be
held between the thumb and fore finger, and they are
rubbed against each other in the longitudinal direction of
the hair, it acquires a progressive motion towards the
root. This effect depends not on the nature of the skin
of the finger, or on its texture, for if the hair be turned,
and the point placed where the root formerly was, the
motion is reversed, that is, it will still be towards the
root.
Felting. On this peculiarity of structure, which was observed by
M. Monge, depend the processes of felting and fulling, to
which hair and wool are subjected for different purposes.
In the process of felting, the flocculi of wool are struck
with the string of the bow, by which the filaments are
separately detached, and dispersed in the air. These fila¬
ments fall back on each other in all directions on the
table, and when a layer of a certain thickness is formed,
they are covered with a cloth, on which the workman
presses with his hands in all parts. By this pressure the
filaments of wool are brought nearer to each other ; the
points of contact are multiplied ; the progressive motion
towards the root is produced by the agitation ; the fila¬
ments entangle each other ; and the laminae of each fila¬
ment taking hold of those of the other fdaments, which
are in an opposite direction, the whole is retained in the
state of close contexture.
Fulling. Connected with this operation is that of fulling. The
roughness on the surface of the filaments of wool, and
their tendency to acquire a progressive motion towards
the root, produce considerable inconvenience in tbe ope¬
rations of spinning and weaving. These inconveniences
are obviated by covering the filaments with a coat of oil,
which fills up the cavities, and renders the asperities less
sensible. When these operations are finished, the stuff
must be freed from the oil, which would prevent it from
taking the colour with which it is to be dyed. For this
purpose it is taken to the fulling-mill, where it is beaten
with large beetles, in a trough of water, through which
clay has been diffused. The clay unites with the oil,
which being thus rendered soluble in tbe water, is carried
off by fresh portions of water, conveyed to it by proper
apparatus. In this way the stuff is scoured; but this is
not the sole object of the operation. By the alternate
pressure of the beetles, an effect similar to that of the
hands in the operation of felting is produced. The fila¬
ments composing a thread of warp or woof, acquire a pro¬
gressive motion, are entangled with the filaments of the
adjoining threads, those of the latter into the next, and
so on, till the whole threads are felted together. The stuff
is now contracted in all its dimensions, and, participating
both of the nature of cloth and of felt, may be cut without
being subjected to ravel ; and, when employed to make a
garment, requires no hemming. In a common woollen
stocking web, after this operation, the stitches, when one
happens to slip, are now no longer subject to run, and the Substances
threads of the warp and woof being less distinct from each to lie
other, the whole stuff is thickened, and forms a warmer coloured-
clothing.
The various manufactures of which wool constitutes the Import-
basis are justly regarded as among the most important toance of
man in civilized society. Accordingly, the production ofwo°l-
fine wool, and the causes which retard or improve the
breed of sheep from which it is obtained, have greatly oc¬
cupied the attention of economists and philosophers in our
own, as well as in other countries. The wool of different
breeds of sheep, in different countries, it is well known,
possesses very different qualities, both with regard to the
fineness of the filament, and the colour. Some is of a white
or yellow, and some of a reddish and black colour. Ex¬
cepting the wool of the breed of sheep in Andalusia, the
Spanish wool was formerly all of a brownish-black colour.
This was preferred by the native Spaniards ; and even at
this day, the dress of some religious orders in Homan Ca¬
tholic countries consists of cloth manufactured from this
wool, and retaining its natural colour. But for the pur¬
poses of dyeing, white wool is now always preferred, be¬
cause it is found susceptible of receiving better and more
durable colours.
Wool is naturally covered with a kind of grease or oil, Scouring,
which is found to preserve it from insects or moths, and
on this account this greasy matter is not removed, or the
wool is not scoured, till it is to be dyed or spun.1 The
process for scouring wool is the following : It is put for
about a quarter of an hour into a kettle, with a sufficient
quantity of water, to which a fourth part of putrid urine
has been added. It is then heated to such a degree as
the hand can bear, occasionally stirred, and, after being
taken out, is allowed to drain. It is then put into a bas¬
ket, and exposed to a stream of running water, and moved
about till the grease is so completely separated that it no
longer renders the water turbid. After being drained, it
is sometimes found to lose by this operation above one
fifth of its weight. It is almost unnecessary to observe,
that the more carefully and completely this process is per¬
formed, the better tbe wool is fitted to receive the colour¬
ing matter. Our chemical readers will readily perceive
the nature of the changes which are effected in this pro¬
cess of scouring The ammonia, or volatile alkali, which
exists in the urine, combines with the oil of the wool, and
forms a soap, which being soluble in water, is dissolved
and carried off.
Wool is either dyed in the fleece, or after it is spun Dyeing,
into threads, or when it has been manufactured into cloth.
For the purpose of forming cloths of mixed colours, it is
dyed before it is spun ; for the purposes of tapestry, it is
dyed in the state of thread ; but most commonly it is sub¬
jected to this process after it has been manufactured into
cloth. In these different states the quantity of colouring
matter which is taken up is very different. The propor¬
tion is largest when it is dyed in the fleece, because then
the filaments being more separated, a greater surface is
exposed to the action of the colouring particles. For a
similar reason the quantity of colouring matter taken up
is greater when in the state of thread or yarn, than when
it is formed into cloth. But cloths themselves must vary
greatly in this respect, according to their different quali¬
ties. Their different degrees of fineness, or closeness of
texture, will produce considerable variations; and besides,
the difference in the quantity and dimensions of the sub¬
stances to be dyed, the different qualities of the ingre¬
dients employed in the process, and the different circum-
1 According to an observation of Reaumur, rubbing any stuff with greasy wool is sufficient to preserve it from moths.
1
276
DYE
coloured.
Substances stances in which it is performed, should be a caution
to be against trusting to precise quantities, regulated by weight
or measure, which are recommended according to general
rules. According to the fineness of the texture of the
wool, and the nature of the colouring matter employed, it
is found to be more or less penetrated with this matter.
The coarse wool from the thighs and tails of some sheep
receives colours with difficulty, and the finest cloth is
never completely penetrated with the scarlet dye. The
interior of the cloth appears always, when cut, of a lighter
shade, and sometimes even white.
Origin.
Sect. II—0/ Silk.
Silk, which forms the basis of one of the richest and
most splendid parts of dress among the wealthy and luxu¬
rious in civilized society, is the production of different
species of insects. The phalcena bombyx, or silk-worm,
which is a native of China, attracted the attention of
mankind in that country from the earliest ages. The ho¬
nour of having first collected and prepared silk from the
cocoons or balls in which it is wound up by the insect,
during its metamorphosis, is ascribed by the Chinese his¬
torians to the wife of an emperor. The phalcena atlas,
Lin. which is also a native of China, is said to form larger
cocoons, and to yield a stronger silk. The silk-worm
was first carried from China to Hindustan, and after¬
wards to Persia. Silk seems not to have been known to
the Greeks or Romans till the time of Augustus. Its
nature and origin w'ere little understood ; and for many
ages it was so scarce that it could only be purchased at a
I N G.
to be whitened; and different colours, it is observed, re-Substances
quire different degrees of this operation. The quantity of t()he
soap constitutes the chief difference. A hundred pounds
of silk boiled in a solution of twenty pounds of soap for
three or four hours, adding new portions of water during
the evaporation, are sufficiently prepared for receiving
common colours. For blue colours, the proportion of soap
must be increased ; and scarlet, cherry colour, &c. require
a still greater proportion, for the ground must be whiter
for these colours.
Silk which is to be employed white must undergo three Process
operations. In the first the hanks are immersed in a hotwlien em.
but not boiling solution of thirty pounds of soap to a hun-P
dred of silk. When the immersed part is freed from its
gum, which is known by its whiteness, the hanks are
shaken over, as the workmen term it, so that the part
which was not previously immersed may undergo the
same operation. They are then wrung out as the process
is completed. In the second operation the silk is put
into bags of coarse cloth, each bag containing twenty or
thirty pounds. These bags are boiled for an hour and a
half in a solution of soap prepared as before, but with a
smaller proportion of soap ; and, that they may not receive
too much heat by touching the bottom of the kettle, they
must be constantly stirred during the operation. The
object of the third operation is to communicate to the
silk different shades, to render the white more agreeable.
These are known by different names, as China-white, sil¬
ver-white, azure-white, or thread-white. For this pur¬
pose a solution of soap is also prepared, of which the pro¬
per degree of strength is ascertained by its manner of
price which was equal to its weight in gold. The empe- frothing by agitation. For the China-white, which is ie-
ror Aurelian, it is said, from a principle of economy, re- quired to have a slight tinge of red, a small quantity ot
sisted the urgent solicitations of his empress, who wished anotta is added, and the silk is shaken over in it till it has
to have a silken robe, alleging the extravagance of the acquired the shade which is wanted. In other whites a
expense. About the middle of the sixth century, two blue tinge js given by adding a little blue to the solution
monks returned from India to Constantinople, and brought of soap
with them a considerable number of silk-worms, with in¬
structions for managing and breeding them, as well as for
collecting, preparing, and manufacturing the silk. Esta¬
blishments were thus formed at Corinth, Athens, and
other parts of Greece. The crusades, which greatly con¬
tributed to the diffusion of different kinds of knowledge,
by the intercourse which took place between different
countries, proved useful in disseminating the knowledge
of rearing the silk-worm, and preparing and manufacturing
its valuable productions. Roger, king of Sicily, about the
year 1130, returning from one of these frantic expedi¬
tions, brought with him from Athens and Corinth several
The azure-white is communicated by means of
indigo. To prepare the azure, fine indigo is well washed
two or three times in moderately warm water, ground
fine in a mortar, and boiling water poured upon it. It is
then left to settle, and the liquid part only, which con¬
tains the finer and more soluble parts, is employed.
Some use no soap in the third operation ; but when the
second is completed, they wash the silks, fumigate with
sulphur, and azure them with river w'ater, which should
be very pure. But all these operations are not sufficient
to give silk that degree of brightness which is necessary,
when it is to be employed in the manufacture of white
stuffs. For this purpose it must undergo the process of
prisoners, who were acquainted with the management of sulphuration, in which the silk is exposed to the vapour
• it i.i    !   C ~! 1H T T*-. ^ 4-/-»I »* oitlrxVtnf • Grtr* on o i inf- rtf w ll 1 r»ll cpp A n TTT Kfr.
silk-worms and the manufacturing of silk. Under their of sulphur ; for an account of which see Bleaching. But
Scouring.
superintendence manufactories were established at Pa¬
lermo and Cagliari in Sicily. This example was soon
adopted and followed in different parts of Italy and Spain.
In the time of James I. an attempt was made to establish
the silk-worm in England. For this purpose the culture
of the mulberry-tree, on which the insects feed, was
strongly recommended by that prince to his subjects; but
the attempts which were made have been hitherto unsuc¬
cessful.
The fibres of silk are covered with a coating or natural
varnish of a gummy nature. To this are ascribed its stiff¬
ness and elasticity. Besides this varnish, the silk which
is usually met with in Europe is impregnated with a sub¬
stance of a yellow colour; and for most of the purposes
to which silk is applied, it is necessary that it should be
deprived both of the varnish and of the colouring matter
before the silk which has been treated in this way is fit
for receiving colours, and retaining them in their full
lustre, the sulphur which adheres to it must be separated
by immersion and agitation for some time in warm water,
otherwise the colours are tarnished and greatly injured.
It has long been an object of considerable importance Mode of
to deprive silk of its colouring matter, without destroying extracting
the gum, on w’hich its stiffness and elasticity depend. Ajts c^|ir'
process for this purpose was discovered by Beaume, buU”S m
as it was not made public, others have been led to it by
conjecture and experiment. The following account, given
by Berthollet, is all that has transpired concerning this
process. A mixture is made with a small quantity of mu¬
riatic acid and alcohol. The muriatic acid should be in a
state of purity, and particularly should be entirely free
from nitric acid, which would give the silk a yellow co-
On this account it must be subjected to the operation of lour. In the mixture, thus prepared, the silk is to be ini
scouring; but for silks which are to be dyed this process mersed.
should not be carried so far as for those which are merely One of the most difficult parts of the process, espe-
DYE
Substancescially when large quantities are operated upon, is to pro¬
to be duce a uniform whiteness. In dyeing the whitened silk,
coloured.^ j]iere js a]so considerable difficulty to prevent its curling,
so that it is recommended to keep it constantly stretched
during the drying. The muriatic acid seems to be useful
in this process, by softening the gum, and assisting the
alcohol to dissolve the colouring particles which are com¬
bined with it. The alcohol which has been impregnated
with the colouring matter maybe again separated from it
and purified, that it may serve for future operations, and
thus render the process more economical. This may be
done by means of distillation, with a moderate heat, in
glass or stoneware vessels.
Aluming. The preparation with alum is a very important prelimi¬
nary operation in the dyeing of silk. Without this pro¬
cess few colours would have either beauty or durability.
Forty or fifty pounds of alum, previously dissolved in warm
water, are mixed in a vat with forty or fifty pailfuls of
water ; and to prevent the crystallization of the salt, the
solution must be carefully stirred during the mixture,
i The silk being previously washed and beetled, to separate
any remains of soap, is immersed in this alum liquor, and
at the end of eight or nine hours is wrung out, and washed
in a stream of water. A hundred and fifty pounds of silk
may be prepared in the above quantity of liquor ; but
when it begins to grow weak, which may be known by the
taste, twenty or twenty-five pounds of dissolved alum are
to be added, and the addition repeated till the liquor ac¬
quires a disagreeable smell. It may then be employed in
the preparation of silk intended for darker colours, till its
whole strength is dissipated. This preparation of silk
with alum must be made in the cold ; for when the liquor
is employed hot, the lustre is apt to be impaired.
Sect. III.— Of Cotton.
i Origin. Cotton is the down or wool contained in the pods of a
shrubby plant, which is a native of warm climates. Of
this genus of plants ( Gossypium, Lin.) there are four spe¬
cies, one of which only is perennial; the other three are
annual plants ; but of these there are many varieties, oc¬
casioned by the difference of soil or temperature in which
they are produced. The principal differences among cot¬
tons consist in the length and firmness of the filaments,
and in their strength and colour.
i Structure. The peculiar structure of the fibres of cotton is now well
known. ‘According to the microscopic observations of
Leeuwenhoeck, they have two sharp sides, to which are
ascribed the irritation and inflammation of wounds and
ulcers when they are dressed with cotton instead of lint.
This peculiarity of structure, it is also supposed, may oc¬
casion some difference in the conformation and number
of the pores, on which alone the disposition of cotton to
admit and retain colours better than linen seems to de¬
pend. In this respect, however, it is inferior to wool and
silk, because, on account of its vegetable nature, its affi¬
nity for colouring matter is less powerful.
Hasa less It is well known that silk, cotton, and linen have a
than'wool wea^er f°r colouring matter than wool. Le Pileur
for colour- ^’^P^gny attempts to explain this by supposing that the
ing matter. Pores °f these substances are smaller than those of wool,
and that the colouring particles enter them less easily and
freely. But according to the observation of Dr Bancroft,
the reverse of this seems to be the fact; for there is little
difficulty in making silk, cotton, and linen imbibe colour¬
ing matter, even when it is applied cold, without any arti¬
ficial dilatation of the pores, which is always necessary in
I N G. 277
the dyeing of wool. The only real difficulty is to make Substances
them retain the colours after the matter has been im- to
bibed ; because being admitted so readily into their undi- co our^‘y
lated pores, the particles cannot be afterwards compressed
and retained by the contraction of these pores, as is the
case with wool. It require*? double the quantity of cochi¬
neal which is necessary for wool to communicate a crim¬
son colour to silk; a certain proof that it can take up a
greater quantity, and consequently that the pores are
sufficiently large and accessible. Unbleached cotton is
always preferred for dyeing Turkey red, because in this
state the colour is found to be most permanent; and this
is ascribed to the pores or interstices being less open than
after it has undergone the process of bleaching. The
same thing is observed of raw or unscoured silk. It is
found to combine more easily with the colouring matter,
and to receive a more permanent colour in this state, than
after it has been scoured and whitened. “ The openness
of cotton and linen,” says Dr Bancroft, “ and their conse¬
quent readiness to imbibe both colouring particles and
the earthy or metallic bases employed to fix most of them,
are circumstances upon which the art of dyeing and cali¬
co-printing is in a great degree founded.”1 But is not
this too mechanical an explanation of the phenomenon ?
Might it not rather be alleged that it is owing to a differ¬
ence of affinities which exists between the particles of
colouring matter and the substance which is separated
from the silk or cotton by the process of bleaching or
scouring? This substance probably acts the part of a
mordant; and having a stronger affinity for the stuff and
for the colouring matter than the stuff has for the latter,
the colour communicated is more durable when silk or
cotton is dyed in the unbleached or unscoured state.
To prepare cotton stuffs for receiving the dye, several Prepara-
operations are necessary. It must first undergo the pro- tiop8 f°r
cess of scouring. By some it is boiled in sour water, or^einS‘
in alkaline ley. It should be kept boiling for two hours,
then wrung out, and rinsed in a stream of water till the
water comes off clear. The stuffs to be prepared should
be soaked for some time in water, mixed with not more
than y\jth part of sulphuric acid, and then carefully washed
in a stream of water, and dried. In this operation the
acid combines with a portion of calcareous earth and iron,
which would have interrupted the full effect of the colour¬
ing matter in the process of dyeing.
Aluming is another preliminary process in the dyeing Aluming.
of cotton. The alum is to be dissolved in the manner
already described in preparing silk. Each pound of cot¬
ton stuff requires four ounces of alum. By some a solu¬
tion of soda, about y^th part of the alum, and by others a
small quantity of tartar and arsenic, are added. The thread
is to be impregnated by working it in small quantities with
this solution. The whole is then put into a vessel, and
the remaining part of the liquor is poured upon it. In
this state it is left for twenty-four hours, after which it is
removed to a stream of water, and allowed to remain for
an hour and a half, or two hours, to extract part of the
alum. It is then to be washed. By this operation cot¬
ton is found to gain an addition of about ^th part of its
weight.
The operation of galling is another preparatory process Galling,
in the dyeing of cotton stuffs. The quantity of astringent
matter employed must be proportioned to its quality, and
the amount of the effect required. Powdered galls are
boiled for two hours in a proportion of water, regulated hy
the quantity of thread to be galled. This solution being
reduced to such a temperature as the hand can bear, is
..
1 Philosophy of Permanent Colours, p. 71-
278
DYEING.
Substances divided into a number of equal parts, that the thread may
to be be wrought pound by pound. Ihe whole stuff is then put
coloured. jnj0 a vessel, and the remaining liquor poured upon it, as
in the former process. It is then left for twenty-four hours
if it is to be dyed black, but for other colours twelve or
fifteen hours are found sufficient. It is then wrung out
and dried.
In the galling of cotton stuffs, which have already re¬
ceived a colour, the precaution should he observed of per¬
forming this operation in the cold, otherwise the colour is
subject to injury.
Berthollet informs us, that cotton which had been alum-
ed acquired more weight in the galling than that which
had not previously undergone that process ; for although
alum adheres but in small quantities to cotton, it commu¬
nicates to it a greater power of combining both with the
astringent principle and with the colouring particles. This,
we may add, may be considered as a good instance of the
action of intermediate affinities, and of the advantage to
be derived to the art of dyeing, from investigating and
observing this action.
for some time to the air and sun. By this means the colour Mordants,
of the lint is improved, and the ligneous part becomes so
brittle that it is easily separated from the fibrous part.
This operation, as is well known, is usually performed by
machinery. ,
The fibres of lint possess no perceptible degree of elas-Structure.
ticity, and they appear to be perfectly smooth. No rough¬
ness or inequality can be detected by the feel, and no as¬
perities can be perceived, even with the assistance of the
microscope. Experience shows, that it produces no in ita-
tion on wounds or sores which are dressed with it, as is
known to happen from a similar application of cotton stuffs.
Flax which is intended for dyeing must be subjected toPrepara-
a similar series of operations with cotton, in the differentia-
processes of scouring, aluming, and galling. A repetition
of the mode of performing these operations is therefore
unnecessary.
CHAPTER III.
OF MORDANTS.
Sect. l\.—Of Flax.
Origin. Flax and hemp nearly resemble each other in their ge¬
neral properties; and, so far as relates to the process of
dyeing, what is said of the one may be applied to the
other.” Flax or lint is obtained from the bark of Linurn
usitatissimum, and hemp from that of Cannabis sativa.
-Watering. Before flax is properly prepared to receive the dye, it
must be subjected to several processes. One of the most
important is that of watering, by which the fibrous parts
of the plant are separated, and brought to that state in
which they can be spun into threads. As the quantity
and quality of the product depend much on this prelimi¬
nary operation, it becomes of the greatest consequence that
it be properly conducted. During this process caibonic
acid and hydrogen gas are given out. The extrication of
these gases is owing to a glutinous juice, which holds the
green colouring part of the plant in solution, and which is
the medium of union between its cortical and ligneous
parts, undergoing a certain degree of putrefaction. I his
substance seems to resemble the glutinous part, which is held
dissolved in the juice obtained from plants by pressure ; is
separated from the colouring particles by means of heat;
readily becomes putrid ; and by distillation affords ammo¬
nia. But although it is held in solution with the express¬
ed juice, it would appear that it cannot be separated from
the cortical parts completely by means of water; and hence
it happens that hemp or flax watered in too strong a cur¬
rent has not the requisite softness and flexibility. But, on
tbe other hand, if the water employed in this operation be
stagnant and in a putrid state, the hemp or flax becomes
of a brown colour, and loses its firmness. In tbe one case
the putrefactive process is interrupted; in the other it is
continued too long and carried too far. I his process, there¬
fore, is performed with the greatest advantage in places
near the banks of rivers, where the water may be changed
so frequently as to prevent such a degree of putrefaction
as would be injurious to the flax, as well as prejudicial to
the workmen, from noxious exhalations; and at the same
time not so frequently as to retard or interrupt those
changes which are necessary for rendering the glutinous
substance soluble in water.
By the process of watering flax, and by drying before
and after that process, the green-coloured particles undei-
go a similar change to that which is observed in the green
substance of the plants exposed to the action of air and
light. The next part of tbe process, therefore, after water¬
ing, is to spread it out upon the grass, and thus expose it
The term mordant is applied by dyers to certain sub- Meaning
stances with which the cloth to be dyed must be im-J^
pregnated, otherwise the colouring matters would not
adhere to the cloth, but would be removed by washing.
Thus the red colour given to cotton by madder would not
be fixed, unless the cloth were previously steeped in a so¬
lution of a salt of alumina. It has been ascertained that
the cloth has the property of decomposing the salt of alu¬
mina, and of combining with and retaining a portion of
alumina. The red colouring principle of the madder has
an affinity for this alumina, and combines with it. The
consequence is, that the alumina being firmly ictained by
the cloth, and the colouring matter by the alumina, the
dye becomes fast, or cannot be removed by washing the
cloth with water, even by the assistance ot soap, though
simple water is sufficient to remove the red coloui ing mat¬
ter from the cloth, unless the alum mordant has been pie-
viously applied.
The term movdant (from the Latin word tnorderc, to
bite) wfas applied to these substances by the Fiench wai¬
ters on dyeing, from a notion entertained by them that
the action of the mordants was mechanical; that they
were of a corrosive or biting nature, and served merely to
open pores in the fibres ot the cloth, into which the co¬
louring matter might insinuate itself. And after the in¬
accuracy of this notion was discovered, and the real use
of mordants ascertained, the term was still continued, as
sufficiently appropriate, or rather as a proper name, with¬
out any allusion to its original signification.
The term mordant, however, is not limited to those sub- teian s
stances merely which serve, like alumina, to fix the colouis.
It is applied also to certain substances, which have the
property of altering the shade of colour, or of brightening
the colour, as it is called. Thus cream of tartar is usually
called a mordant, because when chloride of tin is used, as
is the case in the red dye upon silk or woollen, the addi¬
tion of cream of tartar is necessary, not merely to bright¬
en the colour, but to cause its equable application upon
the cloth; for when the tartar is omitted, we obseive
that the shade is very unequal upon different parts of the
surface, some spots being much darker and some much
lighter than others. We believe that tartar acts chiefly,
if not entirely, by forming a double salt with the chloride
of tin, from which the tin is not liable to be partially pre¬
cipitated. The consequence of this is, the equal distribu¬
tion of the tin through the whole liquid, and the conse¬
quent equality of its application on the cloth. For the
DYEING.
279
Mordants, depth of the shade depends upon the proportion of tin
fixed upon the cloth. Berthollet has proposed to distin¬
guish those substances which are employed to alter the
shade of colour from the mordants strictly so called, by
giving them the name of alterants.
The mordants employed by dyers are but few in num¬
ber. Alumina, the oxides of tin, the protoxide of lead,
the black oxide of copper, and the infusion of nutgalls,
constitute almost the whole of them. The peroxide of
iron and the sesquioxide of manganese have also a strong
affinity for cloth, especially for cotton cloth, and are fre¬
quently employed ; but they serve at once the purpose of
mordants and colouring matters. We believe also that in
one important process for giving a fine red to cotton, what
is usually called the Turkey-red dye.,\hemanganate of pot¬
ash constitutes an indispensable mordant.
Let us take a view of these different mordants in suc¬
cession.
1. Alumina.—This is a soft, white, tasteless powder,
insoluble in water, but soluble in acids, and constituting
sweet-tasted and astringent salts, which have the property
of reddening vegetable blues. These salts are soluble in
water, but very few of them are capable of crystallizing.
Of all the salts of alumina, the most important is alum,
the nature and properties of which have been described in
another part of this work. See Alum.
How used. It is a double salt, composed of three integrant particles
of sulphate of alumina united to one integrant particle of
sulphate of potash or sulphate of ammonia and twenty-five
integrant particles of water. The ammoniacal alum is less
soluble in cold water than the potash alum ; but both kinds
are sufficiently soluble in hot water. Such is the affinity
of alumina for woollen or silk stuffs, that when they are
plunged into a solution of alum, the alumina leaves the
sulphuric acid with which it was united, and combines
with the fibres of the cloth. The affinity of alumina for
cotton or linen, though considerable, is not so great as its
affinity for wool or silk. On that account the cotton dyers
and calico printers find it requisite to combine the alumina,
before using it as a mordant, with a weaker acid than the
sulphuric. The acetic is the one which has been made
choice of, and the acetate of alumina is prepared by the
following process: Three parts of alum and one part of
acetate of lead are dissolved in eight parts of hot water.
There is then added one eighth of a part of potash and as
much chalk. The reason of the addition of the potash and
the chalk is, that one part of acetate of lead is not sufficient
to decompose three parts of alum. These substances pre¬
vent the residual alum from crystallizing, by decomposing
it. The proper quantities of these salts which the dyers
ought to employ are six parts of alum and seven parts of
sugar of lead. These proportions would just convert the
sulphate of alumina of the alum into acetate of alumina,
without altering the sulphate of potash.
The wool or silk is put into a hot solution of alum, and
the cotton into a hot solution of acetate of alumina, and
passed through the liquid till a sufficient quantity of the
alumina has combined with the fibres of the cloth. It is
then wrung out, washed, and dried. The alumina remains
firmly adhering to the cloth, and cannot be removed by
washing, bleaching, or any of the processes to which such
cloths are usually subjected.
Quantity In order to form some notion of the quantity of alumina
of alumina fixed upon cloth by the aluming process, the writer of this
which ad- article made the following experiments: A quantity of
cotTon ° co,;ton cloth was procured, such as is sometimes used for
making light dresses of Turkey red. Of this, 1000 grains
were burnt, and the ashes being reserved and analyzed,
were found to contain 0*4< grain of alumina. 1000 grains
of the same cloth which had been d}'ed Turkey red, and
of course subjected to the aluming process, were burnt, Mordants,
and the ashes subjected to a chemical analysis. The alu-
mina contained in them weighed eight grains. Hence 7'6
grains of this matter had combined with the cloth in the
process of aluming.
The length of 1000 grains of the undyed cotton cloth was
one yard five and two-third inches, and its breadth thirty-
three inches. The length of 1000 grains of the Turkey
red cloth was one yard and six inches, with a breadth of
thirty-three inches. The two pieces of cloth, therefore,
were very nearly of a size. We see that the dyed cloth
had been stretched a very little during the processes to
which it had been subjected. Thus it appears that a sur¬
face of cloth amounting to 1386 square inches, or rather
2772 square inches (as both sides of the cloth had been
equally subjected to the aluming process), had combined
with 7'6 grains of alumina, or every square inch of the
cloth had combined with 0-0027 grains (^-foth grain near¬
ly) of alumina. Small as this quantity may appear, it was
sufficient to fix the red colouring principle of madder, and
to constitute a very deep and beautiful dye.
A very pale shade of red is sometimes given to a por¬
tion of the cloth, which has a beautiful effect when con¬
trasted with the deep Turkey-red dye. This is produced
by limiting the quantity of alumina applied to the parts
which are to be light red. In fact, no alum mordant what¬
ever is applied to the parts which are to be light red; but
they get a little during the steps taken to remove the ex¬
cess of aluminous mordant, which has been applied to the
parts that are to get the deep-red colour.
To ascertain the quantity of alumina which was suffi¬
cient to fix the light-red colour, the writer of this article
got a portion of the same cotton cloth formerly operated
on, dyed of the light-red colour. 1000 grains of this cloth
being burnt, and the ashes analyzed, were found to contain
0-8 grain of alumina. Subtracting the 0-4) grain of alu¬
mina which 1000 grains of the undyed cloth contained,
there remains 0-4 grain for the quantity communicated
during the aluming process. These 1000 grains of cloth
constituted a length of one yard and ten two-third inches.
The breadth was thirty-two inches. Its surface (reckon¬
ing both sides) constituted 2986f square inches. So that
every square inch of surface had combined with 0-00012
grains of alumina, or less than y^j^th of a grain. Yet
this quantity of alumina, small as it is, was essential to
the permanence of the dye; for when unalumed cloth
was dyed with madder, the colour was speedily and easily
washed out by water; but the light-red Turkey-red dye
was perfectly fixed.
These facts are sufficient to show us the very small size
of a particle of alumina. Were only 1000 particles of this
substance fixed upon the square inch of surface of cloth,
the weight of a particle of alumina would not exceed the
millionth part of a grain. But that the number far ex¬
ceeds 1000 is evident from this, that when we examine
the surface of the cloth with a microscope, the red colour
does not appear in spots, but is equally spread over the
whole cloth. Many thousand particles of alumina upon
the square inch would be requisite to produce this effect.
The aluming and the dyeing are sometimes given to
the cloth together; but more frequently the aluming pre¬
cedes, and the dyeing follows after the cloth has imbibed
the mordant and been washed and dried.
2. Tin.—Of all the metallic oxides, those of tin are the
most useful as mordants. They form, with acids, salts very
easily decomposed ; and the fibres of cloth have an affinity
so strong for these oxides, that they readily withdraw them
from their saline combinations, and unite with them. Tin
forms two different oxides with oxygen. The protoxide is
black, but the peroxide is yellow, and sometimes also white.
280 DYE
Mordants. The tin mordants are formed by dissolving tin in muriatic
acid. There are two chlorides of tin, as the combinations
of that metal with chlorine are called. These are, the pro¬
tochloride and the perchloride. The protochloride, when
anhydrous, is a gray solid, with a pearly lustre ; but when
it is formed by dissolving tin in muriatic acid, it crystal¬
lizes in large oblique four-sided prisms, with one edge
usually replaced by a tangent plane. The colour is white,
with somewhat of the diamond lustre. The taste is acid,
acrid, and disagreeable. When recently formed they dis¬
solve in water; but when kept they dissolve imperfectly,
leaving a white matter behind, which is an oxide of tin,
and the quantity of this insoluble oxide increases with the
age of the crystals.
How pre- Calico-printers form their tin mordant by dissolving tin
pared as a directly in muriatic acid; but the silk and woollen cloth
mordant. (}yers employ aqua regia for the purpose. Indeed tin for
the dyers was originally dissolved in weak nitric acid ; but
when this method is followed, almost the whole tin preci¬
pitates in the state of an oxide in a few days. To prevent
this precipitation, they added a little common salt or sal
ammoniac to the nitric acid in which the tin was to be
dissolved. Hellot informs us that Baron claimed the merit
of having been the first person who employed aqua regia
at Carcassone to dissolve tin. The object in view was to
prevent the precipitation of the oxide, which always hap¬
pens when nitric acid alone is used for that purpose.
The dyer’s ordinary solution of tin is made with the
kind of nitric acid called single aqua fortis. It is capable
of dissolving about the eighth part of its weight of granu¬
lated tin. For each pound of aqua fortis it is usual to add
about two ounces of common salt or sal ammoniac, and a
little water to moderate the action of the acid. Those so¬
lutions which have been made most slowly, and with the
least separation of fumes or vapours, have been found to
succeed best; showing clearly that it is the protochloride
of tin that constitutes the proper mordant. Two ounces
of grain tin are usually allotted to every pound of aqua
fortis. The metal should be added at different times, wait¬
ing till one part is nearly dissolved before another is added,
otherwise too much heat may be evolved, which would
cause the solution to go on too rapidly. The quantity of
water added should be about one half of that of the aqua
fortis used; so that the solution, when completed, should
contain about one thirteenth of its weight of tin. About
20 lbs. of such a solution is required to die 100 lbs. of
woollen cloth a full cochineal scarlet.
The process usually followed is this: Supposing 100
pounds weight of cloths intended to be died; ten pounds
of cream of tartar are put into a suitable dyeing vessel of
pure block tin,1 with a sufficient quantity of clean soft water,
and six or eight ounces of powdered cochineal. Imme¬
diately after this, ten or twelve pounds of the solution of
tin are to be added, and when the mixture is nearly boiling
hot, the cloth, previously completely wet, is put into the dye¬
ing liquor, and turned through it by the winch, at first very
rapidly, and afterwards slowly. This is to be continued
for an hour and a half, after which the cloth is to be taken
out and rinsed in clean water. By this first process the
cloth has acquired a flesh colour. For the second or dye¬
ing process the tin vessel is replenished with clean water.
Five or six pounds of cochineal in powder are to be put
into it, and well mixed by stirring it for a few minutes.
After this the remaining part of the solution of tin is to be
added; and the whole being well stirred, the cloth is to be
I N G.
put into the liquor, and turned very briskly through it, Mordants,
that both ends may receive an equal portion of the dye.
After this it is turned more slowly for the space of half an
hour, or until the dyeing liquor becomes exhausted, when
the cloth is to be taken out, aired, and rinsed.
The process followed by the calico-printers for prepar¬
ing the tin mordant is to dissolve tin in muriatic acid, by
which a protochloride of tin is obtained. But Dr Ban¬
croft found that, when a saturated solution of tin in muri¬
atic acid was employed for dyeing woollen cloth scarlet,
it had a corrosive effect on the cloth. He recommends a
mixture of nitric and muriatic acid as a good solvent; and
doubtless such a mixture would be cheaper and better than
a solution of common salt or sal-ammoniac in nitric acid.
Dr Bancroft found that a mixture of sulphuric and muri¬
atic acid made a good solvent for the tin. Some farther
experiments are still wanting to elucidate the best state of
the tin mordant for the scarlet dye. We are of opinion
that it is the protochloride of tin that constitutes the true
mordant ;z but some addition seems necessary to enable
the fibres of the cloth to separate the oxide of the tin
from the combination in which it exists, or rather to unite
with the muriatic acid, when it is formed and disengaged
by the decomposition of water, which obviously takes
place, otherwise this acid, when evolved, will exert a cor¬
rosive action on the cloth.
The tartar is necessary to produce the scarlet colour.
Without it the colour of the cochineal dye is crimson, or
at most a rose colour. It doubtless acts principally by
forming a double salt with the chloride of tin. But it
must also convert a portion of the cochineal into a yellow
dye; for scarlet is a compound colour, consisting of a
great deal of red, mixed with a small quantity of yellow.
3. Lead.—We are not aware of the protoxide of lead Used to fix
being employed in any case as a mordant in dyeing silks chromic
or woollen cloth ; but of late years it has been used as a acld‘
mordant for cotton, to which the beautiful yellow given
by means of chromic acid was to be communicated. For
this purpose the lead is dissolved in nitric acid, or con¬
verted into nitrate of lead. This salt crystallizes in octa¬
hedrons, has a sweet and astringent taste, and dissolves
readily in water. An aqueous solution of it thickened by
gum is applied to those parts of the cloth which are to
receive a yellow colour; or if the cloth has been already
dyed red, a quantity of tartaric acid is mixed with the so¬
lution of nitrate of lead and gum, and after it has been
applied and dried on the cloth, the piece is passed through
water impregnated with a quantity of bleaching powder.
The red colour is discharged ; but the oxide of lead, which
had united with the fibres of the cloth, still continues to ad¬
here without alteration. The cloth is now passed through
a solution of bichromate of potash. Those parts of it which
contained the oxide of lead immediately decompose the
bichromate ; chromate of lead is formed and fixed upon the
cloth, constituting a most beautiful and indelible yellow
colour ; or, by particular alterations in the process, this yel¬
low colour may be changed to red, or to a very deep orange
approaching red, and exceedingly beautiful.
4. Copper.—The black oxide of copper is employed as
a mordant in giving a black colour to hats, or at least
acetate of copper is employed in the process; and it is not
easy to conceive any other purpose which such a salt can
serve than contributing a portion of oxide of copper to act
as a mordant.
5. Galls.—Nutgalls are excrescences which grow on
1 Copper vessels are found to injure the colour, and therefore are not used.
* We do not mean that the protoxide of tin remains fixed on the doth: it doubtless becomes peroxide. But the superior solubi¬
lity of protochloride of tin fits it better for the purpose.
DYEING.
281
Excres-
lences on
)ak.
Mordants, the branches of some species of oak, in consequence of the
puncture of an insect, the cynips quercusfoliL The best
kind come from the Levant. They are nearly spherical
bodies, with protuberances on the surface. There is a ca¬
vity within where the insect lodged, and a round hole from
that central cavity to the surface, by which the insect,
after it was hatched from the deposited egg, eat its way
out. These nutgalls have a very astringent and austere
taste. When digested in water they give that liquid a
brown colour, and the taste which they themselves have.
When such an infusion is mixed with a solution of sulphate
of iron, it strikes a deep blue or black colour. Nutgalls,
besides a considerable portion of woody fibre, contain a
notable quantity of two peculiar vegetable substances, to
which they owe their value as dyestuffs or mordants.
These are tannin and gallic acid. The latter of these
substances is easily obtained in a state of purity; the for¬
mer with difficulty.
The infusion of nutgalls contains scarcely any thing else
than a solution of tannin and gallic acid. If we evaporate
the solution in a gentle heat to dryness, and digest the
residue in sulphuric ether or absolute alcohol, the gallic
acid will be dissolved, and the tannin will remain in a state
of tolerable purity, only coloured brown by the action of
the air. Tannin, when pure, is white while moist. It be¬
comes yellow when dried even in vacuo, and by subsequent
exposure to the air it becomes darker coloured. Its taste
is excessively astringent and harsh ; and it is distinguish¬
ed by the property of striking a deep blue or black with
the salts of iron. Tannin is easily altered in its nature
by heat. Its constitution, as determined by the most re¬
cent analyses, is,
Contains
tannin.
instead of an astringent one. Like tannin, it strikes a black Mordants,
with the salts of iron. But the gallate of iron is readily dis-
tinguished from the tannate. The former is an exceedingly
fine black powder, which precipitates very slowly, while the
latter is a deep blue, which precipitates rapidly, has a coarse
appearance, and becomes black when dry. The constituents
of gallic acid are,
Carbon  14 atoms \
Hydrogen  5 atoms J
Oxygen  9 atoms / or Cj
united with (
Water  1 atom /
Oy, HO.
Carbon  18 atoms
Hydrogen  5 atoms
Oxygen  9 atoms
united with
Water  3 atoms ]
C,o Hs 0„ + 3 HO.
Many modifications of it are found throughout the vegetable
kingdom, all characterised by a harsh, astringent taste, and
the property of giving a black, dark-blue, or brown colour
with salts of iron, so that various shades of these colours
can be produced by selecting the tannin of different plants,
and employing it in dyeing along with copperas or other
ferruginous compounds.
Distinctive names have been given to the varieties of
tannin by scientific chemists, who rank them all among
vegetable acids, of which, however, they form an imper¬
fectly defined group ; their general insusceptibility of crys¬
tallization preventing their ready purification, and their
liability to undergo chemical changes on exposure to air in¬
terfering with their preparation in a state of purity. The
tannin of the oak and its gall-nuts, which alone is referred
to in what follows, has been distinguished by the name of
quercitannic acid.
Tannin exists not merely in nutgalls, but in oak bark,
in the wood of the oak, in the leaves, and in fact in every
part of that tree; but the quantity of it is much greater in
nutgalls than in any other part.
Tannin possesses the characters of an acid. It reddens
vegetable blues, effervesces with the carbonates, and unites
in definite proportions with the basis,
and gallic Gallic acid exists also as a constituent of nutgalls, and
acid- may be extracted from them by means of ether or absolute
alcohol. Its colour is white, though it is apt, like tannin,
to become yellow when exposed to the atmosphere, and
seems indeed capable of being converted into tannin by ex¬
posure to too high a temperature. It is not nearly so solu¬
ble in water as tar.uin, and is distinguished by an acid taste
VOL. vni.
Gallic acid has recently been prepared in considerable
suantity and of great purity by the pharmaceutical chemists
of this country and the Continent, who can now furnish it
beautifully crystallized. In the state of crystals it is em¬
ployed by medical men as a valuable internal remedy in
several disorders. It is turned to some account also by the
photogenic artist; and analytical chemists prepare from it
another and allied acid called the pyrogallic, which is highly
serviceable in effecting the analysis of air. The dyer, how¬
ever, uses it uncrystallized.
The great use to which the infusion of nutgalls is put How used
in dyeing is to give a black colour when mixed with solu-as a nior*
tion of sulphate of iron. When used in this way it per-fiant'
haps is improperly named a mordant; for the oxide of iron
is known to have a strong affinity for the fibres of cloth,
and the tannin and gallic acid have a strong affinity for the
oxide. Hence probably the way in which the black dye
is fixed on silk and woollen cloth. There can be no doubt
that the tannin, which is by far the most abundant ingre¬
dient, is the principal agent in striking the black with the
sulphate of iron. But the gallic acid probably adds to the
lustre, and improves the beauty of the colour.
In the Turkey-red process for giving a fixed red colour
to cotton cloth by means of madder, steeping the cloth in
infusion of nutgalls is an important part of the process, as
without this the colour would be apt to want equality
of shade in different parts of the cloth. In this process
there can be no doubt that tannin acts the part of a mor¬
dant. The galling, in preparing the cloth for the Turkey-
red dye, always precedes the alumina process. Whether
it has the property of making the alumina more fixed on
the cloth than it otherwise would be, or what other pur¬
pose it may serve, is not very well understood; but it is
certain that the boiling of the cloth in a pretty strong in¬
fusion of galls is important. The infusion of galls is made
by boiling twenty-five pounds of nutgalls in forty gallons
of water, till four or five gallons are boiled or evaporated.
The specific gravity of the infusion is L020 ; or some¬
times the process is twice repeated, employing each time
only twelve and a half pounds of nutgalls in forty gallons
of water. The specific gravity of each infusion in that case
is only L010.
Such is an account of the mordants at present employed
in dyeing, and the way of using them. It is not always
necessary to employ mordants in dyeing; some colouring
matters adhere to the cloth without the presence of any
intermediate substance. This is the case with the oxides
of iron and manganese. It is the case also with indigo,
and it was the case also with the colouring matter from
the buccinum and purpura employed by the ancient Phoe¬
nician dyers in dyeing the celebrated purple, of which an
account has been given in the first chapter of this treatise.
To those colouring matters which adhere to the cloth of
themselves Bancroft has given the name of substantive co¬
lours, while he distinguishes those that require a mordant
by the name of adjective colours.
2 N
..
282
D Y E I N G.
Mordants. Mordants have a very considerable effect on the colour ;
v,—and by varying the mordant, very different colours, and a
Effects of great variety of shades, may be obtained from the same
mordants coiouring matter. Some mordants themselves may be
oii^the co- pQpgijered as communicating a colour, without the addi¬
tion of any colouring substance; and although, when the
latter is added, a new set of affinities is brought into ac¬
tion, yet there is little doubt that the mordant also has a
considerable share in fixing the shades of colour. Let us
take an example in dyeing with cochineal. When the
aluminous mordant is employed, the colour produced is
crimson; but when the oxide of iron is substituted for the
alumina, the colour obtained is black. The effect is ob¬
viously produced by a change in the action of the affinities
between the colouring matter and the mordant, and the
colouring matter and light. In the use of mordants,
therefore, it is necessary to attend to their combined ef¬
fects with the colouring matter employed, and, to be able
to communicate particular colours to stuffs with any de¬
gree of certainty, to know the amount of that effect.
Even in the mode of applying mordants, the variety of
shades may be greatly multiplied. Different effects, for
instance, are produced by previously impregnating the
stuff with the mordant, or by mixing it with the bath.
Different effects also arise from using heat, or as the stuff
is more or less rapidly dried; and this must appear to be
the case, if we consider the different affinities which are
in action, and the change on the action of these affinities
in these different circumstances, as well as in others which
can scarcely be appreciated. The combination of these
substances which have an affinity for the stuff, and the de¬
compositions which are the result of that combination, are
greatly facilitated by the evaporation of the water or other
liquid which held these substances in solution; because
by its affinity, which is opposed to the action of the affi¬
nity between these substances and the stuff, the affinity of
the latter produces a more limited effect. But in dyeing,
the process should proceed slowly, that the substances
may not be separated before their mutual affinities have
begun to operate.
Considerable differences must be observed in the mode
of employing the mordant, as the force of affinity between
the stuff and the colouring matter is greater or less.
When this affinity is strong, the mordant and the colour¬
ing substance may be mixed together; the compound thus
formed immediately enters into combination with the stuff.
But if the affinity between the stuff and the colouring
particles be weak, the compound formed of the latter and
the mordant may separate, and a precipitation take place,
before it can be attached to the stuff; and hence it is in
these cases that the mordant, which is to serve as the me¬
dium of union between the stuff and the colouring matter,
must be combined with the former, before the application
of the latter. It is from these differences that different
processes must be followed in fixing colouring matters on
animal and vegetable productions; as, for instance, in dye¬
ing wool or silk black, or with cochineal.
In estimating the effects of mordants, and in judging of
the most advantageous manner of applying them, it is ne¬
cessary to attend to the combinations which may be form¬
ed, either by the action of the ingredients of wdiich they
are composed, or by that of the colouring matter and the
stuff. It is necessary also to take into consideration the
circumstances which may tend to bring about these com¬
binations with more or less rapidity, or that may render
them more or less perfect. The action which the liquor
in which the stuff is immersed may have, either on its co¬
lour or texture, must also be considered; and, to be able
accurately to judge of the extent of this action, we must
know the proportions of the principles of which the mor-
Simple
Colours.
dant is composed ; which of these principles remains in an
uncombined state in the liquor; and the proportion or
quantity which is thus separated.
CHAPTER IV.
y
OF THE MODE OF DYEING SIMPLE COLOURS.
Dyers have divided colours into two classes, namely,
simple and compound colours. The simple are produced
by a single dyeing process, and cannot be obtained by
mixing together different colours. The compound co¬
lours are obtained by mixing together any two of the dye¬
stuffs which produce the simple colours. By this means
two colours are given to the cloth at once; and the sha&e
depends upon the proportions of each dyestuff employed.
The simple colours are five in number; namely, red,
yellow, blue, black, and broivn. The last of these may be
considered also as a compound colour, as it may be formed
by mixing the dyestuffs for two simple colours together.
The compound colours are orange, green, purple, and gray.
We shall in this chapter confine ourselves to the mode of
dyeing the simple colours, dividing it into five sections, in
each of which we shall treat of a simple colour.
Sect. I.—Of Red.
In treating of the red dye, the simplest method seems
to be to give an account, in the first place, of the dye¬
stuffs employed for dyeing red; and in the second place,
to describe the methods followed by the dyer to give a
red colour to silk, wool, cotton, and flax.
I.—Description of the Dyestuffs.
The principal colouring matters used in dyeing red are
madder, cochineal, kermes, lac, archil, carthamus, Brazil
wood, and logivood.
1. Madder is the root of a plant, the rubia tinctorum, Cor.tauis
which is cultivated in the south of Europe. There aretwoc°k'ur*
two varieties, the rubia cordifolia and the rubiaperegrinaff&mMeXi
It is this last which is cultivated in the south of Europe,
and comes to us from the Levant. The roots are wiery,
and very much branched. They have a red colour exter¬
nally, but are yellow within. This plant was cultivated
by the Greeks and Romans, and was employed in medi¬
cine, and also in dyeing, as Dioscorides and Pliny in¬
form us. It was called erythrodamus and vcerantia by the
Greeks, and rubia by the Romans. From the last Greek
name is derived the French word garance, by which mad¬
der is distinguished in that language.
It is the woody portion of madder that is useful in dye¬
ing : the bark and pith are comparatively of little value.
Madder has been examined by many chemists; but Ro-
biquet and Colin alone have succeeded in separating the
red colouring matter, and in determining its properties.
They have distinguished it by the name of alizarin, an
appellation derived from alizari, by which madder is dis¬
tinguished in the Levant.
Madder contains two colouring matters ; one, which is
yellow, is soluble in cold water; the other, the alizarin, is
soluble only in boiling water. To the yellow colouring
matter Kuhlmann has given the name of xanthin. This
matter considerably injures the colour of the alizarin ;
hence the reason -why cloth dyed with madder has at first
a dull brownish-red colour, which it loses in proportion as
the xanthin is removed.
To obtain alizarin, Robiquet and Colin recommend the Alizarif
following process. Mix pounded madder with two thirds
or with its own weight of concentrated sulphuric acid, and
DYE
Simple set. the mixture aside for two or three days, taking care
Colours, that heat is not evolved. All the other constituents of
the madder, except the alizarin, are converted into char¬
coal ; and should heat have been evolved, even the aliza¬
rin itself will be charred. Wash the black matter thus
formed, to extract from it all the acid. What remains is
a mixture of charcoal and alizarin. Let it be dried and
digested with a portion of cold alcohol, which will dissolve
a fatty matter which it contains. Let it now be digested
in boiling alcohol till all the alizarin is dissolved. Mix
the alcoholic solutions with water, distil off the alcohol,
and filter the residual liquor. The alizarin remains upon
the filter in a state of purity. Various other processes for
extracting alizarin have been given by Robiquet and Co¬
lin, and by Kuhlmann and Zenneck.1 But for these we
refer to the respective publications of these chemists. The
process which we have given we consider as of easiest exe¬
cution.
Its proper- Alizarin is insipid, and destitute of smell. According to
ties. Zenneck, it possesses weakly acid properties; but Colin
, and Robiquet consider it as perfectly neutral. It sublimes
easily in long flexible capillary needles, having an orange
colour; but unless the subliming vessels be very low and
flat, much of the alizarin is decomposed during the pro¬
cess. Two watch-glasses applied to each other, for exam¬
ple, answer very well as a subliming vessel. During the
process the alizarin gives out an aromatic odour like that
of benzoin. It is almost insoluble in cold water; but it
is moderately soluble in boiling water, to which it com¬
municates a rose-red colour. At the temperature of 54°,
212 parts of alcohol, of the specific gravity 083, dissolve
one part of alizarin. At the same temperature sulphuric
ether, of specific gravity 0-73, dissolves y-^th part of its
weight of it. The alcoholic solution is red, that of ether
yellow or orange. It is slightly soluble in bisulphide of
carbon, oil of turpentine, naphtha, and the fat oils, com¬
municating to these bodies a reddish-yellow colour.
Chlorine has little action on it, yet it injures the colour
a little, and makes it incline to yellow'. Sulphuric acid
dissolves it, and acquires at the same time a blood-red
colour. Nitric and muriatic acid dissolve it, and slightly
alter the shade of its colour. These acids, when dilute,
do not dissolve it. With alkalies it forms soluble com¬
binations, having a violet-red colour, which do not afford
crystals. The alkaline carbonates dissolve it, assuming
a violet colour. With the alkaline earths it forms pre¬
cipitates, having a violet or lilac colour; with alumina a
precipitate which is red or reddish-brown. With the me¬
tallic oxides it forms insoluble combinations, having a vio¬
let or reddish-brown colour.
It has a marked affinity for various animal matters. It
dissolves in the white of an egg diluted with water; and
if we coagulate the albumen by heat, the alizarin com¬
bines with it, leaving the liquid portion tinged yellow.
Albumen, containing a portion of alizarin in solution, is
precipitated by a solution of chloride of calcium ; yet this
salt does not precipitate uncombined albumen diluted with
the same quantity of water. Phosphate of lime appears
also to have a marked affinity for the colouring matter of
madder. Indeed this is obvious, from the well-known
fact, that the bones of animals which have taken for some
time a quantity of madder mixed with their food, are
tinged red.
I N G. • 283
Urine, when left in contact w’ith madder, extracts from Simple
it the alizarin, and acquires a red colour, even when quite Colours,
recent and acid. Milk is coloured yellow by madder, and
red coagulated curd is deposited upon the madder. The
solution of animal gelatin does not precipitate the red co¬
louring matter of madder.
We are not aware that madder is employed in dyeing
silk or wool, but it constitutes one of the most beautiful
and fixed red dyes for cotton and linen, and for dyeing
these substances it has been in use probably at least two
thousand years. As the yellow colouring matter or xan-
thin is not used in dyeing, it seems unnecessary to give any
account of it in this place.2 * It gives a very beautiful
yellow colour, and might be employed in calico-printing,
were it not that the extraction of it would cost too much
money.
2. Cochineal is the name given to a small insect that in-Nature of
habits the cactus coccmilifera, and three or four other spe-cochineal,
cies of cactus, upon which it remains immoveable, draw¬
ing its nourishment from the juices of the plant. The in¬
sect is called by entomologists coccus cacti. It is the fe¬
male insect (which is without wings) that constitutes
the dyestuff. The insect is small, having a kind of hemi¬
spherical back, crossed by numerous wrinkles, and of a
dark reddish-brown colour.
This insect is a native of Mexico, and had been em¬
ployed by the natives as a red tinging matter. When the
Spaniards entered that country in 1518 it drew their at¬
tention ; and in 1523 Cortes received orders from the
court of Spain to procure it in as great quantity as possi¬
ble. He left the cultivation of the insect to the natives,
who prosecuted it so successfully that great quantities of
it were imported into Europe. The earlier Spanish wri¬
ters described it as an insect, but at a later period it
came to be considered as the seed of a plant; and this
opinion continued the prevalent one, till the contrary was
proved by Melchior de Ruuscher, about the beginning of
the eighteenth century. This man, who was a native of
Holland, affirmed in a society, from oral information which
he had obtained in Spain, that cochineal was a small ani¬
mal. Another person, whose name has not been made
known, maintained the contrary with so much heat and
violence, that the dispute at length ended in a bet.
Ruuscher charged a Spaniard, one of his friends, who was
going to Mexico, to procure for him in that country au¬
thentic proofs of what he had asserted. These proofs,
legally confirmed in October 1725, by the court of justice
in the city of Antiguera, in the valley of Oaxaca, arrived
at Amsterdam in the autumn of the year 1726. Ruuscher
caused this evidence to be published under the following
title ; The History of Cochineal proved by authentic docu¬
ments?
The fact that cochineal is an insect had been suspected
before. In a very crude and unsatisfactory paper on cochi¬
neal, published in the Philosophical Transactions for 1668,4
this is distinctly stated as an undoubted fact. In 1672 Dr
Lister, in a paper inserted also in the Transactions, throws
out a conjecture that the cochineal insect may be a sort
of kermes; which conjecture is now known to be well
founded. Leeuwenhoeck is said to have examined cochi¬
neal microscopically in 1703, and to have ascertained it to
be an insect. About the beginning of the year 1757 Mr
Ellis obtained some of the joints of the plant on which the
1 See Kuhlmann, Ann. de Chim. et de Phys. xxiv. 225; Zenneck Poggendorf’s Annalen. xiii. 2G1 ; Robiquet et Colin. Jour, dt
Pharmucie, xii. 407 ; and Ann. de Chim. et de Phys. xxxiv. 225.
* For an account of it we refer the reader to the Jour, de Pharmacie, xiv. 354.
* Natuerlyke Historic van de Couchenille, beweezen mit authentique documenten. Amsterdam, 1729, 8vo, 175 pages.
« No. xl. p. 796. 1 *
284
DYEING.
Simple
Colours.
Contains
cochinea-
lin.
Properties
of cochi-
nealin.
insects breed) from South CsrohnEi) End presented them
the same year to the Royal Society. These specimens,
Mr EUis observes, were full of the nests of this insect, in
which it appeared in its various states, in the most minute,
when it walks about, to the state when it becomes fixed,
and wrapt up in a fine web which it spins about itself.
With the assistance of the microscope, Mr Ellis discover¬
ed the true male insect in the parcels which had been sent
to him from America ; and in August 1756, in consequence
of Mr Ellis’s discovery, Dr Garden caught a male cochi¬
neal fly, which, he observes, is rarely to be met with. He
supposes that there may be 150 or 200 females for one
male. These discoveries proved indisputably that the
cochineal is an animal production.
Cochineal has been subjected to a chemical examination
by various individuals; but the most successful analysis of
it is by Pelletier and Caventou in 1818, which was pub¬
lished in the eighth volume of the Annales de Chimieet de
Physique, p. 250. They found it to contain about half its
weight of the peculiar colouring matter to which they ap¬
plied the name carmine; but we prefer the name cochi-
nealin, already given to this substance by John, who was
the person that first obtained it and described its proper¬
ties. Cochinealin may be obtained by the following pro¬
cess :—
Digest cochineal in alcohol, as long as it communicates
a red colour to that liquid. Ihe alcoholic solution being
left to spontaneous evaporation, lets fall a crystalline mat¬
ter of a fine red colour. Dissolve these crystals in strong
alcohol, and mix the solution with its own bulk of sulphu¬
ric ether. The liquid becomes muddy, and gradually de-
posites the cochinealin, which constitutes a purple crust on
the bottom of the vessel.
Cochinealin has a fine purple-red colour, is granular,
and consists of small crystals. When left exposed to the
air, it undergoes no sensible alteration. At 122 degrees it
melts; and if the heat be increased, it swells up and is
decomposed, yielding carburetted hydrogen gas, a great
deal of oil, and a little w’ater having a slightly acid taste.
It furnishes no traces of ammonia.
It is very soluble in watei’. The aqueous solution has a
fine carmine colour, and, how much soever concentrated,
does not deposite crystals. It dissolves also in alcohol;
but the solubility diminishes in proportion to the strength
of the alcohol. In sulphuric ether it does not dissolve.
The weak acids dissolve it, probably in consequence of
the water which they contain. When the cochinealin is
pure, no acid throws it down from its aqueous solution;
but they precipitate it when in combination with the pe¬
culiar animal matter of cochineal. They produce a sensi¬
ble change upon its colour, causing it gradually to assume
a tint of yellow. This is the reason why cochineal will
not dye scarlet, unless when mixed with bitartrate of pot¬
ash. The concentrated acids decompose it altogether.
Alkalies also alter the colour of solutions of cochinealin.
It first becomes violet, and at last yellow ; and the original
colour cannot be again restored. Lime water occasions a
precipitate when poured into an aqueous solution of this
substance; but barytes and strontian water occasion no
precipitate, though they change the colour to yellow.
Alumina has a strong affinity for cochinealin. W hen
newly precipitated alumina is agitated in an aqueous solu¬
tion of it, the liquid is rendered colourless, and the alu¬
mina converted into a beautiful lake. The pigment called
carmine, accidentally discovered by a Franciscan monk
about the middle of the sixteenth century, and the pro¬
cess for obtaining which was published by Homberg in
Simple
Colours.
1656, consists essentially of a combination of cochinealin
and alumina. ^ .
Most of the saline solutions alter the colour of the aque-
ous solution of this substance; but few of them are capa¬
ble of producing a precipitate in it. Acetate of lead, how¬
ever, throws down a copious violet sediment from the de¬
coction or infusion of cochineal; and by decomposing this
sediment by means of sulphuretted hydrogen, the cochi¬
nealin may be obtained in a state of purity. The chlo¬
ride of tin throws down a violet precipitate, and the per-
chloride strikes a fine scarlet colour, but precipitates no¬
thing. When gelatinous alumina is added to this mixture,
we obtain a fine red precipitate, which is not altered by
Cochineal was at one time used in great quantity in Eu¬
rope, chiefly for dyeing fine scarlet cloth. When Bancroft
published his work on colours in 1794, he informs us that
the annual European consumption was about 3000 bags,
or 600,000 lbs., of which about 240,000 lbs. were con¬
sumed in Great Britain. The demand has since that time
very much diminished; and the price has in consequence
sunk from about thirty shillings to about nine shillings
and sixpence per pound. This diminution is chiefly ow¬
ing to the substitution of the lac dye for cochineal. Cochi¬
neal, however, is still used for the dyeing of fine scailet
cloth.
3. Kermes.—This is also the female of an insect which
inhabits a species of oak. ihe tree, which is a native of
the countries bordering on the Mediterranean and Asia, is
called by Linnaeus quercus ilicis, and the insect coccus ili-
cis. This substance was known to the ancients, though Similar to
they were ignorant of its nature. Dioscorides calls it cochineal,
xoxxos, and Pliny coccum and granum. It was used in me¬
dicine ; and there can be no doubt that it was employed
in Asia at a very early period as a dyestuft. Ihere is rea¬
son to suspect that the scarlet cloth mentioned by Moses
to adorn the tabernacle was dyed by means of kermes. If
this conjecture has any foundation, the kermes dye must
have been known in Egypt before the time of Moses.
The word kermes or alkermes is at present in the East
the common name for the animal which produces the dye,
as well as for the dye itself. Probably it conies from the
Arabic. If the kermes dye w as known in Egypt and Phoe¬
nicia in the time of Moses, there is some difficulty in ex¬
plaining how it was altogether unknown to the Greeks and
Romans till the time of the Emperor Aurelian, who began
his short reign in the year 270 of the Christian era. Vo-
piscus informs us that the king of Persia sent to that em¬
peror, besides other articles of great value, some woollen
cloth, which was of a much costlier and brighter purple
than any that had been ever seen in the Roman empiie,
and in comparison of which all the other purple worn by
the emperor and the ladies of the court appeared dull
and faded. Vopiscus goes on to say that this cloth had
been dyed in India, and that the assertion ot the king of
Persia, sume purpuram qualis apud nos est, w as false ; foi
Aurelian, Probus, and Diocletian, had sent dyers into the
East on purpose to get information respecting this pre¬
cious dye; but that their attempts utterly failed ot suc¬
cess.1
From this passage it would appear that the use of
kermes in dyeing had been known at a very early period
in India, from which it gradually made its way into Per¬
sia, and afterwards into Europe. And as the colour which
it yielded was more beautiful than the celebrated Phoe¬
nician dye, it may have contributed to put an end to the
monopoly of the Phoenician dyers. Ihe term scarlet, the
1 Yopiscus in Vita Aureliani, cap. 29.
DYEING.
285
Simple origin of which is unknown, but which was certainly em-
Colours. ployed early in the twelfth century, was applied to the
colour given to cloth by the kermes dye.
Kermes is gathered chiefly in Languedoc, Spain, and
Portugal. The insects are collected in the months of
May and June, when the female, which alone is useful, is
distended with eggs. To destroy the young insects, the
kermes is exposed to the steam of vinegar for about half
an hour, and afterwards dried. It is in the form of small
grains of a reddish-brown colour. Kermes, as appears
from the experiments of Lassaigne,1 contains the very
same colouring matter as cochineal; but its quantity is
not so great, and of course it is mixed with a greater pro¬
portion of animal matter. The introduction of cochineal
greatly diminished the consumption of kermes. It is sel¬
dom used in this country, yet it gives a very fixed and
beautiful colour to woollen cloth.
4. Lac.—This is an animal production which has been
long known in India, and used for dyeing silk and other
purposes. It is the nidus of the coccus lacca, Linnaeus, and
is generally produced on the small branches of the croton
Also simi- lacciferum. Three kinds of lac are well known in com-
lar to co- mer'ce:—I. Stick lac is the substance or comb, in its na-
chineal. tural state, forming a crust on the small branches or twigs.
2. Seed lac is said to be only the above separated from the
twigs and reduced into small fragments. Mr Hatchett,
who has examined this substance with his usual skill and
precision, found the best specimens considerably deprived
of their colouring matter.2 According to the information
which he received from Mr Wilkins, the silk dyers in
Bengal produce the seed lac by pounding crude lac into
small fragments, and extracting part of the colouring mat¬
ter by boiling. 3. Shell lac is prepared from the cells, li¬
quefied, strained, and formed into thin transparent laminae.
There is also a fourth kind, called lump lac, which is ob¬
tained from the seed lac by liquefaction, and afterwards
formed into cakes. The best lac is of a deep red colour:
when it is pale and pierced at the top, the value is greatly
diminished; for then the insects have left their cells, and
it can no longer be of use as a dyestuff.
Unverdorben has likewise examined lac, but his expe¬
riments throw no light upon the nature of the colouring
matter. Being derived from a coccus, as well as the co¬
louring matter of cochineal and kermes, the probability is
that it is of the same nature. In the state in which it
comes to this country (that of a purple powder), it dis¬
solves readily in boiling hot water. In this way it is em¬
ployed by the dyers. Being much cheaper than either
cochineal or kermes, it has in some measure superseded
these dyestuffs, except when a very fine scarlet is wanted,
in which case cochineal is still employed.
5. Archil.—This substance, called orseille by the French,
is a violet-red paste, of which there are two varieties, one,
which is the best, made in the Canary Islands, the other
manufactured in the south of France. It is made from
two species of lichens, the roccella and the parellus. Ber-
thollet, who has copied Hellot, who again copied Micheli,
has given the following description of the mode of pre-
Hnw pre- paring it. The plant is reduced to a fine powder, which
pared. is afterwards passed through a sieve, and slightly moisten¬
ed with stale urine. The mixture is daily stirred, each
time adding a certain proportion of soda in powder, till it
acquire a clove colour. It is then put into a wooden cask,
and urine, lime-water, or a solution of sulphate of lime
(gypsum), is added in sufficient quantity to cover the mix¬
ture. In this state it is kept; but to preserve it any length
Simple
Colours.
of time, it is necessary to moisten it occasionally with
urine. We suspect that soda is not employed in the pre- _
paration of this dyestuff; at least it is not employed in the ”T'^1
manufacture of cudbear, the preparation of which, being
a manufacture of this country, we have often witnessed.
If we adopt the opinion of Tournefort, the preparation
of archil was known to the ancient Greeks. He thinks
that the purple of Amorgos, one of the Cyclades, the co¬
lour given to the famous tunics of that country, was form¬
ed by a dyestuff made from the lichen roccella.3
What is called in this country cudbear, and in Germany Cudbear
persio, is prepared from the lichen tartaieus, and ompha- how pre-
lodes, by a processquite similar to that employed for making Pareti'
archil. The lichen is steeped and left for some time in
flat vessels moistened with ammonia distilled from putrid
urine. When the purple colour is sufficiently developed,
the whole is dried in the open air, and reduced to a fine
powder. The manufficture of this dyestuff was begun
about the year 1777, at Leith, by Mr Mackintosh and Dr
Cuthbert Gordon, from which last the British name of
cudbear (originally Cuthbert) is derived. Leith was found
an improper place for the manufacture; but Mr Mackin¬
tosh transferred it to Glasgow, and manufactured cudbear
during the rest of his life with success. He left it to his
son Charles Mackintosh, Esq., who continued the manufac¬
ture. The lichens used were at first collected in the High¬
lands of Scotland ; but the rocks of that country being stnpt
of their covering, the manufacturers had recourse to Swe¬
den and Norway, and likewise to Sardinia, from which
countries prodigious quantities of the lichens were brought.
Cudbear is now prepared largely in England, and lichens
are imported from all parts of the world.
Neither archil nor cudbear are capable of giving fast
colours to cloth; but they are considered as indispensable
by the dyers, because they greatly improve the brilliancy
of some of the colours.
The nature of the substance in the lichen roccella, Contains
which furnishes the colouring matter of archil, has beenerythrin.
investigated by Heeren, who has distinguished it by the
name of erythrin. It may be obtained from the lichen by
the following process : Digest the lichen for some time in
alcohol, taking care not to raise the heat to the boiling
point, because at that temperature a portion of the ery¬
thrin is decomposed. The alcoholic solution has a green
colour. Filter it while hot, and mix it with twice its bulk
of water, which will render it muddy. Raise the liquid
to the boiling temperature, and introduce into it chalk in
powder, until the precipitate, which was at first dispersed
through the liquor, collects in flocks. This precipitate
consists chiefly of roccellate of lime.* The liquid must be
filtered while boiling hot. During the cooling itdeposites
erythrin in the state of a fine powder, of a brown colour.
Dissolve it in hot alcohol, digest the solution with ivory
black, filter, and mix it with one and a half times its bulk
of boiling water. The liquor remains at first clear, but
during the cooling the erythrin precipitates nearly white.
The following process for extracting erythrin from the
lichen roccella is easier than the preceding. Pour on the
lichen a small quantity of concentrated ammonia, and digest
for some time, stirring well, but without the application of
heat. Dilute the muddy and reddish solution thus obtained
with water; and then add to it some dilute solution of chlo¬
ride of calcium. Roccellate of lime precipitates, and the
filtered liquid has a reddish colour. Add to it a slight excess
of muriatic acid. The erythrin precipitates instantly, and
gives the liquid the aspect of a yellowish jelly. When we
i Ann. de Chinu et de Phys. xii. 102. 2 Phil. Trans. 1804. 4 Tournefort’s Voyage, i. 248, English translation.
4 Roccellic acid is an acid discovered by Heeren in the lichen roccella.
286 DYE
Simple heat to the boiling temperature, the erythrin is again dis¬
colours. solved, and it is precipitated in powder during the cooling
v—of the liquid. It may be deprived of its brown colour by
ivory black.
Its proper- Erythrin is a soft powder, having usually a slight shade
ties. 0f re{|; anc] a slightly crystalline aspect, when obtained from
a weakly acid liquid. When pure it is perfectly white. It
has neither taste nor smell. At a temperature a little
above 212°, it melts into a transparent liquid, which be¬
comes hard and brittle during the cooling. If the heat
be raised still higher, it froths, is partly volatilized, and
partly charred ; but not the least trace of ammonia can
be observed to be formed. Hence we may conclude that
erythrin contains no azote. When held to the flame of a
candle it burns like a resin. It is scarcely soluble in cold
water, and requires 170 times its weight of boiling water
to dissolve it. At the temperature of 53° it dissolves
in twenty-two and a half times its weight of alcohol, of
specific gravity 0'825. It is soluble in 2‘29 times its
weight of the same alcohol at the point of ebullition.
When this last solution cools, the whole is converted into
a mass of the consistence of mortar. It is insoluble in
ether, and little soluble in oil of turpentine. Muriatic
acid has no action on it, but acetic acid dissolves it
with facility when boiling hot, but lets it fall again on
cooling. Both nitric acid and concentrated sulphuric acid
dissolve it, but they alter its nature. The aqueous solu¬
tions of the alkalies, or their carbonates, dissolve it with
facility, and the solutions are colourless. By the conti¬
nued action of the alkalies, the erythrin is decomposed.
When this action takes place in close vessels, an extrac¬
tive substance is formed, which is soluble in water, having
a bitter taste, and which Heeren on that account has called
bitter of erythrin. When the action is continued in vessels
to which the air has access, the red or rather violet sub¬
stance is formed which constitutes the colouring matter of
archil.
During the conversion of erythrin into the red matter
three different substances are obtained, namely, the red
colouring matter, a yellow substance, and a wme-red sub¬
stance. They are first mixed or combined; but the red
colouring matter may be separated by dissolving the com¬
pound substance in alcohol, evaporating the solution to
dryness, and digesting the residue in ammonia. The red
colouring matter remains when this solution is evaporated.
It is little soluble in water. Alcohol dissolves it, and
the solution has a crimson-red colour. It is quite insolu¬
ble in ether. The alkalies and their carbonates dissolve
it, and the solution has a fine deep colour. The acids
throw it down from these solutions under the form of car-
mine red powder, but they do not precipitate it from its
solution in alcohol. Heeren has shown that alcohol has
the property of altering erythrin, and of converting it into
a snow-white substance, to which he has given the name
of pseudo-erythrin, because it does not yield the red co¬
louring matter, but only the wine red. The colouring mat¬
ters of the lichens have, however, been very recently made
the subject of extensive chemical investigation by Kane,
Stenhouse, Schunk, and others, and considerable difference
of opinion still prevails as to the number and nature ol the
substances possessing dyeing properties which may be ex¬
tracted from them ; and we may further refer the reader to
an interesting prize essay, published in the Jidin. Phil.
Journal for October 1854 and January 1855, entitled
“ Experiments on the Eyeing Properties of Lichens,” by
Dr W. Lauder Lindsay ; but the substances used in dye¬
ing will be more fully alluded to in the chapter on calico-
printing.
Colouring The colouring matter of cudbear is obviously very near-
matter of ]y the same as that of archil. It has been slightly exa-
cudbear.
I N G.
mined also by Heeren, who has pointed out some distinc- Simple
tive characters which it possesses. Colours.
In France, besides the lichen parellus, the lichen deal-
batus is employed, and the archil is obtained by treating
the lichens with putrid urine and lime. Robiquet has
subjected the lichen dealbatus to a chemical analysis, and
has extracted from it the matter which yields the red dye,
and which he has distinguished by tbe name of orcin. It
constitutes white crystals, having a sweetish and nauseous
taste, melts when heated, and may be distilled over with¬
out decomposition. It dissolves both in water and alco¬
hol. It is obvious that its properties are quite different
from those of erythrin; yet the process for converting it
into the red dyestuff is nearly the same as for archil and
cudbear.
6. Carthamus, or Safflower.—This is the petals of the
blossoms of the carthamus tinctorius, a plant formerly cul¬
tivated in Germany and France; but now the dyestuff
comes usually from Egypt and the countries round the
eastern part of the Mediterranean, and from India.
The method of preparing the flowers of carthamus in
Egypt, as it is described by Hasselquist, is the following.
After being pressed between two stones, to squeeze out
the juice, they are washed several times with salt water,
pressed between the hands, and spread out on mats in the
open air to dry. In the day time they are covered, that
they may not dry too fast with the heat of the sun, but
they are left exposed to the dew of the night. When
they are sufficiently dry, they are put up, and kept for
sale under the name of saffranon. Care should be taken
afterwards not to keep it in too dry a place; for unless it
is a little moist, its properties are considerably impaired.
Carthamus contains two colouring substances, a yellow Its colour,
substance, which is soluble in water; and as it is of noingmatters
use, it is extracted by the process mentioned above, by
squeezing the flowers between stones till no more colour
can be pressed out. The flowers become reddish in this
operation, and lose nearly one half of their weight. The
other colouring matter, which is red, is soluble in alkaline
carbonates, and it is precipitated by means of an acid. A
vegetable acid, as lemon juice, has been found to produce
the finest colour. Next to this, sulphuric acid produces
the best effect, provided too great a quantity, which would
alter and destroy the colour, be not employed. The juice
of the berries of the mountain-ash, or rowan-tree (sorbus
aucuparia, Lin.), is recommended by Scheffer as a substi¬
tute for lemon juice, and it is thus prepared. The ber¬
ries are bruised in a mortar with a wooden pestle, and the
expressed juice, after it has been allowed to ferment, is
bottled up. The clear part, which is most acid, becomes
fitter for use the longer it is kept; but this operation re¬
quires a period of some months, and can only be conduct¬
ed in summer.
From the colouring matter extracted by means of anRoug«r.
alkali, and precipitated with an acid, is procured the sub¬
stance called rouge, which is employed as a paint for the
skin. The solution of carthamus is prepared with crys¬
tals of soda, and precipitated with lemon juice which has
stood some days to settle. After being dried on delft
plates with a gentle heat, the precipitate is separated, and
ground accurately with talc which has been previously re¬
duced to a very subtile powder; and on the fineness of
the talc depends the difference between the cheaper and
dearer kinds of rouge.
Carthamus furnishes about five per cent, of this matter
(abstracting the talc), which is the true red colouring
matter. It reddens vegetable blues while moist, whether
from the acid employed in throwing it down, or from its
own acid properties, has not been determined. It is in¬
soluble in water and dilute acids, but slightly soluble in
DYEING.
287
Simple alcohol. The solution has a rose-red colour, but when
Colours, boiled becomes yellow. Ether is still a worse solvent of
rouge than alcohol. It is insoluble in oils, both volatile
and fixed; but it dissolves readily, and with a yellow co¬
lour, in alkaline leys, or alkaline carbonates. According
to Dobereiner (who considers it as an acid, which he calls
carthamic), soda saturated with it crystallizes in fine co¬
lourless needles, having a silky lustre, which become in¬
stantly red when an acid is added to them.
As a dyestuff, safflower affords only a fugitive colour, de¬
stroyed by exposure to the sun, and removed by washing.
It is used, however, occasionally to give a red colour to
silk.
7. Brazil Wood.—This wood comes from Brazil, and
from Pernambuco ; and in the former case is said to be
the wood of the ccesatpina sapan, ccesalpina crista, and
ccesalpina vesica ; in the latter, of the ccesalpina echinata.
These trees are large, and rich in colouring matter. The
wood is very hard, and is said to sink in water. When
fresh cut it is pale, but becomes reddish by exposure to
the air. Its taste is sweetish. The red colouring matter
of Brazil wood is very easily acted on by chemical agents,
acids rendering it yellow, and alkalies violet. Chevreul
has given us the following process for extracting this co-
Colouring louring matter in a state of purity. Digest the raspings
matter 0f t]le wood jn water till that liquid has dissolved all the
tdnedb" colouring matter, and evaporate the infusion to dryness,
to get rid of a little acetic acid which it contains. Dis¬
solve the residue in water, and agitate the solution with
litharge, to get rid of a little fixed acid which it contains.
Evaporate again to dryness. Digest the residue in alco¬
hol : filter and evaporate to drive off the alcohol. Dilute
the residuum with water, and add to the liquid solution of
gelatine, till all the tannin which it contains is precipi¬
tated. Filter again, evaporate to dryness, and digest the
dry mass in alcohol, which will leave undissolved the ex¬
cess of gelatine that may have been added. This last al¬
coholic solution being evaporated, the pure colouring mat¬
ter of Brazil wood remains behind.
Its proper- It is soluble in water and in alcohol, but its fine red
colour does not appear till all the acid which it naturally
contains is saturated. Acids give it a yellow colour. The
sulphuric, nitric, and muriatic acids, give it a pale dirty
yellow. Fluoric acid gives it at first a yellow colour,
which is gradually altered to grayish green; while the
phosphoric and citric give it a fine permanent yellow co¬
lour, which might be employed for dyeing silk and wool.
For these facts we are indebted to Bonsdorf. A very mi¬
nute quantity of alkali gives the infusion of Brazil wood a
violet colour ; it is therefore a delicate re-agent for alkalies.
When neutral salts, with an alkaline base, are dissolved
in the infusion of Brazil wood, it assumes a rose-red co¬
lour. Acetates act most decidedly in producing this ef¬
fect. When newly precipitated alumina is agitated in
this infusion, it assumes a carmine-red colour.
When Brazil wood is boiled in water, we obtain a rose-
coloured solution, and the undissolved wood becomes
black, but still yields to alcohol a dark-red colour. When
an acid is poured into the decoction, a red precipitate falls,
and the filtered liquid is yellow. Ammonia gives the de¬
coction a purple colour, and throws down a purple preci¬
pitate. The carbonates of potash and soda render it car¬
mine red, and throw down a precipitate of the same co¬
lour. Alum throws down an abundant carmine precipi¬
tate, but the liquid retains the same colour. The proto¬
chloride of tin gives a rose-red precipitate, and renders
the decoction colourless.
Forms red Brazil wood is the substance from which red ink is pre-
mK- pared. The colour which it communicates to cloth has
very little permanence; yet it is occasionally employed
in dyeing cotton what are technically called chemical co- Simple
lours, by which is understood colours that will not resist Colours,
washing. The decoction of Brazil wood, which is called
juice of Brazil, is found to answer better for the process
of dyeing when it has been kept some time, and has even
undergone some degree of fermentation, than when it has
been fresh prepared. The colour by keeping becomes oi
a yellowish red.
Within the last five or six years, Brazil wood has been
nearly superseded by a wood imported from Africa, to
which our dyers give the name o( camwood. It is richer,
and gives a finer colour, than any of the varieties of Bra¬
zil wood. It is not so much affected by alkalies, nor so
liable to assume a violet shade; and the yellow colouring
matter with which it is mixed gives the red a more lively
appearance. We have not learned the botanical name of
the tree which yields this wood.
8. Logwood.—This wood is usually, on the Continent,
called Campeachy wood. It is the wood of the hematoxy-
lon Campeachianum, a tree which grows to a considerable
size in Jamaica, and on the eastern shore of the Bay of
Campeachy. Its specific gravity is greater than that of
water; it has a fine grain, and is susceptible of a fine po¬
lish. Besides the colouring matter to which it owes its Yields he-
value, logwood contains resin and oil, which are soluble in matin,
water ; acetic acid and salts, consisting of potash and lime,
combined with a vegetable acid, which are soluble in wa¬
ter saturated with chloride of potassium. It contains also
sulphate of lime, oxalate of lime, a little alumina, and
some peroxide of iron and oxide of manganese. Chev¬
reul, to whom we are indebted for a chemical examina¬
tion of logwood, has given the following process for ex¬
tracting its colouring matter, which he has distinguished
by the name of hematin.
The raspings of the wood are digested in water of aHowob-
temperature from 122° to 131°, till every thing soluble istained.
taken up. Evaporate the aqueous solution to dryness by
a gentle heat, and treat the residue with alcohol of the
specific gravity 0'843, which dissolves the colouring mat¬
ter, leaving a brown residue still containing colouring mat¬
ter in chemical combination. Filter the alcoholic solution,
and distil it till what remains becomes of the consistence
of a syrup. This syrup being mixed with some water,
crystals begin immediately to be deposited. Leave it for
twenty-four hours to evaporate spontaneously, then de¬
cant the liquid portion from off’ the crystals, and wash
them with a little alcohol. The decanted liquid being
left to spontaneous evaporation, will yield more crystals,
and finally remains a thick uncrystallizable liquid. If it
be evaporated to dryness, macerate the dry mass in cold
water, and evaporate afresh: more crystals are obtained,
which may be purified, like the other, by washing them in
alcohol. These crystals thus obtained constitute hema¬
tin, or the pure colouring matter of logwood.
I hey have considerable lustre, and a scarlet colour. j^gpj.Qpgr,
Under the microscope they appear to constitute needles ties,
arranged in sphericles. When rubbed on a glass it ap¬
pears by transmitted light, and white by reflected
light. But if we let fall on it a drop of alcohol, it appears
carmine red by transmitted, and yellow by reflected light.
When put into the mouth it is at first tasteless; but after
some time a sensation of astringency, acridity, and bitter¬
ness, is perceived. When heated in a retort to decompo¬
sition, it gives out among other products ammonia, from
which we may conclude that it contains azote. After
every thing volatile is driven off, there remains fifty-foui
per cent, of charry matter half fused ; which, when burned
in the open air, leaves a quantity of lime and peroxide of
iron, amounting to rather less than one per cent, of the
hematin employed.
288
Simple
Colours.
DYEING.
Hematin requires for solution 1000 times its weight of
water. By evaporation it does not yield crystals, but
when very much concentrated it is converted into a con¬
fused crystalline mass. It dissolves in alcohol and ether,
and the solutions have a reddish-yellow colour. It com¬
bines with the acids, which render it yellow when added
in small quantity; but when in a larger proportion they
give it a red colour. Sulphurous acid and carbonic acid
give the solution of hematin a pale-yellow colour. Bora-
cic acid gives it a pale-red, and phosphoric and phospho¬
rous acid a pale-orange colour. Arsenious acid has no
sensible action on it. Sulphuretted hydrogen gas renders
it yellow; and if we keep a solution of hematin charged
with this gas for some time in a corked phial, it loses its
colour altogether; but the colour appears if we remove
the gas by means of a little oxide of lead. The salifiable
bases give solution of hematin a violet, purple, or blue co¬
lour. With the fixed alkalies it forms compounds per¬
fectly saturated and soluble. The alkaline earths fall
down in combination, and have a purple colour when they
fall from neutral salts, and a blue colour when from sub¬
salts. An excess of alkali destroys the colour altogether.
With the hydrated oxides of antimony, zinc, bismuth,
nickel, iron, and copper, it forms blue or purple coloured
compounds. The compound which hematin forms with
alumina and oxide of copper at once may be fixed upon
linen or cotton, and gives a blue colour like that of indigo,
only it is rendered yellow by the concentrated acids,
while indigo remains unchanged, unless the acid be the
nitric. The protoxide of tin, when united with hematin,
forms a blue-coloured compound, while its combination
with the peroxide of tin is red. We see from this that
the protoxide of tin possesses the characters of an alkali,
while the peroxide is an acid. A solution of gelatine
throws down a concentrated solution of hematin purple.
Hematin is easily altered. When a mixture of alkali
and hematin is kept in vacuo, or in a well-corked phial,
quite full, no action takes place ; but when air has access,
oxygen is absorbed, and the hematin quite destroyed in a
few hours. During this action, the blue colour of the li¬
quid changes first into red, and then into brown. The
alkali becomes saturated with carbonic acid.
II.—Method of dyeing Wool Red.
All the colouring matters employed for dyeing wool red
by modern dyers require a mordant to fix them. The
shade of colour depends partly upon the kind of colouring
matter used, partly on the mordant, and partly on the
quantity of colour which the cloth is made to imbibe by
the length of time that it remains exposed to the action
of the dyeing liquor. The purple of the ancients, the co¬
louring matter of which was obtained from different spe¬
cies of shell-fish, required no mordant; but it has already
been observed that this mode of dyeing has been for ages
out of use.
Madder Madder /fed.—Madder is only employed for dyeing
red. coarse woollen stuffs; and the following is the process.
The stuffs are first boiled for two or three hours with alum
and tartar; they are then left to drain, slightly wrung out,
put into a linen bag, and carried into a cool place, where
they are to remain for some days. The quantities and
proportions of the alum and tartar are varied according to
the views of the dyer, and the shade of colour which is
wanted. Some recommend five ounces of alum and one
ounce of tartar to each pound of wool. By increasing the
proportion of tartar to a certain degree, a deep and per¬
manent cinnamon colour, instead of a red, is produced.
This arises from the yellow tinge which is induced by
means of the acid on the colouring particles of the mad¬
der. Others propose to diminish the proportion of tartar,
and to employ only a seventh part. In conducting the Simple
process of dyeing with madder, the bath should not be Colours,
brought to the boiling point; because at that temperature Proce^
the fawn-coloured particles would be dissolved, and a dif¬
ferent shade obtained from that which is desired. When
the water is at that degree of temperature which the hand
can bear, Hellot recommends the addition of half a pound
of grape madder for every pound of wool to be dyed. It
is then to be well stirred before the wool is introduced,
which must remain for an hour without boiling, excepting
for a few minutes towards the end of the process, that the
combination of the colouring particles with the stuff may
be more certain. . #
Madder reds are sometimes rosed, as it is called, with Ros;ng.
archil and Brazil wood. In this way they become more
beautiful and velvety; but this brightness is not perma¬
nent. But madder reds, even when they are most perfect,
are far inferior to those obtained from lac and cochineal,
and even to that produced by kermes ; but as the expense
of the materials is comparatively small, they are employed,
as we have already observed, for coarse stuffs.
Different authors recommend different proportions of Proportion
madder. Poerner proposes to employ one third of the of madder,
weight of the wool, while Scheffer limits the quantity to
one fourth. In one process, Poerner added to the alum
and tartar a quantity of solution of tin equal in weight to
the tartar, and after two hours boiling allowed the cloth
to remain in the bath, which had been left to cool for three
or four days. He then dyed it in the usual way, and thus
obtained a fine red. According to another process,, he
prepared the cloth by the common boiling, and dyed it in
a bath slightly heated, with a larger proportion of madder,
tartar, and solution of tin. The cloth remained twenty-
four hours in the bath ; and when it had become cold he
put it into another bath, made with madder only, where it
remained for twenty-four hours. By this process he got
a fine red, somewhat brighter than the common, but in¬
clining a little to yellow. Scheffer informs us that he ob¬
tained an orange-red by boiling wool with a solution of tin
and one fourth of alum, and then by dyeing with one fourth
of madder. A cherry colour is obtained, according to Berg¬
man, by dyeing with one part of a solution of tin and two
of madder, without previously boiling the wool. By ex¬
posure to the air this colour becomes deeper. By boiling
the wool for two hours with one fourth of sulphate of iron,
then washing it, and afterwards immersing it in cold wa¬
ter with one fourth of madder, and then boiling for an
hour, the result is a coffee colour. But if the wool has
not been soaked, and if it be dyed with one part of sul¬
phate of iron and two of madder, the colour is a brown
approaching to red.
When sulphate of copper is employed as the mordant, y)ifferent
the madder dye yields a clear brown, inclining somewhat mor(iants.
to yellow; and a similar colour may be produced by dye¬
ing the wool, simply soaked in hot water, with one part of
sulphate of copper and two of madder. But when this mor¬
dant and dyestuff are used in equal proportions, the yel¬
low is somewhat more obscure, approaching to green;
and in both these instances exposure to the air does not
produce a darker colour. Berthollet informs us that he
employed a solution of tin in various ways, both in the
preparation and the application of the madder; and by
the usfe of different solutions of tin, he found, that although
the tint was somewhat brighter than what is obtained by
the common process, it was always more inclined to yel¬
low or fawn colour.
Scarlet.—The finest and most splendid of all colours isgcarlet.
scarlet. This, like other colours, is of various shades, ac¬
cording to the quality and proportion of the colouring mat¬
ter employed. The scarlet dye is communicated to wool-
DYEING.
289
Simple
Colours.
Process.
Reddening.
len stuffs by means of cochineal, the history and properties
of which we have already detailed. The Mexicans, as
appears from their history, employed alumina as the basis
or mordant to fix the colour of cochineal; and previous to
the discovery of the solution of tin, the use of the same
substance seems to have prevailed in Europe. The fine
colour obtained from the latter received, as we have al¬
ready mentioned, different names in different places; as
that of bow dye in England, scarlet of the Gobelins in France,
and in Holland Dutch scarlet.
In the process for dyeing scarlet two operations are ne¬
cessary. The first is denominated the boiling, and the se¬
cond is distinguished by the name of finishing or redden-
Rjiiing. ing. The operation of boiling, which is the first part of
the process, is conducted in the following manner:—For
cue hundred pounds of cloth, six pounds of pure tartar are
added to the water, which is made pretty warm. The
bath is then to be briskly stirred; and when the heat has
increased a little more, half a pound of powdered cochineal
is to be added, and the whole is then to be well mixed. The
next moment five pounds of a very clear solution of tin are
to be poured in and carefully mixed. When the bath be¬
gins to boil, the cloth is introduced, and briskly moved for
two or three turns: after which it is moved more slowly.
The boiling having continued for two hours, the cloth is
taken out, exposed to the air, and carried to the river to
be well washed.
In the preparation of the second bath, which is for the
reddening, the boiler is to be emptied, and when the bath
has just reached the boiling point, five pounds and three
quarters of cochineal, previously powdered and sifted, are
to be added. These are to be carefully mixed; and after
having ceased stirring, when a crust has formed on the
surface, and opened of itself in several places, thirteen or
fourteen pounds of solution of tin are poured in. Should
the bath during the boiling rise above the edge of the
boiler, it may be cooled with a little cold water. This so¬
lution being well mixed, the cloth is put in, and two or
three times quickly turned. It is then boiled in the bath
for an hour, taking care to keep it under the surface. It
is afterwards taken out, exposed to the air, and, when it
has cooled, washed in the river and dried.
There are no determinate proportions of cochineal and
solution of tin in either of these operations. Hellot in¬
forms us that some dyers employ two thirds of solution of
tin and one fourth of cochineal in the boiling or first ope¬
ration, and the other one third of the solution of tin with
the remaining three fourths of the cochineal in the second
operation, or the reddening. He adds farther, that the
use of tartar gives a greater degree of permanency to the
colour, provided the proportion do not exceed one half the
weight of the cochineal employed. According to Berthol-
let, several dyers at present adopt this practice. Tartar,
he observes, promotes the solution of the colouring mat¬
ter; and this effect is greater when it is ground with the
cochineal, after which it is found that the residuum is more
completely exhausted. But this consideration is of infe¬
rior consequence when the operations are successively
performed, because any colouring matter that may remain
in the residuum is employed in the next operation. It
ought not, however, to be overlooked, that the tartar com¬
municates to the colour a rosy hue.
It is the practice of some dyers not to remove thfe cloth
out of the boiling. They merely refresh it, and perform
the operation of reddening in the same bath. When this
is done, the infusion of cochineal, made in a separate ves¬
sel, and mixed with the proper proportion of solution of
tin, is added. By conducting the process in this way the
scarlet is supposed to be equally fine, and there is a con¬
siderable saving of time and fuel.
VOL. VIII.
Proportion
of ingre¬
dients.
Shorter
process.
To give scarlet the bright lively red, which, as it ap- Simple
proaches to the colour of fire, has been distinguished by Colours,
the name fiery scarlet, a yellow tinge is communicated
by boiling fustic in the first bath, or by adding a little tur-^p’1 el
meric to the cochineal. A larger proportion of the solu¬
tion of tin also produces this yellow shade, but it renders
the cloth harsh, and limits the action of the colouring
matter. The use of fustic or turmeric, therefore, although
the colour obtained from them is not permanent, is prefer¬
able to an excess of the solution of tin. When these sub¬
stances are used, the inside of the cloth, when it is cut,
appears jmllow; but in the ordinary processes, the cochi¬
neal, it is found, does not penetrate the cloth, for when no
other substance is employed the cloth is internally white.
The use of tin boilers is recommended in dyeing scar- Tin and
let. When copper boilers are employed, the acid acts on copper
the metal, and thus forming a solution, injures the beauty b0^1'8,
of the colour. Tin boilers, however, are attended with
several inconveniences. It is difficult to procure them of
sufficient size, and they are apt to be melted by the incau¬
tious continuance of the fire after they have been emptied.
In the use of copper boilers there are several necessary
precautions. They must be kept very clean, the acid
liquor should not he allowed to remain in them for any
length of time, and some contrivance should be adopted to
prevent the cloth from touching the metal, either by using
a net or a wicker basket.
Different proportions of materials, we have observed, are Different
recommended by different authors. For theboiling, Scheffer proportions
directs an ounce and a half of solution of tin, with an equal ingre-
quantity of starch, and as much tartar, to every pound ofl iei‘Ls‘
cloth. The effect of the starch is to give more uniformity
to the colour. When the water boils, a dram of cochineal
is to be added; it is then to be well stirred, and after the
wool is introduced, to be boiled for an hour, taken out, and
washed. The proportions for the reddening bath, in which
the wool is to be boiled half an hour, are half an ounce of
starch, three fourths of an ounce of solution of tin, half an
ounce of tartar, and seven drachms of cochineal. In Schef¬
fer’s process, it may be observed, the proportion of solution
of tin is smaller than in that of Hellot, but the quantity of
tin in the solution of the former is greater than in that of
the latter.
Poerner has described three principal processes, accord- Poerner’s
ing to the variety of the shade of the scarlet. He uses no process,
cochineal in the boiling; the materials of which are one
ounce and six drachms of tartar, and an equal weight of
solution of tin, the latter being added after the tartar is dis¬
solved, for every pound of cloth. As soon as the boiling
has commenced, the cloth is introduced, and it is boiled
for two hours. For the reddening of the first process he
employs two drachms of tartar and one ounce of cochineal,
adding gradually afterwards two ounces of solution of tin.
For the reddening of the second process the same quan¬
tity of cochineal and solution of tin, without any tartar, is
employed. In the reddening of the third process, two
drachms of tartar with one ounce of solution of tin, one
ounce of cochineal, and two ounces of common salt, are
directed to be used. The colour produced in the first pro¬
cess has the deepest shade, that of the second is more live¬
ly, while that of the third is paler and brighter.
By the use of tartar in the reddening in different pro- Different
portions, various shades of scarlet may be obtained. When shades,
it is employed, the shade is deeper and fuller; but when
it is entirely omitted, the scarlet approaches to an orange
colour. The shade of colour also is subject to considerable
variety, from the different degrees of strength of the solu¬
tion of tin. To ascertain this effect, Berthollet made a
number of experiments. He found that a solution of tin,
composed of sixteen parts of nitric acid, two of muriate of
2 o
290
DYEING.
Simple
Colours
Use of
common
salt.
Met!'od of
using the
lac dve.
Tin mor-
ammonia, and three of tin, produced a deeper shade than
when the proportions of the acid and muriate of ammonia
were equal, with only two parts of tin. The last propor¬
tions, he observes, succeeded best. Four parts of water
were mixed with the solution. When the proportion of
muriate of ammonia amounted only to half a part, the co¬
lour was brighter, and inclining to orange.
Common salt has the effect of increasing the brightness
of scarlet, while it is also attended with the advantage of
causing the colour to penetrate deeper into the cloth. It
seems difficult to explain why common salt, which gives
a deeper shade to the colour of the infusion of cochineal,
and indeed produces a similar effect on colours in general,
should diminish the intensity of the colour of scarlet. I he
proportion of common salt mentioned above is, according
to Poerner, the greatest that can be employed. When less
is used, the shade, though lighter, is more agreeable. By
adding five ounces of white sugar to the ingredients of the
second process, a fine colour, which is always lighter than
that of the first process, will be obtained. The colour, it
is said, is more permanent, and the shade more agreeable,
when the cloth is left twenty-four hours in the boiler after
it has cooled.
For dyeing fine woollen cloth the lac dye is commonly
used. It comes to the dyer in the state of a fine powder,
having a brownish-red colour, inclining to violet. It con¬
tains much less colouring matter than cochineal, but is in¬
comparably cheaper. To dye forty-three pounds of fine
woollen cloth, six pounds of lac, three pounds of cream of
tartar, and five pounds of tin mordant are put into a dye¬
ing vessel, either of tin, or at least lined with tin, with a
sufficient quantity of water. The whole is brought to the
boiling temperature, and after it has boiled briskly a suf¬
ficient time to dissolve the colouring matter, the cloth
is passed through it for about an hour, or till it has acquir¬
ed the requisite depth of colour.
The tin mordant used is made by dissolving two ounces
dant, how 0f t;n m thirty pounds of aquafortis mixed with one pound
made. muriatic The solution is transparent, and it is kept
The tin is doubtless in the
in well-corked bottles for use
state of protochloride, though it sometimes also gets into
the state of perchloride. Either state will answer, but in
the second case the dyeing process is much slower, the
cloth not seeming to imbibe the perchloride of tin so ra¬
pidly as the protochloride. From the above proportions, it
is obvious that to dye forty-three pounds of woollen cloth
scarlet, one third of an ounce of tin converted into proto¬
chloride is sufficient. This is rather less than 146 grains
of tin; so that each pound of the woollen cloth combines
with not more than 3’4 grains of tin. It is obvious from
this that the particles of tin must be exceedingly minute
indeed, otherwise 3-4 grains ol tin could not be so minute¬
ly divided as to cover the surface of a pound weight of
woollen cloth.
When the dyer wishes the scarlet to assume a brighter
shade, he sometimes adds a little quercitron bark, which,
by the yellow colour which it induces, adds materially to
the brightness of the colour. This plan was first suggest¬
ed by Dr Bancroft, and it has been since pretty generally
acted on.
Dr Bancroft recommended the tin mordant to be pre¬
pared by dissolving tin in muriatic acid mixed with one
fourth of its weight of sulphuric acid. This solution, he
says, answers very well, and is much cheaper. We cannot
find, however, that any of the dyers in this country follow
that process. We can hardly think that the present me¬
thod of using so much nitric and so little muriatic acid is
a good one. The object being to obtain a protochloride of Simple
tin, one would think that muriatic acid would be a better Colours,
vehicle. Tin dissolves in this acid very well, and the pro-
tochloride of tin formed in this way is easily obtained in
crystals. But the tin mordant, as prepared by the dyers,
contains a great excess of nitric acid; and we cannot avoid
suspecting that this excess is connected with the shade of
scarlet produced. The nitric acid doubtless renders a part
of the colouring matter of the lac yellow, and thus changes
the dark crimson colour natural to this dyestuff into
scarlet.
Cochineal is still employed to a considerable extent in
dyeing the finest kinds of woollen cloth scarlet. The pro¬
cess is precisely the same as when lac is employed, re¬
membering only that cochineal is much richer in colour¬
ing matter than lac, and that therefore a smaller quantity
will serve. Dr Bancroft introduced the method of put¬
ting the cochineal, the tin mordant, and the tartar into
the dyeing vessel at once, and dissolving them all together
in water before the cloth is passed through the liquid ; and
this method is pretty generally though not universally fol¬
lowed.
Dr Bancroft’s method of using quercitron bark to sup¬
ply the place of a portion of the cochineal, is likewise
pretty generally followed. The price of cochineal, in con¬
sequence of the introduction of the lac dye, has sunk from
thirty shillings the pound to about nine shillings and six¬
pence. This makes the saving not so considerable in point
of expense as it was when Bancroft wrote, though even at
present it is an important saving.
To produce different shades of scarlet, and the other Different
colours which are derived from it, all that is necessary is shades of
to vary the proportions of cochineal, tartar, and solution of s~ar e '
tin; and for the shades which incline most to yellow, the
addition of quercitron bark or fustic is requisite. 4 he use
of the tartar is to deepen the colour, and the solution of
tin produces a shade of orange. When the shade of colour
required to be communicated to the stuff is light, the time
of continuing the process must be shortened.1
Crimson.—The processes which are employed to dye Crimson,
wool a crimson colour are two. The stuff is either dyed
crimson at once, or the crimson shade is communicated to
it after being previously dyed of a scarlet colour. rIo dye
crimson by a single process, a solution of two ounces and by
a half of alum and an ounce and a half of tartar for every
pound of stuff, is employed for the boiling, and the stuff is ’
afterwards to be dyed with an ounce of cochineal. It is
usual also to employ solution of tin, but in smaller propor¬
tion than for dyeing scarlet. The processes employed, it
is scarcely necessary to observe, must vary according as
the shade wanted is deeper or lighter, or more or less dis¬
tant from scarlet. Common salt is also employed by some
in the boiling. To render the crimson deeper, and to give
it more bloom, archil and potash are frequently used ; but
this bloom, it ought to be observed, is extremely fugaci¬
ous. By adding tartar and alum, the boiling for crimson
is sometimes prepared after a scarlet reddening; and it is
said that the colour possesses more bloom when both the
boiling and reddening are made after scarlet, than when
the crimson is dyed in a fresh bath prepared on purpose.
In dyeing these colours the wild cochineal may be em¬
ployed ; but as it contains a smaller proportion of colouring
matter, the quantity must be greater.
Different substances, as the alkalies, alum, and earthy or by t
salts in general, convert the colour of scarlet to crimson,
which is the natural colour of cochineal. To effect this,
the stuff previously dyed scarlet is boiled for an hour in a
1 Berthollet, ii. 194.
DYEING.
291
Simple solution of alum, the strength of which is to be regulated
Colours, by the depth of shade required. In conducting this pro-
cess, it is necessary to observe, that water impregnated
with earthy salts has a considerable effect in varying the
shade, so that the quantity of alum employed must be
proportioned to the purity of the water. Hellot tried soap,
soda, potash, and some other substances, and although they
produced the crimson, yet it was of a deeper shade, and
had less lustre, than what was produced by means of alum.
Ammonia produced a good effect, but, from its great
volatility, a considerable proportion must be put into the
bath, moderately heated, with a little sal ammoniac, and
an equal quantity of potash. By this process the stuff be¬
came of a bright rosy colour, and thus rendered a smaller
quantity of cochineal necessary. Poerner directs the stuff,
previously dyed scarlet, to remain twenty-four hours in a
cold solution of sal ammoniac and potash.
Half-grain To produce crimsons, as well as scarlets, in half grain,
crimson, madder is to be substituted for half the quantity of the
cochineal; or in other proportions, according to the shade
desired. The same boiling is given as for scarlet in grain,
and the other parts of the process are to be conducted as
for reddening the scarlet or crimson. Even the common
madder red assumes a greater degree of lustre when the
boiling is made after the reddening for scarlet.
At present we are not aware that kermes is ever em¬
ployed by the dyers in this country. The use of this
dye-stuff seems to have been completely superseded by
cochineal and lac dyes. Certainly the colour given by
kermes is not so fine as that given by these substances,
but it has the advantage of being exceedingly durable.
III.—Method of dyeing Silk Red.
Different Madder Red.—The colour which is obtained from mad-
processes der does not possess sufficient brightness for dyeing silk,
with mad- \\re shall here, however, describe some of the processes
which are employed for this purpose. That of De la
Folie is the following: Haifa pound of alum is to be dis¬
solved in each quart of hot water, and two ounces of pot¬
ash are afterwards to be added. When the effervescence
has ceased, and the liquor has become clear, the silk must
be kept in it for two hours, after which it is to be washed
and put into the madder-bath. The silk which is dyed in
this way becomes more beautiful by means of the soap
proof. The process of Scheffer is somewhat different.
For each pound of scoured silk he directs a solution of
four ounces of alum and six drachms of chalk to be pre¬
pared. When the sediment has formed, the solution is to
be decanted, and having become quite cold, the silk is
immersed in it, and left for eighteen hours. It is then
taken out and dried, and afterwards dyed with an equal
weight of madder. The colour thus obtained is of a dark
shade. Mr Guhliche describes another process. For every
pound of silk he proposes a bath of four ounces of alum
and one ounce of solution of tin. When the liquor has
become clear it is decanted, and the silk carefully soaked
in it for twelve hours, after which it is to be immersed in
a bath with half a pound of madder softened by boiling
with an infusion of galls in white wine. The bath is to be
kept moderately hot for an hour, and then made to boil
for two minutes. The silk, being taken from the bath, is
to be washed in a stream of water, and dried in the sun.
The colour thus obtained is very permanent. By leaving
out the galls it is clearer. The brightness of the first
colour may be considerably increased by passing the stuff
through a bath of Brazil wood, to which one ounce of so¬
lution of tin is added. In this way the colour becomes
Process extremely beautiful and durable.
with Bra- Silk is sometimes dyed with Brazil wood, and the co-
zil wood, lour thus obtained has been distinguished by the name of
Simple
Colours.
false crimson, to distinguish it from the more durable co¬
lour which is produced by cochineal. The silk, after being
boiled with soap, is to be alumed. It is then to be re- ^
freshed at the river, and dipped in a bath more or less
charged with Brazil juice, according to the depth of shade
required. If pure water be employed, the colour will be
too red for crimson ; but to remedy this, the stuff may be
passed through a weak alkaline solution, or a little alkali
may be added to the bath, or the stuff may be washed in
hard water till it has acquired the proper shade. To
deepen the shade of false crimsons or dark reds, the solu¬
tion of logwood is added to the Brazil bath, the silk being
previously impregnated with the latter; or a little alkali
may be added, according to the shade required.
The crimson produced by cochineal is called grain crim- With co-
son, to distinguish it from false crimson. The silk, being chincal.
well cleansed from the soap at the river, is to be immersed
in alum liquor of the full strength, and to remain for a
night. It is then to be washed and twice beetled at the
river. The bath is prepared by filling a long boiler two
thirds with water, to which are added, when it boils, from
half an ounce to two ounces of powdered white galls for
every pound of silk. When it has boiled for a few mo¬
ments, from two to three ounces of cochineal, also pow¬
dered and sifted, for every pound of silk, are put in, and
afterwards one ounce of tartar to every pound of cochineal.
When the tartar is dissolved, one ounce of solution of tin
is added for every ounce of tartar. In the preparation of
this solution of tin, the following proportions are recom¬
mended by Macquer. For every pound of nitric acid two
ounces of sal ammoniac, six ounces of fine grain tin, and
twelve ounces of water, are employed. When these ingre¬
dients are mixed together, the boiler is to be filled up
with cold water; and the proportion of the bath for every
pound of silk is about eight or ten quarts of water. In
this the silk is immediately immersed and turned on the
winch till it appear to be of a uniform colour. The fire
is then increased, and the bath is kept boiling for two
hours, taking care to turn the silk occasionally. The fire
is afterwards put out, and the silk put into the bath, where
it is allowed to remain for a few hours longer. It is then
taken out, washed at the river, twice beetled, wrung, and
dried. Two processes are recommended by Scheffer and
Macquer. In that of the former, a greater proportion of
cochineal is employed in the dye-bath ; but in that of the
latter, a yellow ground is previously communicated to the
silk. The colour which is thus obtained resists the action
of soap, and is more durable than that which is produced
by means of carthamus.
To obtain other shades of red, the above processes must
be varied. If, after the silk has been wrung out of the so¬
lution of tin, it is steeped for a night in a cold solution of
alum, in the proportion of one ounce to a quart of water,
wrung, and dried, then washed and boiled with cochineal,
it will only appear of a pale poppy colour; but a fine poppy Poppy red.
red may be produced by steeping it twelve hours in the
solution of tin, diluted with eight parts of water, then left all
night in the solution of alum, washed, dried, and passed
through the two baths of cochineal, taking care to add to
the second bath a small quantity of sulphuric acid. The
same colour may be produced by dyeing the silk previously
with anotta, and then passing it successively through a
number of baths prepared with an alkaline solution of car¬
thamus, to which lemon juice has been added, till it acquire
a fine cberry-colour. To brighten the colour, the silk, after
being dyed, may be immersed in hot water acidulated with
lemon juice.
Other shades of red, as a cherry red, and flesh red, are Cherry
also produced by carthamus. For a cherry red it is not re,h &c-
necessary that the stuff be previously dyed with anotta,
292
DYEING.
Simple and the proportion of colouring matter is smaller. A
Colours, flesh-red colour is obtained by adding a little soap to the
bath, which has the effect of softening the colour, and of
retarding the action of the colouring matter on the stuff.
To produce dark shades, it is sometimes usual to mix
archil, and by this means the expense is diminished.
Scarlet. Those who have produced a colour on silk which comes
nearest to scarlet, Berthollet observes, begin with dyeing
the silk crimson. It is then dyed with carthamus, and
lastly it is dyed yellow without heat. By this process a
fine colour is obtained; but the dye of the carthamus is
not permanent, as it is destroyed by the action of the air,
and the colour becomes deeper. The following is Dr
Bancroft’s process. In a solution of murio-sulphate of tin,
diluted with five times its weight of water, the silk is to
be soaked for two hours; and after being taken out, it is
to be wrung and partially dried. It is then to be dyed in
a bath prepared with four parts of cochineal and three of
quercitron bark. In this way a colour approaching to
scarlet is obtained. lo give the colour more body, the
immersion may be repeated both in the solution of tin and
in the dyeing bath ; and the brightness of the scarlet is in¬
creased by means of the addition of carthamus. A lively
Rose ci - rose colour is produced by omitting the quercitron bark,
lour, and dyeing the silk with cochineal only; and by adding a
large proportion of water to the cochineal, a yellow shade
is obtained, which changes the cochineal to the compound
scarlet colour.1
Simple
Colours.
IV.—Method of dyeing Cotton and Linen Bed.
The dyestuff usually employed to give a red colour to
cotton and linen is madder. It is easier to dye cotton than
linen; but as the processes are the same for each, one
general description will apply to both, '['here are two
kinds of madder red ; the one is called simple madder red,
and the other, which was originally invented in the Levant,
is distinguished in this country by the name of Turkey
red. This last constitutes by far the brightest and most
beautiful and permanent red which is communicated to
cotton; we shall therefore proceed to give a somewhat
particular account of the process.
The method was first put in practice in Glasgow about
forty years ago, by M. Papillon, a French gentleman, who
established a Turkey-red dye-work along with Mr Mack¬
intosh. He made an agreement with the commissioners and
trustees for manufactures in Scotland, that the process was
to be by them published for the benefit of the public at the
end of a certain term of years. The period agreed upon hav-
in0- expired in 1803, the trustees laid a minute account of
the different processes before the public. Since that period
Turkey-red dyeing has been conducted in Glasgow upon a
very extensive scale. Different individuals, possessed of
both chemical skill and considerable sagacity, have stu¬
died the different parts of this very complicated method
of dyeing. The effects of each individual operation have
been carefully investigated, and the whole has been some¬
what shortened and simplified, though it still constitutes the
most complicated process in the whole art of dyeing. 11m
Turkey-red dye is practised by a considerable number of
persons in Glasgow ; but the oldest, and perhaps the most
extensive establishment, is that of Henry Monteath and
Company at Rutherglen Bridge. I he character of that
house has been long established, and the beauty of their
Turkey-red dye is known and appreciated in every part
of the globe where British manufactures are known. From
Glasgow the Turkey-red dye has gradually made its way
into Lancashire. . .
Cotton cloth which is to receive the Turkey-red dye is
never bleached beforehand; because it has been found
that the first parts of the processes succeed better with
unbleached than with bleached cloth.
1. The first step of the dyer is to remove the weaver’s The rot
dressing. This is done by steeping the cloth in a weak steep,
alkaline ley. To this the technical name of the rot steep
is given. From four to five pounds of caustic potash are
generally employed for every 100 lbs. of cotton cloth.
The temperature of the solution is from 100° to 120°, and
the cloth is kept in the steep for twenty-four hours, and
then well washed.2
2. From seven to ten pounds of carbonate of soda are
dissolved in a sufficient quantity of water to keep the cloth
(supposed always to weigh 100 lbs.) wet. In this ley the
cloth, previously deprived of the weaver s dressing, is
boiled for some time.
3. The process wjnch we are now going to describe is The soap
the one upon which the goodness of the Turkey-red dye steep,
depends more than upon any of the others. Without it
the dye cannot be produced upon new cloth ; but when
cloth which has been frequently washed with soap is to
be dyed (an old cotton shirt, for example), this process
may be omitted altogether. It is evident from this that
soap communicates to cotton cloth the same properties as
the process which we are now going to describe.
A liquor is composed of the following ingredients;
I gallon of gallipoli oil,
II gallon of soft sheep dung,
4 gallons of solution of carbonate of soda, of the spe¬
cific gravity 1*06,
1 gallon of solution of pearl ash, of the specific gravity
1-04,
mixed with a sufficient quantity of cold water to make up
twenty-two gallons. The specific gravity of this liquoi
should be from 1*020 to 1*025.
This liquor has a milk-white appearance, and is in fact
a kind of incipient soap. It is put into a large wooden
open cylindrical vessel, called the liquor tub (see 1 late^
CCVI. fig. 1 and 2), and is kept continually in a state of
agitation by a kind of wooden levers, driven round in it
by machinery put in motion by the steam-engine. 'I his
liquor is conveyed by a tin pipe to the padding machine,
which is situated in an apartment below. Several sec¬
tions of this machine are given in the same plate, fig. 3, 4,
and 5. A kind of trough in this machine is kept always
full of the milky liquor, and the pieces of cloth to be dyed
are made to pass through this liquid, and are thoroughly
soaked with it.
By this process the cloth is impregnated with the soapy
matter, and the longer this matter is left undisturbed on
the cloth, the better does it take the dye. hourteen days
is the least period that this impregnation is allowed to re-
111 cl 1 I i •
The sheep dung gives the cloth a dark-green colour,
and is found materially to assist the bleaching which the
cloth afterwards undergoes. This bleaching goes on much
more rapidly with than without the sheep dung, especi¬
ally when the cloth is exposed on the grass between the
different operations. In what way the sheep dung con¬
tributes to this acceleration has not been determined, but
the fact is certain.3
4. When the weather is favourable, the cloth, after be-
* Philosophy of Permanent Colours, 312. . ,
* In general the alkaline ley of No. 9 is worked up in this process, and when this is done less potash is required.
* No advantage has been found to result from using the alkalies caustic in this process ; and a mixture of potash and soda an¬
swers much better than soda alone.
DYEING.
Simple ing impregnated with the oleaginous liquor, is spread up-
Colours- on the grass to dry. But should the weather be rain}',
as it would not do to allow the oleaginous liquid to be
washed out by the rain, the goods are dried in the stove.
5. After the cloth has been dried in the stove, it is a
second time impregnated with the oleaginous liquid de¬
scribed in No. 3, by means of the padding machine. It is
then spread on the grass for some hours if the weather be
favourable, and ultimately dried in the stove.
The impregnation with the oleaginous liquor, the ex¬
posure on the grass, and the stove drying, are repeated a
third time. When the weather is rainy, which prevents
exposure on the grass, and obliges the workmen to dry
the cloth at once in the stove, the impregnation with the
oleaginous liquor is sometimes repeated a fourth time.
* Upon the sides of the tubs in which the oleaginous
liquor is kept, a white solid crust gradually accumulates.
This matter being examined, was found to consist almost
entirely of phosphate of lime. It was doubtless derived
from the sheep dung with which the saponaceous liquid
was mixed.
6. The next process is to steep the cloth in a weak so¬
lution of pearl ash, of the specific gravity T0075 to T01,
heated to the temperature of 120°. From this liquor it
is wrung out and again dried.
7. A mixture is now made of the following substances:
1 gallon gallipoli oil,
3 gallons soda ley of specific gravity U06,
1 gallon caustic potash ley of specific gravity T04,
diluted with as much water as will make up the whole
to twenty-two gallons. In this liquid, which is milky,
like the preceding, and which contains an imperfect soap,
the cloth used formerly to be tramped with the hand, and
then wrung out. It is now soaked with the liquid by
means of the padding machine, in the manner described
under No. 3.
If the weather be fine, the cloth thus impregnated with
the soap is exposed on the grass. It is then dried in the
stove.
8. The above process (No. 7) is repeated thrice; and
after each soaking in the saponaceous liquor, the cloth is
exposed on the grass lor some hours, and then dried in
the stove.
9. The cloth, thus so many times soaked in the sapona¬
ceous liquor, is now steeped in a mixed ley of pearl ash
and soda of the specific gravity from T01 to 1-0125, heat¬
ed to the temperature of 120°. After being taken out of
the steep, and allowed to drain for a few hours (taking
care to preserve the liquor), the cloth is well washed.
The object of this process is to remove any superfluous
oil with which the cloth may be impregnated, the object
being that all the oil adhering to the cloth should be in
combination with an alkali. About half the alkali used in
this process disappears during the steeping. The remain¬
ing liquor, which is about half as strong as at first, is re¬
served for future use. The cloth thus washed clean is
dried in the stove.
The gall. IQ. The preceding washing is necessary for the suc-
U18- cess of the next operation, called the galling; for the
nutgall liquor will not be imbibed by the cloth unless it
be thoroughly freed from all uncombined oil, which would
give it a greasy feel. If the first steeping in alkali and
washing has not fully accomplished this necessary object,
they ought to be repeated.
For the galling, eighteen pounds of Aleppo galls are to
be boiled for four or five hours in twenty-five gallons of
water till it is reduced to about twenty gallons; and the
liquid being now passed through a sieve, is sufficient for
impregnating 100 lbs. of cloth with the requisite quantity
of nutgalls. Of late years, sumach from Sicily has been
293
substituted for nutgalls, thirty-three lbs. of sumach being Simple
considered as equivalent to eighteen lbs. of nutgalls. Colours.
Sometimes a mixture of nine lbs. nutgalls and sixteen and
a half lbs. of sumach is employed.
Through this decoction the cloth is either tramped by
the hand, or it is passed and soaked in it by means of the
padding machine. The temperature of the decoction
should be from 80° to 100°. It is unnecessary to steep
the cloth in the gall liquor; a complete soaking is all
that is necessary. The cloth, thus soaked in a decoction
of fustic, comes out dyed yellow, a colour which serves to
improve the madder red by rendering it more lively.
11. The next process is to fix the alumina mordant The alum,
upon the cloth. This step is essential, because withouting-
it the madder dye would not remain fixed in the cloth,
but would be easily washed out. Accordingly the depth
of the shade of red depends entirely upon the quantity of
alumina fixed on the cotton. In a preceding part of this
article we have stated the quantity of alumina fixed by
this process upon the surface of a square yard of cloth.
In this country common alum is usually employed; but
in many parts of the Continent they use acetate of alumina.
The high price of that article prevents its employment in
Britain. Acetate of alumina, however, is made in this coun¬
try by the chemical manufacturers, and largely used by
the calico-printers. It is made by mixing acetate of lime
(obtained by saturating the acetic acid formed when wood
is distilled with lime) with a solution of alum, and after¬
wards drawing off the clear liquor; or by mixing acetate
of lead with solution of alum, though that process is more
expensive.
Alum (as has been explained under the article Alum)
is a double salt, composed of
3 atoms sulphate of alumina,
1 atom sulphate of potash,
24 atoms water.
To form the alum liquor used by the Turkey-red dyers:
To a solution of alum in water of the specific gravity T04
as much pearl ash, soda, or chalk is added as is sufficient to
precipitate the alumina contained in the alum. Through
this muddy liquor, which should have a temperature of
from 100° to 120°, the cloth is passed and steeped for
twelve hours. The alumina, in the state of extreme divi¬
sion which it has when thus newly precipitated, is readily
imbibed by the cloth, and unites with the fibres of the
cotton.
12. The cloth thus united to alumina is stove dried,
and then washed out of the alum liquor.
13. These essential preliminary steps having been taken,
the cloth is ready for being dyed.
From one to three lbs. of madder reduced to the state The dys.
of powder for every pound of cloth is employed, the quan-iug*
tity depending upon the shade of colour wanted. The
cloth is entered into the boiler when the water is cold.
It is brought to boil in one hour, and the boiling is con¬
tinued for two hours. During the whole of this time the
cloth is passed through the dyeing liquor by means of the
winch.
For every twenty-five lbs. of cloth dyed, one gallon of
bullock’s blood is added. This is the quantity of cloth
dyed at once in a boiler. This addition of blood is indis¬
pensable for obtaining a fine red colour. Various attempts
have been made to dispense with the use of blood in Tur¬
key-red dyeing, but hitherto they have been unsuccess¬
ful. No satisfactory explanation of the way in which the
blood acts has been given. For our own parts, we are dis¬
posed to consider the colouring matter of the blood as the
useful ingredient. It is probably fixed upon the cloth to
a certain extent, and by its fine scarlet tint it is obvious
that it must improve the colour of madder red.
Simple 14. After the cloth has been thus dyed, it was formerly
Colours, customary to steep it in a solution the same as that de-
scribed in No. 7. This was called the cuing process. It
is now generally dispensed with, and is unnecessary if the
cloth has been well cleaned before the galling process.
The object of it is merely to dissolve any greasy matter
which may continue attached to the cloth, and to form a
soap with it, which assists in the subsequent process.
The clear- 15. Madder contains two colouring matters, a brown
ing. and a red. Both are fixed upon the cloth by the dyeing
process. The consequence is, that the cloth has a dirty
brownish-red colour, which is any thing but agreeable.
Fortunately the brown colouring matter is not nearly so
jixed upon the cloth as the red colouring matter. The
next process, called the clearing process, is to get rid of
the brown colouring matter. For this purpose the cloth
is boiled from twelve to fourteen hours, in a mixture of
five pounds of soda, eight pounds of soap, and sixteen to
eighteen gallons of the residual liquor of No. 9, with a
sufficient quantity of water. These quantities are sup¬
posed to be employed to clear a hundred pounds of cloth.
By this process the brown colouring matter is almost
wholly removed, and the cloth begins to assume the fine
tint which distinguishes Turkey-red dyed cloth.
16. The next process serves not merely to remove the
brown colouring matter more completely, but also to im¬
prove the shade of red. Five or six pounds of soap, and
from sixteen to eighteen ounces of protochloride of tin, in
crystals, are dissolved in water, in a globular boiler, into
which the cloth is put. The boiler is then covered with
a lid which fits close, and the boiling is conducted under
the pressure of two atmospheres, or at the temperature of
250^°. The boiler is furnished with a safety valve and a
small conical pipe, the extremity of which has an aper¬
ture about j^ths of an inch in diameter, from which there
issues a constant stream of steam during the operation.
We have given a section and elevation of this boiler in
Plate CCV1I. fig. 8 and 9, and in fig. 10 a plan of its top,
and in fig. 11 of its lid. The use of the salt of tin is to
give a shade of scarlet to the cloth. The oxide of tin
seems to combine with the oleaginous acid of the soap,
and this insoluble soap unites with the red colouring mat¬
ter of the madder fixed upon the cloth, and improves the
shade of colour.
17. After these processes, the cloth is spread out on the
grass and exposed to the sun for a few days, which finishes
the clearing. It is seldom that recourse is had to a bleach¬
ing liquor, consisting of a solution ol chloride of lime in
water, especially when a salt of lime is used in the clean¬
ing process. When this method is employed, however,
one gallon of the solution of chloride of lime, ol the specific
gravity 1-015, is mixed with twenty gallons of pure water.
The cloth is immersed in this dilute solution from five to
ten minutes, which is sufficient for completing the clearing.
Remarks Such are the different steps in fixing this beautiful and
on the permanent colour, as practised in the principal works in
processes. Glasgow. Many attempts have been made to shorten
these tedious processes, but hitherto these attempts have
been unsuccessful. The impregnation with oil, or rather
with soap, is essential, as is evident from this, that it one,
two, or three of these operations be omitted, the red is
inferior in proportion to the number of omissions.
Cloth bleached by chloride of lime does not produce a
good red. Probably the fibres of the cotton wool are com¬
bined with lime, or rather sulphate of lime, which, by de¬
composing the oleaginous soap, prevents it from being de¬
posited upon and combining with the cloth. But cloth
bleached by the old process, namely, boiling in ley or soap,
and exposing to the action of the sun, answers perfectly,
and will produce as good a red as when unbleached cloth
is used ; but there would result no saving from bleaching Simple
the cloth in this way before commencing the impregnation Colours,
with the oleaginous soap, because the bleaching is ef-
fected betwixt the oil operations by exposing the cloth on
the grass.
The colour would be as good without the galls or su¬
mach as with them. But there would be considerable
difficulty in sufficiently impregnating the cloth with the
solution of alum without its being previously passed
through the gall decoction, and more particularly if the
cloth be in the least degree greasy. The use of the galls,
then, is to facilitate the fixation of the alumina upon the
cloth.
Alumina is essential to the fixation of the colour; for
without it the madder dye would be fugitive, and would
disappear whenever the cloth was washed. The subse¬
quent clearing operations would completely remove both
the colouring matters of the madder, unless it were clear¬
ed along with a quantity of cloth that had received alu¬
mina, and been dyed a deep red. In that case the un-
alumed cloth will receive a little alumina from the alumed
portion. This will serve to fix the colour ; but as the
quantity of alumina which in such a case is imbibed is
very small, the red colour will be very pale. It is in this
way that the two shades of red, the deep and the pale,
which are often seen upon garments and furniture dyed
Turkey red, are given. These two shades, by their con¬
trast, frequently add considerably to the beauty of the
pattern. The fustic, as well as the tin, probably serves to
render the red colour more lively by the shade of yellow
which they superinduce.
The three essential processes in the Turkey-red dyeing
are, the impregnation with oleaginous soap, the impregna¬
tion with alumina, and the dyeing with madder. The
last communicates the colour, the second fixes the colour,
and the first gives beauty to the colour.
For the better understanding of the Turkey-red pro¬
cesses, we have got drawings made of the principal ma¬
chinery used.
Fig. 1 and 2, Plate CCVI., exhibit a section and plan
of the liquor tub, in which the mixture of oil and alkali is
put, with its agitators to prevent the oil from separating
and swimming on the surface. From the liquor tub (which
is placed in an upper room) the liquor passes by a tin
pipe to the padding machine, represented in various ways
in figs. 3, 4, and 5.
It consists essentially of a box for holding the liquor,
through which the cloth passes; and afterwards it goes
between two rollers, the distance between which regulates
the quantity of liquor which the cloth retains.
a, is the lapper for folding the cloth.
b, a compound lever for regulating the pressure.
c, the box for containing the liquor.
d, a frame or scrae for laying the cloth on before it
passes through the liquor.
e, pulleys for moving the lapper; and
f, the cylinders between which the cloth passes. They
regulate, by their distance from each other, the quantity
of liquor allowed to remain in the cloth.
Figs. 6 and 7 represent the elevation and plan of a
dyeing box on the latest and most improved construction.
a, the winch for moving the cloth through the liquor
while dyeing.
b, steam pipe for supplying the vessel with steam.
c, c, c, the dotted part, represents the valves through
which the steam enters into the vessel.
d, d, d, d, divisions of the vessel for different pieces of
cloth.
e, catch for stopping or setting on the winch at pleasure.
f, valve for regulating the quantity of steam admitted.
DYEING.
295
Simple Figs. 8 and 9 represent a section and elevation of the
Colours, clearing boiler. Fig. 10 represents exactly the mouth of
this boiler, and fig. 11 the lid or cover. On the upper
edge of this cover there is fixed all round a layer of hemp
(a piece of flat rope). The lid is slipt into the inside of
the boiler, and by the piece of rope it attaches itself ex¬
actly to the inside. The elasticity of the steam within
presses it firmly against the inside rim of the mouth, and
renders it quite steam-tight.
Scarlet The scarlet colour communicated to cotton by means
with cochi-of cochineal is far from being permanent; but if this co-
neal. ]our is wished to be communicated to cotton, Dr Bancroft
recommends to steep the cotton, previously moistened,
for half an hour, in a diluted solution of murio-sulphate
of tin, and then having wrung the cotton, to plunge it into
water in which as much potash has been dissolved as
will neutralize the acid adhering to the cotton, so that the
oxide of tin may be more copiously fixed on the fibres of
the cotton. The stuff being afterwards rinsed in water,
may be dyed with cochineal and quercitron bark, in the
proportion of four pounds of the former to two and a half
or three pounds of the latter. A full bright colour is thus
given to the cotton, which will bear slight washings with
soap, and exposure to the air. Indeed the yellow part of
the colour derived from quercitron bark will bear long
boiling with soap, and will resist the action of acids.
Crimson. With the aluminous mordant, as it is usually applied by
calico-printers for madder reds, cotton dyed with cochi¬
neal receives a beautiful crimson colour, which will bear
several washings, and resist the weather for some time.
It is not, however, to be considered as a fixed colour. Dr
Bancroft is of opinion that the addition of a small portion
of cochineal in dyeing madder reds upon the finer cottons,
would be highly advantageous to the calico-printers. By
this addition the madder reds are rendered more beauti¬
ful, and the fawn colour, or brownish-yellow hue, which
injures these colours, would be thus overcome.1
Sect. II.— Of Yellow.
All the yellow dyes, as well as the red, require a mor¬
dant to fix them on the cloth ; and the usual mordant
employed is alumina. As in the last section, we shall in
the first place give an account of the dyestuffs usually
employed for giving a yellow colour to cloth, and then give
a sketch of the methods employed for giving a yellow co¬
lour to wool, silk, cotton, and linen.
I.—Description of the Dyestuff's.
The principal colouring matters used in dyeing yellow
are weld, fustic, catechu, anotta, and quercitron. We shall
give a short account of these dyestuffs in succession.
Substances 1. Weld, in French gaud or vaud, is the dried leaves
employed an(] stems 0f the reseda luteola, a plant which grows wild
velWing ‘n ^ritain> and hi different European countries. Its leaves
Weld.' are long> narrow, and of a bright green, but the whole
plant is made use of in the dyeing of yellow. There are
two kinds of weld, cultivated and wild, the former of which
is deemed more valuable than the latter, as it yields a
much greater proportion of colouring matter. When
this plant is fully ripe, it is pulled, dried, and bound up
in bundles for the use of the dyer. The wild species
grows higher and has a stronger stalk than that which is
cultivated, by which the one may be readily distinguish¬
ed from the other.
A decoction of this plant, if strong, has a brownish-yel ¬
low colour, and when diluted with water, it acquires a
shade of green. The acids render this colour more pale,
while alkalies, common salt, and sal ammoniac, render it
deeper; and when sufficient quantities of these substan¬
ces are dissolved in the decoction, a deep-yellow precipi¬
tate falls. A solution of alum or of protochloride of tin
throws down a fine yellow lake ; sulphate of iron occa¬
sions a black precipitate, and sulphate of copper a brown¬
ish-green precipitate.
Chevreul has discovered in weld a yellow colouring Luteolin.
matter, to which he has given the name of luteolin. It
may be sublimed, and in that case it crystallizes in needles,
which are transparent, and have a pale-yellow colour.
Luteolin dissolves in water, but the solution has little co¬
lour ; yet silk or woollen previously impregnated with
alumina, if passed through it, acquires a fine yellow co¬
lour. It is soluble in alcohol and ether. It combines
with acids, but still more readily with bases. The com¬
pound which it forms with potash has a golden-yellow
colour; but when exposed to the air it assumes first a
shade of green, and then passes into brown. The com¬
pounds of luteolin with the other bases are easily obtain¬
ed by double decomposition.
The yellow colour communicated by weld is more per¬
manent than that communicated by quercitron or by old
fustic.
2. Fustic2 is the name given by the dyers in Great Bri- Fustic,
tain to the wood of the moms tinctoria, a tree which grows
in the West Indies, and probably also in South America.
In France it is distinguished by the name of hois jaune.
The wood is yellow, as its name imports, with orange
veins. Ever since the discovery of America it has been
used in dyeing, as appears from a paper in the Transac¬
tions of the Royal Society, of which Sir William Petty
was the author. Its price is moderate, the colour it im¬
parts is permanent, and it readily combines with indigo,
which properties give it a claim to attention as a valuable
ingredient in dyeing. Before it can be employed as a
dyestuff, it must be cut into chips and put into a bag, that
it may not fix in, and tear the stuff, to which it is to im¬
part its colouring matter.
When a decoction of yellow wood or fustic is made Properties,
very strong, the colour is of a reddish yellow, and when
diluted it is of an orange yellow, which it readily yields
to water. It becomes turbid by means of acids, its
colour is of a pale yellow, and the greenish precipitate
may be re-dissolved by alkalies. The sulphates of zinc,
iron, and copper, as well as alum, throw down precipitates
composed of the colouring matter and the different bases
of the salts employed.
Chevreul discovered in fustic a yellow uncrystallizable Morin,
colouring matter, to which he has given the name of mo-
rin. It restores the colour of turmeric paper reddened
by lime. It is but little soluble in water, even when boil¬
ing hot. Alcohol is a better solvent of it than water, and
ether still better than alcohol. When the alcoholic or
ether solutions are evaporated, they deposite yellow crys¬
tals. The aqueous solution is rendered muddy by gela¬
tine. The solutions of the fixed alkalies and alkaline
earths give the aqueous solution a fine yellow colour,
Simple
Colours.
1 Philosophy of Permanent Colours, 317-
3 The ori<hn of the word fustic is not very well understood. The French applied the term Fustct^ to the rhus cotinus or Venice
sumach, which yields fugitive and bad yellow. Bancroft supposes that fustic is merely a corruption of the word fustet. When the
morus tinctoria was introduced, about a couple of centuries ago, being the wood of a large tree, it was called old fustic, while the rhus
cotinus, being only a shrub, was called young fustic. Ithus cotinus being now hardly used by dyers, the term fustic has been as¬
signed to the wood of the morus tinctoria.
296 DYE
Simple without occasioning any precipitate. Alum causes it to
Colours, assume a greenish-yellow colour. The sulphated peroxide
of iron renders it green, and then throws down a precipi¬
tate. Concentrated sulphuric acid increases the intensity
of the yellow colour, while nitric acid gives it a reddish
shade, and renders it muddy. Boiling nitric acid converts
it into oxalic acid. By combining with oxygen it seems
to assume a red colour. Morin, when distilled, yields a
liquid, which crystallizes as it cools, and furnishes a num¬
ber of yellowish-brown needles. According to the expe¬
riments of George, boiling water extracts from fustic 0‘15,
and alcohol 0*09 of matter ; and the wood is composed of
Lignin 74
Morin 9T
Tannin 4
Gum 2
Resin 9
98-1
3. Catechu, or terra japonica, comes from the East In¬
dies, and is the inspissated decoction of certain plants
containing tannin, but principally of the areka nut, the
wood of mimosa catechu, the leaves of the nauclea catechu.
Areka nuts, cut into small pieces, are sprinkled in an earth¬
en vessel with water holding saltpetre in solution. A
portion of the bark of kantai-babela (a species of mimosa)
is added. The vessel is closed by a lid luted down with
clay, that the temperature may be the higher. After an
ebullition of two hours, the fire is gradually diminished
during five or six hours. When the vessel is cold the
areka nuts are taken out, and the decoction is evaporated
down to the consistency of a syrup. It is then kneaded
into small balls, and left to dry in the shade.
Constitu- The principal constituents of catechu are tannin and
ents. extractive. The former may be thrown down by gela¬
tine, the latter remains in solution. It has a reddish-brown
colour and a sweetish taste. In India catechu is employed
in dyeing and calico-printing. The colours which it gives
are very various, depending upon the nature of the mor¬
dants employed along with it; but they are all very fixed.
With verdigris and sal ammoniac the colour is brown;
with protochloride of tin yellow'; with perchloride ot tin
a brown, or, if nitrate of copper be added, a deep bronze ;
wfith nitrate of alumina a copper red; with nitrate of iron
a deep brownish gray.
At the present day catechu is employed in this country
both by the dyers and calico-printers, and it is very well
entitled to their attention, both on account of its cheap¬
ness, and the permanency and variety of the colours which
it gives.
4. Anotta, in French rocou, is a species of paste of a
red colour, obtained from the berries of the bixa orellana,
Lin. which is a native of America. The anotta of com¬
merce is imported from America to Europe in cakes oi
two or three pounds weight, where it is prepared from the
seeds of the tree mentioned above; but the Americans
are said to be in possession of a species of anotta superior
to that which they export, both for the brilliancy and
permanency of the colour it imparts. They bruise the
seeds with their hands moistened with oil, separating
with a knife the paste as it is formed, and drying it in the
sun ; but the seeds are pounded with water when design¬
ed for sale, and allowed to undergo the process of fer¬
mentation.
According to John, the cakes of anotta are composed
of twenty-eight parts of resin mixed with colouring mat¬
ter, twenty parts of coloured extractive, twenty-six of
gum, and twenty of lignin, mixed with an acid and an
aromatic substance.
The colouring matter of anotta is but little soluble in
I N G.
water, though it communicates a yellow colour to that Simple
liquid. It is more soluble in alcohol, and tinges it orange. Colours.
Ether dissolves it still better, and assumes also an orange
colour. We obtain the colouring matter in a sufficiently^^"'
pure state by evaporating the alcoholic solution to dry¬
ness, treating the residue with ether, and finally distilling
off the ether. It is a reddish-brown substance, heavier
than water, soft and adhesive. Even when exposed to a
very low temperature, it does not become brittle. When
heated it melts, and when sufficiently heated in an open
vessel it takes fire and burns like a resin.
We may likewise obtain the colouring matter of anotta
by digesting it in a caustic alkaline solution, and then sa¬
turating the alkali by an acid. The colouring matter pre¬
cipitates in orange flocks. Concentrated sulphuric acid
gives anotta an indigo-blue colour ; but in contact with air
this colour soon passes into green, and then into violet
brown. Cold nitric acid does not alter the colour ot
anotta but if the quantity of acid be small, the mixture
assumes the consistence of a syrup, and detonates when
slightly heated, leaving charcoal. Anotta gives an orange-
red colour to oils, both fixed and volatile.
According to Chevreul, anotta contains two different
colouring matters, the one yellow and the other red. The
yellow colouring matter is soluble in water and alcohol,
and slightly in ether; the red colouring matter is scarce¬
ly soluble in water, but it dissolves in alcohol and ether,
communicating to these liquids an orange-red colour.
Anotta yields an orange precipitate with a solution of
alum, and the sulphates of copper and iron produce effects
of nearly a similar nature. With a solution of tin the pre-
cipitate is of a lemon colour, and slowly deposited.
It is employed both for dyeing silk and cotton, but the
colours which it yields have little permanency.
5. Quercitron bark.—Quercitron, as it is denominated QuerntroB
by Dr Bancroft, is the quercus nigra of Linnaeus, and is a,Lial ’•
large tree which grows spontaneously in North America.
The bark of it yields a considerable quantity of colouring
matter, which wTas first discovered by Dr Bancroft in the
year 1784, in whom the use and application of it in dye¬
ing were exclusively vested for a certain term of years
by"virtue of an act of parliament. To prepare it for use,
the epidermis is taken off and pounded in a mill, the re¬
sult of which process is a number of filaments and a fine
light powder; but as these do not contain equal quanti¬
ties of colouring matter, it will be proper to employ them
in their natural proportions.
Quercitron bark contains a good deal of tannin, and a
yellow colouring matter capable of being extracted by
water. The aqueous solution, when evaporated to dryness,
leaves a quantity of extract, amounting to eight per cent,
of the weight of the bark employed. I he tannin is that
variety which forms a green precipitate with oxide of iron.
Its presence is injurious to the beauty of the yellow co¬
lour, because it is precipitated by the same re-agents as
the colouring matter itself, and of course communicates
to it a shade of brown. To free the colouring matter
from tannin, ox bladder steeped in water, and deprived of
every thing soluble in cold water, is introduced into the
quercitron infusion. With this substance the tannin gra¬
dually unites, and thus is removed from the solution. It
may be thrown down also by a solution of gelatine.
When the infusion of quercitron is gently concentrated,
the colouring matter is deposited in crystals, which have
a pearly lustre as long as they continue suspended in the
liquid. To this colouring matter Chevreul has given the
name of quercitrin. It restores the yellow colour of tur¬
meric paper reddened by an alkali. It is but little solu¬
ble in ether, more soluble in alcohol, and still more soluble
in water. The aqueous solution is tinged orange by al-
DYE
Simple kalies. The acetates of lead and copper, and the proto-
Colours. chloride of tin, throw it down in yellow flocks. The sul-
phated peroxide of iron gives it an olive-green colour, and
then precipitates it. Sulphuric acid dissolves quercitrin,
the solution is orange with a shade of green, and is ren¬
dered muddy when mixed with water. When quercitrin
is subjected to distillation, it yields, among other products,
a liquid which speedily deposites yellow crystals possess¬
ing the characters of quercitrin.
Other sub- Besides the substances already mentioned as employed
stances. in the dyeing of yellow, we may add saw-wort to the num¬
ber (serralula tinctoria, Lin.), a plant which yields a co¬
louring matter nearly similar to that of weld, and may of
consequence be used as a proper substitute. Dyers’ broom
{genista tinctoria) produces a yellow of very indifferent
nature, and is therefore only employed in dyeing stuffs of
the coarsest kind. Tumeric {curcuma longa) is a native
production both of the East and West Indies, and yields
a more copious quantity of colouring matter than any
other yellow dyestuff; but it will probably never be
of any essential service in dyeing yellow, as no mordant
has yet been discovered capable of giving permanency to
its colour.
Chamomile {anthemis tinctoria) yields a faint yellow
colour, the hue of which is not unpleasant, but is far
from being durable, and even mordants are not capable of
fixing it. Sulphate of lime, tartar, and alum, bid fairest
for success.
Fenugreek {trigonella fcenugrcecum) yields seeds which,
when ground, communicate to stuffs a pale yellow of to¬
lerable durability ; and the best mordants are found to be
alum and muriate of soda, or common salt. American hic-
cory {juglans alba) is a tree, the bark of which yields a
colouring matter in every respect resembling that of the
quercus nigra, but in quantity greatly inferior. French
berries {rhamnus infectorius) produce a tolerable yellow
colour, but it is by no means permanent. When used in
the process of dyeing, they are to be employed in the
same manner as weld. According to Scheffer, a fine yel¬
low colour may be imparted to silk, thread, and wool, by
means of the leaves of the willow ; but Bergman informs
us that only the leaves of the sweet willow {salixpentan-
dra) are proper for producing a permanent colour, as a
few weeks’ exposure to the sun extracts that which is pro¬
duced by the colouring matter from the leaves of the com¬
mon willow.
In Switzerland and in England the seeds of purple tre¬
foil are sometimes employed in the art of dyeing, on which
Vogler made a number of experiments, in order to ascer¬
tain what colours they would produce ; and he found that
a fine deep yellow was afforded by a bath made of a solu¬
tion of these seeds with potash ; that sulphuric acid yield¬
ed a light yellow, and sulphate of copper or blue vitriol
a yellow inclining to green. M. Dize informs us that the
seeds of trefoil impart to wool a beautiful orange, and to
silk a greenish yellow ; and that while aluming is neces¬
sary in the process of dyeing with the seeds of trefoil, a
solution of tin cannot be employed.
Many other vegetable substances are occasionally em¬
ployed in dyeing yellow, but it seems useless to enu¬
merate them. Saffron and turmeric yield exceedingly
beautiful but fugitive yellows. The colouring matter of
saffron {crocus sativus) is extremely rich ; it has been sub¬
jected to a chemical examination, and distinguished by
the name of polychroite by Bouillon La Grange and Vog¬
ler, to whom we are indebted for the first examination
of it.
The finest and most fixed of all the yellows on cotton
is chromate of lead. It is employed abundantly by the
calico-printers, but scarcely by the dyers in general. On
VOL YIII.
I N G. 297
that account we think it better to reserve it till we come Single
to that part of this article in which we propose to describe Colours,
the processes followed by the calico-printers.
II.— Of the Processes for dyeing Wool Yellow.
In dyeing woollen stuffs with weld, the mordants em- With weld,
ployed are alum and tartar, and by their means a pure,
permanent yellow is obtained. The boiling is to be con¬
ducted in the usual way; and, according to Hellot, four
ounces of alum to one ounce of tartar are to be employed.
Other dyers, however, employ half as much tartar as alum.
The colour is rendered paler, but more lively, by means
of the tartar.
The bath is prepared by boiling the plant inclosed in a Prepara-
thin linen bag, and keeping it from rising by means of a^011 of the
wooden cross. Some boil it till it sinks to the bottom of^at^‘
the vessel; while others, after it is boiled, take it out and
throw it away. From three to four pounds of weld, and
sometimes less, are allowed for every pound of stuff; but
the quantity must be regulated by the intensity of the
shade desired. Some dyers add a small quantity of quick¬
lime and ashes which are found to promote the extrac¬
tion of the colouring matter. These substances at the
same time heighten the colour, but render it less suscep¬
tible of resisting the action of acids.
With other additions, and different management, differ-For differ¬
ent shades may be obtained. Thus lighter shades areent sh^es-
produced by dyeing after deeper ones, adding water at
each dipping, and keeping the bath at the boiling temper¬
ature. These shades, however, are less lively than when
fresh baths are employed, with a suitable proportion of
weld. The addition of common salt or sulphate of lime
to the weld bath communicates a richer and deeper co¬
lour. With alum it is paler and more lively, with tartar
still paler, and with sulphate of iron the shade inclines to
brown. According to Scheffer, by boiling the stuff two
hours, with one fourth of its weight of a solution of tin,
and the same proportion of tartar, and then washing and
boiling it with an equal weight of weld, a fine yellow is
produced ; but if the stuff be in the state of cloth, its in¬
ternal texture is not penetrated. Poerner recommends a
similar preparation as for dyeing scarlet, and by these
means the colour is brighter, more permanent, and lighter.
Dr Bancroft recommends the quercitron bark as one ofWithquer-
the cheapest and best substances for dyeing wool yellow, citron bark.
The following is the simple process which he has propos¬
ed for its application. The bark is to be boiled up with
about its weight, or one third more, of alum, in a suitable
proportion of water, for about ten minutes. The stuff pre¬
viously scoured is then to be immersed in the bath, tak^
ing care to give the higher colours first, and afterwards
the paler straw colours. By this cheap and expeditious
process, colours which are not wanted to be of a full or
bright yellow may be obtained. The colour may be con¬
siderably heightened by passing the unrinsed stuff a few
times through hot water, to which a little clean powdered
chalk, in the proportion of about a pound and a half for
each 100 lbs. of stuff, has been previously added. The
bark, when used in dyeing, being first reduced to powder,
should be tied up in a thin linen bag, and suspended in
the liquor, so that it may be occasionally moved through
it, to diffuse the colouring matter more equally.
But although the above method possesses the advan-process for
tages of cheapness and expedition, and is fully suflicient permanent
for communicating pale yellows ; to obtain fuller and more colours,
permanent colours, the common mode of preparation, by
previously applying the aluminous mordant, ought to be
preferred. The stuff, therefore, should be boiled for about
one hour or one hour and a quarter, with one sixth or
one eighth of its weight of alum dissolved in a proper pro-
I
298
DYEING.
staple portion of water. The stuff is then to be immersed, with-
Colours. out being rinsed, into the dyeing bath, with clean hot wa-
ter, and about the same quantity of powdered bark tied
up in a bag as that of the alum employed in the prepara¬
tion. The stuff is then to be turned as usual through the
boiling liquor, until the colour appears to have acquired
sufficient intensity. One pound of clean powdered chalk
for every 100 lbs. of stuff is then to be mixed with the
dyeing bath, and the operation continued for eight or ten
minutes longer. This addition of the chalk raises and
brightens the colour.
For differ- Orange Yellow.—To communicate a beautiful orange
ent shades, yellow to woollen stuffs, ten lbs. of quercitron bark, tied
up in a bag, for every 100 lbs. of stuff, are to be put into
the bath with hot water. At the end of six or eight
minutes, an equal weight of murio-sulphate of tin is to
be added, and the mixture well stirred for two or three
minutes. The cloth, previously scoured, and completely
wetted, is then immersed in the dyeing liquor, and brisk¬
ly turned for a few minutes. By this process the colour¬
ing matter fixes on the cloth so quickly and equally, that
after the liquor begins to boil, the highest yellow may be
produced in less than fifteen minutes.
High shades of yellow, somewhat similar to those ob¬
tained from quercitron bark by the above process, are fre¬
quently given with young fustic (rhus cotinus, Lin.), and
dyers’ spirit, or nitro-muriate of tin ; but this colour is
much less beautiful and permanent, while it is more ex¬
pensive, than what is obtained from the bark.
Bright Golden Yellow.—This colour is produced by
employing ten pounds of bark for every 100 pounds of
cloth, the bark being first boiled a few minutes, and then
adding seven or eight pounds of murio-sulphate of tin,
with about five pounds of alum. The cloth is to be dyed
in the same manner as in the process for the orange
yellow.
Bright yellows of less body are produced by employing
a smaller proportion of bark, as well as by diminishing the
quantity of murio-sulphate of tin and alum. And indeed
every variety of shade of pure bright yellow may be given
by varying the proportions of the ingredients.
For green- To produce the lively delicate green shade, which, for
ish yellow, certain purposes, is greatly admired, the addition of tartar,
with the other ingredients, only is necessary, and the tar¬
tar must be added in different proportions, according to
the shade which is wanted. For a full bright yellow, de¬
licately inclining to the greenish tinge, it will be proper
to employ eight pounds of bark, six of murio-sulphate of
tin, with six of alum, and four of tartar. An additional
proportion of alum and tartar renders the yellow more de¬
licate, and inclines it more to the green shade ; but when
this lively green shade is wanted in the greatest perfec¬
tion, the ingredients must be used in equal proportions.
The delicate green lemon yellows are seldom required to
have much fulness or body. Ten pounds of bark, there¬
fore, with an equal quantity of the other ingredients, are
sufficient to dye three or four hundred pounds of stuffs.1
For pale To produce the exquisitely delicate and beautiful pale
green yel- green shades, the surest method, Dr Bancroft observes, is
low* to boil the bark with a small proportion of water, in a se¬
parate tin vessel, for six or eight minutes, and then to add
the murio-sulphate of tin, alum, and tartar, and to boil
them together for about fifteen minutes. A small quan¬
tity of this yellow liquor is then to be put into a dyeing
vessel which has been previously supplied with water
sufficiently heated. The mixture being properly stirred,
the dyeing process is to be conducted in the usual way,
and the yellow liquor, as it is wanted, gradually added Simple
from the first vessel. In this way the most delicate Colours,
shades of lively green lemon yellows are dyed with ease
and certainty. Weld is the only dyestuff from which
similar shades of colour can be obtained; but it is four
times more expensive. The yellows dyed from quercitron
bark, Dr Bancroft adds, with murio-sulphate of tin and
alum as mordants, do not exceed the expense of one
penny for each pound of stuff, besides a considerable
saving of time, labour, and fuel.2
A greenish shade may also be produced without tartar, Verdigris
by substituting verdigris dissolved in vinegar, along with used for
the bark; but it is neither so permanent, nor so brighttartar‘
and delicate, as that produced by means of tartar. Sul¬
phate of indigo also, in very small proportion, communi¬
cates a similar shade when it is employed with the bark,
murio-sulphate of tin, and alum; but it is apt to take
unequally on the stuff, and besides, in the language of
the dyers, the colour has a tendency to cast or fly in the
finishing.
Small proportions of cochineal, employed along with Cochineal
the bark and other ingredients, raise the colour to a beau-anaijiac'ller
tiful orange, and even to an aurora. Madder may be also6111!1 °-e<'
employed with the same view, for it heightens the yellow
obtained from quercitron bark, although the colour thus
obtained is inferior in beauty to that from cochineal. The*
madder may also be employed with weld for the same
purpose.3
The colours obtained from quercitron bark, by the pro- Colours
cesses which we have now described, are very durable, from quer-
They resist the action of the air, of soap, and of acids. ItCltr011 bark
is by the effects of alum, but especially of tartar, that these dura'
colours become so fixed as to remain permanent by expo¬
sure to the air. It is observed of the highest yellows,
even when they approach to the orange, and which are
best dyed either with muriate or murio-sulphate of tin
and bark, that although they resist the action of soap and
acids, they are apt to lose their lustre and become brown
by the effect of the sun and air ; but this also happens to
yellows dyed with nitro-muriate of tin, both with the bark
and with weld, but in a still greater degree with other
yellow vegetable colouring matters. In some of these this
defect is less easily obviated by alum and tartar, than it is
in the yellow obtained from weld and quercitron bark.4
III.— Of the Processes for dyeing Silk Yellow.
To dye silk a plain yellow colour, the only ingredient with weld,
which was formerly employed was weld. The following is
the process. The silk being previously scoured in the
proportion of twenty pounds of soap to the hundred of
stuff, and then alumed, and washed after the aluming, or,
as it is called, refreshed, the bath is prepared with two
pounds of weld for every pound of silk; and having boil*
ed for fifteen minutes, it is to be passed into a vat through
a sieve or cloth. When the temperature is such as the
hand can bear, the silk is introduced and turned until it
has acquired a uniform colour. While this operation is
going on, the weld is to be boiled a second time in fresh
water; one half of the first bath is taken out, and its place
supplied with a fresh decoction. The temperature of the
fresh bath may be a little higher than the former; but it
is necessary to guard against too great a degree of heat,
that the colouring matter already fixed may not be dis¬
solved. The stuff is to be turned as before, and afterwards
taken out of the bath. A quantity of soda is to be dis¬
solved in a part of the second decoction, and a larger or
smaller proportion of this solution is to be added to the
1 Bancroft, 330.
2 Ibid. 333.
* Ibid. 353.
Ibid. OftJsc*
Simple
Colours.
For a deep¬
er colour.
For other
shades.
A cheaper
process.
For an
orange co¬
lour.
DYE
bath, according to the intensity of the shade required.
When the silk has been turned a few times, a skain is
wrung out, that it may be examined whether the colour
be sufficiently full, and have the proper golden shade. To
render the colour deeper, and to give it the gold cast, an
addition of the alkaline solution is to be made to the bath,
and to be repeated till the shade has acquired sufficient in¬
tensity. The alkaline solution may also be added along
with the second decoction of the weld, observing the pre¬
caution that the temperature of the bath be never too
great. ,
To produce other shades of yellow, having more of a
gold or jonquille colour, a quantity of anotta, proportion¬
ed to the shade required, is to be added to the bath along
with the alkali. Lighter shades of yellow, suet), as pale
lemon or Canary bird colour, are obtained by previously
whitening the silk, and regulating the proportion of ingre¬
dients in the bath by the shade required. To communi¬
cate a yellow having a tinge of green, a little indigo is
added to the bath, if the silk has not been previously
azured. To prevent the intensity of the shade from being
too great, the silk may be more slightly alumed than usual.
But, according to Dr Bancroft, the different shades of
yellow obtained from weld may be given to silk with
equal facility and beauty, and at a cheaper rate, by em¬
ploying quercitron bark as a substitute. A quantity of
bark powdered and enclosed in a bag, in proportion to the
shade of colour wanted, as from one to two pounds for
every twelve pounds of silk, is put into the dyeing vat
while the water is cold. Heat is then applied; and when
it has become rather more than blood warm, or of the tem¬
perature of 100°, the silk, having previously undergone the
aluming process, is to be immersed and dyed in the usual
way. If a deep shade is wanted, a small quantity of chalk
or pearl-ashes may be added towards the end of the ope¬
ration. To produce a more lively yellow, a small propor¬
tion of murio-sulphate of tin may be employed; but it
should be cautiously used, as it is apt to diminish the
lustre of the silk. To produce such a shade, the propor¬
tions of the ingredients may be four pounds of bark, three
of alum, and two of murio-sulphate of tin. These are to
be boiled with a proper quantity of water for ten or fif¬
teen minutes; and the temperature of the liquid being
so much reduced as the hand can bear it, the silk is im¬
mersed and dyed as usual, till it has acquired the proper
colour. Care should be taken to keep the liquor constant¬
ly agitated, that the colouring matter may be equally dif¬
fused.1
To dye silk of an aurora or orange colour, after being
properly scoured, it may be immersed in an alkaline solu¬
tion of anotta, the strength of which is to be regulated by
the shade required; and the temperature of the bath
should be between tepid and boiling water. When the
desired shade has been obtained, the silks are to be wash¬
ed and twice beetled, to free them from the superfluous
colouring matter, which would injure the beauty of the
colour. When raw silk is to be dyed, that which is na¬
turally white should be selected, and the bath should be
nearly cold; for otherwise the alkali, by dissolving the
gum of the silk, destroys its elasticity. Silk is dyed of an
orange shade with anotta; but the stuffs must be redden¬
ed with vinegar, alum, or lemon juice. The acid, by sa¬
turating the alkali employed to dissolve the anotta, de¬
stroys the yellow shade produced by the alkali, and re¬
stores its natural colour, which inclines to a red. But al¬
though beautiful colours are obtained by this process, they
do not possess any great degree of permanency.
I N G. 299
Several kinds of mushrooms afford lively and durable Snnpte
yellow dyes. A bright shining dye of this description has <>u^
been extracted from the boletus hirsutus, which commonly Yejjow
grows on walnut and apple trees. The colouring matter from
is contained both in the tubular part, and also in the pa- mush-
renchyma of the body of the mushroom. To extract the rooms,
colouring matter, it is pounded in a mortar, and the liquor
which is thus obtained is boiled for a quarter of an hour
in water. An ounce of liquor is sufficient to communicate
colouring matter to six pounds of water. After the liquor
has been strained, the stuff to be dyed is immersed in it,
and boiled for fifteen minutes. When silk is subjected to
this process, after being dyed, it is made to pass through
a bath of soft soap, by which it acquires a shining golden
yellow colour, which has a near resemblance to the yellow
of the silk employed to imitate embroidery in gold. This
has been hitherto brought from China, and bears a very
high price, the method of dyeing it being unknown in Eu¬
rope. All kinds of stuff receive this colour ; but it is less
bright on linen and cotton, and seems to have the strong¬
est affinity for silk. The use of mordants, it is supposed,
would modify and improve it greatly.2
XV.— Of the Processes for dyeing Cotton and Linen Yellow.
The process which has been usually followed in dyeing Processes
cotton and linen yellow, is by scouring it in a bath pre- with weid.
pared in a ley with the ashes of green wood. It is after¬
wards washed, dried, and alumed, with one fourth of its
weight of alum. After twenty-four hours it is taken out
of the aluming and dried, but without being washed. The
cotton is then dyed in a weld bath, in the proportion of
one pound and a quarter of weld for each pound of cot¬
ton, and turned in the bath till it has acquired the proper
colour. After being taken out of the bath, it is soaked for
an hour and a half in a solution of blue vitriol (sulphate
of copper), in the proportion of one fourth of the weight
of the cotton, and then immersed, without washing, for
nearly an hour in a boiling solution of white soap, after
which it is well washed and dried.
A deeper yellow is communicated to cotton by omit-For a deep-
ting the process of aluming, and employing two pounds er yellow,
and a half of weld for each pound of cotton. To this is
added a dram of verdigris, mixed with part of the bath.
The cotton is then to be dipped and worked till the colour
become uniform It is then taken out of the bath, that a
little solution of soda may be added, after which it is re¬
turned and kept for fifteen minutes. It is then wrung out
and dried.
Other shades of yellow may be obtained by varying the and other
proportion of ingredients. Thus a lemon colour is dyed slides,
by using only one pound of wreld for every pound of cot¬
ton, and by diminishing the proportion of verdigris, or
using alum as a substitute.3
But a better method, as it affords more permanent and Cheaper
more beautiful colours, and at a smaller expense, is recom-and more
mended by Dr Bancroft. This is by the use of quercitron P^r™3nent
bark, and'the calico-printers’ aluminous mordant, or the100'1 ’
sugar of lead. The following is the process which he pro¬
poses to employ for producing bright and durable yellow
colours. One pound of sugar of lead and three pounds of
alum are to be dissolved in a sufficient quantity of warm
water. The cotton or linen, after being properly rinsed,
is to be soaked in this mixture, heated to the temperature
of 100°, for two hours. It is then taken out, moderately
pressed over a vessel, to prevent the waste of the alumi¬
nous liquor. It is then dried in a stove heat, and after
being again soaked in the aluminous solution, it is wrung
1 Bancroft, 345.
Philosophical Afugazine, vol. 100.
Berthollet, ii. 2(>7.
300 DYE
Simple out and dried a second time. Without being rinsed, it is
Colours, to be barely wetted with lime water, and afterwards dried;
and if a full, bright, and durable yellow is wanted, it may
be necessary to soak the stuff in the diluted aluminous
mordant, and, after drying, to wet it a second time with
lime water. After it has been soaked for the last time, it
should be well rinsed in clean water, to separate the loose
particles of the mordant, which might injure the applica¬
tion of the colouring matter. By the use of the lime-wa¬
ter, a greater proportion of alumina combines with the stuff,
besides the addition of a certain proportion of lime.
Dyeing In the preparation of the dyeing bath, from twelve to
bath. eighteen pounds of powdered quercitron bark are inclosed
in a bag for every hundred pounds of the stuff, varying
the proportion according to the intensity of the shade de¬
sired. The bark is put into the water while it is cold;
and immediately after, the stuff is immersed and agitated
or turned for an hour or an hour and a half, during which
the water should be gradually heated, and the temperature
raised to about 120°. At the end of this time the heat is
increased, and the dyeing liquor brought to a boiling tem¬
perature ; but at this temperature the stuff' must remain in
it only for a few minutes, because otherwise the yellow as¬
sumes a brownish shade. The stuff having thus acquired
a sufficient colour, is taken out, rinsed, and dried.
Advantage Dr Bancroft observes, that when the aluminous mor-
of a diluted tlant is employed without the addition of water, one soak-
mordant. jng oniy^ an(j an immersion in lime water, may be sufficient;
but he thinks that greater advantage is derived from the
application of a more diluted mordant at two different
times, or even by the immersion of the stuff a greater num¬
ber of times, alternately in the diluted aluminous mordant,
and lime water, and drying it after each immersion. By
this treatment he found that the colour always acquired
more body and durability.
Nankeen Chaptal has proposed a process for communicating to
yellow. cotton a nankeen yellow, which, at the same time that it
affords a durable colour, has the advantage of being cheap
and simple. When cotton is immersed in a solution of
any salt of iron, it has so strong an affinity for the oxide,
that it decomposes the salt, combines with the iron, and
assumes a yellow colour. The process recommended by
Chaptal is the following: The cotton to be dyed is put
into a cold solution of copperas (sulphate of iron), of the
specific gravity 1-02. It is afterwards wrung out, and im¬
mediately immersed in a ley of potash of the specific gra¬
vity 1-01. This ley must have been previously saturated
with a solution of alum. When the stuff has been kept
for four or five hours in this bath, it may be taken out,
washed, and dried. By varying the proportion of sulphate
of iron, every variety of shade of nankeen yellow may be
obtained.
By another We shall lay before our readers another process for dye-
process. ;ng nankeen colour, which is proposed and followed by
Mr Brewer, a practical dyer. It is as follows:—
“ Mix as much sheep’s dung in clear water as will make
it appear of the colour of grass ; and dissolve in clear wa¬
ter one pound of best white soap for every ten pounds of
cotton yarn, or in that proportion for a greater or lesser
quantity.
“ Observe :—The tubs, boards, and poles, that are used
in the following preparations must be made of deal; the
boiling pan of either iron or copper.
First operation.—“ Pour the soap liquor prepared as
above into the boiling pan ; strain the dung liquor through
a sieve ; add as much thereof to the soap liquor in the pan
as will be sufficient to boil the yarn intended to be dyed,
I N G.
for five hours. When the liquors are well mixed in the Simple
pan, enter the yarn, light the fire under the pan, and Colours,
bring the liquor to boil in about two hours, observing to
increase the heat regularly during that period. Continue
it boiling for three hours; then take the yarn out of the
pan, wash it, wring it, and hang it in a shed on poles
to dry. When dry, take it into a stove or other room
where there is a fire; let it hang there until it be tho¬
roughly dry.
N. B.—“ The cotton yarn, when in the shed, should not
be exposed either to the rain or sun. If it is, it will be
unequally coloured when dyed.
Second operation.—“ In this operation use only one half
of the soap that was used in the last, and as much dung
liquor (strained as before directed) as will be sufficient to
cover thg cotton yarn, when in the pan, about two inches.
W'hen these liquors are well mixed in the pan, enter the
yarn, light the fire, and bring the liquor to boil in about
one hour; then take the yarn out, wring it out without
washing, and hang it to dry, as in the former operation.
Third operation.—“ This operation the same as the se¬
cond in every respect.
Fourth operation.—“ For every ten pounds of yarn make
a clear ley from half a pound of pot or pearl ashes. Pour
the ley into the boiling pan, and add as much clear water
as will be sufficient to boil the yarn for two hours; then
enter the yarn, light the fire, and bring it to boil in about
an hour. Continue it boiling about an hour, then take the
yarn out, wash it very well in clear water, wring it, and
hang it to dry, as in former operations.
N. B.—“ This operation is to cleanse the yarn from any
oleaginous matter that may remain in it after boiling in the
soap and dung liquors.
Fifth operation.—“ To every gallon of iron liquor1 add
half a pound of ruddle or red chalk (the last the best) well
pulverized.
“ Mix them well together, and let the liquor stand four
hours, in order that the heavy particles may subside ; then
pour the clear liquor into the boiling-pan, and bring it to
such a degree of heat as a person can well bear his hand
in ; divide the yarn into small parcels, about five hanks in
each; soak each parcel or handful very well in the above
liquor, wring it, and lay it down on a clean deal board.
When all the yarn is handed through the liquor, the last
handful must be taken up and soaked in the liquor a se¬
cond time, and every other handful in succession, till the
whole is gone through; then lay the yarn down in a tub,
wherein there must be put a sufficient quantity of ley,
made from pot or pearl ashes, as will cover it about six
inches. Let it he in this state about two hours, then hand
it over in the ley, wring it, and lay it down on a clean
board. If it does not appear sufficiently deep in colour,
this operation must be repeated till it has acquired a suf¬
ficient degree of darkness of colour. This done, it must
be hung to dry, as in former operations.
N. B.—“ Any degree of red or yellow hue maybe given
to the yarn, by increasing or diminishing the quantity of
ruddle or red chalk.
Sixth operation.—“ For every ten pounds of yarn make
a ley from half a pound of pot or pearl ashes; pour the
clear ley into the boiling pan; add a sufficient quantity of
wrater thereto, that will cover the yarn about four inches;
light the fire, and enter the yarn when the liquor is a little
warm; observe to keep it constantly under the liquor for
two hours; increase the heat regularly till it come to a
scald; then take the yarn out, wash it, and hang it to dry,
as in former operations.
1 Iron liquor is what the linen printers use.
DYEING.
SOI
Simple
Colours.
Seventh operation.—“ Make a sour liquor of oil of vi¬
triol and water. The degree of acidity may be a little less
than the juice of lemons; lay the yarn in it for about an
hour, then take it out, wash it very well, and wring it;
give it a second washing and wringing, and lay it upon a
board.
N. B.—“ This operation is to dissolve the metallic par¬
ticles, and remove the ferruginous matter that remains on
the surface of the thread after the fifth operation.
Eighth operation—“ For every ten pounds of yarn dis¬
solve one pound of best white soap in clearwater, and add
as much water to this liquor in your boiling-pan as will be
sufficient to boil the yarn for two hours. When these li¬
quors are well mixed, light the fire, enter the yarn, and
bring the liquor to boil in about an hour. Continue it
boiling slowly an hour; take it out, wash it in clear water
very well, and hang it to dry, as in former operations.
When dry, it is ready for the weaver.
N. B.—“ It appears to me, from experiments that I have
made, that less than four operations in the preparation of
the yarn will not be sufficient to cleanse the pores of the
fibres of the cotton, and render the colour permanent.”1
A method of giving a very fixed yellow to cotton and
followed in linen is practised in the East. It is precisely similar to
the Last, p]an f0l]0wed in dyeing Turkey red. The cloth is
first impregnated with the oleaginous soap. It is then
passed through a decoction of nutgalls, or of some sub¬
stance containing tannin. The aluminous mordant is
then applied. After all these preliminary steps have been
accomplished, the cloth is dyed in the usual way with quer¬
citron bark. These complicated processes being precise¬
ly similar to those followed by tbe Turkey-red dyers, we
refer the reader for particulars to the fourth division of
the first section of the present chapter.
Such processes, however, are unnecessary in this coun¬
try, because as permanent and beautiful a colour can be
given at once to cotton by impregnating it with acetate
or nitrate of lead, and then passing the cloth through a
solution of bichromate of potash.
Process
Sect. Ill,—Of Blue.
We shall follow the same method in giving an account
of the blue dye, as we did when giving an account of the
red and yellow dyes; that is to say, we shall first notice
the dyestuffs, and then describe the processes followed
by the dyers.
I.—Description of the Dyestuffs.
The only dyestuff used for giving a blue colour to
cloth is indigo, a blue pigment obtained from various spe¬
cies of plants. The most common plant yielding indigo
is the Indigofera, of which there are three species, the
tinctoria, tbe disperm,a, and the argentea. The nerium
tinctorium, or rose bay, a tree which is a native of India,
also yields it. The method of procuring indigo from these
plants, the nature and properties of indigo, and its com¬
position, have been detailed in the article Chemistry in
this Encyclopaedia, to which therefore we refer the reader.
Constitu- Mr Crum has shown that the atomic constituents of
ents of in- indigo are,
d'S0' 16 atoms carbon 12
4 atoms hydrogen    0*5
1 atom azote    T75
2 atoms oxygen  2
16-25
Indigo in its perfect state is insoluble in water and al- Simple
cohol, and has not the property of combining with bases. Colours.^
But when deprived of one atom of oxygen, it assumes a Y
yellow colour, and in that state is capable of combining
with lime or potash, and doubtless with other bases, and
of forming with them compounds which dissolve in water.
Wlien cloth to be dyed is dipt into the indigo vat, ren¬
dered soluble by being deprived of an atom of oxygen,
and united to a base, it comes out stained yellow. But
the basis of the indigo begins immediately to attract
oxygen from the atmosphere, and to resume its blue co¬
lour. This causes the cloth speedily to become green
by the mixture of yellow and blue, and finally to assume
a deep-blue colour. No mordant is necessary, as there
is a strong affinity between indigo and the fibres of the
cloth.
When indigo is digested in concentrated sulphuric acidCeruiin.
it undergoes a remarkable change, being converted into a
peculiar blue substance, with which the Saxon blue is
dyed. To this substance Mr Crum, to whom we are in¬
debted for the first accurate examination of it, has given
the name of cerulin. Mr Crum has shown that it is a
compound of one integrant particle of indigo, and four in¬
tegrant particles of water.
The mixture of cerulin with sulphuric acid is semifluid,
which requires a considerable quantity of water to dis¬
solve it. When potash is added to this solution, a deep-
blue precipitate falls, which is a compound of sulphate of
potash and cerulin. To this compound Mr Crum has
given the name of cerulio-sulphate of potash. All the
neutral salts have the property of combining with cerulin,
and of precipitating it from its aqueous solution.
Mr Crum discovered that if the action of sulphuricPhenicin.
acid on indigo be stopped at a certain point, a new sub¬
stance is formed, different from cerulin. To this new sub¬
stance he gave the name of phenicin. It may be obtained
by the following process : Digest indigo in sulphuric acid
diluted with thrice its weight of water. By this process
the indigo is deprived of the greater part of its impuri¬
ties. Mix one part of this purified indigo with seven or
eight parts of concentrated sulphuric acid in a stoppered
phial, and agitate the mixture occasionally till it becomes
of a bottle-green colour. Then mix it with a large quan¬
tity of distilled water, and throw it upon a filter. By
continuing to wash the filter, the liquid, which at first
passes through colourless, becomes more and more blue,
and after some time all the indigo which has been chang¬
ed passes through. The colourless washings must be
thrown away. The blue liquid contains the phenicin in
solution, which on the addition of chloride of potassium
precipitates of a most beautiful reddish-purple colour,
exactly similar to the colour of the vapour of indigo. Its
solution is of a fine blue colour like cerulin, but when a
neutral salt is added it is precipitated of a fine purple co¬
lour. Hence the origin of the term phenicin? Mr Crum
has shown that it is a compound of one integrant particle
of indigo and two integrant particles of water.
Indigo is not confined to plants growing within the
torrid zone. The isatis tinctoria and isatis lusitanica, plants
which are cultivated in England and France, yield, when
treated in the same way with the leaves of the indigofera,
a little indigo ; but the quantity is too small to make it
worth while to employ these plants for the preparation
of this valuable dyestuff. But those plants under the
names of pastel or woad were formerly employed for dye¬
ing blue in all parts of Europe ; and it was to prevent any
supposed injury to the cultivators of woad that the em-
I
‘ Edinburgh Magazine, xxii.
From purple.
1
302 DYE
Simple ployment of indigo in dyeing was prohibited in Queen
Colours. Elizabeth’s time in England. The limitations of the use
of indigo in France and Saxony were owing to the same
cause. So little at that time were the first principles of
political economy understood by the rulers of the dif¬
ferent kingdoms of Europe.
Woad is still used by the dyers in some of their pro¬
cesses, but merely for the purpose of de-oxidyzing indigo,
and thus rendering it soluble in water.
II.—Methods of dyeing Wool Blue.
Prepam- The preparation for dyeing blue is made in a large
tion of the wooden vessel or vat, which should be so constructed as
to retain the heat, which is a matter of considerable im¬
portance in the process. The vat is therefore set up in a
separate place from the coppers, and is sunk so far in the
ground as to be only breast-high above it. Before the
introduction of indigo, blue was dyed with woad, which
furnished a permanent but not a deep colour; but a very
rich blue is obtained by mixing indigo with the woad,
and these are almost the only substances which are now
employed for dyeing woollen stuffs. The proportions of
these substances are varied by different dyers, and accord¬
ing to the shade which is required. The following is the
account of the preparation of a vat, as it is given by Qua-
tremere. Into a vat of about seven and a half feet deep,
and five and a half in diameter, are thrown two balls of
pastel or woad, which are previously broken, and together
amount to about 400 pounds weight; thirty pounds of weld
are boiled in a copper for three hours in a sufficient quan¬
tity of water to fill the vat. To this decoction are added
twenty pounds of madder and a basket full of bran. The
boiling is then continued half an hour longer. This bath
is cooled with twenty buckets of water, and after it is set¬
tled, and the weld taken out, it is poured into the vat,
which must be stirred with a rake all the time that it is
running in, and for fifteen minutes longer. The vat is
then covered up very hot, and allowed to stand for six
hours, when it is uncovered, and raked again for thirty
minutes. The same operation must be repeated every
three hours. When the appearance of blue streaks is per¬
ceived on the surface of the vat, eight or nine pounds of
quicklime are added; the colour then becomes of a deep¬
er blue, and the vat exhales more pungent vapours. Im¬
mediately after the lime, or along with it, the indigo, which
has been previously ground in a mill, with the smallest
possible quantity of water, is put into the vat. The quan¬
tity is to be regulated by the intensity of the shade re¬
quired. From ten to thirty pounds may be put into a vat
such as we have now described. If on striking the vat
with a rake a fine blue scum arises, no other previous pre¬
paration is required than to stir it with the rake twice in
the space of six hours, to mix the ingredients completely.
Great care should be taken not to expose the vat to the air,
except during the time of stirring it. When that opera¬
tion is finished, it is covered with a wooden lid, on which
are spread thick cloths, to retain the heat as much as pos¬
sible ; but after all these precautions, at the end of eight
or ten days it is greatly diminished, and is at last entirely
dissipated, so that the liquor must be again heated, by
pouring the greater part of the liquor of the vat into a
copper under which a large fire is made. When the liquor
has acquired a sufficient temperature, it is returned into
the vat, and carefully covered up.
Accidents Vats of this description are sometimes liable to accidents,
^he^vat^i ^ Vat ^ Sa'^ t0 ke rePe^e^ when, having previously afford-
hable^ 18 ec^ ^ne s^a^es °f blue, it appears black, without any blue
streaks; and if it be stirred, the black colour becomes
deeper; the vat at the same time exhales, instead of a
sweetish smell, a pungent odour; and the stuff dyed in a
I N G.
vat in this state comes out of a dirty gray colour. These Simple
effects are ascribed to an excess of lime. Colour.
Different means are employed to recover a repelled vat.
Some are satisfied with merely reheating it, while others|
add tartar, bran, urine, or madder. Hellot recommends them ®
bran and madder as the best remedy. If the excess of
lime be not very great, it ia sufficient to leave it at rest
five or six hours, putting in a quantity of bran and three
or four pounds of madder, which are to be sprinkled on the
surface, and then it is to be covered up, and after a cer¬
tain interval to be tried again. But if the vat has been so
far repelled as to afford a blue only when it is cold, it must
be left at rest to recover, and sometimes must remain whole
days without being stirred with the rake. When it begins
to afford a tolerable pattern, the bath must be reheated.
In general this revives the fermentation. The addition of
bran or madder, or a basket or two of fresh woad, pn>
duces the same effect.
This vat sometimes runs into the putrefactive process.and reme.
When this happens, the colour of the vat becomes reddish, dying pu-
the paste rises from the bottom, and a fetid smell is ex. tiefucti°a J
haled. This accident is owing to a deficiency of lime, and
it must be corrected by adding a fresh quantity. The vat
is then to be raked ; after two hours more lime is added,
and the process of raking again performed. These opera^
tions are to be repeated till the vat is recovered.
Nothing requires more attention in treating a vat of thisTrecau-
kind than the distribution of the lime, the principal use oftlons'n
which is to moderate the tendency to putrefaction, and t0useo^‘me'
limit the fermentation to that degree which is necessary
to deprive the indigo of its oxygen. If too much lime be
added, the necessary fermentation is retarded ; and if there
be too little, the putrefactive process commences.
Two hours previous to the dyeing operation, the vat Dyeing
should be raked; and to prevent the stuff coming in con- process,
tact with the sediment, which would produce inequalities
in the colour, a cross of wood is introduced, The stuff is
then to be completely wetted with pure water a little
heated, and being wrung out, it is dipped into the vat,
where it is moved about for a longer or a shorter time,
according to the depth of shade required. During this
operation, it is taken out occasionally to be exposed to
the air, the action of which is necessary to change the
green colour of the bath into a blue. Stuffs dyed blue in
this manner must be carefully washed, to carry oft' the
loose particles of colouring matter; and when the shade
of blue is deep, they ought even to be cleansed by fulling
with soap. This operation does not alter the colour.
What happens in vats of this kind is the separation of
an atom of oxygen from the indigo by the action of the
fermenting woad. The base of the indigo thus evolved
unites to the quicklime, and this compound dissolving in
the water, forms the dyestuff. The reason why the air
must be so cautiously excluded is, that, by reviving the
indigo, it precipitates it from the liquid, and thus deprives
the vat of its colouring matter.
Instead of woad, and the other ingredients just men¬
tioned, indigo is deprived of an atom of oxygen, and the
base of it dissolved in water by a mixture of bran and pot¬
ash. Orpiment is also occasionally employed, which has
the property of absorbing an atom of oxygen from indigo,
and rendering it capable of combining with a base, and of
dissolving in water.
The indigo vat employed by the calico-printers is formed
by mixing the indigo with the requisite quantity of sul¬
phate of iron to reduce it to its base, and of quicklime to
combine with the base evolved, and to cause it to dissolve
in water. Such vats are made very deep. The surface,
in consequence of exposure to the air, has a blue colour,
the indigo being revived. But the liquor, at a little dis-
DYEING.
303
Simple
Colours.
Discovery
af Saxon
blue.
For wool¬
len stuff’s.
this bath, then dipping it in a bath of archil, and finally in Simple
the indigo vat. .
When raw silk is to be dyed blue, such as is naturally
white should be selected. Being previously soaked in raw
water, it is put into the bath in separate hanks, as already
directed for scoured silks ; and as raw silk is found to com¬
bine more readily with the colouring matter, the scoured
silk, when it can be conveniently done, should be first put
into the bath. If archil, or any of the other ingredients
which have been already mentioned, are required to give
more intensity to the colour, the mode of application is
the same as that directed for scoured silk.
IV.—Processes for dyeing Cotton and Linen Blue.
For dyeing cotton and linen blue, Pileur d’Apligny re-Prepara-
commends a vat containing about 120 gallons. From six tion of the
to eight pounds of indigo, reduced to powder, are boiledvat-
in a ley drawn off from a quantity of lime equal in weight
tance from the surface, has a yellow colour. This indeed
is the case with all indigo vats. The green colour which
they exhibit near the surface is merely the consequence
of the mixture of revived indigo with the yellow coloured
liquid.
The colour which is obtained by dyeing with a solution
of indigo in sulphuric acid is known under the name of
Saxon blue, because the process was first carried on at
Grossenhayn, in Saxony, by Counsellor Barth, who made
the discovery about the year 1740. This discovery was
for some time kept secret, and the method seems to have
been originally very complicated. Alumina, antimony,
and some other substances, were previously added to the
sulphuric acid. These, however, are now omitted, and
die indigo alone is dissolved in the acid.
To produce a Saxon blue colour on woollen stuffs, they
are prepared with alum and tartar ; and in proportion to
the shade required, the quantity of solution of indigo put . .
into the bath must be regulated. When a deep shade of to the indigo, and a quantity of potash double its weight.
Saxon blue is wanted, the stuff must be passed different During the boiling, which is to be continued till the indigo
times through vessels containing such a quantity of colour- is completely penetrated with the ley, the solution must
ing matter as is sufficient to give light colours. In this be constantly stirred, to prevent the indigo fiom being in¬
way, by repeated applications, the colours become more jured by adhering to the bottom of the vessel,
uniform. During this process another quantity of quicklime, equal
We are not aware that Prussian blue is employed as a in weight to the indigo, is to be slaked. Twenty quarts
dyeing material for wool; but it is used to a considerable of warm water are added, in which is to be dissolved a
extent in calico-printing, and has an exceedingly good quantity of sulphate of iron equal to twice the weight of
effect when skilfully used. We shall notice its employ- the lime. The solution being completed, it is poured into
With indi-
fo¬
ment in a subsequent part of this article
III.—Processes for dyeing Silk Blue.
Silk is dyed blue with indigo alone, without any propor¬
tion of woad. The proportion of indigo mentioned in the
preparation of the indigo vat, and sometimes a larger pro¬
portion, is employed, with six pounds of bran and about
twelve ounces of madder. According to Macquer, half a
pound of madder for each pound of potash renders the
vat greener, and produces a more fixed colour in the
silk. When the vat is come to, it should be refreshed
Prepara¬
tion of
the silk.
the vat, which is previously half filled with water. To
this the solution of indigo is added, with that part of the
ley which was not employed in the boiling. The vat
must now be filled up to within two or three inches of the
top. It must be raked twice or thrice a day till it is com¬
pletely prepared, which is generally the case in forty-eight
hours, and sometimes sooner, as it depends on the tempe¬
rature of the atmosphere. A small proportion of bran,
madder, and woad, is recommended by some to be added
to such a vat as we have now described.
    _ _     The process which is followed at Rouen, and described A simpler
with two pounds of potash and three or four ounces of by Quatremere, is simpler. Ihe vats, which are con-
madder, and, after being raked, in the course of four structed of a kind of flint, are coated within and without
hours it is fit for dyeing. The temperature should be so with fine cement, and are arranged in one or more paral-
moderated that the hand may be held in it without un- lei lines. Each vat contains four hogsheads of water,
easiness. The indigo, to the amount of eighteen or twenty pounds,
The silk, after being boiled with soap, in the proportion being macerated for a week in a caustic ley strong enough
of thirty pounds of soap to a hundred of silk, and well to bear an egg, is ground in a mill; three hogsheads an
cleaned by repeated beetlings in a stream of water, must a half of water are put into the vat, and afterwards twenty
be dyed in small portions, because it is apt to take on an pounds of lime. 'Ihe lime being thoroughly slaked, tie
uneven colour. When it has been turned once or oftener vat is raked, and thirty-six pounds of copperas are added;
in the bath, it is wrung out and exposed to the air, that and when the solution is complete, the ground indigo is
the green colour may change to a blue. When the change poured in through a sieve. It is raked seven or eig it
is complete, it is thrown into clear water, and afterwards times the same day, and after being left at rest foi tinty-
wrung out. Silk dyed blue should be speedily dried. In six hours, it is in a state fit for dyeing.
- • • ’ In extensive manufactories it is necessary to have vats Process on
set at different times. In conducting the process of dye-a larger
ing, the stuffs are first dipped in the most exhausted vat,scale-
and then regularly proceeding from the weakest to the
damp weather and in winter it is necessary to conduct the
drying in a chamber heated by a stove. The silk should
be hung on a frame kept constantly in motion. To dye
light shades, some dyers employ vats that are somewhat
For Tur¬
key blue.
exhausted; but it ought to be observed that the colour strongest, if they have not previously attained tlm desired
thus obtained is less beautiful and less permanent than
when fresh vats, containing a smaller quantity of indigo,
are employed.
Some addition is required to be made to the indigo, to
give silk a deep blue. A previous preparation is neces¬
sary, by giving it another colour or ground. For the Tur¬
key blue, which is the deepest, a strong bath of archil is
first prepared. Cochineal is also sometimes used instead
shade. The stuffs should remain in the bath only about
five or six minutes, for in that time they combine with all
the colouring matter they can take up. After the stuffs
have been dipped in a vat, it should not be used again
till it has been raked, and has stood at least twenty-four
hours, unless it has been lately set, when a shorter period
is sufficient. "
After the stuffs have been dipped three or four times
of archil, for the ground, to render the colour more per- in a vat, it begins to change. It becomes black, and no
manent. A blue is given to silk by means of verdigris blue or copper-coloured streaks are seen on the surface
and logwood, but it possesses little durability. It might be after raking it. It must then be renewed by adding four
rendered more permanent by giving it a lighter shade in pounds of copperas with two of quicklime, after which it
1
304
Simple
Colours.
Process of
Bergman-
Hauss-
mann’s.
English
blue.
DYEING.
must be raked twice. In this way a vat may be renewed
three or four times; but the additional quantity of ingre¬
dients must be diminished as the strength of the vat is
exhausted.1
A vat which is still more simple and more easily pre¬
pared has been recommended by Bergman. The propor¬
tion of the ingredients wdiieh he has directed to be em¬
ployed is the following. To three drachms of indigo re¬
duced to powder, three drachms of copperas, and three of
lime, add two pints of w'ater. Let it be well raked, and
in the course of a few hours it will be in a proper state
for dyeing.
Haussmann employs a still smaller proportion of indigo.
For 3000 lbs. of water he takes thirty-six lbs. of quicklime
slaked in 200 lbs. of water, with which the indigo in the
proportion of from ten to twenty lbs. well ground is to be
mixed. He then dissolves thirty lbs. of copperas in 120 lbs.
ofhotwater. The whole being leftat rest for fifteen minutes,
the vat is filled, and gently and constantly stirred. When a
deeper shade is wanted, and particularly when linen is to
be dyed, the proportion of indigo should be greater ; but
the shade depends very much on the time the stuffs re¬
main in the vat, and the times it has been used. "W hen
the vat becomes turbid, the process of dyeing must be
interrupted till it has been again raked, and the superna¬
tant liquor become transparent. If the effects of the lime
fail, a new quantity, fresh slaked, must be added ; and if
the iron cease to produce the effect on the indigo, a new
portion must be also added, observing the precaution to
have a greater quantity of lime than what is necessary to
saturate the sulphuric acid. When the indigo seems to
be exhausted, fresh portions ground in water are also to
be added; the vat is to be raked several times, and al¬
lowed to settle, after which it is agam fit for use. In this
way Mr Haussmann informs us he preserved a vat for the
space of two years; and had it not been for the accumu¬
lation of sediment, which prevented the stuffs from being
immersed to a sufficient depth, it might have been conti¬
nued in use for a much longer time. It is worth wdiile to
add, that Mr Haussmann found that a pattern of cloth
dipped in water acidulated with sulphuric acid, imme¬
diately after it was taken out of the bath, became of a much
deeper blue than a similar pattern exposed to the air, or
another dipped in river water.
Another convenient and expeditious vat is mentioned
by Bergman and described by Scheffer. Indigo reduced
to fine powder, in the proportion of three drachms to a
quart, is added to the strong ley of the soap boiler. After
a few minutes, when the colouring matter is well pene¬
trated by the ley, six drachms of coloured orpiment are to
be added. In a few minutes after the bath has been well
raked it becomes green, and the blue streaks appear on
the surface. Heat is to be applied, when the operation
of dyeing may commence.
The preparation employed for printing cottons is simi¬
lar to the above bath, excepting in the proportions of orpi¬
ment and indigo, which are greater in the former; but
these proportions are very different in different manufac¬
tories.
The colour denominated English blue is produced by
the solution of indigo in sulphuric acid, to which Bancroft
gave the improper name of sulphate of indigo, fo give
silk this colour, it is first to be dyed a light blue; and, Simple
when taken out of this bath, it is dipped in hot water, Colours,
washed in a stream, and left in a bath composed of the
sulphate of indigo, to which a little of the solution of tin
has been added, until the proper shade is obtained, or the
bath is exhausted. Previous to its being put into this bath,
it maybe dipped in a solution of alum, in which it should
remain only a very short time. Silk which has been dyed
according to thir process is free from the reddish shade
which it derives from the blue vat, as well as from the
greenish cast of the Saxon blue.2
The sulphate of indigo has been hitherto only applied
for the purpose of dyeing wool and silk. The affinity of
indigo for vegetable substances is not sufficiently strong
to effect the decomposition of the sulphate. It cannot,
therefore, be employed with advantage in dyeing cotton
and linen.
Sect. IV.— Of Black.
Though black, considered optically, is not a colour, but Juices of
the absence of the power of reflecting light, it constitutes plants,
a very important colour in the estimation of the dyer.
I.—Description of the Dyestuffs.
There are few substances which have the property of
producing a permanent black colour without any addition.
The juice of some plants produces this effect on cotton
and linen. A black colour is obtained from the juice of
the cashew nut, which will not wash out, and even resists
the process of boiling with soap or alkalies. The cashew
nut of India is employed for marking linen. 'I hat of the
West Indies (anacardium occidentale, Lin.) also yields a
permanent dye, but the colour has a brownish shade. The
juice of some other plants, as that of the toxicodendron,
or sloes, affords a durable bluish black colour; but these
substances cannot be obtained in sufficient quantity, even
if they afforded colours equal to those produced by the
common processes.
The principal substances which are employed to give a Tan, \c.
black colour are gallnuts, which contain the astringent
principle or tan, and the red oxide of iron.3 These have
been described either in a preceding part of this article, or
under the article Chemistry, to wdiich therefore we refer
the reader. The black colour is produced by the combina¬
tion of the astringent principle with the oxide of iron, held
in solution by an acid, and fixed on the stuff. When the
particles are precipitated from the mixture of tan and a
solution of iron, they have only a blue colour; but after
they are exposed for some time to the air, and moistened
with water, the colour becomes deeper, although the blue
shade is still perceptible. After the particles are fixed on
the stuff, the shade becomes much deeper.
Logwood is not to be considered as affording a black Mordants
dye, but is much employed to give a lustre to black colours, necessary
We have already described its nature and properties^01 l3C '
among the substances from which red colouring matters
are obtained.
Black colours are rarely produced by a simple combina¬
tion between the colouring matter and the stuff, but are
usuall}' fixed by means of mordants, as in the case of the
black particles which are the result of a combination of
1 Berthollet, ii. 90. 2 Eid.n. ^19.
3 Oak bark has been recommended as a substitute for gallnuts in dyeing black, and particularly in dyeing hats; and it is said that
the colour thus obtained is fuller, more beautiful and durable, while the operation is easier, and less liable to accident. It was first
proposed in the year 1782, by Stephanopoli, a Corsican, and a surgeon in the French army. The examination of the process was re¬
ferred by the French government to Macquer,who gave a favourable report of it; and afterwards to Berthollet, who gave a different
opinion. The process has since been examined, and promises to be more economical and advantageous, especially foi dyeing hats.
(Phil. Mug. vi, 176.)
DYE
Simple the astringent principle and the oxide of iron, held in so-
Colours. lution by an acid. But when the particles are precipitat-
ed from the mixture of an astringent and a solution of
iron, they have only a blue colour. By being exposed to
the air, and moistened with water, the colour becomes
deeper, although the blue shade is still perceptible. No
fine black colour is ever obtained, unless the stuffs are
freely exposed to the air. In dyeing black, therefore, the
operations must be conducted at different intervals. Ber-
thollet has observed that black stuffs, when brought in
contact with oxygen gas, diminish its volume, so that some
portion of it is absorbed.
II.— Of the Processes for dyeing Woollen Black.
Must be In dyeing woollen stuff’s black, if a full and fine deep
first dyed colour is wanted, it is necessary that they be previously
blue. dyed of a deep blue colour. To remove all the particles
of colouring matter which happen to be loosely attached
to the stuff, it should be washed in a river as soon as it is
taken out of the vat, and afterwards cleansed at the full¬
ing mill. After these preliminary processes, the stuffs are
ready to receive the black colouring matter. The pro¬
cess of Hellot is the following.
Hellot’s For every hundred pounds of stuff, ten pounds of log-
process. wood, and ten pounds of galls reduced to powder, are put
into a bag, and boiled in a middle-sized copper, with a
sufficient quantity of water, for twelve hours. A third of
this bath is put into another copper, along with two pounds
of verdigris. The stuff is immersed in this bath, and
continually stirred for two hours. The bath should be
kept hot, but it ought not to boil. At the end of two
hours the stuff is taken out, and a similar portion of the
bath is put into the copper, with eight pounds of copperas
(sulphate of iron). During the solution of the copperas
the fire is diminished, and the bath is allowed to cool for
half an hour, stirring it well the whole time. The re¬
mainder of the bath is then to be added, and after making
this addition, the bag containing the astringent matters
should be strongly pressed, to separate the whole. A
quantity of sumach, from fifteen to twenty pounds, is now
to be added, and the bath is just raised to the boiling
temperature; and when it has given one boil it is to be
immediately stopped with a little cold water. A fresh
quantity of sulphate of iron, to the amount of two pounds,
is then added, and the stuff is kept in it for another hour,
after which it is taken out, washed, and aired; it is again
put into the copper, and constantly stirred for an hour.
It is then carried to the river, well washed, and fulled.
To soften the black colour, and make it more firm, ano¬
ther bath is prepared with weld. This is made to boil for
a moment, and when it has cooled, the stuff is passed
through it. By this process, which is indeed somewhat
corpplicated, a beautiful black colour is produced.
Common But the processes usually followed for dyeing black are
process. more simple. Cloth which has been previously dyed blue
is merely boiled in a vat of galls for two hours. It is then
kept two hours, but without boiling, in the bath of log¬
wood and sulphate of iron, and afterwards washed and
fulled. According to Hellot’s process, a bath is to be
prepared of a pound and a half of yellow wood, five pounds
of logwood, and ten pounds of sumach, which is the pro¬
portion of the ingredients for every fifteen yards of deep
blue cloth; and the cloth having boiled in this bath for
three hours, ten pounds of sulphate of iron are added ; the
cloth is allowed to remain for two hours longer, when it is
taken out to be aired, after which it is again returned to
the bath for an hour, and then washed and fulled.
A cheaper When stuff's are to be dyed at a less expense, instead
process. 0f tjie jC)]ue grounJ> a brown or root-coloured ground may
I N G. 305
be substituted. This brown or fawn colour is communi- Simple
cated by means of the root of the walnut tree, or gieen
walnut peels. The stuffs are then to be dyed black, ac¬
cording to some of the processes already described.
The proportions of the ingredients employed by the Process of
English dyers are, for every hundred pounds of cloth Pre'|is^ dyers,
viously dyed a deep blue, about five pounds of sulphate
of iron, five pounds of galls, and thirty of logwood. The
first step in the process is to gall the cloth, after which it
is passed through the decoction of logwood, to which the
sulphate of iron has been added.
The leaves of the arbutus uva ursi have been recom-Arbutus
mended and employed as a substitute for galls. The used for
leaves must be carefully dried, so that the green colour galis*
may be preserved. A hundred pounds of wool are boiled
with sixteen pounds of sulphate of iron and eight of tar¬
tar for two hours. The day following the cloth is to be
rinsed, as after aluming. A hundred and fifty pounds of
the leaves of uva ursi are then to be boiled for two hours^
in water, and after being taken out, a small quantity of
madder is to be added to the liquor, putting in the cloth
at the same time, which is to remain about an houi and a
half. It is then taken out and rinsed in water.1 By this
process, it is said, blue cloth receives a pretty good black,
but white cloth becomes only of a deep brown. It is said,
too, that the madder and tartar are useless ingredients.
After the different operations for dyeing the cloth have Last ope-
been finished, it is washed in a river, and fulled, till the ration,
water comes off clear and colourless, feoap suds aie re¬
commended by some in fulling fine eloths, out it is found
difficult to free the cloth entirely from the soap. After
the cloth has come from the fulling-mill, some propose to
give it a dip in a bath of weld, by which it is said to be
softened, and the colour better fixed; but, according to
Lewis, this operation, which in other cases is of some ad¬
vantage, is useless after the cloth has been treated with
the soap suds.
III.— Of the Processes for dyeing Silk Black.
In communicating a black colour to silk, different ope¬
rations are necessary, such as boiling, galling, repairing
the bath, dyeing, and softening.
To give a deeper shade to silk, it is necessary to de¬
prive it of the gummy substance to which its stiffness and
elasticity are owing. This is done by boiling the silk four
or five hours with one fifth its weight of white soap, and
afterwards beetling and carefully washing it.
In conducting the process of galling silk, three fourths Galling,
of its weight of galls are to be boiled for three or four
hours; but the proportion of galls must depend on their
quality. After the boiling, the liquor is allowed to remain
at rest for two hours; the silk is then put into the bath,
and left there from twelve to thirty-six hours, when it is
to be taken out, and washed in the river. But as silk is
capable of combining with a great proportion of the astrin¬
gent principle, or tan, from which it receives a consider¬
able increase of weight, it is allowed to remain for a longer
or shorter time, as the silk is required to have more or
less additional weight. To communicate, therefore, to
silk, what is called a heavy black, it is allowed to remain
longer in the gall liquor: the process is repeated oftener,
and the silk is also dipped in the dye a greater number of
times.
While silk is preparing for the process of dyeing, the Dyeing,
bath is to be heated, and should be occasionally stirred,
that the grounds which fall to the bottom may not acquire
too much heat. It should always be kept under the boil¬
ing temperature. Gum and solution of iron are added in
different proportions, according to the different processes.
2 Q
VOL. VIII.
1 Stockholm Trans. 1753.
Simple When the gum is dissolved, and the bath near the boiling
Colours, temperature, it is left to settle for about an hour. The
silk, which in general is previously divided into three
parts, that each may be successively put into the bath, is
immersed in it. Each part is then to be three times
wrung, and after each wringing hung up to air. The silk
being thus exposed to the action of the air, acquires a
deeper shade. This operation being finished, the bath is
again heated, with the addition of gum and sulphate of
iron ; and this is repeated two or three times, according
as the black required is light or heavy. When the process
of dyeing is finished, the silk is rinsed in a vessel with
some cold water, by turning or shaking it over.
Softening. Silk, after it has been taken out of the dye, is extreme¬
ly harsh, to remove which it is subjected to the operation
of softening. A solution of four or five pounds of soap for
every hundred pounds of silk is poured through a cloth
into a vessel of water. The solution being completed,
the silk is immersed, and allowed to remain in it for about
fifteen minutes ; it is then to be wrung out and dried.
Dveing When raw silk is to be dyed, that which has a natural
raw silk, yellow colour is preferred. The galling operation must be
performed in the cold, if it be proposed to preserve the
whole of the gum, and the elasticity which it gives to the
silk ; but if part only of the gum is wished to be preserv¬
ed, the galling is to be performed in the warm bath.
The dyeing operation is also performed in the cold.
All that is necessary is to add the sulphate of iron to the
water in which the stuff is rinsed. By this simple process
the black dye is communicated. It is then washed, once
or twice beetled, and dried without wringing, that its
elasticity may not be destroyed. Raw silk may be dyed
A speedier by a more speedy process. After galling, it may be turn-
process. eci or shaken over in the cold bath ; and thus, by alter¬
nately dipping and airing the stuff, the operation may be
completed. It is then to be washed and dried, as in the
former process.
Improved The method of dyeing velvet at Genoa, which has been
process for s;mplifiecl and improved in France, is thus described by
velvet. Macquer. For every hundred pounds of silk, twenty pounds
of Aleppo galls, reduced to powder, are boiled in a suffi¬
cient quantity of water for an hour. The bath is allowed
to settle till the galls have fallen to the bottom ; they are
then taken out, and two pounds and a half of sulphuric
acid, twelve pounds of iron filings, and twenty pounds of
gum, are put into a copper vessel, or cullender, furnished
with two handles. This vessel is immersed in the bath,
and supported that it may not touch the bottom. The
gum, which is allowed to dissolve for an hour, is to be oc¬
casionally stirred; and if it appear that the whole of the
gum is dissolved, three or four pounds more are to be
added. Excepting during the operation of dyeing, the
cullender is to remain in the copper, which must be kept
hot the whole time, but at a temperature below the boil¬
ing point. In galling the silk, one third of Aleppo galls
is employed, and the stuff should remain six hours in the
liquor the first time, and twelve hours the second. By
frequent additions of sulphate of iron, and repeated im¬
mersions of the stuff, a fine black, according to Lewis, has.
been obtained. In the above process, the proportion of
sulphate of iron is too small; and the gum, according to
some, being carried off in the washing, may be considered
as useless. Berthollet thinks, that although the quantity
be excessive, it has some effect in keeping up the bath ;
and he adds, if it is to be diminished, it would be useful
to add the sulphate of iron in separate portions during
each interval.
To diminish the quantity of galls, which are an expen- Simple
sive ingredient in dyeing silk black, other substances have Colours,
been proposed as substitutes. With this view the follow-
ing process is recommended. _ for calls. *
"The silk being boiled and washed, is immersed in a
strong decoction of green walnut peels, and allowed to re¬
main till the colouring matter of both is exhausted. It is
then to be slightly wrung out, dried, and washed.1 lo
give the silk a blue ground, logwood and verdigris are
employed, in the proportion of one ounce of the latter for
every pound of silk. The verdigris is dissolved in cold
water, and the silk is allowed to remain two hours in this,
solution. It is then immersed in a strong decoction of
logwood, slightly wrung out, dried, and afterwards washed
at the river. The bath is prepared by macerating two
pounds of galls and three of sumach in twenty-five gallons
of water, over a slow fire, for twelve hours. The liquid
being strained, three pounds of sulphate of iron and the
same quantity of gum-arabic are to be dissolved in it.
The silk is dipped in this solution at two different times ;
it is to remain in the bath two hours each time, and it
must be aired and dried between each dip. After being
twice beetled at the river, it is dipped a third time, and
left in the bath four or five hours, after which it is to be.
dried, washed, and beetled, as before. The temperature of
the bath should not exceed 120°. After the first dipping,
it may be necessary to add half a pound of sulphate of
iron, and an equal quantity of gum-arabic.
Silk which has been previously dyed blue with indigo,
it is said, takes only a mealy black ; but when it has been
prepared with logwood and verdigris, it acquires a vel¬
vety lustre. A fine black may be obtained from green
walnut peel; but the addition of logwood and verdigris
renders a smaller quantity of sulphate of iron necessary,
and this is of importance, because it is apt to weaken the
silk. The only use of galls, according to some, is to in¬
crease the weight of the silk ; for tin; purposes of dyeing,
sumach is considered sufficient.2
IV.— Of the Processes for dyeing Cotton and Linen Black.
It is more difficult to communicate a fine black to linen Must be
or cotton than to silk or woollen stuffs. lo succeed, in
producing a black colour of that degree of intensity which
will resist soap, it is necessary to adopt particular pro¬
cesses. In dyeing animal matters black, as silk and wool,
the best colours are obtained on those which have been
previously dyed blue. This also is an essential preliminary
process in dyeing linen and cotton black; for it is found
that the process which succeeds best is first to give a deep
blue grain to the cotton or linen.
The first part of the process is the operation of galling. Galling.
The stuffs, which have been previously dyed blue, wrung
out, and dried, are kept twenty-four hours in the gall
liquor, composed of four ounces of galls to every pound of
thread. A bath is then prepared of a solution of iron in
acetic acid. This solution is obtained by saturating the
acid with oxide of iron. In France, vinegar, small beer,
or small wine, is employed for this purpose, do promote
the acid fermentation, rye meal, or some other substance,
is added, and pieces of old iron are thrown into the liquid,
which are allowed to remain for six weeks or two months,
that the acid may be saturated with the iron. This solu¬
tion, called iron liquor in this country, is prepared from
fermented worts, to which old iron is added, as is describ¬
ed above. Five quarts of the iron liquor for every pound
of stuffs are put into a vessel. In this the stuffs are Dyeing-
wrought with the hand, pound by pound, for fifteen mi-
1 The decoction of walnut peels is prepared by boiling for fifteen minutes, after which it is taken from the fire. After it has sub-
cirloH tVio cilL- iki warTYi urnfdr ic HirmpH in it. * l>GrtllOil0t«
sided, the silk, which has been previously immersed in warm water, is dipped in it.
Berthollet, ii. 20.
DYEING.
Simple nutes; they are then wrung out and aired. This opera-
Colours. tion is to be again repeated, taking care to add a fresh
quantity of the iron liquor, which should be carefully
scummed, after which the stuffs are to be wrung out, air-
ed, and washed at the river. In the next operation, a
pound of alder bark for every pound of stuff is boiled in a
sufficient quantity of water for an hour. One half of the
bath which was employed in the galling, and about one
half the quantity of sumach as of alder bark, are then
added. The whole is boiled together for two hours, and
strained through a sieve. When this liquid is cold, the
stuffs are immersed, wrought pound by pound, and occa¬
sionally aired. They are afterwards put into the bath,
and, after remaining for twenty-four hours, are wrung out
and dried. The above is tbe process which, according to
D’Apligny, is followed at Rouen for dyeing cotton and
linen.
Another The process followed at Manchester, which is describ-
process. ed by Mr Wilson, is the following. For the operation of
galling, galls or sumach are employed. The stuff is after¬
wards dyed in a bath consisting of a solution of iron in
acetic acid. This bath is also frequently composed of al¬
der bark and iron. After having passed through this bath,
the stuff’is dipped in a decoction of logwood, to which a
small quantity of verdigris has been added. This process
is to be repeated till a black of sufficient intensity is ob¬
tained, observing to wash and dry after each operation.
Prepara- According to Guhlicbe, a solution of iron may be pre-
tionofso- pared by the following process. A pound of rice is to be
lution of boiled in twelve or fifteen quarts of water, till the whole
lron' is dissolved. A sufficient quantity of old iron made red
hot, to reach half way to the surface of the liquor, is
thrown into the solution. The vessel in which the solu¬
tion is kept must be under cover, but exposed to the air
and light, at least for a week. In another vessel, contain¬
ing a quantity of warm vinegar equal to the solution of
rice, an equal quantity of red-hot iron is to be put. This
vessel must also be exposed in the same way to the air
and light. After several days, the contents of both ves¬
sels are mixed together, and the mixture is to be exposed
for a week to the open air, after which it is to be decant¬
ed and kept for use in a close vessel. To give a sufficient
Its appli- black to linen and cotton, it is only necessary, it is said,
cation. to steep them twenty-nine hours in this solution; and if
it should appear that the liquor is exhausted of colouring
matter, a fresh portion is to be employed. In this way a
fine permanent black is obtained. According to the same
author, this solution may be advantageously employed as
a substitute for sulphate of iron, in dyeing silk and wool.
But to give them a fine black, silk and woollen stuffs must
be dipped in a decoction of logwood after they are taken
from the bath.
Sect. V.— Of Brown.
The last of the simple colours is brown. This is also
known under the name of fawn colour (fauve, Fr.). It is
that brown colour which has a shade of yellow, and might
perhaps be considered as a compound colour, although it
is communicated to stuff’s by one process.
I.— Of the Substances employed in Dyeing Brown.
Walnut The vegetable substances which are capable of indu-
peels. cing a fawn or brown colour on different stuffs are very
numerous, but those chiefly employed for this purpose
are walnut peels and sumach. The peels constitute the
green covering of the nut; they are internally of a white
colour, which is converted into brown or black by expo¬
sure to the air. The skin, when impregnated with the
juice of walnut peels, becomes of a brown or almost black
307
colour. When the inner part of the peel, taken fresh, is Simple
put into weak oxymuriatic acid, it assumes a brown colour. Colours.
If the decoction of walnut peels be filtered and exposed
to the air, its colour becomes of a deep brown ; the pelli¬
cles on evaporation are almost black; the liquor detached
from these yields a brown extract, completely soluble in
water. The colouring particles are precipitated from a
decoction of walnut peels by means of alcohol, and they
are soluble in water. No apparent change is at first pro¬
duced by a solution of potash ; but it gradually becomes
turbid, and the colour is deepened. A copious precipitate,
of a fawn colour, approaching to an ash colour, is produ¬
ced in a decoction of walnut peels, by means of a solution
of tin, and the remaining liquor has a slightly yellow tinge.
A decoction of walnut peels yields a small quantity of Properties,
fawn-coloured precipitate by means of a solution of alum,
and the liquor remains of the same colour. Sulphate of
copper renders it slowly turbid, and throws down a small
quantity of precipitate of a brownish-green colour, leaving
the supernatant liquor of the same colour. Sulphate of
iron deepens the colour; when diluted, the colour be¬
comes brownish green, without the deposition of any se¬
diment. Sulphate of zinc also deepens the colour, and
produces no precipitate. The same properties are ex¬
hibited by a decoction of the walnut-tree wood, but the
colouring matter is not obtained from it in such abundance
as from the peels; and the bark may also be used with
advantage in dyeing.
The affinity of the colouring matter of walnut peels forAdvan-
wool is very strong ; and it readily imparts to it a durable tages.
colour, which even mordants do not seem capable of in¬
creasing, but they are generally understood to give it ad¬
ditional brightness. A lively and very rich colour is ob¬
tained with the assistance of alum. Walnut peels afford
a great variety of pleasing shades ; and as they require
not the intervention of mordants, the softness of the wool
is preserved, and the process of dyeing becomes both
cheap and simple.
Walnut peels are not gathered till the nuts are com- Prepara-
pletely ripe, when they are put into large casks, along tioa
with as much water as is sufficient to cover them. When
used in dyeing at the Gobelins in Paris, Berthollet in¬
forms us, they are kept for upwards of a year, and very
extensively used ; but if not made use of till the end of
two years, they yield a greater quantity of colouring mat¬
ter, at which time their odour has become peculiarly dis¬
agreeable and fetid. The peels separated from the nuts
before they arrive at maturity, may likewise be used in
dyeing, but in this state they do not keep so long.
Sumach (jhus coriaria, Lin.) is a shrub produced na-Sumach,
turally in Palestine, Syria, Portugal, and Spain, being care¬
fully cultivated in the last two of these countries. Its
shoots are annually cut down, dried, and reduced to
powder in a mill, by which process they are prepared for
the purposes of dyeing.
The infusion of sumach, which is of a fawn colour with Properties,
a greenish tinge, is changed into a brown by exposure to
the air. A solution of potash has little action on the re¬
cent infusion of sumach ; its colour is changed to yellow
by the action of acids ; the liquor becomes turbid by
means of alum, a small quantity of precipitate being at the
same time formed, and the supernatant liquor remaining
yellow. A copious precipitate of a yellowish-green colour
is thrown down by sulphate of copper, and the liquor re¬
mains clear. No change is speedily produced by muriate
of soda (common salt), but it becomes rather turbid at the
end of some hours, and its colour is rather clearer. Sul¬
phate of copper produces a copious precipitate of a yellow¬
ish green, which after standing some hours changes to a
brownish green ; the supernatant liquor, which is slightly
308 DYE
Simple yellow, remains clear. Sulphate of zinc renders the liquor
Colours, turbid, darkens its colour, and produces a deep blue pre-
cipitate ; but when the sulphate of zinc is pure, the pre¬
cipitate, which is of a brownish fawn colour, is in very
small quantity. Acetate of lead gives a copious precipi¬
tate of a yellowish colour ; the supernatant liquor is of a
clear yellow colour. No astringent has so strong a re¬
semblance to galls as sumach; but the precipitate thrown
down from an infusion of it by a solution of iron, is not so
copious as that which is yielded by an equal quantity of
galls, on which account sumach may be generally em¬
ployed as a substitute for galls, only its quantity will re¬
quire to be increased.
Bark of The bark of the birch tree (betula alba, Lin.) yields a
birch. decoction of a clear fawn colour, but it soon becomes tur¬
bid and brown. The addition of a solution of alum, in
the open air, produces a copious yellow precipitate; a so¬
lution of tin gives also a copious precipitate of a clear yel¬
low colour. With solutions of iron the decoction of the
birch tree strikes a black colour, and it dissolves in con¬
siderable quantity the oxide of iron, but in smaller pro¬
portion than the "decoction of walnut peels. On account
of this property, it is employed in the preparation of black
vats for dyeing thread.
Sandal Sanders or sandal wood (Petrocarpus sachtalinus) is also
wood. employed for the purpose of giving a fawn colour. There
are three kinds of sandal wood, the white, the yellow, and
the red. The last only, which is a compact heavy wood,
brought from the Coromandel coast, is used in dyeing.
By exposure to the air it becomes of a brown colour;
when employed in dyeing, it is reduced to fine powder,
and it yields a fawn colour with a brownish shade, inclin¬
ing to red. But the colouring matter which it yields of
itself is in small quantity, and it is said that it gives harsh¬
ness to woollen stuffs. When it is mixed with other sub¬
stances, as sumach, walnut peels, or galls, the quantity of
colouring matter is increased ; it gives a more durable co¬
lour, and produces considerable modifications in the colour¬
ing matter with which it is mixed. Sandal wood yields
its colouring matter to brandy, or diluted alcohol, more
readily than to water.
Soot. Soot communicates to woollen stuffs a fawn or brown
colour, of a lighter or deeper shade, in proportion to the
* quantity employed; but the colour is fading, and its affi¬
nity for wool is not great; and besides leaving a disagree¬
able smell, it renders the fibres harsh. In some manufac*
tories it is employed for browning certain colours, and it
produces shades which could not otherwise be easily ob¬
tained.
II.— Of the Processes for dyeing Woollen, fyc. a Fawn
or Brown Colour.
With wal- In dyeing with walnut peels, a quantity proportioned to
nut peels. t]ie quantity of stuff, and the intensity of shade wanted, is
boiled for fifteen minutes in a copper. All that is neces¬
sary in dyeing with this substance is, to moisten the cloth
or yarn with warm water previous to its immersion in the
copper, in which it is to be carefully stirred till it has
acquired the proper shade. This is the process it the alu¬
minous mordant is not employed. In dyeing cloth, it is
usual to give the deepest shades first, and the lighter ones
afterwards ; but in dyeing woollen yarn, the light shades
are given first, and the deeper ones afterwards. An ad¬
ditional quantity of peels is joined to each parcel.
Berthol- Berthollet made a number of experiments to ascertain
let’s expe- the difference of colour obtained from the simple decoc-
nments.
I N G.
tion of walnut peels, and the addition of metallic oxides Compound
as mordants. The oxide of tin, he found, yielded a clearer Colours,
and brighter fawn colour than that of the simple decoc-
tion. The oxide of zinc produced a still clearer colour,
inclining to ash or gray. The colour from oxide of lead
had an orange cast, while that from oxide of iron was of
a greenish brown.1
A fawn colour, which has a shade of green, is obtained Dyeing
from sumach alone ; but to cotton stuffs which have been^^sa-
impregnated with printers’ mordant, or acetate of alumina,
sumach communicates a good and durable yellow. Here,
however, some precaution is necessary in the use of this
substance for this purpose ; for as the colouring matter is
of so fixed a nature, the ground of the stuff cannot be
bleached by exposure on the grass. This inconvenience
is avoided by impregnating the whole of the stuff with
different mordants, producing in this way a variety of co¬
lours, and leaving no part white.
Vogler employed the tincture of sanders wood for dye-With san-
ing patterns of wool, silk, cotton, and linen, having previ-dal wood,
ously impregnated them with a solution of tin, and after¬
wards washing and drying them. Sometimes he used the
solution unmixed, and at other times added six or ten
parts of water, and in whatever way he empk^ed it he
obtained a poppy colour. When the mordant employed
was the solution of alum, the colour was a rich scarlet;
with sulphate of copper it was a clear crimson, and with
sulphate of iron a beautiful deep violet.2
CHAPTER V.
OF COMPOUND COLOUKS.
A mixture of two colouring substances, it is well known, Nature of
produces a very different shade from that of either of the compound
uncombined colouring matters; hence compound colourscolouiS*
are obtained, which are merely mixtures of simple colours.
It would undoubtedly be a desirable thing to ascertain with
accuracy the peculiar shade produced by the combination
of two colouring matters ; but these results can only be
certainly known by experiment, because by the action of
different substances in the bath they are subject to great
variations in their effects, according to the affinities which
are brought into action, and the new combinations which
are formed. W’hat is natural to colouring particles is not
to be considered as a constituent part of compound colours,
but only the difference of shade which they ought to as¬
sume with a particular mordant, or in a particular bath.
The effects, therefore, of the chemical agents employed in
these processes, and the result of different combinations,
ought to be particularly attended to. It is in dyeing com¬
pound colours that skill and ingenuity are most conspicu¬
ous, and their application of greatest utility, to enable the
dyer to vary his processes according to the shade desired,
and at the same time to accomplish his operations by the
shortest and cheapest means.
As compound colours are obtained by the mixture of^re3t y,3*
simple colours, very different shades will be obtained from1-^^0
different proportions of the simple colours; hence com¬
pound colours exhibit an indefinite variety of shade, and
the processes by which they are produced are very nu¬
merous. It would extend this treatise to an unusual length
were we to attempt to describe every variety of shade which
is obtained from the mixture of simple colours. We shall
therefore limit our observations to some of the principal
1 Elements of Dyeing, if. 296.
5 Crell. Ann. 1790
DYEING.
309
Compound compound colours, and an account of the processes by
Colours, which they are obtained, leaving it to our readers, who
have made themselves familiar with the principles already
detailed, to vary these colours by employing different pro¬
portions and different combinations of simple colouring
matters.
Compound colours have been usually divided into four
classes, namely, green, purple, orange, and gray or drab
colour. These are obtained from mixtures of the follow¬
ing simple colours:
1. Blue and yellow produce a green.
2. Red and blue produce a purple, <Src.
3. Red and yellow produce orange.
4*. Black and other colours produce gray, &c.
The following sections will be occupied in a short detail
of the methods which are usually employed in producing
these different compound colours.
Sect. I.— Of the Mixture of Blue and Yellow, or Green.
1 Various Green colours, from the great variety of shades which
shades of they exhibit, have been long known by different names,
gfeen. by which the intensity of shade is characterized, such as
sea-green, apple-green, meadow or grass-green, pea-green,
(parrot-green, &c. Many plants afford a green colour, such
as brome grass (bromus secalinus, Lin.) green berries of
rhamnus frangula, wild chervil {ehcerophyllum sylvestre,
Lin.), purple clover {trifolium pratense), common reed
{arundophragmites). These colours, however, do not pos¬
sess sufficient permanency. According to D’Ambourney,
indeed, a permanent green may be obtained from the fer¬
mented juice of the berries of the berry-bearing alder
{rhamnus frangula). Having previously prepared the cloth
with tartar, solution of nitrate of bismuth, and common
salt, he added to the fermented juice of the berries, after
it was warmed, a small proportion of acetate of lead ; and
in this bath he communicated to the cloth an intermediate
shade between parrot and grass green. But it is usually
from the mixture of blue and yellow that green is obtain¬
ed ; and it may be observed, that it requires much skill
and experience, especially in giving light shades, to pro¬
duce a colour which is uniform and entirely without spots.
I.— Of the Processes for dyeing Woollen Stuffs Green.
Common To dye woollen green, either the yellow or the blue dye
process, may be given to it first. But when the stuff is first dyed
yellow, and in this state is introduced into the blue vat,
part of the yellow colouring matter being dissolved in the
vat, communicates to it a green colour, which renders it
unfit for dyeing any other colour than green. To avoid
this inconvenience, therefore, the blue colour is first given,
and afterwards the yellow. It would be quite unnecessary
to resume the account of any part of the processes for dye¬
ing blue, which have been already detailed. It is proper,
however, to add, that the intensity of the blue shade must
be proportioned to the green, or to the depth of the green
colour which is wished to be obtained. Thus, for instance,
to produce a parrot green, a ground of sky blue is given,
and for the green like that of a drake's neck, a deep blue
is required. When the blue dye has been communicated,
the yellow is afterwards given, according to some of the
processes which have been already described for dyeing
yellow. The proper ground being communicated to the
cloths, they are washed in the fulling mill, and boiled as
for the common process of welding; but when the shade
is light, the proportion of salts should be less. Cloths
which are to receive light shades are first boiled, and when
these are taken out, tartar and alum are added in fresh
portions till the cloths which are intended for the darkest
shades are boiled. The process of welding is conducted
in the same way as for dyeing yellow, with this difference, Compound
that a larger proportion of weld is employed, excepting for Coloiirs.^
lighter shades, when the proportion must be smaller. In
dyeing green, it is usual to have a succession of shades at
the same time ; the process is begun with the deepest and
ends with the lightest. Between each dip there should be
an interval of one half or three quarters of an hour, and at
each interval water is added to the bath. It is the prac¬
tice of some dyers to give each parcel two dips, beginning
the first time with the deep shades, and the second with
the lighter ones ; but when this practice is followed, the
time of immersion should be shortened. In dyeing very
light shades, the bath should never be permitted to reach
the boiling temperature. For deep greens, a browning is
given with logwood and a small proportion of sulphate of
iron.
For some kinds of green, sulphate of indigo is employed ; Saxon
and in this case either the blue and yellow are dyed se-green*
parately, or the whole of the ingredients are mixed toge¬
ther in the bath, and the whole process is finished at a
single operation. The colour thus obtained has been dis¬
tinguished by the name of Saxon green. The following is
the process recommended by Ur Bancroft.
“ The most beautiful Saxon green,” says he, “ may be
produced very cheaply and expeditiously, by combining
the lively yellow which results from quercitron bark, murio-
sulphate of tin, and alum, with the blue afforded by in¬
digo when dissolved in sulphuric acid, as for dyeing the
Saxon blue.
“ To produce this combination most advantageously,
the dyer, for a full-bodied green, should put into the dye¬
ing vessel after the rate of six or eight pounds of powder¬
ed bark in a bag for every 100 pounds weight of cloth, with
only a small proportion of water as soon as it begins to
grow warm; and when it begins to boil, he should add
about six pounds of murio-sulphate of tin (with the usual
precautions), and a few minutes after, about four pounds of
alum. These having boiled together five or six minutes,
cold water should be added, and the fire diminished so as
to bring the heat of the liquor nearly down to what the
hand is able to bear ; and immediately after this, as much
sulphate of indigo is to be added as will suffice to produce
the shade of green intended to be dyed, taking care to
mix it thoroughly with the first solution by stirring, &c.;
and this being done, the cloth, previously scoured and
moistened, should be expeditiously put into the liquor, and
turned very briskly through it for a quarter of an hour, in
order that the colour may apply itself equally to every part,
which it will certainly do in this way with proper care.
By these means, very full, even, and beautiful greens may
generally be dyed in half an hour ; and during this space it
is best to keep the liquor at rather less than a boiling heat.
Murio-sulphate of tin is infinitely preferable for this use
to the dyer’s spirit, because the latter consists chiefly of
nitric acid, which, by its highly injurious action upon in¬
digo, would render that part of the green colour very fu¬
gitive, as I have found by repeated trials. But no such
effect can result from the murio-sulphate of tin, since the
muriatic acid has no action upon indigo ; and the sulphu¬
ric is that very acid which alone is proper to dissolve it for
this use.
“ Respecting the beauty of the colour thus produced,
those who are acquainted with the unequalled lustre and
brightness of the quercitron yellows, dyed with the tin
basis, must necessarily conclude that the greens composed
therewith will prove infinitely superior to any which can
result from the dull muddy yellow of old fustic; and in
point of expense it is certain that the bark, murio-sulphate
of tin, and alum, necessary to dye a given quantity of cloth
in this way will cost less than the much greater quantity
310
DYEING.
Compound (six or eight times more) of fustic, with the alum neces-
Colours. sary for dyeing it in the common way, the sulphate of in-
digo being the same in both cases. But in dyeing with
the bark, the vessel is only to be filled and heated once,
and the cloth, without any previous preparation, may be
completely dyed in half an hour : whilst in the common
way of producing Saxon greens, the copper is to be twice
filled ; and to this must be joined the fuel and labour of
an hour and a half’s boiling and turning the cloth in the
course of preparation, besides nearly as much boiling in
another vessel to extract the fustic ; and after all, the dye¬
ing process remains to be performed, which will be equal
in time and trouble to the whole of the process for pro¬
ducing a Saxon green with the bark ; so that this colour
obtained from bark will not only prove superior in beauty,
but in cheapness, to that dyed as usual with old fustic.”1
II.— Of the Processes for dyeing Silk Green.
Prepara. In giving silk a green colour, greater precaution is neces-
tion. sary, to preserve uniformity of colour, and to prevent spots
and stripes. Silk which is intended to receive a green
colour is scoured in the same way as for other colours;
but for light shades the scouring must be as complete as
for blue. Silk which is to be dyed green is first dyed
yellow, and being well alumed, it is slightly washed at the
river, and divided into small parcels, that it may receive
the colouring matter uniformly, and then carefully turned
in the weld bath. When the ground is supposed to have
acquired a sufficient degree of intensity, a pattern is put
into the blue vat to ascertain the proper shade. When
this is the case, the silk is taken out of the bath, washed,
and immersed in the blue vat. To produce a deeper co¬
lour, and at the same time to give variety of shade, a de¬
coction of logwood, fustic, or anotta is added to the yel¬
low bath, after the weld has been taken out. For very
light shades, such as apple and sea green, it is scarcely ne¬
cessary to add, that a weaker ground is to be given. For
all light shades, except sea-green, the process is found to
succeed better when the yellow is communicated by baths
which have been already used ; but these baths should not
contain any logwood or fustic.
Saxon Saxon green is produced by means of sulphate of indi¬
green. go. This is a brighter but less durable colour than the
former. This process is conducted by boiling as for weld¬
ing, after which the cloth is washed. Fustic in chips is
enclosed in a bag, put into the same bath, and boiled for
an hour and a half, when it is taken out, and the bath
allowed to cool till the hand can bear it. A pound and a
quarter of sulphate of indigo for each piece of cloth of
eighteen yards is added. The cloth is at first to be turned
quickly, and afterwards more slowly, and it should be
taken out before the bath boils. Some dyers put in only
two thirds of the solution at first, and after two or three
turns take out the cloth and add the other one third. By
this means the colour is more uniform.
By one To produce Saxon green at one operation, the follow-
operation. ing process is recommended by Dr Bancroft. A bath is
prepared of four pounds of quercitron bark, three pounds
of alum, and two pounds of murio-sulphate of tin, with a
sufficient quantity of water. The bath is boiled ten or fif¬
teen minutes, and when the liquor is so far reduced in
temperature as the hand can bear it, it is fit for dyeing.
By adding different proportions of sulphate of indigo, va¬
rious and beautiful shades of green may be obtained, and
the colour thus produced is both cheap and uniform. Care
should be taken to keep the bath constantly stirred, to pre¬
vent the colouring matter from subsiding. Those shades
which are intended to incline most to the yellow should Compound
be dyed first; and by adding sulphate of indigo, the green Colours,
having a shade of blue may be obtained. This process,
Dr Bancroft observes, is the most commodious and cer¬
tain for dyeing most beautiful Saxon greens upon silk.2
To produce English green, which is more beautiful than English
common green, and is said to be more durable than the green.
Saxon green, Guhliche gives the following process. He
first dyes the silk of a light blue in the cold vat already
described, then soaks it in warm water, washes it in a
stream, and dips it in a weak solution of alum. He then
prepares a bath of sulphate of indigo, one ounce of solu¬
tion of tin, with the tincture of French berries made with
aceto-citric acid. The silk is kept in this bath till it has
obtained the desired colour. It is then washed and dried
in a shady place. Lighter shades may be dyed afterwards.3
III.— Of the Processes for dyeing Cotton and Linen Green.
Cotton and linen, after being scoured in the usual way, Blue first
are first dyed blue, and after being cleansed, they are given,
dipped in the weld bath, to produce a green colour. The
strength of the blue and yellow is proportioned to the
shade of green which is wanted. But as it is difficult to
give to cotton velvet a uniform colour in the blue vat, it
is first dyed yellow with turmeric, and the process is com¬
pleted by giving it a green with sulphate of indigo. The
same result, however, will be obtained by commencing the
process either with the yellow or the blue.
The process which D’Apligny describes for dyeing cot-Process for
ton velvet, or cotton thread, a sea or apple green, in onecotton vel-
bath, is the following. A quantity of verdigris is dis-vet"
solved in vinegar, and the mixture is kept excluded from
the air in the heat of a stove for fifteen days. A quan¬
tity of potash equal in weight to the verdigris employed
is dissolved in water, and, four hours before dyeing, it is
added to the solution of verdigris. The mixture is to be
kept hot. One ounce of alum in five quarts of water for
each pound of stuff being prepared, the cotton thread or
velvet is soaked in this solution. It is then taken out,
and the verdigris being added to the solution of alum,
it is again introduced to be dyed.
The different shades of olive green, and drake’s neck olive
green, are given to thread after it has received a blue green,
ground, by galling it, and dipping it in a weaker or strong¬
er bath of iron liquor, then in the weld bath, to which
verdigris has been added, and afterwards in the bath with
sulphate of copper. The colour is lastly to be brightened
with soap.
Cotton dyed with Prussian blue may be dyed green by Green
previously aluming while it is still wet with the blue, and from Pru*
then dipping in a weld bath, the strength of which is pro-sian blue'
portioned to the shade required. The colour from weld
is more lively than that obtained from fustic. But fustic,
which gives a deeper shade than weld, and diminishes the
brightness of the blue, is to be preferred when a green
with an olive shade is wanted.
The shade of green given to any stuff, it is obvious, General
must vary according to the intensity of the blue shade, remarks,
the strength of the yellow bath, and the nature of the
yellow colouring matter employed. Yellow colours are
rendered more intense by means of alkalies, sulphate of
lime, and ammoniacal salts ; but become fainter by means
of acids, alum, and solutions of tin. In dyeing Saxon
green the result will be different according to the process
which is followed. The effects will be different by add¬
ing a yellow to a Saxon blue, from the process in which
the sulphate of indigo is mixed with the yellow ingre-
Phil. of Perm. Col. 336.
* Ibid. 346.
3 Berthollet, ii. 319.
I) VEIN G.
311
Sect. II.-
jompound clients ; because in the latter case the sulphuric acid has has been employed. The stuff is previously dyed blue, Compound
i Colours. a considerable action on the colouring matter, and thus and, to give a brown shade, sulphate of iron is used ; but
diminishes the intensity of the yellow. As the particles the colours thus obtained are not permanent. l>y t ic o-
of indigo have a stronger affinity for the stuff than the lowing process, described by Decroizille, a durable dye is
yellow colouring matter, in dyeing a succession of shades produced by means of this wood. He dissolved tin in
in a bath in which both are mixed, the bath being first sulphuric acid, to which were added common salt, red aci-
exhausted of the indigo, the last shades incline more to dulous tartrite of potash, and sulphate of copperor it
the yellow, on account of the predominance of the yellow may be more conveniently done by making a solution of
colouring matter. t'n in a mixture of sulphuric acid, common salt, and wa¬
ter, to which are to be added the tartrite and sulphate
, /■ 7, 7 7 73/ in the state of powder. Of this mordant not less than
°fthe Mixture of Red and Blue, or ^ ^ made in twenty_four hours> in a leaden
Burp e, cSpc. vessel to which a moderate heat was applied, A very lu-
By the mixture of red and blue, violet, purple, dove- crative trade was carried on for three years by Decroizille,
colour, lilac, and a great variety of other shades, accord- who sold it at the rate of Is. 3d. steiling pei pound,
ing to the proportion of the substances employed, or the If wool in the fleece is to be dyed, it vvill require a third Process,
predominance of the blue or the red, are produced. In of its weight of this mordant, while a fifth is a proportion
stuffs which are to be dyed violet, a deeper blue must be sufficient for stuffs. A bath is prepared of such a degree
given ; for purple colours, the ground requires to be of a of temperature as the hand can bear, with which the mor-
lighter blue ; but in lilac and other light colours, it is neces- dant is properly mixed, and the wool or stuff dipped in it
sary that both the blue and the red have a light shade. and stirred ; the same degree of temperature being kept
up for two hours, and increased a little towards the end ;
I.— Of dyeing Wool Violet, Purple, 8$c. after which it is taken out, aired, and well washed. A
In the attempts which have been made to communicate fresh bath of pure water is prepared at the same tempe-
a violet or purple colour to a scarlet ground, according to rature, to which is added a sufficient quantity of the de-
the observations of Hellot, the colour is very unequal. It coction of logwood; the stuff is then immersed, stirred,
becomes therefore necessary to give the blue colour first;
and for violets or purples, the shade of blue ought not to be
deeper than that of sky blue. The stuff being dyed blue,
is boiled with alum, and two fifths of tartar, and is after¬
wards dipped in a bath composed of nearly two thirds
and the heat Increased to the boiling temperature, which
is to be continued for fifteen minutes, after which, the
stuff being taken out, aired, am,! carefully rinsed, the pro¬
cess of dyeing is completed. If for every three pounds of
wool one pound of decoction of logwood has been used,
the quantity of cochineal required for scarlet, with the and a proportionate quantity for stuffs which require less,
i i• (' A 7 'I'M- _     : 1 1 ^ O G.-vr* ic whipfl a SllmClPnt auan-
Lilac, &c.
addition of tartar. The same process, indeed, as for dye¬
ing scarlet, is followed. It is a common practice to dye
these colours after the reddening for scarlet, making such
additions of cochineal and tartar as the intensity of the
shade may require
a fine violet colour is produced, to which a sufficient quan¬
tity of Brazil wood imparts the shade known in France by
the name of prune de Monsieur.
Logwood and Brazil, fustic and yellow wood, are co-Different
louring substances which may be fixed with advantage shades
For lighter shades, as lilacs, dove-colours, &c. the stuff upon wool by means of this mordant. . Ihe colour com" substa'nces!
may be dipped in the bath which has served for violet municated by the two first of these is liable to be changed
and purple, and is now somewhat exhausted, taking care in the fulling by the action of the soap or urine employed
to add a quantity of alum and tartar. For reddish shades, for that purpose; but this change, which is always pro-
such as a peach-blossom, a small proportion of solution duced by alkaline substances, is remedied by a slightly
of tin is added. It may be observed in general, that acid bath a little hot, called brightening, for which the
although the proportion of cochineal is less in dyeing sulphuric acid has the preference. Ihe colour becomes
- - - ■ " ■ ” • as deep, and frequently much brighter than before the
change. Wools which have been dyed by means of this
mordant are said to admit of being spun into a finer and
more beautiful thread than by the use of alum. It the
lighter shades, the quantity of tartar must not be dimi¬
nished.
Cheaper To obtain the same colours, a shorter and less expen-
andshorter sive process is recommended by Poerner. In this process
process, - - -. ..
he employs sulphate of indigo. He boils the stuff in a so- use of sulphate of copperas omitted, more beautiful co-
lution of alum, in the proportion of three ounces of the lours are produced by fustic and yellow wood, as well as
latter to one pound of the former, for an hour and a half, by weld. An orange-red colour is communicated by mad-
and afterwards allows it to remain in the liquid for a night der, but not so deep as with a similar quantity of a um.
after it has cooled. The dyeing bath is prepared with an When sulphate of copper is omitted, the wool is said to
ounce and a half of cochineal, and two ounces of tartar, become much harsher, and the mordant thus prepared
which are boiled for three quarters of an hour; two ounces yields but indifferent colours with logwood, and in paiti-
and a half of sulphate of indigo are then added, the whole cular with Brazil wood. Ihe use and carriage of das moi-
is stirred, and boiled gently for fifteen minutes. The dye- dant are inconvenient, on account of the heavy sediment
ing operation is conducted in the usual way, and a beau- by which the vessel is half filled under a coriosive liquor,
tiful violet is thus obtained. To have all the variety of capable only of being kept in stone ware. Ihese xncon-
Purple
from log¬
wood.
shades which are produced by the mixture of red and
blue, the proportion of the sulphate of indigo is increased
or diminished. It is sometimes increased to five ounces,
and diminished to five drachms, for each pound of stuff.
The quantity of cochineal is also varied, but when it is
less than an ounce the colour is dull. Different proportions
of tartar are also employed. To produce variety of shades,
the stuff is also prepared with different proportions of so¬
lution of tin.
To communicate a purple colour to wool, as well as
some other shades, logwood, with the addition of galls,
venieuces may be remedied by the omission of the water
in the receipt, which leaves only a paste more conve¬
niently used, and the carriage of it two fifths cheaper.
The above process is thus explained by Berthollet. The Nature of
decomposition of the muriate of soda is effected by the theprocess.
action of the sulphuric acid; and the muriatic acid being
thus disengaged, dissolves the tin, part of which is preci¬
pitated by means of the tartaric acid, producing the sedi¬
ment already mentioned. The oxide of copper produces
the blue with the colouring particles of the logwood; the
violet is formed by the oxide of tin with the same wood,
312
DYEING.
Compound and the red with the colouring matter of the Brazil wood.
Colours. The same ingenious chemist farther observes, that as an
excess of acid is retained in the liquor, it might probably
be of advantage to employ acetate as a substitute for sul¬
phate of copper, in which case the action of the free acid
would be moderated. He thinks it would still be more
advisable to make use of verdigris; because the uncom¬
bined part of the oxide of copper would in that case unite
with the excess of acid, on which account a smallei quan¬
tity of acid would remain in the liquor; and probably the
quantity of tartar might be diminished, as a smaller quan¬
tity of tin would thus be precipitated.1
Of dyeing Silk Violet or Purple.
Two kinds Silk is capable of receiving two kinds of violet colours,
of violet, denominated the fine and the false, the latter of which is
produced by means of archil or Brazil wood. When the
fine violet colour is required, the silk must first be passed
through cochineal, and dipped afterwards in the vat.
The preparation and dyeing of the silk with cochineal
are the same as for crimson, with the omission of tartar
and solution of tin, by means of which the colour is height¬
ened. The quantity of cochineal made use of is always
proportioned to the required shade, whether it is more or
less intense ; but the usual proportion for a fine violet co¬
lour is two ounces of cochineal for each pound of silk.
When the silk is dyed it is washed at the river, twice
beetled, dipped in a vat more or less strong in proportion
to the depth of the violet shade, and then washed and
dried with precautions similar to those which all colours
require that are dyed in the vat. If the violet is to have
greater strength and beauty, it is usual to pass it through
the archil bath; a practice which, though frequently abused,
is not to be dispensed with for light shades, which would
otherwise be too dull. , .
Purple. When silk has been dyed with cochineal according to
the above directions, only a very light shade is requisite
for purple; the shades which are deepest are dipped in a
weak vat, while dipping them in cold water is sufficient
for such as are lighter, the water having been incorporated
with a small quantity of the liquor of the vat, because in
the vat itself, hov/ever weak it might be, they would ac¬
quire too deep a tinge of blue. In this manner are the
light shades of this colour, such as gilly-flower, peach-
blossom, &c. produced by diminishing the quantity of co¬
chineal. . . ... ,
K„lse vio_ There are various ways of imparting to silk what are
III. denominated the false violets; but those which are most
frequently used, and possessed of greatest beauty, aie
prepared with archil, the bath of which is, in point of
strength, to be suited to the colour required. . Having
been beetled at the river after scouring, the silk is turned
in the bath on the skein sticks; and when the colour is
deemed sufficiently deep, a pattern is tried in the vat, to
ascertain whether it takes the violet colour intended to
be produced. If the shade is found to have acquired the
proper depth, the silk is beetled at the river and dipped
in the vat, in the same way as for the fine violet colours;
and less either of the blue or of the archil colour is given,
according as it is meant that the red or blue shade of the
violet colour should predominate.
Process of The process recommended by Gubliche for commum-
Guhliehe. eating a violet colour to silk is the following. A pound
of silk is to be soaked in a bath of two ounces of alum
and a like quantity of solution of tin, after having care¬
fully poured off the sediment formed in the mixture. Ihe
dye-bath is prepared with two ounces of cochineal re¬
duced to powder, with a drachm of tartar, and the remain-Compound
ing part of the bath, which has answered the purpose of a
mordant, with the addition of a sufficient quantity of wa¬
ter. When slightly boiled, such a quantity of solution of
indigo is added as may communicate to the bath a proper
shade of violet; after which the silk is immersed, and
boiled till it has acquired the intended shade. It is then
wrung, washed in a stream, and, like every other delicate
colour, must be dried in tbe shade. The light shades ex¬
haust the bath. But it ought to be observed that this co¬
lour, which is said to be a beautiful violet, possesses but
little durability, and is apt to assume a reddish tinge,
owing to the colour of the indigo fading first.
A violet colour may be imparted to silks by immersing Another,
them in water impregnated with verdigris, as a substi¬
tute for aluming, and next giving them a bath of log¬
wood, in which they assume a blue colour, which is con¬
verted to a violet, either by the addition of alum to the
bath, or by dipping them in a weaker or stronger solution
of that substance, which communicates a red colour to
the particles of logwood. This violet possesses but a
small degree of beauty, and little durability ; but if alumed
silk be immersed in a bath of Brazil wood, and next ima
bath of archil, after washing it at the river, a colour is ob¬
tained possessing a much higher degree of beauty and in¬
tensity. The process described above for dyeing wool
succeeds equally well, according to M. Decroizille, in
communicating to silk a violet coloui.
HI. Of dyeing Cotton and Linen Violet.
The most ordinary mode by which a violet colour is Common
communicated to cotton and linen stuffs, is first to give Proce!5-
them a blue ground in the vat, proportioned to the in¬
quired shade, and to dry them. They are afterwards
galled, in the proportion of three ounces of galls to a
pound of stuff, and being left in this bath for twelve or
fifteen hours, are wrung out and dried again. I hey are
next passed through a decoction of logwood, and when
thoroughly soaked and taken out, the bath receives an
addition of two drachms of alum and one of dissolved ver¬
digris for each pound of cotton or thread. Ihe skeins
are then dipped again on the skein sticks, and turned for
about fifteen minutes, when they are taken out and aired.
They are next immersed in the bath for fifteen minutes,
taken out, and wrung. To complete the process, the vat
employed is emptied; half of the decoction of logwoo
not formerly made use of is now poured in, with the addi¬
tion of two drachms of alum, and the thread is again dipped
in it till it has acquired the shade proposed, which must
always regulate the strength or weakness of the decoction
of logwood. This colour resists in a considerable degree
the action of the air, but in point of permanency is much
inferior to that which is obtained from the use of madder.
Sect. III.— Of the Mixtures of Yellow and Red, or Orange.
Orange is the usual result of a composition of yellow
and red colours; but an almost endless variety of shad es
may be produced, according as we vary the propoition o
the ingredients, and the particular nature of the ye ow
made use of. It is sometimes the practice of dyeis to
combine blue with yellow and red, the result of whic i is
the colour denominated olive. Many varieties may e
obtained from the use of weld, saw-wort, dyers-weed, an
other yellows, and by employing tartar, alum, sulphate o
zinc, or sulphate of copper, in the bath, or in the prepara¬
tion of the cloth.
1 Berthollet, ii. 340.
DYEING.
313
CCoCld h—Of dyeing Wool Orange.
Orange by
the scarlet
process.
By a process exactly the same as that which is followed
in communicating to stuffs a scarlet colour, an orange may
be given to wool; but the quantity of red must be dimi¬
nished, and that of the yellow increased. If wool is dyed
a red colour by means of madder, and afterwards yellow
with weld, the resulting compound is a cinnamon colour,
and the most proper mordant in this case is a mixture of
alum and tartar. The shades may be varied at pleasure
by substituting other yellow dyestuffs instead of weld, and
by varying the proportions as circumstances may require.
Wool may receive a reddish yellow colour by passing it
through a madder bath, after it has undergone the usual
process for yellow, which has already been described. The
strength of the madder bath is always to be proportioned
to the shade required. Brazil wood is sometimes em¬
ployed with yellow substances, or mixed with cochineal
and madder. Snuff, chestnut, musk, and other shades are
produced by substituting walnut-tree root, walnut peels,
or sumach, for weld.
II.— Of Dyeing Silk Orange, fyc.
Marone Logwood, Brazil wood, and fustic, communicate to silk
&c. a marone and cinnamon colour, together with all the in¬
termediate shades. The silk is scoured in the usual man¬
ner, alumed, and a bath is prepared by mixing together
decoctions of the three different woods mentioned above,
made separately, varying the quantity of each according
to the shade intended to be given; but the proportion of
fustic should be greatest. The silk is turned in the bath
on the skein sticks, and when it is taken out, if the colour
be uniform, it is wrung and again dipped in a second bath
of these three ingredients, according to the effect pro¬
duced by the first, in order to obtain the shade required.
Olive. The blue vat is not made use of when an olive colour
is to be communicated to silk. After being alumed, it is
dipped in a bath of weld, which is made very strong. To
this is afterwards added the juice of logwood, with a small
quantity of solution of alkali when the silk is dipped.
This converts it into green, and gives the olive colour.
It is dipped again in this bath till it has acquired the
shade wanted.
To communicate to it the colour known by the name of
rotten olive, fustic and logwood are added to the bath after
welding, without any alkali. If the colour wanted is to
incline more to a red, the addition of logwood alone is
sufficient. A sort of reddish olive may likewise be ob¬
tained by dyeing the silk in a fustic bath, to which a
greater or less quantity has been added of sulphate of
iron and logwood.
III.— Of dyeing Cotton and Linen Orange, &$c.
A cinnamon colour is communicated to thread and cot¬
ton by commencing the process for dyeing them with ver¬
digris and weld; they are afterwards to be dipped in a
solution of sulphate of iron, denominated by the French
bain d'assurage, and then wrung out and dried. As soon as
they are dried, they are galled in the proportion of three
ounces to the pound of stuff; then dried again, alumed as
for red colours, and maddered. After being washed and
dried, they are put into hot soap suds, and turned till they
have acquired a sufficient degree of brightness. It is the
practice of some dyers to add to the aluming a decoction
of fustic.
By boiling four parts of weld and one of potash in a suf¬
ficient quantity of water, M. d’Apligny informs us, a fine
olive colour is communicated to cotton and thread. Brazil
wood which has been steeped for a night is boiled sepa¬
rately with a small quantity of verdigris, and these solu-
VOL. VIII.
Cinnamon
colour.
Olive.
tions are mixed together in various proportions, according Compound
to the particular shade required. The thread or cotton is Colours.
dipped in the compound solution in the usual way.
Sect. IV.— Of the mixture of Black with other Colours.
The compound colours which are obtained from the Brown,
mixture of black and other colours, are brown, gray, drab,
&c. according to the nature and proportions of the simple
colours employed.
I.— Of dyeing Woollen Stuffs Brown, Gray, fyc.
To give a browning to cloth, as soon as it has been dyed,
it is dipped in a solution of sulphate of iron, with the ad¬
dition of an astringent, which makes a black bath. It is
more common to mix a small quantity of solution of iron
with a bath of water, adding more till the dyed stuff dip¬
ped in it has received the intended shade. Sulphate of
iron is sometimes added to the dye bath; but by dipping
the dyed stuff in a solution of this salt, the end is more
easily attained. It is the usual practice of M. Poerner to
soak the stuff in a solution of sulphate of iron, to which
other ingredients are sometimes added ; and after having
taken it out of the mordant, it is dipped in the dye bath.
In order to obtain coffee and damascene colours, with Coffee
other shades of browns of the common dye, the first me-col°ur*
thod is adopted; a colour more or less deep is communi¬
cated to them, according to the shade intended to be ob¬
tained by the browning; and a bath is made of galls, su¬
mach, and alder bark, with the addition of sulphate of
iron. Those stuffs are first dipped to which the lightest
shades are to be communicated, and when these are finish¬
ed, the browner ones are dipped, a quantity of sulphate of
iron being added for each operation, proportioned to the
effect intended to be produced.
Bluish grays are communicated to stuffs, according to Gray.
Poerner, by the solution of indigo in sulphuric acid, com¬
bined with a mixture of decoction of galls and sulphate of
iron, varying the shades according to the different quan¬
tities of these ingredients made use of. If to a bath com¬
posed of cochineal, fustic, and galls, sulphate of iron be
added, other shades are obtained.
For marone, and such other colours as bear a strong re¬
semblance to it, sanders and galls are employed, and some¬
times a browning with the addition of logwood. If dyed
in the remains of a cochineal bath, these colours may be
made to incline to a crimson or purple; and the same ef¬
fect is produced by adding a small quantity of madder or
cochineal to the bath. A little tartar gives a greater de¬
gree of brightness to the colour. With a mixture of galls,
fustic, and logwood, and a greater or smaller quantity of
madder, with the addition of a little alum, those colours
may be communicated to stuffs which are known by the
name of hazel. Hazel.
M. Guhliche produces what is called a puce colour, by puce co-
boiling for fifteen minutes a pound of woollen stuff with lour,
two ounces of alum, a certain proportion of vinegar and
solution of iron, after which he leaves it in the mordant for
twelve hours. He then makes a bath with the decoction
of two ounces of white galls carefully poured off from the
sediment, and mixed with four ounces of madder, in which,
when it grows hot, the stuff is immersed, after being taken
out of the mordant, allowing it to remain there, while the
temperature is gradually increased, till the colour intend¬
ed has been imparted to it; after which it is boiled for two
minutes, washed, and dried in the sun. The colour thus
obtained possesses a great degree of durability. It is of
a deeper brown by the omission of the alum and vinegar
in the mordant; and after these colours the lighter shades
are dyed. Sumach may be employed as a substitute for
DYEING.
314
Compound half of the madder. Different brown colours, possessing
Colours, considerable permanency, may likewise be produced by
' the use of Brazil and logwood, if more or less of a solution
of iron be mixed with a decoction of these substances.
The wool being previously alumed and galled, is dyed in it.
II.— Of dyeing Silk with Mixtures of Black, fyc.
Purple M. Guhliche imparts to silk a purple violet without a
violet. blue ground, with a mixture of one part of galls dissolved
in white wine, with three parts of water, in w'hich a pound
of silk is macerated for twelve hours, soaked in a mordant
made up of two ounces of alum, one ounce of solution of
tin, and half an ounce of muriatic acid. After wringing
the stuff, it is dyed in a bath composed of two ounces of
cochineal and a small quantity of solution of iron, till the
intended shade has been communicated; and for shades
which are lighter, the residua of these baths are sufficient,
either separately or mixed together. Madder may be used
in the same way, macerating a pound of silk in a solution
of alum mixed with an ounce of muriatic acid and a
quantity of solution of iron. When the stuff is wrung out,
it is dyed in a bath made of eight ounces of madder.
When deeper colours are wanted, some of the solution of
galls in white wine is mixed with the madder and cochi¬
neal baths.
Silk may be dyed in a bath made of equal parts of Bra¬
zil and logwood juice, adding a certain quantity of solu¬
tion of iron after the stuff has been soaked in a solution of
two ounces of alum and an ounce of muriatic acid. If so¬
lution of galls be added, the colour becomes deeper.
Brick Colours resembling that of brick may be produced by
colour. immersing silk in an anotta bath, after preparing it with
a solution of galls mixed with a certain quantity of solu¬
tion of iron. By the mixture of Brazil, logwood, archil,
and galls, and by a browning with sulphate of iron, a num¬
ber of different shades are produced; but the whole of
them have more or less a tendency to fade, although their
brightness is very pleasing to the eye.
HI. Of dyeing Cotton and Linen with Mixtures of Black,
SfC.
With black A permanent violet colour may be given to thread and
cask. cotton, when scoured in the ordinary way, by preparing a
mordant with two quarts of the bath of what is called the
black cask, and four quarts of water, for each pound of stuff,
which is made to boil, and the scum is removed vyhich
forms on the surface, till it wholly disappears. The liquor
is poured into a vat, and, when warm, four ounces of sul¬
phate of copper and one ounce of nitre are dissolved in it.
The skeins are left to soak in it for ten or twelve hours,
wrung out, and dried. If it is required to produce a deep
violet colour, two ounces of verdigris must be added to
the bath; and if the nitre be omitted, the colour becomes
still deeper by galling the thread more or less prior to its
being put into the mordant. If the nitre be increased, and
the sulphate of copper be diminished, the violet colour
becomes more inclined to lilac. A number of various
shades may be produced by different modifications of the
mordants employed.
Marone Cotton is galled, dipped, and wrought in the common
colour. way, when different shades of marone colour are wanted.
To the bath employed must be added more or less of the
liquor of the black cask. The cotton is then washed in a
bath mixed with verdigris, next welded, and dyed to a
fustic bath, to which a solution of soda and alum is some¬
times added. When the cotton prepared in this manner
has been thoroughly washed, it is next well maddered,
dipped in a weak solution of sulphate of copper, and last Calico-
Ofall in soap suds. . . Printing
For some hazel and snuff colours, a browning is com- v—^
municated to stuffs by means of soot, after the welding Hazel,
and madder bath, to which galls and fustic have been
added; sometimes soot is mixed with this bath, and a
browning is likewise imparted by means of a solution of
sulphate of iron; and for browning colours, walnut peels
are sometimes employed as a substitute for solutions of
iron. For such wools as are designed for the manufacture
of tapestry they are very advantageous, because the co¬
lour is not changed into yellow by exposure to the air, as
is the case in browning, which is imparted by means of
iron, but remains a considerable time without any sensi¬
ble change. The hue is indeed rather dull, but its good¬
ness and very moderate price are sufficient to recommend
a more extensive use of it for grave colours, which in com¬
mon stuffs are sometimes fashionable.
CHAPTER VI.
OF CALICO-PRINTING.
Calico-printing is the art of communicating different
colours to particular parts of the surface of cotton or
linen cloth, while the rest of the cloth retains its white
colour ; or the whole of the cloth may be dyed one colour,
as red or blue, except particular parts, to which some other
colours, as yellow, orange, green, &c. are given. The
process is not confined to linen and cotton cloth ; it may
be applied also to silk and woollen cloth; but as the na¬
ture of the processes is in all cases the same, it will an¬
swer our purpose sufficiently if we give a sketch of the
methods followed by the calico-printers.
There is a curious passage in Pliny’s Natural History,
from which it is evident that calico-printing in his time
(the first century) was understood and practised in Egypt.
The following is a translation of this passage.
“ There exists in Egypt a wonderful method of dyeing. Practised
The white cloth is stained in various places, not with dye-by the a11'
stuffs, but with substances which have the property ofcie 1
absorbing (fixing) colours. These applications are not
visible upon the cloth; but when the pieces are dipt into
a hot caldron containing the dye, they are drawn out an
instant after dyed. The remarkable circumstance is, that
though there be only one dye in the vat, yet different co¬
lours appear on the cloth ; nor can the colours be after¬
wards removed.”1 It is evident enough that the substances
employed to stain the cloth, as Pliny expresses it, were
different mordants, which served to fix the dye upon the
cloth. Thus if we suppose certain parts of a piece of
cotton cloth to be impregnated with alumina, and the cloth
afterwards dyed with madder, after the clearing, those
parts only impregnated with the mordant would retain their
red colour, while the remaining parts will continue white.
The general opinion is, that this ingenious art originat¬
ed in India, and from that country made its way into
Egypt. Whether this notion be well or ill founded, it is
certain that calico-printing was known and executed by
the Indians at a very early period. Their colours were
beautiful and fast, and the varieties of pattern and the
number of colours which they understood to fix on differ¬
ent parts of the cloth gave to their printed calicoes a
beauty and a value of no ordinary kind; but their processes
are so tedious and so clumsy that they could be put in
practice only where labour was exceedingly cheap.
1 Plinii Hitt. Nat. xxxv. 11.
DYEING.
315
rope.
Calico- It is not more than a century and a half since calico-
printing. printing was transferred from India to Europe, and little
more than a century since it became common in Great
Introduced Britain. The nations with whom it has made the greatest
into Eu- progress are Switzerland, France (especially in Alsace),
some parts of Germany, and Great Britain. In Europe
the art has been in a great measure created anew. By
the application of machinery, and by the light thrown on
the processes by the progress of chemistry, the tedious me¬
thods of the Indians have been wonderfully simplified; and
the processes are remarkable for the rapidity with which
they are now executed, and for the beauty, fastness, and va¬
riety of the colours which are applied on the surface of
cotton. So great have been these improvements, that at the
present time in Manchester, a piece of calico can be printed
in the short period of one minute; and the quantity of
calicoes printed in Manchester in one year amounts to the
extraordinary number of from 12,500,000 to 13,000,000.
The different processes to which the cotton cloth des¬
tined to be printed is subjected, are the following : singe¬
ing, bleaching, calendering, printing, washing, and finish¬
ing ; or, in some instances, after having been printed, they
are stoved, dunged, dyed, brightened, and finished.
The singeing is intended to remove the fibres of cot¬
ton which protrude on the surface of the cloth, and which
is called “ nap.” This is done by passing the cloth rapidly
over the surface of a red-hot iron plate, which burns off all
the “nap” or protruding fibres of cotton without injuring
the cloth. Of late years singeing has been effected by a
very ingenious coal-gas apparatus, or by a mixture of hydro¬
gen and oxide of carbon. But we need not dwell upon
this preliminary process, because the singeing has been
described already in this Encyclopaedia under the article
Bleaching, to which we refer the reader.
We shall endeavour in this chapter to give a sketch of
the different processes of calico-printing, such as they are
at present practised by the most scientific printers in Lan¬
cashire, and in the neighbourhood of Glasgow.
Many of the calico-printers of the present day carry on a
large trade in printing mousseline-de-laines, viz., fabrics
which are composed of cotton and wool; but we shall not
enter here into any special description of this branch of
manufacture.
There are two modes of printing ; namely, block-printing
and machine-printing. The former has been practised from
time immemorial; the latter is a modern invention, and
originated after the introduction of the art of printing into
Great Britain. The figure intended to be communicated
to the cloth is cut out upon a block of sycamore, the parts
which are to make the impression being left prominent, and
the rest of the block cut away, just as practised for wood en¬
gravings. When the figure is too complicated, and the lines
too fine, to admit of being cut in wood, it is made by means
of small pieces of copper, which are very ingeniously driven
into the block, and the interstices are filled up with felt.
Of late years several colours have been applied at once
on the cloth by means of one block ; and the machine used
for this purpose is called a “ toby,” which consists of a box
divided into several compartments filled with various colours,
and which are in communication through tubes with bottles
filled with the same colours; and by means of a gentle pres¬
sure the colouring fluid in each of the compartments of the
machine is propelled through the felted cloth which covers
each compartment. The block being pressed against the
cloth, it takes the colour which is to be conveyed to the
white calico by the block-printer.
Machine-printing is effected by one or several copper
cylinders, of 3 feet 6 inches long, and about 6 inches in
diameter, upon which the different figures to be given to
the cloth are engraved. Each cylinder or roller is made to
Mousse¬
line-de-
laines.
Methods of
printing.
Machine¬
printing.
Calico-
Printing.
dip into a small box or trough containing the colour, dis¬
charge, mordant, or resist to be applied ; and as the cylin- _
der revolves and leaves the colour-trough, it is scraped by m '
a steel blade called a “ doctor,” which takes off the excess
of colour, and then it comes into contact with the white
calico, passing between this roller and a larger one made
of wood or cast-iron, and covered with felt, acting with
pressure. By this means the exact figures on the engraved
roller are printed on the cloth. To prevent the colours or
mordants from dirtying or “running” into the whites, the
printed pieces are immediately dried by passing them over
tin cylinders, or flat cast-iron boxes, in which steam cir¬
culates. There are now machines in use having as many
as 8 or 16 pairs of rollers, and which are technically called
“8 or 16 colour machines,” which implies that they are
made to print 8 or 16 distinct colours successively on one
piece of fabric. Another result of modern improvements is,
that it only requires 1^ minutes to print one piece, where it
formerly required five minutes.
On the Continent the intended figures are sometimes en- Perrotine
graved upon a flat copper plate of about a square yard or machine,
more in size. Upon this plate the colour to be applied is
spread. The plate is then pulled backwards, the excess of
colour being removed by a “ doctor,” and the colour remain¬
ing on the engraving is then printed on the white cloth.
Whether the printing is applied by the block, the print¬
ing machine, or the perrotine, the treatment of the goods
is nearly the same.
Most commonly the printing process consists merely in
fixing mordants on the cloth, which is aflerwards dyed in
the common way, those parts only retaining the colour which
have imbibed the mordant, while the other parts of the cloth
remain white. Sometimes the substance called “ a discharge ”
is applied to cloth already dyed, in order to remove the colour
from certain portions of it which are either intended to re¬
main white, or to receive some other colour afterwards.
Sometimes it is applied to cloth before it is dyed, in or¬
der to prevent the indigo, or any other colour, from being
fixed on those parts to which it is applied, that they may
remain white, or be afterwards made to receive other colours.
Substances possessed of this property are called “ resists.”
Sometimes the cloth is mordanted with stannic acid, and
the colours are then applied, and the whole submitted to
the action of steam, and called “ steamed goods.” Finally,
the printing process is frequently employed to communi¬
cate mordants and colouring matter at once to the cloth.
Let us take a view of these different processes.
I.—Mordants.
The principal mordants employed by calico-printers are
the following:—
1. Alumina.—The usual alumina mordant of the ca-How made,
lico-printer is prepared by partly decomposing alum, held
in solution by impure acetate of lime, commonly called py-
rolignite of lime j1 sulphate of lime precipitates, and aceto-
sulphate of alumina is thus obtained. Red liquors thus
prepared have a specific gravity of LOS, and are composed
as follows:—
Composition of four red Mordants per Gallon.
SUBSTANCES.
Alumina 
Sulphuric Acid
Acetic Acid —
Ammonia and
Water 
Al2 O3, So3 + 2 (C4H3 O3)
+ N H3 So3 HO
Mordant A.
Grains.
1680 0
2642 5
3369 8
674 1
oz. grs.
3 18
6 20
7 307
1 236
Mordant B.
Grains.
1830 0
2800 0
3970 0
910 0
FORMULA,
Al2 O3, + 2 So3
+ C4 H3 O3 +
NH3, So3, HO
Mordant C.
4 19 1239 0
6 178 3017 0
8 70 1281 7
2 35 693 1
oz. grs,
2 369
6 395
2 406
1 215
Al2 O3 + So3,
+ 2(C4 H3 O3)
Mordant D.
Grains.
2164 4
1664 6
3679 2
oz. grs,
4 416
3 323
8 179
1 Pyrolignite of lime is obtained by neutralizing with lime impure vinegar obtained by the dry distillation of wood.
316
DYEING.
Calico-
Printing.
“Topical'’
colours.
Steam
colours.
Oxides of
how pro
duced.
In the manufacture of pyrolignite of alumina, or “ red
liquor,” sulphate of alumina is frequently substituted for
alum,’and acetate of lead for pyrolignite of lime.
When cloth to be dyed red or pink is impregnated with
this mordant, it is not thickened. When applied only to
particular parts of the cloth by the block or the machine,
it is thickened with flour or calcined farina, according to
the nature of the style of work.
2. Perchloride of Tin.—Perchloride of tin is very much
used as a mordant. The colouring matter is previously
mixed with it, and both are applied at once. Such appli¬
cations are called “ topical” colours. The mixture is al¬
lowed to dry on the cloth, which is then merely washed
with water. Colours so applied are easily altered by light,
soap, &c. , . , ,
Hence a topical colour is one which is easily injured by
exterior agents, and is commonly called, among printers, a
“loose” colour. The colours produced in this way are
pinks or reds, from peach or sapanwood ; purples from log¬
wood ; yellows from quercitron bark or fustic; and greens
from the last-mentioned dyes with the addition of Prussian
blue. c
Perchloride of tin is much used in another process ot ca¬
lico-printing for producing what are technically known as
“ steam colours ;” it is decomposed by an excess of caustic
soda, and the peroxide of tin or stannic acid at first preci¬
pitated is re-dissolved, giving rise to stannate of soda.
The cloth is immersed in this liquid and dried, and the
stannic acid is then precipitated upon the cloth by immers¬
ing it in a solution of sal-ammoniac or sulphate of mag¬
nesia, but most commonly in a solution of free sulphuric
acid, and the pieces of calico are then washed and dried.
Some calico-printers use crystallized stannate of soda,
dissolving it in water, and employing it as above described.
The different colouring matters intended to be applied on
such prepared cloth are generally mixed vyith a small pro¬
portion of sal-ammoniac, and sometimes with either salts of
ammonia, salts of tin, or chlorate of potash, w hich aie in¬
tended to give fixity and brilliancy to such colours. I he
colours are then thickened with starch and printed on the
above-mentioned calico, and the whole is submitted to the
action of steam. To effect this the calicoes are introduced
into a square iron box called a “ steam chest, and sub¬
mitted to the influence of steam, a powerful oxidizing and
fixing agent; or the printed cloths are rolled round a perfo¬
rated^roller and submitted to the same action. The pieces
then only require to be well washed, dried, and finished, to
be ready for the market.
The result of the combined action of moisture and heat
is, that a combination takes place between the colouring
principle and the peroxide of tin, or stannic acid, which
renders the colouring matter insoluble. In this manner
pinks, reds, purples, crimsons, yellows, oranges, blues,
greens, browns, and drabs, are produced.
3. Oxides of /row.—These metallic oxides are much used
as mordants, either in the state ot protoxide or peroxide.
The salt most employed is the impure pyrolignite of
protoxide of iron, which is prepared either by decomposing
green copperas with pyrolignite of lime, or by placing in
large vats pyrolignous acid and old iron, when, after a
few months, the iron, which is gradually oxidized, dissolves
in the acid, and gives rise to pyrolignite of protoxide of iron.
This valuable mordant is thickened with calcined farina,1
and applied on the calico. After being exposed for a few
days in a moist atmosphere, it loses a part of the acid,
and becomes partially peroxidized. Pyrolignite of iion of Calico-
the specific gravity of P05 gives a black with madder and Printing,
several “ tannin ” substances. Various shades of purple are -vr—^
obtained by adding different proportions of water to the Purple,
mordant previously to applying it to the cloth ; and various
shades of chocolates are produced by mixing this mordant
with the alumina one previously described, and then dyeing
also with madder. These are the principal mordants em- Chocolate,
ployed by the calico-printer. Several dyeing substances
have so strong an affinity for calico that they require
no mordant; this is the case with indigo, Prussian blue,
safflower, peroxide of iron, sesquioxide of manganese, &c.
II,—Substances used for Discharging Colours.
A discharge is a substance which has the property of Discharges
removing a mordant, or destroying a colour so completely,
that when the printed piece is properly washed no trace of
either the mordant or the colour will be visible. In fact,
the whites so produced will be as pure, or nearly so, as if
no colour or mordant had been previously applied. And,
as most colours are fixed on cloth either by means of mor¬
dants, or by oxidizing the colouring principle, hence the
printei’s employ something that will dissolve the mordant
in its normal state, or by deoxidizing it; but if no mox-
dant be present, it will be by destroying the colouring matter
through suroxidation or combustion, as is the case with
chlorine, or with oxygen liberated from chromic acid.
Therefore discharges employed are either acids, or sub¬
stances having a strong oxidizing power.
1. Citric Acid is much used by printers to dissolve alu- their
mink and peroxide of iron, and thus to prevent the colours action,
which these mordants would fix from remaining on the
cloth. This discharge is obtained by using pure citric
acid, or by evaporating lemon juice, and thickening it with
gum-arabic, calcined starch, or farina for machine-print-
ino-; or with the same and pipe-clay for block-printing.
It is occasionally assisted by bisulphate of potash oi weak
sulphuric acid.
Sometimes citric acid is printed on white cloth, and alu¬
mina or iron mordant, slightly thickened and diied im¬
mediately to prevent the swelling of the acid figures; at
other times the mordants are first applied, and the acid
printed over them.
In both cases the goods are afterwards passed through
hot water containing cow’s dung, and well washed befoi e
being dried. By these means all the mordant is removed
from those parts on which the citric acid was applied, which,
of course, remain white when the cloth is dried.
2. Tartaric Acid, thickened with gum, is applied by the
block or printing machine to cloth previously dyed Turkey-
red. It is then passed through an aqueous solution of bleach¬
ing powder, and the acid disengaging the chlorine, the led
colour is discharged from those places to which it had been
applied, while all the other parts of the cloth retain their
red colour. Sometimes the Turkey-red calico is folded be¬
tween metallic plates which are perforated with designs,
and so arranged that each figure of the design corresponds
through the pile of prints so folded. 1 he whole is then
submitted to pressure, and a chlorine liquor is forced by
pressure to percolate through the mass, which destroys the
red colour in all those parts where the perforated plates
allowed the bleaching powder to circulate. . M
3. Oxalic Acid—To obtain white on indigo-blue dip?,
the blue-dipped pieces of calico are printed with chromate
of lead, and the pieces so prepared are passed through an
1 Of late years gum arable and tragacanth have been nearly entirely replaced by calcined farina, which is potato st^ch heated to a
temperature of about 360° Fahrenheit, or until it has assumed a light buff colour and become soluble in co wa . I j®
the same, or wheat starch which has been mixed with a small percentage of weak nitric acid, and then a oviei emp , • j
to produce the conversion of the insoluble starch into a soluble gummy substance. “ British gum is a erm app _
wheat starch. “ Flummery ” is obtained in the manufacture of wheat starch, being found swimming as a scum on e sur a
moved, drained by centrifugal force, and calcined.
DYEING.
Calico- acid liquor composed of a solution of hydrochloric acid of a
Printing, specific gravity of I'OSO, and 1 ounce of oxalic acid per
gallon. Chlorine is thus generated, and the blue indigo
colouring matter, called indigotine, is destroyed in all those
parts to which the chromate of lead was applied.
Protochloride of iron is sometimes used to discharge the
manganese brown. This it does by depriving the oxide of
manganese of a part of its oxygen, and thus renders it
soluble ; whilst the protoxide of iron, converted into a per-
chloride, deposits peroxide of iron on the cloth, which com¬
bines and produces the characteristic buff or orange colour
of that oxide.
4. Proiochloride of tin, when applied to cloth dyed brown
by sesquioxide of manganese, immediately reduces it to the
state of protoxide, and thus discharges the colour and leaves
the parts white. If it be mixed with Brazil wood or co¬
chineal, it discharges the manganese as before, but leaves a
pink. When mixed with logwood, it leaves a purple, and
with Prussian blue a blue. The protochloride of tin is used
in a variety of ways in calico-printing to remove iron mor¬
dants, so as to prevent the colours fixing themselves in those
parts which are intended to remain white.
The above organic acids, namely, citric, tartaric, and
oxalic acids, are preferable to metallic discharges, as they
not only remove the mordants which generally fix colours
upon calico, but also because they leave no trace of their
presence after they have fulfilled the objects for which
they were employed ; whilst, on the contrary, metallic
discharges are apt to leave some sub-salt, which is easily
produced when the water used by calico-printers is calca¬
reous, and these traces of metallic salts are apt to dirty the
whites.
III.—Resist Pastes.
Resists were first employed in China and India, ft hey
should possess the following general properties :—First, pre¬
venting effectually any colour or mordant from fixing on
those parts of the cloth to which they have been previously
applied, and at the same time of not injuring the colours
which are to be subsequently employed. Secondly, resists
should be of such a nature as to be easily removable by
washing, after they have fulfilled their object.
Resists. There are two distinct classes of reserves or resists, those
which act by mechanically preventing the colour from reach¬
ing the cloth, and those which act chemically, by oxidizing
the colour previously to its coming into contact with the
fabric, and thus rendering it insoluble or incapable of fixing
itself on the fibres of the fabric. A mixture of both these
resists is often used.
Mechanical The resists which act in a purely mechanical manner,
resists. such as those composed of wax, resin, or tallow,* are seldom
resorted to, owing to the difficulty of ultimately removing
them; but the use of pipe-clay, conjointly with a chemical
resist, is very common. In “ steam goods,” mechanical re¬
sists are those chiefly used ; they consist of arsenite or phos¬
phate of lime, of phosphate of zinc and magnesia, or of ace¬
tate of lime and zinc.
1. Blue resist or vitriol resist consists of a mixture of sul¬
phate, acetate, and sometimes nitrate of copper, and the
solution is thickened with British gum, or calcined flum¬
mery, together with pipe-clay for the block, and flour for
machine-printing. When the cloth on which this paste has
been printed is dipped into an indigo vat, the indigo is oxi¬
dized before it reaches the surface of the cloth. (See Blue.)
After dyeing, the pieces are passed through weak sulphuric
acid, not only to remove the oxide of copper, which has
been precipitated, but also to fix the indigo on the calico,
by liberating it entirely from its lime combination.
317
2. Mild resist consists of sulphate of zinc, flummery, and Calico-
pipe-clay. It is used along with other colours which copper Printing^
would injure, or which would be destroyed by immersion ^
in sulphuric acid. It resists a pale-blue, and the removal
of oxide of zinc afterwards by an acid is not necessary, as is
the case when copper is employed.
3. Red paste consists of the alumina mordant above de¬
scribed, mixed with acetate of copper, and calcined British
gum, or flummery and pipe-clay. It resists pale blues, and
the alumina remains upon the portions of the cloth which
are white, and which are to be afterwards dyed with madder
to produce red, or with quercitron bark for yellow.
4. Neutral resist is a name given by calico-printers to a
compound of lime juice,1 sulphate of copper, British gum,
and pipe-clay. It resists during a short dip in the indigo
vat, and the lime juice gives it the property of remaining
white when the piece is dyed in madder, even where the
preceding alumina resist goes over it. This acid also pre¬
vents the lime of the blue indigo vats from precipitating
copper upon the cloth, which would give it a deep-brown
tinge in the madder beck.
5. Chrome yellow resist consists of a mixture of a salt of
copper to resist the blue indigo vat, with a salt of lead to
produce a chromate of lead, after having been dyed blue in
the blue vat. (See Blues.)
ftftiese are the five principal resist pastes. There are a
few others, but they will easily suggest themselves to those
who understand the principles of chemistry.
Besides the above methods, the process called “conver- “ Conver¬
sion,” which has been discovered within the last few years,slon*
has proved a great acquisition to the calico-printer, as it en¬
ables him to increase the various effects which he may be
desirous of producing on his prints. It consists in increas¬
ing or decreasing the tints of certain colours without affect¬
ing the whites; and this is effected by having a roller so
disposed, that while one or two or more rollers are produc¬
ing certain colours longitudinally, another roller will be print¬
ing transversely another colour, which in acting chemically
on those printed longitudinally will alter their shades.
Instead of describing the method of printing mordants
and colouring matters at once, or of applying “ topical ”
colours, or of producing “ steam colours,” we think it will
be better to make a few observations on each particular
colour in succession, without distinguishing whether it is ap¬
plied by dyeing or printing.
Reds and Pinks.
ftffie most important dye stuff for producing red amongst
calico-printers is madder. Goods which have received the
alumina mordant as applied in figures, either by the machine
or the block, are first hung, or “ aged,” as technically termed,
for several days in large rooms, ft’he purport of this ope¬
ration is to allow the acetic acid to evaporate, and leave on
the print a basic aceto-sulphate of alumina, ft'he pieces
are then passed through nearly boiling water, containing
cow-dung, or a chemical substance, such as silicate or arse-
niate of soda, or a mixture called “ Mercer’s dung substi¬
tute.” The pieces, after having been sufficiently “ aged,”
are well washed and put into a dye-beck, containing water
and madder; and the whole is gradually heated to 180° for
two hours, and lastly, to boiling point for half an hour, ftftie
prints, having been kept constantly in motion during the
above operation, and having assumed the required shades
of pink and red, are washed and ready for a second series
of operations, called “soaping” or clearing,” which is effected
by passing them for 2.5 minutes into a weak solution of soap,
heated to about 185°, which substance has the property of
removing the loose colours on the white parts, and of giving
1 “Lime juice” is a commercial term applied to lemon juice, which is imported principally from Sicily, and from which also citric
acid can be obtained.
318 DYE
Calico- brilliancy and fixity to the red and pink figures on the cloth.
Printing. por certain styles of pinks, protochloride of tin is added to
the soap. All madder colours require two soapings to give
great brilliancy and vividness to the colours, and purity to
the whites.
Of late years, madder has been nearly replaced in calico-
printing by garancine 1 and garanceux, which have the pro¬
perty of yielding colours more brilliant than madder, although
not so fast. But the chief reason why garancine has been
substituted for madder is, because with it the prints, after
they are dyed, require only a simple washing and no soaping
to clear the whites.
Turkey red is one of the most beautiful and valuable
styles of calico-printing, in consequence of the brilliancy of
the colour and its durability. It is also obtained with mad¬
der, but the pieces previously to being dyed have to un¬
dergo a long series of operations, which consist in passing
the pieces successively in Gallipoli oil and carbonate of soda,
and hanging them in the air between each process. They
are then passed into a weak solution of red mordant, and
afterwards of gall-nuts, well washed, and dyed in madder.
When this has been effected, the colours are brightened by
being boiled, under pressure, in a solution of soap and chlo¬
ride of tin.
When sapanwood or peachwood is used instead of mad¬
der or garancine, the mordant and method of dyeing are the
same; the cloth, however, does not receive the same treat¬
ment after dyeing, and does not require it, because these
colours are much more easily removed from the parts of the
cloth which are destitute of mordant.
The chief employment of these dye-stuffs is in producing
steam reds or pinks. To effect this, a decoction of these
woods is mixed with chlorate of potash, nitrate of alumina, and
thickened with wheat starch. This prepared colour is printed
on calico which has been mordanted with stannic acid; and
when dried it is ready to be introduced into a square iron
box called a “ steam-chest,” and submitted to the action of
an atmosphere of steam for 25 minutes, which has the pro¬
perty of fixing the colours on the cloth ; or the printed cali¬
coes are rolled round a perforated roller and submitted to
the same influence. The pieces then only require to be
well washed, dried, and finished, to be marketable.
Beautiful reds and pinks are produced by means of co¬
chineal. The mordant is either alumina or oxides of tin,
and the method of proceeding is similar to that already de¬
scribed for madder and garancine colours. Cochineal is
also extensively employed to obtain these colours on steamed
mousseline-de-laines.
Safflower cannot be applied to calico in figures, but it is
frequently employed for giving numerous crimson or pink
dyes to pieces of cloth. The safflower is first dipped into
water containing carbonate of soda, which dissolves its
colouring matter. The solution, freed from the fibrous
part of the dye-stuff, is then saturated by impure citric acid,
or lemon juice, otherwise lime juice. A piece of cloth im¬
mersed in this solution extracts the colouring matter from
it, which is afterwards heightened by immersion in weak
solution of cream of tartar. By this means a very beautiful
but fugitive colour is communicated to calico.
Yellows and Oranges.
A fine yellow is produced by a very simple process, which
was first introduced in calico-printing by Professor Thom¬
son, which consisted in fixing on calico, especially blue in¬
digo dips, a yellow or orange chromate of lead. To produce
this well-known style, a reserve consisting of nitrate and
I N G.
sulphate of lead is printed, dried, and the pieces dyed in Calico-
an indigo vat. They are then passed through weak sul- Printing,
phuric acid, and then into an alkaline chromate of potash, v"-*-
when orange chromate of lead designs are produced, or into
a bichromate of potash, when yellow chromate of lead de¬
signs are raised.
Quercitron bark is also employed frequently to communi¬
cate a yellow colour to calicoes. The alumina mordant is
first applied, and the cloth is passed in the dung-beck in
the way described when giving an account of madder-dyeing.
Quercitron bark yields its colouring matter at a lower tem¬
perature than madder; and the parts of the cloth to which
no mordant has been applied remain tolerably white after
the cloth has been washed in cold water.
Fustic is sometimes substituted for quercitron bark, but
the yellow or orange colours which it produces are not so
fast as those given by quercitron bark.
Persian berries.—A decoction of these berries consti¬
tutes likewise a yellow dye for calico-printers, and it may
be employed in the same manner as the above substances,
but generally it is used to produce steam yellows and
oranges. For this purpose the decoction is mixed with oxalic
acid, or a little acetate of alumina, and printed on calico
prepared with stannic acid. For oranges the solution of
Persian berries is mixed with chloride of tin in excess, and
thickened with starch. The goods, after having been
printed, are dried and steamed, and they only require wash¬
ing in water.
Quercitron bark and fustic are sometimes used in cheap
styles of prints as substitutes for Persian berries ; but the
yellows and oranges are rapidly injured by the atmosphere,
which communicates to them a dirty brownish tint.
Buff.—To produce this colour the cloth is printed with
a mixture of sulphate and pyrolignite of iron, or with nitro-
sulphate of iron. After having had time to be partly oxid¬
ized and partly decomposed, it is washed in water; or if a
stronger bath is wanted, it is raised in milk of lime till the
protoxide of iron is converted into a sesquioxide. No mor¬
dant is required, as peroxide of iron has a strong affinity for
cotton cloth. It is very easy to produce whites on such
colour, all that is necessary being to print a discharge
composed of oxalic and citric acids, which dissolve the hy¬
drate of sesquioxide of iron, and leave those parts of the
calico thus treated free of colour. Buff colours are also
produced by printing an alkaline solution of annotto on
calico prepared with stannic acid, and submitting it to the
influence of steam.
Blue.
Not only the most ancient but also the most general
means of obtaining blues on calicoes is by indigo, which
is applied in various ways.
hidigo-blue dips.—This fine blue colour is produced by
adding, in a vat capable of holding from 900 to 1000 gals,
of water, 60 lbs. of finely ground indigo, to which is gra¬
dually added 140 lbs. of green copperas, or sulphate of pro¬
toxide of iron, together with 212 lbs. of slack lime. Owing
to the lime removing the sulphuric acid from the salt of
iron, the protoxide of that metal is liberated, and by its
affinity for oxygen removes a part of the oxygen of the blue
indigo, and thus transforms it into white indigo, which is
soluble in the excess of lime employed in the operation.
After the lapse of a few hours, the dye vat being ready, a
piece of calico is hooked on a wooden frame and well
stretched out; it is then dipped into the vat for 15 minutes,
taken out and left exposed to the air for 5 minutes.
1 Garancine is obtained by treating madder with weak sulphuric acid, and raising the whole to the boiling point for 2J hours, then
washing and submitting the charred mass to pressure. By this operation a chemical action ensues, and “ alizarine,” the colouring prin¬
ciple of madder, is produced, so that one part of garancine is equal to two parts of madder. Garanceux is prepared by a similar process,
only commercial madder is replaced by madder which has been partly exhausted by having been previously employed for dyeing.
Galico-
Frinting.
DYE
The piece of calico which is white when it comes out of
the vat gradually becomes green, and then blue ; owing to
the oxygen of the air oxidizing the white indigo, transform¬
ing it into blue, which is insoluble in water, and fixed on the
calico. The number of successive dips that the piece un¬
dergoes varies according to the various shades of blue which
the printer requires. The pieces, after having been passed
into a weak solution of sulphuric acid or “ sours,” which
fixes the indigo thoroughly, only require to be well washed
and dried.
To produce the well-known style of print which consists
in a blue ground and white design, it is simply necessary to
print the blue resist described above, passing the pieces in
a vat containing lime, and then dyeing them in the above
indigo vat. The pieces only require to be passed through
vitriol, well washed and dried. We have also described
the mode of obtaining oranges or yellows on such prints.
China blue.—This style of print is obtained by printing
on the calico a mixture composed of pulverised indigo and
sulphate of protoxide of iron, to which is sometimes added
orpiment, and thickened with British gum. The pieces so
printed are passed alternately, by means of rollers, first into
a milk of lime, and then into a solution of sulphate of pro¬
toxide of iron; when there ensues one of the most interest¬
ing phenomena of calico-printing, for as fast as the blue
indigo is reduced into white indigo, instead of being dis¬
solved by the lime of the bath, it is retained with force
through the molecular attraction of the fibre of the calico,
and prevented leaving the cloth, until it is fixed by the
exposure of the piece to the oxygen of the atmosphere. The
pieces then only require to be passed into weak sulphuric
acid, washed, and dried, in order to be completed.
Pencil blue is obtained by reducing blue into white in¬
digo, by boiling it for several hours with protochloride of
tin and alkali. When the indigo is well reduced, citrate of
soda and starch are added; and after having carried the
whole to the boiling-point, the calico is printed with it,
passed into a milk of lime, washed, and dried.
Prussian blue may be applied to cloth in various ways.
We shall mention some of the principal of these.
1. An iron mordant is first applied to the cloth, and al¬
lowed to remain untouched till the iron has had time to be
partly peroxidized and become fixed. The pieces are then
dipped into a solution of prussiate of potash, mixed with a
little sulphuric acid, which acid liberates the prussic acid,
which, in yielding its cyanogen to the iron of the oxides,
produces cyanides of iron or Prussian blue. Sometimes the
calico to be dyed is boiled for five hours in a solution of
yellow prussiate, common salt, and chloride of tin, and after¬
wards into a second bath, containing sulphuric acid and
alum ; when Prussian blue is produced on the cloth, which
only requires washing.
To produce white designs on such prints, it is usual to
thicken with British gum a solution of caustic alkali, and
to print it on all those parts of the cloth from which it is
intended to discharge the colour. The pieces are then
passed into a solution of oxalic or muriatic acid, well washed
and dried.
2. Prussian blue is dissolved in muriatic acid, oxalic
acid, perchloride of tin, or nitrate of iron, and the solution
is applied to the cloth immediately in the usual way.
3. Ferrocyanic acid is printed upon cloth prepared with
stannic acid, and decomposed under the influence of steam,
in the ordinary steaming process ; prussic acid escapes, and
cyanides of iron, or Prussian blue, remains on the cloth.
The blue is developed by exposure to the air, or by being
passed through a weak solution of bleaching powder, or
bichromate of potash.
4. Prussian blue is often obtained by printing prussiate
of tin on prepared calico, and then submitting the print to
the influence of steam.
I N G. 319
Greens. Calico-
1. The fast green discovered by Mr James Thompson of ^,
Primrose Hill, near Clitheroe, Lancashire, and commonly ^
known by the name of “ Warwick’s Green,” is a mixture of
the pencil blue already described and aluminate of potash.
The mixture is thickened and applied in a similar way to
the Prussian blue. The alumina is then precipitated from
its alkaline solution, by being passed through a weak solu¬
tion of sal-ammoniac or sulphate of magnesia. The cloth is
then dyed yellow in quercitron bark. It is well known that
blue and yellow form green. In this operation the alumina
mordant can be replaced with advantage by oxide of tin.
2. The most common process followed to obtain green
on prints, consists in printing, on prepared calico, prussiate
of tin, together with Persian berries, and an alumina mor¬
dant, and subjecting such prints to the influence of steam.
For producing a cheap style of prints, quercitron bark is
often substituted for Persian berries; but the greens thus
produced, though cheaper, are not fast.
3. Arsenites of copper, or “ Scheele’s greens.” There
are several modes of producing these greens on calicoes.
The one most commonly employed consists in passing the
cloth in a mixture of salts of copper, then into a weak solu¬
tion of caustic lye, and lastly into a solution of arsenious
acid. To obtain green patterns, the pieces are passed into
an arsenite of soda, and then the salts of copper are printed
on all those parts where green patterns are required.
Blacks.
1. Various methods are employed by the calico-printers
to produce a black upon cotton. An iron mordant of the
specific gravity of 1*05 gives a black with madder. The
same mordant, mixed with “ red liquor,” gives a black when
the cloth is passed through a hot solution of logwood. Great
fixity has been imparted of late years to this black, as well
as that produced with shumac, by passing the dyed pieces
through a weak solution of bichromate of potash, which, in
suroxidizing the colouring matter, completely fixes it on the
fibres of the calico. No process in calico-printing is easier
than to produce white designs on black; it is sufficient to
print a mixture of oxalic and tartaric acids, thickened with
calcined farina or starch, and passing through water. By
this means the colour is discharged, owing to the iron mor¬
dant being dissolved, and the loosened colour washed away.
By passing such pieces into an alumina mordant, and then
into a beck containing sapanwood or peachwood, a red is
produced; with logwood a purple, or with quercitron bark
or fustic a yellow. Of late years, madder extract has been
printed on such discharged blacks.
2. A topical black is made from a decoction of gall-
nuts, mixed with nitrate of peroxide of iron. Another to¬
pical black is produced by mixing a decoction of logwood
with a solution of protoxide of iron, or of pyrolignite of iron.
Lilacs and Purples.
These colours are communicated to cloth by printing a
diluted solution of pyrolignite of iron, thickened with cal¬
cined farina. The cloth is then dyed in madder exactly as
described for producing reds. Steam lilacs and purples are
obtained by thickening logwood with alumina mordant, or
red liquor, and printing this mixture on calico prepared with
stannic acid, and then submitting such prints to the influence
of steam. Cochineal is sometimes substituted for logwood
on mousseline-de-laines. Topical lilacs and purples are
procured by printing a logwood solution previously mixed
with perchloride of tin containing a little salts of iron.
Chocolates.
Various shades of chocolate are produced, as above stated,
by printing on calicoes as mordant a mixture of pyrolignites
of alumina and iron, and dyeing, as also described, in a
madder beck.
320
DYE
Dyer.
Browns.
] Oflate years, browns and wood colours have been ob¬
tained extensively, by employing either a solution of catechu
made with vinegar or weak alkali, and mixing it with salts
of copper, iron, or tin, according to the shades required ;
and with sal-ammoniac for steam colours, lo give fixity to
such colours, the pieces, after having been printed and
steamed or dyed, are passed into a wTeak solution of bichro¬
mate of potash or milk of fime.
2. By far the most fixed brown is communicated to
cotton by means of the sesquioxide of manganese; but
this process of producing browns has almost fallen into
desuetude.
Drab.
This colour is procured by printing the cloth with an iron
mordant, and then dyeing it in quercitron bark or shumac.
Olive.
This colour is formed by printing a mixture of iron and
alumina mordants, and dyeing in quercitron bark or shumac.
Dove.
A weak iron mordant dyed in cochineal, sapanwood, or
peachwood.
D Y N
Finishing Processes. Dyle
After the prints have undergone the various operations ||
which we have described, there is still another which they
have to undergo to give them a finish—prints in their rough v er‘
and uneven state being unmarketable. Consequently, they
are submitted to a series of processes, whose object is to
o-ive to the fabrics such an appearance as will please the
eye of the buyer, and obtain a better price in the market.
All the finishing processes have one common end, namely,
to fill up the interstices which exist between the fabrics,
and thus give to the calico a more substantial and glossy
appearance; and this is effected by filling the cloth with
boiled starch, farina, or sour flour, which is obtained from
wheat flour which has been allowed to ferment. To these
are often added large quantities of sulphates of lime or
baryta. To give a compact and glossy appearance to the
surface of the cloth, it is passed between heated rollers un¬
der pressure; and according to the heat and pressure ap¬
plied, so is the degree of lustre imparted to the fabric.
At other times the calico-printer gives little or no lustre
to his fabrics; and in such cases the buyer, if he intends the
goods for a foreign market, submits them himself to a process
called “ calendering,” which consists in passing the pieces,
either dried or slightly moistened, between heated rollers,
and under high pressure. See Calender. (f.c.c.)
DYER, Sir James (1511-1582), an eminent English
lawyer, who was at one time speaker of the House of Com¬
mons, and was afterwards chief judge of the court of com-
mon pleas in the reign of Elizabeth. He published a large
collection of Reports, and several law tracts, which have
been eulogized both by Coke and Camden.
Dyer, John, an English poet, the son of Robert Dyer,
a Welsh solicitor of great ability, was born in 1700. He
received his education at Westminster school under the
care of Dr Freind, and was then called home to be in¬
structed in his father’s profession. His genius, however,
soon led him to abandon the study of law ; for besides his
early taste for poetry, he had a passion no less strong for
the arts of design, and determined to make painting his pro¬
fession. With this view, having studied some time under
a master, he became, as he himself narrates, an itinerant
painter, and wandered about South Wales. About }^
he printed Grongar Hill. Being probably dissatisfied
with his own proficiency, he made the tour of Italy, wheie,
besides the usual study of the remains of antiquity, and the
works of the great masters, he frequently spent whole days
sketching the picturesque scenery in the neighbourhood of
Rome and Florence. Images drawn from thence naturally
transferred themselves into his poetical compositions. The
principal beauties of The Ruins of Rome are perhaps of this
kind ; and the description of various landscapes in Ihe
Fleece have been particularly admired. On his return to
England he published The Ruins of Rome, 1740 ; but soon
found that he could not relish a town life, nor submit to the
assiduity required in his profession. Having been advised
by his friends to enter into holy orders, he was ordained
by the Bishop of Lincoln, and had a degree conferred on
him.
About the same time he married a lady of Coleshill, named
Ensor, “ whose grandmother,” says he, u was a Shak-
speare, descended from a brother of every body’s Shak-
speare.” His ecclesiastical provision was for a long time
but slender. His first patron, Mr Harper, gave him, in
1741, Calthorpe, in Leicestershire, of L.80 a-year, on which
he lived ten years ; and in April 1751 he exchanged it for
Belchford, in Lincolnshire, of L.75, which was given him
by Lord Chancellor Hardwicke. His circumstances after¬
wards began to be more favourable. In 1 < 52 Sir John
Heathcoate gave him Coningsby, of L.140 a-year; and, in
1756, when he received the honorary degree of LL.B., he
obtained from the chancellor, Kirby-on-Bane, of L.110.
In 1757 he published The Fleece, his chief poetical work,
of which Dr Johnson relates this ludicrous story. Dodsley
the bookseller was one day mentioning it to a critical visi¬
tor, with more expectation of success than the other could
easily admit. In the conversation the author’s age was
asked; and being represented as advanced in life, “ He
will,” said the critic, “be buried in woollen.” He did not
indeed long outlive that publication, nor enjoy the increase
of his preferments ; for a consumptive disorder, with which
he had long struggled, carried him off in 1758.
DYLE, a river of Belgium. See Belgium.
DYNAMETER, an "instrument for ascertaining the
magnifying power of telescopes, consists of a small tube with
a transparent plate accurately divided. It is fixed to the
tube of the telescope, in order to measure the diameter of
the image of the eye-glass.
321
DYNAMICS.
Dynamics. 1. This name marks that department of physico-ma- bability the procedure of nature is the same in both; for Dynamic*.
thematical science which contains the abstract doctrine they are observed in every instance to be mutual between '
Definition. 0? moving forces; that is, whatever necessarily results from the related bodies. As iron approaches a magnet, so the
the relations of our ideas of motion, and of the immediate magnet approaches the iron. Ihe same thing is observed
causes of its production and changes. in the motions of electrified bodies; also in the case of
Object of 2. All changes of motion are considered by us as the the stone and the earth. 1 herefore the cause of the mo-
dviiamics indications, the characteristics, and the measures of chan- tions may be conceived as inherent in either, or in both,
is change ging causes. This is a physical law of human thought, and The qualities thus inherent in bodies constituting tlieiri^orc<r and
ofthat con-(.|ieref'ore a principle to which we may refer, and from mechanical relations, have been called the mechanical af-Action are
dition of which we must derive all our i<novv]edge 0f those causes, fections of matter. But they are more commonly namedhg^ative^
which”we When we appeal to our own thoughts or feelings, we do powers ov forces; and the event which indicates their Pre“jn me>
call its mo- not find in ourselves any disposition to refer mere exist- sence is considered as the effect and mark of their agency.
tion. ence to any cause, although the beginning of existence The magnet is said to act on the iron, the earth is said to
certainly produces this reference in an instant. Had we act on the stone; and the iron and the stone are said to
always observed the universe in motion, it does not ap- acton the magnet and on the earth,
pear that we should have ascribed it to a cause, till the All this is figurative or metaphorical language. All
observation of relative rest, or something leading to it, languages have begun with social union, and have improved
had enabled us to separate, by abstraction, the notion of along with it. The first collections of words expressed
matter from that of motion. Wre might then perceive.that the most familiar and the most interesting notions. In
rest is not incompatible with matter; and we might even the process of social improvement, the number of words
observe, by means of relative motions, that absolute rest did not increase in the same proportion with the notions
might be produced by the concourse of equal and op- that became interesting and familiar in their turn: for it
posite motions. But all this requires reflection and rea- often happened that relations of certain ideas so much re-
soning, whereas we are now speaking of the first sug- sembled the relations of certain other ideas, that the word
gestions of our minds. " expressing one of them served very well for expressing
3, We cannot have any notion of motion in abstracto, the other; because the dissimilar circumstances of the
without considering it as a state or condition of existence two cases prevented all chance of mistake. Thus we are
which would remain if not changed by some cause. It said to sMrmowHtf a difficulty, without attaching to the word
is from changes alone, therefore, that we infer any agency the notion of getting over a steep hill. Languages are thus
in nature; and it is in these that we are to find all that filled with figurative expressions.
we know of their causes. 5. Poiver, Force, and Action, are words which must have Cut the
Mechani- 4. When w-e look around us, we cannot but observe appeared in the language of the most simple people; be-analogy is
calrela- that the motions of bodies have in most cases, if not al- cause the notions of personal ability, strength, and exertion, ^
lion, what, wavs, some relation to the situation, the distance, and the are at once the most familiar and the most interesting that in ^ ef_
discriminating qualities of other bodies. The motions of can have a place in the human mind. These terms, when
the moon have a palpable relation to the earth ; the mo- used in their pure, primitive sense, express the notions of
tions of the tides have as evident a relation to the moon; the power, force, and action of a sentient, active being,
the motions of a piece of iron have a palpable dependence Such a being only is an agent. The exertion of his power
on a magnet. The vicinity of the one seems to be the or force is (exclusively) action; but the relation of cause
occasion at least of the motions of the other. The causes and effect so much resembles in its results the relation
of these motions have an, evident connection with or de- between this force and the work performed, that the same
pendence on the other body. We are even disposed to term may be very intelligibly employed for both. Per-
imagine that they are inherent in that body, and that it pos- haps the only case of pure unfigurative action is that of
sesses certain qualities which are the causes of those mo- the mind on the body. But as this is always with the
difications of motion in other bodies. These serve to dis- design of producing some change on external bodies, we
tinguish some bodies from others, and may therefore be think only of them ; the instrument or tool is overlooked,
called properties ; and since the condition of other bo- and we say that we act on the external body- Our real
dies so evidently depends on them, these properties ex- action therefore is but the first movement in a long train
press very interesting relations of bodies, and are chiefly of successive events, and is but the remote cause of the
attended to in the enumeration of the circumstances which interesting event. The resemblance to such actions is
ascertain what we call the nature of any thing. We do not very strong indeed in many cases of mechanical pheno-
mean to say that these inferences are always just; nay, we mena. A man throws a ball by the motion of his arm.
know that many of them are ill founded ; but they are real, A spring impels a ball in the same manner by unbending,
and they serve abundantly for informing us what we may These two events resemble each other in every circum-
expect from any proposed situation of things, It is enough stance but the action of the mind on the corporeal organ ;
for us to know, that when a piece of iron is so and so situa- the rest of it is a train of pure mechanism. In general,
ted in relation to a magnet, it will move in a certain manner, because the ultimate results of the mutual influence of
This mutual relation of bodies is differently considered, bodies on each other greatly resemble the ultimate results
according to the interest that we chance to take in the of our actions on bodies, we have not invented appropriated
phenomenon. The cause of the approach of the iron to a terms, but have contented ourselves with those already
magnet is generally ascribed to the magnet, which is said employed for expressing our own actions, the exertions of
to attract the iron, because we commonly employ the our own powers or forces. The relation of physical cause
magnet in order that these motions may take place. The and effect is expressed metaphorically in the words which
similar approach of a stone to the earth is ascribed to the belong properly to. the relation of agent and action. This
stone, and we say that it tends to the earth. In all pro- has been attended by the usual consequences of poverty
vol. viu. 2 s
322
DYNAMICS.
Dynamics, of language, namely, ambiguity, and sometimes mistake,
  both in our reflections (which are generally carried on by
mental discourse), our reasonings, and our conclusions.
It is necessary to be on our guard against such mistakes;
for they frequently amount to the confounding of things
totally different. Many philosophers of great reputation,
on no better foundation than this metaphorical language,
have confounded the relations of activity and of causation,
and even denied that there is any difference; and they
have affirmed that there is the same invariable relation
between the determinations of the will and the induce¬
ments that prompt them, as there is between any physi¬
cal power and its effect. Others have maintained that
the first mover in the mechanical operations, and indeed
through the whole train of any complicated event, is a
percipient and intending principle, in the same manner as
in our actions. According to these philosophers, a par¬
ticle of gravitating matter perceives its relation to every
other particle in the universe, and determines its own mo¬
tion according to fixed laws, in exact conformity to its si¬
tuation. But the language, and even the actions of all
men, show that they have a notion of the relation of an
agent to the action, easily distinguishable (because all dis¬
tinguish it) from the relation between the physical cause
and its effect. This metaphorical language has affected
the doctrines of mechanical philosophy, and has produced
a dispute about some of its first principles; the only way
to decide this dispute is to avoid most scrupulously all
metaphorical language, though at the expense of much
circumlocution.
Directions 6- When we speak of powers or forces as residing in a
for the safe body, and the effect as produced by their exertion, the
employ- body, considered as possessing the power, is said to act
on the other. A magnet is said to act on a piece of iron ;
a billiard ball in motion is said to act on one that is hit by
it; but if we attempt to fix our attention on this action,
as distinct both from the agent and the thing acted on,
we find no object of contemplation ; the exertion or pro¬
cedure of nature in producing the effect does not come
under our view. When we speak of the action as distinct
from the agent, we find that it is not the action, properly
speaking, but the act, that we speak of. In like manner
the action of a mechanical power can be conceived only
in the effect produced.
7. A man is not said to act unless he produces some
effect. Thought is the act of the thinking principle; mo¬
tion of the limb is tbe act of the mind on it. In mecha¬
nics also, there is action only in so far as there is mecha¬
nical effect produced. I must act violently in order to
begin motion on a slide. I must exert force, and this
force exerted produces motion. I conceive the produc¬
tion of motion in all cases as the exertion of force; but it
requires no exertion to continue the motion along the
slide; I am conscious of none; therefore I ought to inter
that no force is necessary for the continuation of any mo¬
tion. The continuation of motion is not the production
of any new effect, but the permanency of an effect already
produced. We indeed consider motion as the effect of an
action; but there would be no effect if the body were not
moving. Motion is not the action, but the effect ot the
action.
Pression, 8. Mechanical actions have been usually classed under
impulsion, two heads. They are either pressures or impulsions.
They are generally considered as of different kinds—the
exertions of different powers. Pressure is supposed to
differ essentially from impulse.
Instead of attempting to define, or describe, these two
kinds of forces and actions, we shall just mention some
instances. This will give us all the knowledge of their
distinctions that we can acquire.
ment of
this ana¬
logy.
Action
implies
change;
and mere
motion is
not action.
When a ball lies on a table, and I press it gently on one Dynamics,
side, it moves toward the other side of the table. If I follow -y-w
it with my finger, continuing my pressure, it accelerates Examples
continually in its motion. In like manner, when I pressof Passion,
on the handle of a common kitchen jack, the fly begins to
move. If I continue to urge or press round the handle,
the fly accelerates continually, and may be brought into a
state of very rapid motion. These motions are the effects
of genuine pressure. The ball would be urged along the
table in the same manner, and with a motion continually
accelerated, by the unbending of a spring. Also, a spring
coiled up round tbe axis of the handle of the jack would,
by uncoiling itself, urge round the fly with a motion ac¬
celerating in the same way. The more I reflect on the
pressure of my finger on the ball, and compare it with the
effect of the spring on it, the more clearly do I see the
perfect similarity; and I call these influences, exertions,
or actions, by one name, pressure, taken from the most
familiar instance of them.
Again, the very same motion may be produced in the
ball or fly, by pulling the ball or the machine by means of
a thread, to which a weight is suspended. As both are
motions accelerated in the same manner, I call the in¬
fluence or action of the thread on the ball or machine by
the same name, pressure, and weight is considered as a
pressing power. Indeed I feel the same compression from
the real pressure of a man on my shoulders that I would
feel from a load laid on them. But the weight in our ex¬
ample is acting by the intervention of the thread. By its
pressure it is pulling at that part of the thread to which
it is fastened; this part is pulling at the next by means of
the force of cohesion ; and this pulls at a third, and so on,
till the most remote pulls at the ball or the machine. Thus
may elasticity, weight, cohesion, and other iorces, per¬
form the office of a genuine power; and since their result is
always a motion beginning from nothing, and accelerating
bv perceptible degrees to any velocity, this resemblance
makes us call them by one familiar name.
But further, I see that if the thread be cut, the weight
will fall with an accelerated motion, which will increase to
any degree, if the fall be great enough. I ascribe this
also to a pressing power acting on the weight. Nay, after
a very little refinement, I consider this power as the cause
of the body’s weight; which word is but a distinguishing
name for this particular instance of pressing power. Gra¬
vitation is therefore added to the list of pressures; and
for similar reasons the attractions and repulsions of mag¬
nets or electric bodies may be added to the list; for they
produce actual compressions of bodies placed between
them, and they produce motions gradually accelerated,
precisely as gravitation does. Therefore all these powers
may be distinguished by this descriptive name, pressures,
which, in strict language, belongs to one of them only.
Several writers, however, subdivide this great class into Gravity,
pressions and solicitations. Gravity is a solicitation abattractions.
extra, by which a body is urged downward. In like man- ^■1ol.^e^e
ner the forces of magnetism and electricity, and a vast va- “onsjjered
riety of other attractions and repulsions, are called solid- as pres.
tations. We see little use for this distinction, and thesi0ns.
term is too like an affection of mind.
9. Impulsion is exhibited when a ball in motion puts Examples
another ball into motion by hitting, or (to speak metapho-®^mPu
rically) by striking it. The appearances here are very810
different. The body that is struck acquires, in the in¬
stant of impulse, a sensible quantity of motion, and some¬
times a very rapid motion. This motion is neither acce¬
lerated nor retarded after the stroke, unless it be affected
by some other force. It is also remarked that the rapi¬
dity of the motion depends, inter alia, on the previous ve¬
locity of the striking body. For instance, if a clay ball,
DYNAMICS.
323
Dynamics, moving with any velocity, strike another equal ball which
•«—v'-"*"' is at rest, the struck ball moves with half the velocity of
the other. And it is farther remarkable that the striking
body always loses as much motion as the struck body
gains. This universal and remarkable fact seems to have
given rise to a confused or indistinct notion of a sort of
transference of motion from one body to another. rl he
phraseology in general use on this subject expresses this
in the most precise terms. The one ball is not said to
cause or produce motion in the other, but to communicate
motion to it; and the whole phenomenon is called the
Communi- communication of motion. We call this an indistinct no¬
cation of tion ; for surely no one will say that he has any clear con-
motion not cept;on 0f it. We can form the most distinct notion of
a good ex- tjie communicati0n of heat, or of the cause of heat; of the
pression. comrnunjcation of saltness, sweetness, and a thousand
other things; but we cannot conceive how part or that
identical motion which was formerly in A, is now infused
into B, being given up by A. It is in our attempt to
form this notion that we find that motion is not a thing,
not a substance which can exist independently, and is
susceptible of actual transference. It appears in this
case to be a state, or condition, or mode of existence, of
which bodies are susceptible, which is producible, or (to
speak without metaphor) causable, in bodies, and which
is the effect and characteristic of certain natural qualities,
properties, or powers. We are anxious to have our read¬
ers impressed with clear and precise notions on this sub¬
ject, being confident that such, and only such, will carry
them through some intricate paths of mechanical and phi¬
losophical research.
Inherent 10. The remarkable circumstance in this phenomenon is,
force is the that a rapid motion, which requires for the effecting it
distinctive the action of a pressing power, continued for a sensible,
character of anj frequently a long time, seems to be affected in an in-
impu sion, gjanj. jjy impUlsion. This has tended much to support
the notion of the actual transference of something former¬
ly possessed exclusively by the striking body, inhering in
it, but separable, and now transfused into the body stricken.
And now room is found for the employment of metaphor,
both in thought and language. The striking body affects
the body which it thus impels: it therefore possesses the
power of impulsion, that is, of communicating motion1! It
possesses it only while it is in motion. This power, there¬
fore, is the efficient distinguishing cause of its motion,
and its only office must be the continuation of this mo¬
tion. It is therefore called the inherent force, the force
inherent in a moving body, vis insita corpori moto.
This force is transfused into the body impelled ; and
therefore the transference is instantaneous, and the impell¬
ed body continues its motion till it is changed by some
other action. All this is at first sight very plausible ; but
a scrupulous attention to those feelings which have given
rise to this metaphorical conception should have produced
very different notions. I am conscious of exertion in or¬
der to begin motion on a slide; but if the ice be very
smooth, I am conscious of no exertion in order to slide
along. My power is felt only while I am conscious of ex¬
erting it; therefore I have no primitive feeling or notion
of power while I am sliding along. I am certain that no
exertion of power is necessary here. Nay? I find that I
cannot think of my moving forward without effort other¬
wise than as a certain mode of my existence. Yet we
imagine that the partizans of this opinion did really de¬
duce it in some shape from their feelings. We must con¬
tinue the exertion of walking in order to walk on; our
power of walking must be continually exerted, otherwise
we shall stop. But this is a very imperfect, incomplete,
and careless observation. Walking is much more than
mere continuance in progressive motion. It is a continu¬
ally repeated lifting our body up a small height, and al- Dynamics,
lowing it to come down again. This renewed ascent re-
quires repeated exertion.
11. We have other observations of importance yet to and said to
make on this force of moving bodies, but this is not the be infinite-
most proper occasion. Meanwhile we must remark, that
the instantaneous production of rapid motion by impulse^" ^res
has induced the first mechanicians of Europe to maintain
that the power or force of impulse is unsusceptible of any
comparison with a pressing power. They have asserted
that impulse is infinitely great when compared with pres¬
sure ; not recollecting that they held them to be things
totally disparate, that have no proportion more than weight
and sweetness. But these gentlemen are perpetually en¬
ticed away from their creed by the similarity of the ultimate
results of pressure and impulse. No person can find any
difference between the motion of two balls moving equally
swift, in the same direction, one of which is descending
by gravity, and the other has derived its motion from a
blow. This struggle of the mind to maintain its faith,
and yet accommodate its doctrines to what we see, has
occasioned some other curious forms of expression. Pres¬
sure is considered as an effort to produce motion. When
a ball lies on a table, its weight, which they call a power,
continually and repeatedly endeavours (mark the meta¬
phorical word and thought) to move tbe ball downward.
But these efforts are ineffectual. They say that this in¬
effectual power is dead, and call it a vis mortua: but the
force of impulsion is called a vis viva, a living force.
But this is very whimsical and very inaccurate. If the
impelling ball falls perpendicularly on the other lying on
the table, it will produce no motion, any more than gra¬
vity will; and if the table be annihilated, gravity becomes
a vis viva.
We must now add, that in order to prove that impulse Arguments
is infinitely greater than pressure, these mechanicians turn indistinct
our attention to many familiar facts which plead strongly and .incon-
in their favour. A carpenter will drive a nail into a boardclUslve‘
with a very moderate blow of his hammer. This will re¬
quire a pressure which seems many hundred times greater
than the impelling effort of the carpenter. A very mode¬
rate blow will shiver into pieces a diamond which would
carry the weight of a mountain. Seeing this prodigious
superiority in the impulse, how shall they account for the
production of motion by means of pressure; for this mo¬
tion of the hammer might have been acquired by its fall¬
ing from a height; nay, it is actually acquired by means
of the continued pressure of the carpenter’s arm. They
consider it as the aggregate of an infinity of succeeding
pressures in everg instant of its continuance; so that the
insignificant smallness of each effort is compensated by
their inconceivable number.
On the whole, we do not think that there is clear evi- No differ-
dence that there are two kinds of mechanical force essen-ence be-
tially different in their nature. It is virtually given up by t^enpres-
those who say that impulse is infinitely greater than pres-
sure. Nor is there any considerable advantage to be ob¬
tained by arranging the phenomenon under those two
heads. We may perhaps find some method of explaining
satisfactorily the remarkable difference that is really ob¬
served in the two modes of producing motion; namely,
the gradual production of motion by acknowledged pres¬
sure, and the instantaneous production of it by impulse.
Indeed we should not have taken up so much of our read¬
ers’ attention with this subject, had it not been for some
inferences that have been made from these premises, which
meet us in our very entry on the consideration of first prin¬
ciples, and that are of extensive influence on the whole
science of mechanical philosophy, and, indeed, on the
whole study of nature.
324
DYNAMICS.
Dynamics. 12. Mechanicians are greatly divided in their opinion
about the nature of the sole moving force in nature. Those
Is impul- whom we are now speaking of seem to think that all mo-
sion the tjon is produced by pressure; for when they consider im-
sole cause pUjse as equivalent to the aggregate of an infinity of re-
ul motion ? peate(j pressureS) they undoubtedly suppose any pressure,
however insignificant, as a moving force. But there is a
party, both numerous and respectable, who maintain that
impulsion is the sole cause of motion. We see bodies in
motion, say they, and we see them impel others; and we
see that this production of motion is regulated by such
laws, that there is but one absolute quantity of motion in
the universe which remains unalterably the same. It must
therefore be transfused in the acts of collision. We also
see, with clear evidence, in some cases, that motion can
produce pressure. Euler adduces some very whimsical
and complicated cases, in which an action precisely simi¬
lar to pressure may be produced by motion. I bus, two
balls connected by a thread may be so struck that they
shall move forward, and at the same time wheel round. In
this case the connecting thread will be stretched between
them. Now, say the philosophers, since we see motion,
and see that pressure may be produced by motion, it is
preposterous to imagine that it is any thing else than a
result of certain motions; and it is the business of a phi¬
losopher to inquire and discover what motions produce the
pressures that we observe.
They then proceed to account for those pressing powers,
or solicitations to motion, which we observe in the acce¬
leration of falling bodies, the attractions of magnetism and
electricity, and many other phenomena of this kind, where
bodies are put in motion by the vicinity of other bodies,
or, in the popular language, by the action of other bodies
at a distance. To say that a magnet can act on a piece of
remote iron, is to say that it can act where it is not, which
is as absurd as to say that it can act when it is not. Nihil
moxetur, says Euler, nisi a contiguo et moto.
How does The bulk of these philosophers are not very anxious
it produce about the way in which these motions are produced, nor
pressure? do they fall upon such ingenious methods of producing
pressure as the one already mentioned, which was adduced
by Euler. The piece of iron, say they, is put in motion
when brought into the neighbourhood of a magnet, be¬
cause there is a stream of fluid issuing from one pole of the
magnet, which circles round the magnet, and enters at
the other pole. This stream impels the iron, and arranges
it in certain determined positions, just as a stream of wa¬
ter would arrange the flote grass. In the same manner,
there is a stream of fluid continually moving towards the
centre of the earth, which impels all bodies in lines per¬
pendicular to the surface ; and so on with regard to other
like phenomena. These motions are thus reduced to very
simple cases by impulsion.
Incompa- It is unnecessary to refute this doctrine at present: it
tible with is enough that it is contrary to all the dictates of common
.. '-'sense. To suppose an agent that we do not see, and for
whose existence we have not the smallest argument; with
equal propriety we might suppose ministering spirits, or
any thing that we please.
v>ai«is 13. Other philosophers are so dissatisfied with this notion
maintain of the production of pressure, that they, on the other hand,
that pres- affirm that pressure is the only moving force in nature;
sure is theno(. aGCOr(iing to the popular notion of pressure, by the
in» force" mutua^ contact of solid bodies, but that kind of pressure
n which has been called solicitation, such as the power of
gravity. They affirm that there is no such thing as contact
on instantaneous communication of motion by real collision.
They say, and they prove it by very convincing facts, that
the particles of solid bodies exert very strong repulsions
to a small distance; and therefore, when they are brought
the rules °fsense,
philoso¬
phising.
Others
by motion sufficiently near to another body, they repel it, Dynamics,
and are equally repelled by it. Thus is motion produced -v-w
in the other body, and their own motion is diminished.
And they then show, by a scrupulous consideration of the
state of the bodies while the one is advancing and the
other retiring, in what manner the two bodies attain a
common velocity, so that the quantity of motion before
collision remains unchanged, the one body gaining as much
as the other loses. They also show cases of such mutual ac¬
tion between bodies, where it is evident that they have never
come into contact; and yet the result lias been precisely
similar to those cases where the motion appeared to be
changed in an instant. Therefore they conclude that
there is no such thing as instantaneous communication, or
transfusion of motion, by contact in collision or impulse.
The reason why previous motion of the impelling body is
necessary, is not that it may have a vis insita corpori moto,
a force inherent in it by its being in motion, but that it may
continue to follow the impelled and retiring body, and ex¬
ert on it a force inherent in itself, whether in motion or at
rest. According to these philosophers, therefore, all mov¬
ing forces are of that kind which has been named solicita¬
tion, such as gravity. We shall know it afterwards by the
more familiar and descriptive name of accelerating or re¬
tarding force.
IT The exertions of mechanical forces are differently Action, re-
termed, according to the reference that we make to thesistance,
result. If in boxing or wrestling I strike, or endeavour tore-action.
throw my antagonist, I am said to act; but if I only parry
bis blows, or prevent him from throwing me, l am said to
resist. This distinction is applied to the exertions of me
chanical powers. When one body, A, changes the motion
of another, B, we may consider the change in the motion
of B either as the indication and measure of A’s power of
producing motion, or as the indication and measure of A s
resistance to the being brought to rest, or having its motion
any how changed. The distinction is not in the thing it¬
self, but only in the reference that we are disposed, by other
considerations, to make of its effect. Ihey may be distin¬
guished in the following manner; If a change of motion
follow when one of the powers ceases to be exerted, that
power is conceived as having resisted. Ihe whole lan¬
guage on this subject is metaphorical. Resistance, effort,
endeavour, &c. are words which cannot be employed in
mechanical discussions without figure, because they all
express notions which relate to sentient beings; and the
unguarded indulgence of this figurative language has so
much affected the imagination of philosophers, that many
have almost animated all matter. Perhaps the word re¬
action, introduced by Newton, is the best term for ex¬
pressing that mutual force which is perceived in all the
operations of nature that we have investigated with suc¬
cess. As the magnet attracts iron, and in so doing is said
to act on it; so the iron attracts the magnet, and may be
said to re-act on it.
15. With respect to the difficulty that has been onject-e need
ed to the opinion of those who maintain that all the me* not sup^
chanical phenomena are produced by the agency of
trading or repelling forces; namely, that this suPPosestance.
the bodies to act on each other at a distance, however rj.en(jency.
small those distances may be, which is thought to be ab¬
surd, we may observe, that we may ascribe the mutual
approaches or recesses to tendencies to or from each other.
W hat we call the attraction of the magnet may be consider¬
ed as a tendency of the iron to the magnet, somewhat si¬
milar to the gravitation of a stone toward the earth. Wre
surely (at least the unlearned) can and do conceive the
iron to be affected by the magnet, without thinking of any
intermedium. The thing is not therefore inconceivable,
which is all that we know about absurdity ; and we do not
DYNAMICS.
325
Dynamics, know any thing about the nature or essence of matter
^ j which renders this tendency to the magnet impossible.
That we do not see intuitively any reason why the iron
should approach the magnet, must be granted; but this is
not enough to entitle us to say that such a thing is impos¬
sible, or inconsistent with the nature of matter. It appears,
therefore, to be very hasty and unwarrantable to suppose
the impulse of an invisible fluid, of which we know no¬
thing, and of the existence of which we have no proof.
Nay, if it be true that bodies do not come into contact,
even when one ball hits another, and drives it before it,
this invisible fluid will not solve the difficulty, because the
same difficulty occurs in the action of any particle of the
fluid on the body. We are obliged to say that the pro¬
duction of motion without any observed contact, is a much
more familiar phenomenon than the production of motion
by impulsion. More motion has been produced in this way
by the gravitation of a small stream of water, running ever
since the creation, than by all the impulses in the world
twice told. We do not mean by this to say, that the giv¬
ing to this observed mutual relation between iron and a
loadstone the name tendency makes it less absurd than
when we say that the loadstone attracts the iron; it only
makes it more conceivable. It suggests a very familiar
analogy; but both are equally figurative expressions, at
least as the word tendency is used at present. In the lan¬
guage of ancient Rome, there was no metaphor when Vir¬
gil’s hero said, Tendimus in Latium. Tendere versus solem
means, in plain Latin, to approach the sun. The safe way
of conceiving the whole is to say that the condition of the
iron depends on the vicinity of the magnet.
Attraction, 16. When the exertions of a mechanical power are ob-
repulsion, served to be always directed tovvard a body, that body is
are figura- sailj t0 attract; but when the other body always moves
live terms. ^ prom ^ it is sa;ti t0 repe]. These also are metaphori¬
cal expressions. I attract a boat when I pull it towaid
me by a rope ; this is purely Attraction: and it is puie,
unfigurative Repulsion, when I push any body from me.
The same words are applied to the mechanical pheno¬
mena, merely because they resemble the results of real
attraction or repulsion. We must be much on our guard
to avoid metaphor in our conceptions, and never allow
those words to suggest to our mind any opinion about the
manner in which the mechanical foices pioduce their ef¬
fects. It is plain, that if the opinion of those who main¬
tain the existence and action of the above-mentioned in¬
visible fluid be just, there is nothing like attraction or re¬
pulsion in the universe. We must always recur to the
simple phenomenon, the motion to or from the attracting
or repelling body; for this is all we see, and generally all
that we know.
Forces are 17. We conceive one man to have twice the strength of
conceived another man, when we see that he can withstand the
as measur- unite(i effort of two others. Thus animal force is conceived
able quan- ag & niade up of and measured by its own parts.
But we doubt exceedingly whether this be an accurate
conception. We have not a distinct notion of one strain
added to another, though we have of their being joined
or combined. We want words to express the difference
of these two notions in our own minds, but we imagine
that others perceive the same difference. We conceive
clearly the addition of two lines or of two minutes ; we
can conceive them apart, and perceive their boundaries,
common to both, where one ends and the other begins.
We cannot conceive thus of two forces combined ; yet we
cannot say that two equal forces are not double of one of
them. We measure them by the effects which they are
known to produce. Yet there are not wanting many cases
where the action of two men, equally strong, does not pro¬
duce a double motion.
In like manner, we conceive all mechanical forces as Dynamics,
measurable by their effects; and thus they are made the v—^''
subjects of mathematical discussion. We talk of the pro-How mea-
portions of gravity, magnetism, electricity, &c.; nay, wesure •
talk of the proportion of gravity to magnetism : yet these,
considered in themselves, are disparate, and do not admit
of any proportion ; but they produce effects, some of
which are measurable, and whose assumed measures are
susceptible of comparison, being quantities of the same
kind. Thus, one of the effects of gravity is the accelera¬
tion of motion in a falling body: magnetism will also ac¬
celerate the motion of a piece of iron; these two acce¬
lerations are comparable. But we cannot compare mag¬
netism with heat, because we do not know any measur¬
able effects of magnetism that are of the same kind with
any effects of heat.
When we say that the gravitation of the moon is the By their
3600th part of the gravitation at the sea-shore, we mean effects,
that the fall of a stone in a second is 3600 times greater
than the fall of the moon in the same time. But we also
mean (and this expresses the proportion of the tendency
of gravitation more purely), that if a stone, when hung
on a spring steelyard, draw out the rod of the steelyaid
to the mark 3600, the same stone, taken up to the dis¬
tance of the moon, will draw it out no faither than the
mark 1. We also mean, that if the stone at the sea-shore
draw out the rod to any mark, it will require 3600 such
stones to draw it out to that mark when the trial is made
at the distance of the moon. It is not, therefore, in con¬
sequence of any immediate perception of the proportion
of the gravitation at the moon to that at the surface of the
earth that we make such an assertion ; but these motions,
which we consider as its effects in these situations, being
magnitudes of the same kind, are susceptible of compari¬
son, and have a proportion which can be ascertained by
observation. It is these proportions that we contemplate ;
although we speak of the proportions of the unseen causes,
the forces, or endeavours to descend. It will be of mate¬
rial service to the reader to peruse the judicious and acute
dissertation on quantity in the works of Dr Ileid(yol. ii.),
where he will see clearly how force, velocity, density, and
many other magnitudes of very frequent occurience in
mechanical philosophy, may be made the subjects of ma¬
thematical discussion, by means of some of those pioper
quantities, measurable by their own parts, which are to be
assumed as their measures. Pressures are measurable
only by pressures. W hen we consider them as moving
powers, we should be able to measure them by any mov¬
ing powers, otherwise we cannot compare them ; there¬
fore it is not as pressures that we then measure them.
This observation is momentous.
One circumstance must be carefully attended to. I hat
those assumed measures may be accurate, they must be
invariably connected with the magnitudes which they are
employed to measure, and so connected that the degrees
of the one must change in the same manner with the de¬
grees of the other. This is evident, and is granted by all.
But we must also know this of the measure we employ;
we must see this constant and precise relation. Plow can
we know this ? We do not perceive force as a separate
existence, so as to see its proportions, and to see that
these are the same with the proportions of the measures,
in the same manner that Euclid sees the proportions of
triangles and those of their bases, and that these piopor-
tions^are the same when the triangles are of equal alti¬
tudes. How do we discover that to every magnitude
which we caW force is invariably attached a corresponding
magnitude of acceleration or deflection ? Lleaily. In fact,
the very existence of the force is an inference that we
make from the observed acceleration; and the degree of
326
DYNAMICS.
Dynamics, the force is, in like manner, an inference from the observ-
ed magnitude of the acceleration. Our measures are
therefore necessarily connected with the magnitudes which
they measure, and their proportions are the same ; because
the one is always an inference from the other, both in
species and in degree.
Dynamics 18. It is now evident that these disquisitions are sus-
is a demon- ceptible of mathematical accuracy. Having selected our
strative ’ ’ ’ ' ' •’ .• i --i-.: c
science.
measures, and observed certain mathematical relations of
those measures, every inference that we can draw from
the mathematical relations of the proportions of those re¬
presentations is true of the proportions of the motions,
and therefore of the proportions of the forces. And thus
dynamics becomes a demonstrative science, one of the
disciplines accuratce.
19. But moving forces are considered as differing and
in kind ; that is, in direction. We assign to the force the
direction of the observed change of motion, which is not
only the indication, but also the characteristic, of the
changing force. We call it an accelerating, retarding, de¬
flecting force, according as we observe the motion to be
accelerated, retarded, or deflected.
These denominations show us incontestably that we
have no knowledge of the forces different from our know¬
ledge of the effects. The denominations are all either
descriptive of the effects, as when we call them accelerat¬
ing, penetrating, protrusive, attractive, or repulsive forces;
or they are**names of reference to the substances in which
the accelerating, protrusive, &c. forces are supposed to
be inherent, as when we call them magnetism, electricity,
corpuscular, &c.
Forces are 20. When I struggle with another, and feel, that in or-
diseovered (jer to prevent being thrown, I must exert force, I learn
by their t|iat n,y antagonist is exerting force. This motion is trans-
t^other*11 fe1Tecl t0 matter; and when a moving power which is
forces!61 known to operate produces no motion, we conceive it to
be opposed by another equal force, the existence, agency,
and intensity of which is detected and measured by these
means. The quiescent state of the body is considered as
a change on the state of things that would have been ex¬
hibited in consequence of the known action of one power,
had this other power not acted; and this change is con¬
sidered as the indication, characteristic, and measure, of
another power, detected in this way. Thus forces are re¬
cognised not only by the changes of motion which they
produce, but also by the changes of motion which they
prevent. The cohesion of matter in a string is inferred
not only by its giving motion to a ball which I pull toward
me by its intervention, but also by its suspending that ball,
und hindering it from falling. I know that gravity is act¬
ing on the ball, which, however, does not fall. The soli¬
dity of a board is equally inferred from its stopping the
ball which strikes it, and from the motion of the ball which
it drives before it. In this way we learn that the particles
of tangible matter cohere by means of moving forces, and
that they resist compression with force ; and in making this
inference, we find that this corpuscular force exerted be¬
tween the particles is mutual, opposite, and equal; for we
must apply force equally to a or to b, in order to produce
a separation or a compression. We learn their equality,
by observing that no motion ensues while these mutual
forces are known to act on the particles; that is, each is
opposed by another force, which is neither inferior nor
superior to it.
OF THE LAWS OF MOTION.
Such, then, being our notions of mechanical forces, the
causes of the sensible changes of motion, there will result
certain consequences from them, which may be called
axioms or laws of motion. Some of these may be intuitive> First Law
offering themselves to the mind as soon as the notionsMotion,
which they involve are presented to it. Others may be as
necessary results from the relations of these notions, but
may not readily offer themselves without the mediation of
axioms of the first class. We shall select those which are
intuitive, and may be taken for the first principles of all
discussions in mechanical philosophy.
FIRST LAW OF MOTION.
Every body continues in a state of rest, or of uniform recti¬
lineal motion, unless affected by some mechanical force.
21. This is a proposition, on the truth of which the
whole science of mechanical philosophy ultimately de¬
pends. It is therefore to be established on the firmest
foundation; and a solicitude on this head is the more jus¬
tifiable, because the opinions of philosophers have been
extremely different, both with respect to the truth of this
law, and with respect to the foundation on which it is
built. These opinions are, in general, very obscure and
unsatisfactory; and, as is natural, they influence the dis¬
cussions of those by whom they are held through the whole
science. Although of contradictory opinions one only
can be just, and it may appear sufficient that this one be
established and uniformly applied; yet a short exposition,
at least, of the rest is necessary, that the greatest part of
the writings of the philosophers may be intelligible, and
that we may avail ourselves of much valuable information
contained in them, by being able to perceive the truth
in the midst of their imperfect or erroneous conceptions
of it.
22. It is not only the popular opinion that rest is the Does con¬
natural state of body, and that motion is something foreign tinned mo-
to it, but it has been seriously maintained by the great-^
est part of those who are esteemed philosophers. They tinued a'c.
readily grant that matter will continue at rest unless sometion ?
moving force act upon it. Nothing seems necessary for
matter’s remaining where it is, but its continuing to exist.
But it is far otherwise, say they, with respect to matter in
motion. Here the body is continually changing its relations
to other things; therefore the continual agency of a chan¬
ging cause is necessary (by the fundamental principle of
all philosophical discussion), for there is here the continual
production of an effect. They say that this metaphysical
argument receives complete confirmation (if confirmation
of an intuitive truth be necessary) from the most familiar
observation. We see that all motions, however violent,
terminate in rest, and that the continual exertion of some
force is necessary for their continuance.
23. These philosophers therefore assert, that the conti- Whimsies,
nual action of the moving cause is essentially necessary for
the continuance of the motion; but they differ amongadn(j3-
themselves in their notions and opinions about this cause.
Some maintain that all the motions in the universe are
produced and continued by the immediate agency of
Deity ; others affirm, that in every particle of matter there
is inherent a sort of mind, the pud/; and of Aris¬
totle, which they call an Elemented Mind, which is the
cause of all its motions and changes. An overweening
reverence for Greek learning has had a great influence in
reviving this doctrine of Aristotle. The Greek and Ro¬
man languages are affirmed to be more accurate expres¬
sions of human thought than the modern languages are.
In those ancient languages, the verbs which express mo¬
tion are employed both in the active and passive voice ;
whereas we have only the active verb to move, for express¬
ing both the state of motion and the act of putting in
motion. “ The stone moves down the slope, and moves all
the pebbles which lie in its way ;” but in the ancient lan-
DYNAMICS. 327
First Law guages, the mere state of motion is always expressed by
of Motion, the passive or middle voice. The accurate conception of
the speakers is therefore extolled. The state of motion is
expressed as it ought to be, as the result of a continual
action. Kivsirai, movetur, is equivalent to “ it is moved.”
According to these philosophers, every thing which moves
is mind, and every thing that is moved is body.
The argument is futile, and it is false; for the modern
languages are, in general, equally accurate in this instance:
“ se mouvoir” in French; “ Jich bewegen” in German;
“ dvigatsu," in Slavonic; are all passive or reflected. And
the ancients said that “ rain falls, water runs, smoke rises,”
just as we do. The ingenious author of Ancient Meta¬
physics has taken much pains to give us, at length, the
procedures of those elementary minds in producing the
ostensible phenomena of local motion ; but it seems to be
merely an abuse of language, and a very frivolous abuse.
This elemental mind is known and characterised only by
the effect which we ascribe to its action ; that is, by the
motions or changes of motions. Uniform and unexcept¬
ed experience shows us that these are regulated by laws
as precise as those of mathematical truth. We consider
nothing as more fixed and determined than the common
laws of mechanism. There is nothing here that indicates
any thing like spontaneity, intention, purpose ; none of
those marks by which mind was first brought into view ;
but they are very like the effects which we produce by
the exertions of our corporeal forces ; and we have ac¬
cordingly given the name force to the causes of motion.
It is surely much more apposite than the name mind, and
conveys with much more readiness and perspicuity the
very notions that we wish to convey.
Action not 24. We now wish to know what reason we have to think
for^he*1^ ^iat ^ie cont‘nual action of some cause is necessary for
continu- continuing matter in motion, or for thinking that rest is
ance of its natural state. If we pretend to draw any argument
motion. from the nature of matter, that matter must be known, as
far as is necessary for being the foundation of argument.
Its very existence is known only from observation ; all our
knowledge of it must therefore be derived from the same
source.
If we take this way to come at the origin of this opi¬
nion, we shall find that experience gives us no authority
for saying that rest is the natural condition of matter. We
cannot say that we have ever seen a body at rest; this is
evident to every person who allows the validity of the
Newtonian philosophy, and the truth of the Copernican
system of the sun and planets ; all the parts of this system
are in motion. Nay, it appears from many observations,
that the sun, with his attending planets, is carried in a
certain direction, with a velocity which is very great. We
have no unquestionable authority for saying that any one
of the stars is absolutely fixed ; but we are certain that
many of them are in motion. Rest is therefore so rare a
condition of body, that we cannot say, from any experience,
that it is its natural state.
25. It is easy, however, to see that it is from observa¬
tion that this opinion has been derived ; but the observa¬
tion has been limited and careless. Our experiments in
this sublunary world do indeed always require continued
action of some moving force to continue the motion; and
if this be not employed, we see the motions slacken every
minute, and terminate in rest after no long period. Our
first notions of sublunary bodies are indicated by their
operation in cases where we have some interest. Perpe¬
tually seeing our own exertions necessary, we are led to
consider matter as something not only naturally quiescent
and inert, but sluggish, averse from motion, and prone to
rest (wr must be pardoned this metaphorical language,
because we can find no other term). What is expressed
by it, on this occasion, is precisely one of the erroneous First Law
or inadequate conceptions that are suggested to ourof Motion,
thoughts by reason of the poverty of language. We ani-
mate matter in order to give it motion, and then we endow
it with a sort of moral character in order to explain the
appearance of those motions.
26. But more extended observation has made men gra¬
dually desert their first opinions, and at last allow that
matter has no peculiar aptitude to rest. All the retarda¬
tions that we observe have been discovered, one after an¬
other, to have a distinct reference to some external cir¬
cumstances. The diminution of motion is always observ¬
ed to be accompanied by the removal of obstacles, as when
a ball moves through sand, or water, or air ; or it is owing
to opposite motions which are destroyed; to roughness
of the path, or to friction, &c. We find that the more we
can keep these things out of the way, the less are the
motions diminished. A pendulum will vibrate but a short
while in water; much longer in air; and in the exhaust¬
ed receiver it will vibrate a whole day. We know that we
cannot remove all obstacles ; but we are led by such ob¬
servations to conclude that, if they could be completely
removed, our motions would continue for ever. And this
conclusion is almost demonstrated by the motions of the
heavenly bodies, to which we know of no obstacles, and
which we really observe to retain their motions for many
thousand years, without the smallest sensible diminution.
27. Another set of philosophers maintain an opinion Inactivity
directly opposite to that of the inactivity of matter, and of matter
assert, that it is essentially active, and continually chan-denied by
ging its state. Faint traces of this are to be found in theIjeibnitz'
writings of Plato, Aristotle, and their commentators. Mr
Leibnitz is the person who has treated this question most
systematically and fully. He supposes every particle ofMonads,
matter to have a principle of individuality, which he there-what,
fore calls a Monad. This monad has a sort of perception
of its situation in the universe, and of its relation to every
other part of this universe. Lastly, he says that the mo¬
nad acts on the material particle much in the same way
that the soul of man acts on his body. It modifies the
motion of the material atom (in conformity, however, to
unalterable laws), producing all those modifications of
motion that we observe. Matter, therefore, or at least
particles of matter, are continually active, and continual¬
ly changing their situation.
It is quite unnecessary to enter on a formal confutation This opi-
of Mr Leibnitz’s system of monads, which differs very nion ill
little from the system of elemental minds, and is equally founded,
whimsical and frivolous ; because it only makes the un¬
learned reader stare, without giving him any information.
Should it even be granted, it would not, any more than
the action of animals, invalidate the general proposition
which we are endeavouring to establish as the funda¬
mental law of motion. Those powers of the monads, or of
the elemental minds, are the causes of all the changes of
motion ; but the mere material particle is subject to the
law, and requires the exertion of the monad in order to
exhibit a change of motion.
28. A third sect of philosophers, at the head of which
we may place Sir Isaac Newrton, maintain the doctrine
enounced in the proposition. But they differ much in re¬
spect of the foundation on which it is built.
Some assert that this truth flows from the nature of the Some pni-
thing. If a body be at rest, and you assert that it will notlosophers
remain at rest, it must move in some one direction. If it deduce this
be in motion in any direction, and with any velocity, andbuv mo'
do not continue its equable, rectilineal motion, it musttluTwanT
either be accelerated or retarded ; it must turn either tc of adcfer.
one side or to some other side. The event, whatever it mining
be, is individual and determinate; but no cause which cause.
328 D Y N A
First Law can determine it is supposed ; therefore the determina-
of Motion, tion cannot take place, and no change will happen in the
condition of the body with respect to motion. It will con¬
tinue at rest, or persevere in its rectilineal and equable
motion.
But considerable objections may be made to this argu¬
ment of sufficient reason, as it is called. In the immen¬
sity and perfect uniformity of space and time, there is no
determining cause why the visible universe should exist in
the place in which we see it rather than in another, or at
this time rather than at another. Nay, the argument seems
to beg the question. A cause of determination is requir¬
ed as essentially necessary—a determination may be with¬
out a cause, as well as a motion without a cause.
Others cle- 29. Other philosophers, who maintain this doctrine, con¬
duce it sider it merely as an experimental truth; and proofs of its
from ex- universality are innumerable.
perience. When a stone is thrown from the hand, we press it for¬
ward while in the hand, and let it go when the hand has
acquired the greatest rapidity of motion that we can give
it. The stone continues in that state of motion which it
acquired gradually along with the hand. We can throw
a stone much farther by means of a sling, because, by a
very moderate motion of the hand, we can whirl the stone
round till it acquire a very great velocity, and then we let
go one of the strings, and the stone escapes, % continuing
its rapid motion. We see it still more distinctly in shoot¬
ing an arrow from a bow. The string presses hard on the
notch of the arrow, and it yields to this pressure and goes
forward. The string alone would go faster forward. It
therefore continues to press the arrow forward, and accele¬
rates its motion. This goes on till the bow is as much
unbent as the string will allow. But the string is now a
straight line- It came into this position with an accele¬
rated motion, and it therefore goes a little beyond this po¬
sition, but with a retarded motion, being checked by the
bow. But there is nothing to check the arrow, therefore
the arrow quits the string and flies away.
These are simple cases of perseverance in a state of
motion, where the procedure of nature is so easily traced
that we perceive it almost intuitively. It is no less clear
in other phenomena which are more complicated ; but it
requires a little reflection to trace the process. We have
often seen an equestrian showman ride a horse at a gallop,
standing on the saddle, and stepping from it to the back
of another horse that gallops alongside at the same rate ;
and he does this seemingly with as much ease as if the
horses were standing still. The man has the same velo¬
city with the horse that gallops under him, and keeps this
velocity while he steps to the back of the other. If that
other were standing still, the man would fly over his head.
And if a man should step from the back of a horse that is
standing still, to the back of another that gallops past him,
he would be left behind. In the same manner, a slack-
wire dancer tosses oranges from hand to hand while the
wire is in full swing. The orange, swinging along with
the hand, retains the velocity ; and when in the air, follows
the hand, and falls into it when it is in the opposite ex¬
tremity of its swing. A ball dropped from the mast-head
of a ship that is sailing briskly forward, falls at the foot of
the mast. It retains the motion which it had while in the
band of the person who dropped it, and follows the mast
during the whole of its fall.
We also have familiar instances of the perseverance of
a body in a state of rest. When a vessel filled with water
is drawn suddenly along the floor, the water dashes over
the posterior side of the vessel. It is left behind. In the
same maimer, when a coach or boat is dragged forward,
the persons in it find themselves strike against the hinder
part of the carriage or boat- Properly speaking, it is the
M I C S<
carriage that strikes on them. In like manner, if we lay First Law
a card’on the tip of the finger, and a piece of money ono^^Motion.
the card, we may nick away the card, by hitting it neatly |
on its edge; but the piece of money will be left behind,
lying on the tip of the finger. A ball will go through a
wall and fly onward ; but the wall is left behind. Buildings
are thrown down by earthquakes; sometimes by being
tossed from their foundations, but more generally by the
ground on which they stand being hastily drawn'sidewise
from under them, &c.
SO. But common experience seems insufficient for esta-Common
blishing this fundamental proposition of mechanical philo-experience I
sophy. We must, on the faith of the Copernican system,|™i.
orant that we never saw a body at rest, or in uniform rec¬
tilineal motion; yet this seems absolutely necessary before
we can say that we have established this proposition ex¬
perimentally.
What we imagine, in our experiments, to be putting a
body, formerly at rest, into motion, is, in fact, only chan¬
ging a most rapid motion, not less, and probably much
greater, than 90,000 feet per second. Suppose a cannon
pointed east, and the bullet discharged at noon day with
sixty times greater velocity than we have ever been able'
to give it: it would appear to set out with this unmea¬
surable velocity to the eastward, to be gradually retard¬
ed by the resistance of the air, and at last brought to rest
by hitting the ground. But, by reason of the earth’s mo¬
tion round the sun, the fact is quite the reverse. Imme¬
diately before the discharge, the ball was moving to the
westward with the velocity of 90,000 feet per second
nearly. By the explosion of the powder, and its pressure
on the ball, some of this motion is destroyed, and at the
muzzle of the gun the ball is moving slower, and the can¬
non is hurried away from it to the westward. The air,
which is also moving to the westward 90,000 feet in a se¬
cond, gradually communicates motion to the ball, in the
same manner as a hurricane would do. At last (the ball
dropping all the while) some part of the ground hits the
ball, and carries it along with it.
Other observations must therefore be resorted to, in
order to obtain an experimental proof of this proposition;
and such are to be found. Although we cannot measure
the absolute motions of bodies, we can observe and mea¬
sure accurately their relative motions, which are the dif¬
ferences of their absolute motions. Now, it we can show
experimentally that bodies show equal tendencies to resist
the augmentation and the diminution of their relative mo¬
tions, they, ipso facto, show equal tendencies to resist the
augmentation or diminution of their absolute motions.
Therefore let two bodies, A and B, be put into such a si¬
tuation that they cannot (by reason of their impenetrabi¬
lity, or the action of their mutual powers) persevere in
their relative motions. The change produced on A is the
effect and the measure of B’s tendency to persevere in its
former state ; and therefore the proportion of these changes
will show the proportion of their tendencies to maintain
their former states. Therefore let the following experi¬
ment be made at noon.
Let A, apparently moving westward three feet per se-Experi-
cond, hit the equal body B apparently at rest. Suppose, ments^pro*
ls£, that A impels B forward without any diminution ofP^
its own velocity. This result would show that B mani¬
fests no tendency to maintain its motion unchanged, but
that A retains its motion undiminished.
2dly, Suppose that A stops, and that B remains at rest.
This would show that A does not resist a diminution of
motion, but that B retains its motion unaugmented.
3c?/y, Suppose that both move westward with the velo¬
city of one foot per second. The change on A is a dimi¬
nution of velocity, amounting to two feet per second.
D Y N A
[first Law This is the effect and the measure of B’s tendency to
Df Motion, maintain its velocity unaugmented. The change on B is
an augmentation of one foot per second made on its velo¬
city ; and this is the measure of A’s tendency to maintain
its velocity undiminished. This tendency is but half of
the former; and this result would show that the resist¬
ance to a diminution of velocity is but half of the resist¬
ance to augmentation. It is perhaps but one quarter, for
the change on B has produced a double change on A.
Uhly, Suppose that both move westward at the rate of
one and a half foot per second. It is evident that their
tendencies to maintain their states unchanged are now
equal.
bthly. Suppose A = 2 B, and that both move, after the
collision, two feet per second; B has received an addition
of two feet per second to its former velocity. This is the
effect and the measure of A’s whole tendency to retain its
motion undiminished. Half of this change on B measures
the persevering tendency of the half of A; but A, which
formerly moved with the apparent or relative velocity
three, now moves (by the supposition) with the velocity
two, having lost a velocity of one foot per second. Each
half of A therefore has lost this velocity, and the whole
loss of motion is two. Now this is the measure of B’s
tendency to maintain its former state unaugmented; and
this is the same with the measure of A’s tendency to
maintain its own former state undiminished. The conclu¬
sion from such a result would therefore be, that bodies
have equal tendencies to maintain their former states of
motion without augmentation and without diminution.
What is supposed in the fourth and fifth cases is really
the result of all the experiments which have been tried;
and this law regulates all the changes ot motion which are
produced by the mutual actions of bodies in impulsions.
This assertion is true without exception or qualification.
Therefore it appears that bodies have no preferable ten¬
dency to rest, and that no fact can be adduced which
should make us suppose that a motion once begun should
suffer any diminution without the action of a changing
cause.
But expe- But we must now observe, that this way of establishing
i rience is the first law of motion is very imperfect, and altogether
not the unfit for rendering it the fundamental principle of a whole
* Pr°P7 . and extensive science. It is subject to all the inaccuracy
; ™tlon that is to be found in our best experiments; and it cannot
axiom. he applied to cases where scrupulous accuracy is wanted,
and where no experiment can be made.
Let us therefore examine the proposition by means of
principles which contain the foundation of all our know¬
ledge of active nature. These will, we imagine, give a
decision of this question that is speedy and accurate;
showing the proposition to be an axiom or intuitive con¬
sequence of the relations of those ideas which we have of
motion, and of the causes of its production and changes.
Logical 31. It has been fully demonstrated that the powers or
proof, forces of which we speak so much are never the immedi¬
ate objects of our perception. Their very existence, their
kind, and their degree, are instinctive inferences from the
motions which we observe and class. It evidently follows
from this experimental and universal truth, Is£, that where
no change of motion is observed, no such inference is
made, that is, no power is supposed to act. But when¬
ever any change of motion is observed, the inference is
made ; that is, a power or force is supposed to have acted.
In the same form of logical conclusion, we must say
that, 2dly, when no change of motion is supposed or
thought of, no force is supposed; and that whenever we
suppose a change of motion, we in fact, though not in
terms, suppose a changing force. And, on the other hand,
whenever we suppose the action of a changing force, we
VOL. vm.
M I C S.
329
suppose the change of motion ; for the action of this f°rce, Eirst Law
and the change of motion, is one and the same thing. e ,
cannot think of the action without thinking of the indica¬
tion of that action ; that is, the change of motion. In the
same manner, when we do not think of a changing force,
or suppose that there is no action of a changing force, we
in fact, though not in terms, suppose that there is no in¬
dication of this changing force; that is, that there is no
change.
Whenever, therefore, we suppose that no mechanical It is a law
force is acting on a body, we in fact suppose that the of human
body continues in its former condition with respect tothoug ’
motion. If we suppose that nothing accelerates, or retards,
or deflects the motion, we suppose that it is not accele¬
rated, nor retarded, nor deflected. Hence follows the pro¬
position in express terms— We suppose that the body con¬
tinues in its former state of rest or motion, unless we suppose
that it is changed by some mechanical force.
Thus it appears that this proposition is not a matter of
experience or contingency, depending on the properties
which it has pleased the Author of nature to bestow on
body; it is to us a necessary truth. The proposition does
not so much express any thing with regard to body, as it
does the operations of our mind when contemplating body.
It may perhaps be essential to body to move in some par¬
ticular direction. It may be essential to body to stop as
soon as the moving cause has ceased to act; or it may be
essential to body to diminish its motion gradually, and
finally come to rest. But this will not invalidate the truth
of this proposition. These circumstances in the nature of
body, which render those modifications of motion essen¬
tially necessary, are the causes of those modifications
and in our study of nature they will be considered by us
as changing forces, and will be known and called by that
name. And if we should ever see a particle of matter in
such a situation that it is affected by those essential pro¬
perties alone, we shall, from observation of its motion, dis¬
cover what those essential properties are.
This law turns out at last to be little more than a tau-and almost
tological proposition; but mechanical philosophy, as we an identi-
have defined it, requires no other sense of it; for even if^.F®?0*
we should suppose that body, of its own nature, is capa¬
ble of changing its state, this change must be performed
according to some law which characterizes the nature of
body; and the knowledge of the law can be had in no
other way than by observing the deviations from uniform
rectilineal motion. It is therefore indifferent whether
those changes are derived from the nature of the thing or
from external causes; for, in order to consider the vaiious^
motions of bodies, we must first consider this nature of
matter as a mechanical affection of matter, operating in
every instance; and thus we are brought back to the law
enounced in this proposition. This becomes more certain
when we reflect that the external causes (such as gravity
or magnetism), which are acknowledged to operate changes
of mcTtion, are equally unknown to us with this essential
original property of matter, and are, like it, nothing but
inferences from the phenomena.
The above very diffuse discussions may appear super¬
fluous to many readers, and even cumbersome; but we
trust that the philosophical reader will excuse our anxiety
on this head, when he reflects on the complicated, indis¬
tinct, and inaccurate notions commonly had of the sub¬
ject. We may include Sir Isaac Newton in the number
of those who have at least introduced modes of expression
which mislead the minds of incautious persons, and sug¬
gest inadequate notions, incompatible with the pure doc¬
trine of the proposition. Although in words they disclaim
the doctrine that rest is the natural state of body, and
that force is necessary for the continuation of its motion,
2 T
330
DYNAMICS.
First Law yet in words they (and most of them in thought) likevvise
of Motion. abet that doctrine: for they say that there resides in a
moving body a power or force, by which it perseveres in
its motion. They call it the vis insita, the inherent force,
of a moving body. This is surely giving up the question :
for if the motion is supposed to be continued in conse¬
quence of a force, that force is supposed to be exerted;
and it is supposed that if it were not exerted, the motion
would cease; and therefore the proposition must be false.
Indeed it is sometimes expressed so as seemingly to ward
off this objection. It is said that the body continues in
uniform rectilineal motion, unless affected by some external
cause. But this way of speaking obliges us, at first setting
out in natural philosophy, to assert that gravity, magnetism,
electricity, and a thousand other mechanical powers, are
external to the matter which they put in motion. This is
quite improper. It is the business of philosophy to dis¬
cover whether they be external or not; and if we assert
that they are, we have no principles of argumentation with
those who deny it. It is this one thing that has filled the
study of nature with all the jargon of ethers, and other in¬
visible, intangible fluids, which has disgraced philosophy,
and greatly retarded its progress.
Vis insita, 32. We must observe, that the terms vis insita, inherent
inherent force, are very improper. There is no dispute among phi-
force, are losophers in calling every thing a force that produces a
improper cbange of motion, and in inferring the action of such a
theh^uTual f°rce whenever we observe a change of motion. It is
accepta- surely incongruous to give the same name to what has
tion. not this quality of producing a change, or to infer (or rather
to suppose) the energy of a force when no change of motion
is observed. This is one among many instances of the
danger of mistake when we indulge in analogical discus¬
sions. All our language, at least, on this subject is ana¬
logous. I feel that in order to oppose animal force I must
exert force. But I must exert force in order to oppose a
body in motion ; therefore I imagine that the moving body
possesses force. A bent spring will drive a body forward
by unbending; therefore I say that the spring exerts
force. A moving body impels the body which it hits;
therefore I say that the impelling body possesses and ex¬
erts force. I imagine farther, that it possesses force only
by being in motion, or because it is in motion; because I
do not find that a quiescent body will put another into
motion by touching it. But we shall soon find this to be
false in many, if not in all cases, and that the communica¬
tion of motion depends on the mere vicinity, and not on
the motion of the impelling body; yet we ascribe the
exertion of the vis insita to the circumstance of the con¬
tinued motion. We therefore conceive the force as aris¬
ing from or as consisting in the impelling body’s being in
motion; and, with a very obscure and indistinct concep¬
tion of the whole matter, we call it the force by which the
body preserves itself in motion. Thus, taking it for grant¬
ed that a force resides in the body, and being obliged
to give it some office, this is the only one that we can
think of.
33. But philosophers imagine that they perceive the
necessity of the exertion of a force in order to the con¬
tinuation of a motion. Motion (say they) is a continued
action ; the body is every instant in a new situation ; there
is the continual production of an effect, therefore the con¬
tinual action of a cause.
This, however, is a very inaccurate way of thinking.
We have a distinct conception of motion ; and we con-
continual ceive that there is such a thing as a moving cause, which
rfTi^ef-011 we d^&'gmsh from all other causes by the name force. It
produces motion. If it does this, it produces the cha¬
racter of motion, which is a continual change of place.
Motion is not action, but the effect of an action ; and this
Motion is
not the
continual
feet.
action is as complete in the instant immediately succeed- First Law
ing the beginning of the motion as it is a minute after.0* Motion.
The subsequent change of place is the continuation of an
effect already produced. The immediate effect of the
moving force is a determination, by which, if not hin¬
dered, the body would go on for ever from place to place.
It is in this determination only that the state or condition
of the body can differ from a state of rest ; for in any in¬
stant the body does not describe any space, but has a de¬
termination, by which it will describe a certain space uni¬
formly in a certain time. Motion is a condition, a state,
or mode of existence, and no more requires the continued
agency of the moving cause than yellowmess or roundness
does. It requires some chemical agency to change the
yellowness to greenness ; and it requires a mechanical cause
or a force to change this motion into rest. When we see
a moving body stop short in an instant, or be gradually
but quickly brought to rest, we never fail to speculate
about a cause of this cessation or retardation. The case
is no way different in itself although the retardation should
be extremely slow. We should always attribute it to a
cause. It requires a cause to put a body out of motion, as
much as to put it into motion. This cause, if not extern
nal, must be found in the body itself; and it must have a
self-determining power, and may as well be able to put
itself into motion as out of it.
If this reasoning be not admitted, we do not see how
any effect can be produced by any cause. Every effect
supposes something done ; and any thing done implies that
the thing done may remain till it be undone by some other
cause. Without this it would have no existence. If a
moving cause did not produce continued motion by its in¬
stantaneous action, it could not produce it by any continu¬
ance of that action ; because in no instant of that action
does it produce continued motion.
We must therefore give up the opinion, that there re¬
sides in a moving body a force by which it is kept in mo¬
tion ; and we must find some other way of explaining that
remarkable difference between a moving body and a body
at rest, by which the first causes other bodies to move by
hitting them, while the other does not do this by merely
touching them. We shall see, with the clearest evidence,
that motion is necessary in the impelling body, in order
that it may permit the forces inherent in one or both
bodies to continue this pressure long enough for produ¬
cing a sensible or considerable motion. But these moving
forces are inherent in bodies, whether they are in motion
or at rest.
34. The foregoing observations show us the impropriety Communi-
of the phrase communication of motion. By thus reflect- cation of
ing on the notions that are involved in the general con- motion is
ception of one body being made to move by the impulse .
of another, we perceive that there is nothing individual
transferred from the one body to the other. The deter¬
mination to motion, indeed, existed only in the impelling
body before collision ; whereas, afterwards, both bodies
are so conditioned or determined. But we can form no
notion of the thing transferred. With the same meta¬
physical impropriety we speak of the communication of
joy, of fever.
35. Kepler introduced a term inertia,, vis inertue, into so is vis
mechanical philosophy; and it is now in constant use.*«e^w.
But writers are very careless and vague in the notions which
they affix to these terms. Kepler and Newton seem ge¬
nerally to employ it for expressing the fact, the perseverance
of the body in its present state of motion or rest: but they
also frequently express by it something like an indiffer¬
ence to motion or rest, manifested by its requiring the same
quantity of force to make an augmeidation of its motion as
to make an equal diminution of it. The popular notion is
DYNAMICS.
331
First Law like that which we have of actual resistance ; and it always
of Motion, implies the notion of force exerted by the resisting body.
We suppose this to be the exertion of the vis insita, or
the inherent force of a body in motion. But we have the
same notion of resistance from a body at rest which we set
in motion. Now surely it is in direct contradiction to the
common use of the word^brce, when we suppose resistance
from a body at rest; yet vis inertice is a very common ex¬
pression. Nor is it more absurd (and it is very absurd)
to say, that a body maintains its state of rest by the ex¬
ertion of a vis inertice, than to say that it maintains its
state of motion by the exertion of an inherent force. We
should avoid all such metaphorical expressions as,resistance,
indifference, sluggishness, or proneness to rest (which some
express by inertia) because they seldom fail to make us
indulge in metaphorical notions, and thus lead us to mis¬
conceive the modus operandi, or procedure of nature.
There is no resistance whatever observed in these pheno¬
mena, for the force employed always produces its com¬
plete effect. When I throw down a man, and find that I
have employed no more force than was sufficient to throw
down a similar and equal mass of dead matter, I know b}'
this that he has not resisted; but I conclude that he has
resisted if I have been obliged to employ much more
force. There is therefore no resistance, properly so called,
when the exerted force is observed to produce its full
effect. To say that there is resistance, is therefore a real
misconception of the way in which mechanical forces
have operated in the collision of bodies. There is no
more resistance in these cases than in any other natural
changes of condition. We are guilty, however, of the
same impropriety of language in other cases, where the
cause of it is more evident. We say that colours in grain
resist the action of soap and of the sun, but that Prussian
blue does not. We all perceive that in this expression
the word resistance is entirely figurative ; and we should say
that Prussian blue resists soap, if we are right in saying
that a body resists any force employed to change its state
of motion; for soap must be employed to discharge or
change the colour, and it does change it. Force must
be employed to change a motion, and it does change it.
The impropriety, both of thought and language, is plain
in the one case, and it is no less real in the other. Both
of the terms inherent force and inertia, may be used with
safety for abbreviating language, if we be careful to em¬
ploy them only for expressing either the simple fact of per¬
severing in the former state, or the necessity of employing a
certain determinate force in order to change that state, and
if toe avoid all thought of resistance.
Deviations 36. From the whole of this discussion we learn that the
“Om uni- deviations from uniform motions are the indications of the
form recti-existence and agency of mechanical forces, and that they
tion ni°* are ^le only indications. The indication is very simple—
the only mere change of place; it can therefore indicate nothing
indications hut what is very simple, the something competent to the
of force, production of the very motion that we observe ; and when
two changes of motion are precisely similar, they indicate
the same thing. Suppose a mariner’s compass on the
table, and that by a small tap with my finger I cause the
needle to turn off from its quiescent position ten degrees.
I can do the same thing by bringing a magnet near it, or
by bringing an electrified body near it, or by the unbend¬
ing of a fine spring pressing it aside, or by a puff of wind,
or by several other methods. In all these cases the indi¬
cation is the same; therefore the thing indicated is the
same, namely, a certain intensity and direction of a mov¬
ing power. How it operates, or in what manner it exists
and exerts itself in these instances, outwardly so differ¬
ent, is not under consideration at present. Impulsive¬
ness, intensity, and direction, are all the circumstances of
resemblance by which the affections of matter are to be Second
characterized; and it is to the discovery and determina- Law 0f
tion of these alone that our attention is now to be di- ^ Motion.^
reeled. We are directed in this research by the
SECOND DAW OF MOTION.
Every change of motion is proportional to the force im¬
pressed, and is made in the direction of that force.
37. This law also may almost be considered as an iden¬
tical proposition ; for it is equivalent to saying that the
changing force is to be measured by the change which it
produces, and that the direction of this force is the direc¬
tion of the change. Of this there can be no doubt, when
we consider the force in no other sense than that of the
cause of motion, paying no attention to the form or man¬
ner of its exertion. Thus, when a pellet of tow is shot
from a pop-gun by the expansion of the air compressed
by the rammer, or where it is shot from a toy pistol by
the unbending of the coiled wire, or when it is nicked
away by the thumb like a marble—if, in all these cases,
it moves off in the same direction, and with the same ve¬
locity, we cannot consider or think of the force, or at least
of its exertion, as any how different. Nay, when it is
driven forward by the instantaneous percussion of a smart
stroke, although the manner of producing this effect (if
possible) is essentially different from what is conceived in
the other cases, we must still think that the propelling
force, considered as a propelling force, is one and the same.
In short, this law of motion, as thus expressed by Sir Isaac
Newton, is equivalent to saying, “ that we take the
changes of motion as the measures of the changing forces,
and the direction of the change for the indication of the
direction of the forces for no reflecting person can pre¬
tend to say that it is a deduction from the acknowledged
principle, that effects are proportional to their causes. We
do not affirm this law from having observed the proportion
of the forces and the proportion of the changes, and that
these proportions are the same ; and from having observed
that this has obtained through the whole extent of our
study of nature. This would indeed establish it as a phy¬
sical law, an universal fact; and it is, in fact, so established.
But this does not establish it as a law of motion, according
to our definition of that term; as a law of human thought,
the result of the relations of our ideas, as an intuitive
truth. The injudicious attempts of philosophers to prove
it as a matter of observation, have occasioned the only
dispute that has arisen in mechanical philosophy. It is well
known that a bullet moving with double velocity pene¬
trates four times as far. Many other similar facts corro¬
borate this: and the philosophers observe, that four times
the force has been expended to generate this double velo¬
city in the bullet; it requires four times as much powder.
In all the examples of this kind it would seem that the
ratio of the forces employed has been very accurately as¬
certained; yet this is the invariable result. Philosophers,
therefore, have concluded that moving forces are not pro¬
portional to the velocities which they produce, but to the
squares of those velocities. It is a strong confirmation to
see that the bodies in motion seem to possess forces in
this very proportion, and produce effects in this propor¬
tion ; penetrating four times as deep when the velocity
is only twice as great, &c.
But if this be a just estimation, we cannot reconcile it
to the concession of the same philosophers, who grant
that the velocity is proportional to the force impressed, in
the cases where we have no previous observation of the
ratio of the forces, and of its equality to the ratio of the
velocities. This is the case with gravity, which these
332
DYNAMICS.
Second
Law of
Motion.
Change of
motion is
itself a
motion.
philosophers always measure by its accelerating power, or
the velocity which it generates in a given time. And
this cannot be refused by them ; for cases occur where
the force can be measured in the most natural manner by
the actual pressure which it exerts. Gravity is thus mea¬
sured by the pressure which a stone exerts on its sup¬
ports. A weight which at Quito will pull out the rod of
a spring steelyard to the mark 312, will pull it to 313 at
Spitzbergen ; and it is a fact, that a body will fall 313
inches at Spitzbergen in the same time that it falls 312 at
Quito. Gravitation is the cause both of the pressure and
the fall, and it is a matter of unexcepted observation that
they have always the same ratio. Ihe philosophers who
have so strenuously maintained the other measure of
forces are among the most eminent of those who have
examined the motions produced by gravity, magnetism,
electricity, &c.; and they never think of measuring those
forces any other way than by the velocity. It is in this
way that the whole of the celestial phenomena are ex¬
plained in perfect uniformity with observation, and that
the Newtonian philosophy is considered as a demonstia-
tive science*
There must, therefore, be some defect in the principle
on which the other measurement ot forces is built, or in
the method of applying it. Pressure is undoubtedly the
immediate and natural measure of force; yet we know
that four springs, or a bow four times as strong, give only
a double velocity to an arrow.
The truth of our law rests on this only, that we assume
the changes of motion as the measure of the changing
forces, or at least as the measures of their exertions in
producing motion. In fact, they are the measures only
of a certain circumstance, in which the actions of very
different natural powers may resemble each other, name¬
ly, the competency to produce motion. They do not,
perhaps, measure their competency to produce heat, oi
even to bend springs. We can surely consider this apart
from all other circumstances, and it is worthy of separate
consideration. Let us see what can be, and what ought
to be, deduced from this way of treating the subject.
38. The motion of a body may certainly remain un¬
changed. If the direction and velocity remain the same,
we perceive no circumstance in which its condition with
respect to motion differs. Its change of place oi situa¬
tion can make no difference ; for this is implied in the
very circumstance of the bodies being in motion.
But if either the velocity or direction change, then sure¬
ly is its mechanical condition no longer the same; a force
has acted on it, either intrinsic or from without, either ac¬
celerating, or retarding, or deflecting it. Supposing the
direction to remain the same, its difference of condition
can consist in nothing but its difference of velocity. Thi8
is the only circumstance in which its condition can differ,
as it passes through two different points of its rectilineal
path. It is this determination by which the body will de¬
scribe a certain determinate space uniformly in a given
time, which defines its condition as a moving body; the
changes of this determination are the measures of their
own causes, and to those causes we have given the name
force. Those causes may reside in other bodies, which
may have other properties, characterized and measured
by other effects. Pressure may be one of those proper¬
ties, and may have its own measures ; these may or may
not have the same proportion with that property which is
the cause of a change of velocity ; and therefore changes
of velocity may not be a measure of pressure. T.his is a
question of fact, and requires observation and experience;
but, in the mean time, velocity, and the change ot velocity,
is the measure of moving force and of changing force.
When, therefore, the change of velocity is the same what¬
ever the previous velocity may be, the changing force must Second
be considered as the same. Therefore, finally, if the pre- Law of
vious velocity is nothing, and consequently the change on ^
that body is the very velocity or motion that it acquires,^
we must say, that the force which produces a certain
change in the velocity of a moving body is the same with
the force which would impart to a body at rest a velocity
equal to this change or difference of velocity produced on
the body already in motion.
39. This manner of estimating force is in perfect con¬
formity to our most familiar notions on these subjects.
We conceive the weight or downward pressure of a body
as the cause of its motion downwards; and we conceive
it as belonging to the body at all times, and in all places,
whether falling, or rising upwards, or describing a parabo¬
la, or lying on a table ; and, accordingly, we observe, that
in every state of motion it receives equal changes of velo¬
city in the same or an equal time, and all in the direction
of its pressure.
40. All that we have now said of a change of velocity
might be repeated of a change of direction. It is surely
possible that the same change of direction may be made
on any two motions. Let one of the motions be consider¬
ed as growing continually slower, and terminating in rest.
In every instant of this motion it is possible to make one
and the same change on it. The same change may there¬
fore be made at the very instant that the motion is at an
end. In this case the change is the very motion which
the body acquires from the changing force. Therefore, in
this case also, we must say that a change of motion is it¬
self a motion, and that it is the motion which the force
would produce in a body that was previously at rest.
41. The result of these observations is evidently this, How ascer-
that we must ascertain, in every instance, what is thetainedand
change of motion, and mark it by characters that are con-mea8nre(1'
spicuous and distinguishing; and this mark and measure
of change must be a motion. Then we must say, that the
changing force is that which would produce this motion
in a °body previously at rest. We must see how this is
manifest as a motion in the difference between the former
motion and the new motion; and, on the othei hand, we
must see how the motion produceable in a quiescent body
may be so combined with a motion already existing as to
exhibit a new motion, in which the agency of the changing
force may appear.
Suppose a ship at anchor in a stream, while one man
walks forward on the quarter deck at the rate of two miles
per hour, another walks from stem to stern at the same
rate, a third walks athwart ship, and a fourth stands still.
Let the ship be supposed to cut or part her cable, and
float down the stream at the rate of three miles per hour.
We cannot conceive any difference in the change made
on each man’s motion in absolute space ; but their motions
are now exceedingly different from what they were : the
first man, whom we may suppose to have been walking
westward, is now moving eastward one mile per hour ;
the second is moving eastward four miles per hour, and
the third is moving in an oblique direction, about tlnee
points north or south of due east. All have suffered the
same change of condition with the man who had been
standing still. He has now got a motion eastward three
miles per hour. In this instance, we see very well the
circumstance of sameness that obtains in the change of
these four conditions. It is the motion of the ship which
is blended with the other motions. But this circumstance
is equally present whenever the same previous motions
are changed into the same new motions. We must learn
to expiscate this; which we shall do by considering the
manner in which the motion of the ship is blended with
each of the men’s motions.
D YN A
Second 42. This kind of combination has been called the com-
Law of position of motion ; because, in every point of the motion
Motion. real]y pursued, the two motions are to be found.
The fundamental theorem on this subject is this : Two
Composi- uniporm motions in the sides of a parallelogram compose
tion> an uniform motion in the diagonal.
Suppose that a point A (fig. 1) describes AB uniform¬
ly in some given time, while the line AB is carried uni¬
formly along AC in the same time, keeping always paral¬
lel to its first position AB. The point A, by the combi¬
nation of these motions, will describe AD, the diagonal of
the parallelogram ABDC, uniformly in the same time.
Fig. 1.
For it is plain that the velocities in AB and AC are
proportional to AB and AC, because they are uniformly
described in the same time. When the point has got to
E, the middle of AB, the line AB has got into the situa¬
tion GH, half way between AB and CD, and the point E
is in the place e, the middle of GH. Draw EcL parallel
to AC. It is plain that the parallelograms ABDC and
AEeG are similar; because AE and AG are the halves of
AB and AC, and the angle at A is common to both.
Therefore, by a proposition in the elements, they are
about the same diagonal, and the point e is in the diago¬
nal of AD. In like manner, it may be shown, that when
A has described AF, three fourths of AB, the line AB
will be in the situation IK ; so that AI is three fourths of
AC, and the point /, in which A is now found, is in the
diagonal AD. It will be the same in whatever point of AB
the describing point A be supposed to be found. The line
AB will be on a similar point of AC, and the describing
point will be in the diagonal AD.
Moreover, the motion in AD is uniform; for Ae is de¬
scribed in the time of describing AE ; that is, in half the
time of describing AB, or in half the time of describing
AD. In like manner, Af is described in three fourths of
the time of describing AD, &c. &c.
Lastly, the velocity in the diagonal AD is to the velo¬
city in either of the sides as AD is to that side. This is
evident, because they are uniformly described in the same
time.
This is justly called a composition of the motions AB and
AC, as will appear by considering it in the following man¬
ner: Let the lines AB, AC be conceived as two material
lines like wires. Let AB move uniformly from the situa¬
tion AB into the situation CD, while AC moves uniformly
into the situation BD. It is plain that their intersection
will always be found on AD. The point e, for example, is a
point common to both lines. Considered as a point of EL,
it is then moving in the direction eH or AB ; and con¬
sidered as a point of GH, it is moving in the direction eL.
Both of these motions are therefore blended in the motion
of the intersection along AD. We can conceive a small
ring at e embracing loosely both of the wires. This ma¬
terial ring will move in the diagonal, and will really par¬
take of both motions.
Thus we see how the motion of the ship is actually
blended with the motions of the three men ; and the cir-
M I C S. 333
cumstance of sameness which is to be found in the four Second
changes of motion is this motion of the ship, or of the
man who was standing -still. By composition with each
of the three former motions, it produces each of the three
new motions. Now, when each of two primitive motions
is the same, and each of the new motions is the same, the
change is surely the same. If one of the changes has
been brought about by the actual composition of motions,
we know precisely what that change is; and this informs
us what the other is, in whatever way it was produced.
Hence we infer that,
43. When a motion is any hoto changed, the change is Its mark
that motion which, when compounded with the former mo-an^ mea*
tion, will produce the new motion. Now, because we assume sure‘
the change as the measure and characteristic of the chan¬
ging force, we must do so in the present instance ; and we
must say,
44. That the changing force is that which will produce in Changing
a quiescent body the motion which, by composition with the force.
former motion of a body, will produce the new motion.
And, on the other hand,
When the motion of a body is changed by the action of its effect.
any force, the new motion is that which is compounded of the
former motion, and of the motion which the force would pro¬
duce in a quiescent body.
When a force changes the direction of a motion, we see Deflecting
that its direction is transverse in some angle BAG; oe-force,
cause a diagonal AD always supposes two sides. As we
have distinguished any change of direction by the term
deflection, we may call the transverse force a deflecting
force.
In this way of estimating a change of motion, all the
characters of both motions are preserved, and it expresses
every circumstance of the change ; the mere change of di¬
rection, or the angle BAD, is not enough, because the
same force will make different angles of deflection, accord¬
ing to the velocity of the former motion, or according to
its direction. But in this estimation the full effect of the
deflecting force is seen; it is seen as a motion ; for when
half of the time is elapsed, the body is at e instead of E;
when three fourths are elapsed it is at /instead of F; and
at the end of the time it is at D instead of B. In short, the
body has moved uniformly away from the points at which
it would have arrived independent of the change ; and this
motion has been in the same direction, and at the same
rate, as if it had moved from A to C by the changing
force alone. Each force has produced its full effect; for
when the body is at D, it is as far from AC as if the force
AC had not acted on it; and it is as far from AB as it would
have been by the action of AC alone.
For all these reasons, therefore, it is evident, that if we
are to abide by our measure and character of force as a
mere producer of motion, we have selected the proper
characteristic and measure of a changing force; and our
descriptions, in conformity to this selection, must be agree¬
able to the phenomena of nature, and retain the accuracy
of geometrical procedure; because, on the other hand,
the results which we deduce from the supposed influence
of those forces are formed in the same mould. It is not
even requisite that the real exertions of the natural forces,
such as pressure of various kinds, &c. shall follow these
rules; for their deviations will be considered as new
forces, although they are only indications of the differen¬
ces of the real forces from our hypothesis. We have ob¬
tained the precious advantage of mathematical investiga¬
tion, by which we can examine the law of exertion which
characterizes every force in nature.
45. On these principles we establish the following fun¬
damental elementary proposition, of continual and indis¬
pensable use in all mechanical inquiries.
334
DYNAMICS.
Composl
tion of
forces.
Second If a body or material 'particle be subjected at tne same time
I.aw of iq the action of two moving forces, each of which would
Motion. separately cause it to describe the side of a parallelogram
uniformly in a given time, the body will describe the dia¬
gonal uniformly in the same time.
For the body, whose motion AB was changed into AD,
had gotten its motion by the action of some force. It was
moving along NAB, and when it reached the point A, the
force AC acted on it. The primitive motion is the same,
or the bod}7 is in the same condition in every instant of
the primitive motion. It may have acquired this motion
when it was in N, or when at O, or any other point of NA.
In all these cases, if AC act on it when it is in A, it will al¬
ways describe AD; therefore it will describe AD when it
acquires the primitive motion also in A; that is, if the two
forces act on it at one and the same instant. The demonstra¬
tion may be neatly expressed thus: The change induced
by each force on the motion produced by the other is the
motion which it would produce in the body if previously
at rest. Therefore the motion resulting from joint action
is the motion which is compounded of these two motions,
or it is a motion in the diagonal of the parallelogram, of
which these motions are the sides.
This is called the composition of forces. The forces
which produce the motions along the sides of the parallelo¬
gram are called the simple forces, or the constituent forces;
and the force which would alone produce the motion along
the diagonal is called the compound frrce, the resulting
force, the equivalent force.
46. On the other hand, the force which produces a mo¬
tion along any line whatever may be conceived as result¬
ing from the combined action of two or more forces. We
may know or observe it to be so ; as when we see a lighter
dragged along a canal by two horses, one on each side.
Each pulls the boat directly toward himself in the direc¬
tion of the track-rope; the boat cannot go both ways, and
its real motion, whatever it is, results from this combined
action. This might be produced by a single force; for
example, if the lighter be dragged along the canal by a
rope from another lighter which precedes it, being drag¬
ged by one horse, aided by the helm of the foremost light¬
er. Here the real force is not the resulting, or the com¬
pound, but the equivalent force.
Resolution This view of a motion mechanically produced is called
of forces, the resolution of forces. The force in the diagonal is said
to be resolved into the two forces, having the directions
and velocities represented by the sides. This practice is
of the most extensive and multifarious use in all mechani¬
cal disquisitions. It may frequently be exceedingly diffi¬
cult to manage the complication of the many real forces
which concur in producing a phenomenon ; and by substi¬
tuting others, whose combined effects are equivalent, our
investigation may be much expedited. But more of this
afterwards.
We must carefully remember, that when the motion
AD is once begun, all composition is at an end, and the
motion is a simple motion. The two determinations, by
one of which the body would describe AB, and by the
other of which it would describe AC, no longer co-exist
in the body. This was the case only in the instant, in the
very act of changing the motion AB into the motion BD ;
yet is the motion AD equivalent to a motion which is pro¬
duced by the actual composition of two motions AB and
AC; in which case the two motions co-exist in every point
of AD.
Usual de- 47. Accordingly this is the way in which the composi-
monstra- tion of forces is usually illustrated, and thought to be de-
incon' monstrated. A man is supposed (for instance) to walk
c usive. uniformly from A to C on a sheet of ice, while the ice is
carried uniformly along AB by the stream. The man’s
real motion is undoubtedly along AD; but this is by no Second
means a demonstration that the instantaneous or short- Caw of
lived action of two forces would produce that motion ; ^lotion,
the man must continue to exert force in order to walk;
and the ice is dragged along by the stream. Some indeed
express this proof in another way, saying, let a body de¬
scribe AB, while the space in which this motion is perform¬
ed is carried along AC. The ice may be carried along,
and may, by friction or otherwise, drag the man along
with it; but a space cannot be removed from one place to
another, nor, if it could, would it take the man with it.
Should a ship start suddenly forward while a man is walk¬
ing across the deck, he would be left behind, and fall to¬
ward the stern. We must suppose a transverse force, and
we must suppose the composition of this force without
proof. This is no demonstration.
We apprehend, that the demonstration given above of
this fundamental proposition is unexceptionable, when the
terms force and deflection are used in the abstract sense
which we have affixed to them. The only circumstance in
it which can be the subject of discussion is, whether we
have selected the proper measure and characteristic of a
change of motion. We never met with any objection to it.
48. But some have still maintained that it does not evi- Objections
dently appear from these principles, that the motion to the de-
which results from the joint action of two natural powers, monstra-
whose known and measurable intensities have the same pr°. tion ot lW
portions with AB and BC, and which also exert themselves noj, apply
in those directions, will produce a motion having the direc-t0 pres.
tion and proportion of AD. They will not, if the velocities sures.
produced by these forces are not in the proportion of those
intensities, but in the subduplicate ratio of them. Nay,
they say that it is not so. If a body be impelled along
AC by one spring, and along AB by two springs equally
strong, it will not describe the diagonal of a parallelogram,
of which the side AB is double the side AC. They add,
that an indefinite number of examples can be given where
a body does not describe the diagonal of the parallelogram
by the joint action of two forces, which separately would
cause it to describe the sides. And lastly, they say that
at any rate it does not appear evident to the mind, that
two incitements to motion, having the directions and the
same proportion of intensity with that of the sides ot a
parallelogram, actually generate a third, which is the im¬
mediate cause of the motion in the diagonal. An equiva¬
lent force is not the same with a resulting force.
49. Yet we see numberless cases of the composition of
incitements to motion, and they seem as determinate and
as susceptible of being combined by composition, as the
things called moving forces, which are measured by the
velocities. We see them actually so combined in a thou¬
sand instances, as in the example already given of a light¬
er dragged by two horses pulling in different directions.
Experiment even shows, that this composition follows pre¬
cisely the same rule as the composition of the forces
which are measured by the velocities; for if the point A
(fig. 1) be pulled by a thread or pressed by a spring in
the direction AB, and by another in the direction AC,
and if the pressures are proportional to AB and AC, then
it will be withheld from moving, if it be pulled or pressed
by a third force, acting in the direction Kd, opposite to
AD, the pressure being also proportional to AD. This
force acting in the direction Kd, would certainly with¬
stand an equal force acting in the direction AD; there¬
fore we must conclude that the two pressures AB and
AC really generate a force AD. This uniform agreement
shows that the composition is deducible from fixed princi¬
ples ; but it does not appear that it can be held as demon ¬
strated by the arguments employed in the case of motions.
A demonstration of the composition of pressures is farther
DYNAMICS.
335
Second wanted, in order to render mechanics a demonstrative
Law of science.
Motion. Accordingly, philosophers of the first eminence have
turned their attention to this problem. It is by no means
't^rTis easy ’ being so nearly allied to first principles, that it must
of more be difficult to find axioms of greater simplicity by which
difficult in- it may be proved.
vestiga- Mechanicians generally contented themselves with the
tion" solution given by Aristotle ; but this is merely a composi¬
tion of motions; indeed he does not give it for any thing
else, and calls it awditiig roov <pu cf,v. The first writer who
appears to have considered it as different from the mere
composition of motions, was the celebrated Dutch engineer
Stevinus, in his work on Sluices; but his solutionis obscure.
It was sufficient, however, to convince Daniel Bernoulli of
the necessity and the difficulty of the problem. He has
given the first complete demonstration of it in the first vo ¬
lume of the commentaries of the Imperial Academy of Sci¬
ences at St Petersburg. It is extremely ingenious; but
it is tedious and intricate, requiring a series of fifteen pro¬
positions to demonstrate that two pressures, having the di¬
rections and magnitudes of the sides of any parallelogram,
compose a third, which has the direction and magnitude
of its diagonal. His first proposition is, that two equal pres¬
sures, acting at right angles, compose a third, in the direction
of the diagonal of a square, and having to either of the other
two the proportion of the diagonal of a square to its sides.
M. d’Alembert has greatly simplified and improved this
demonstration, by beginning with a case that is self-evi¬
dent; namely, if three equal forces are inclined to each other
in equal angles of 120°, any one of them will balance the
combined action of the other two. Surely; for neither of
them can prevail. Therefore two equal forces, inclined
in an angle of 120°, produce a third, which has the direc¬
tion and proportion of the diagonal of the rhombus; for
this is equal and opposite to one of the three above men¬
tioned. He then demonstrates the same thing of two
equal forces inclined in any angle; and by a series of
eight propositions more, demonstrates the general theo¬
rem. This dissertation is in the Memoirs of the Aca¬
demy at Paris for 1769. He improves it still farther in a
subsequent memoir.
Mr Riccati and Mr Fonsenex, in the Commentaries of
me Academy of Turin, have given analytical demonstra¬
tions, which are also very ingenious and concise, but re¬
quire acquaintance with the higher mathematics. There
is another very ingenious demonstration in the Journaldes
Spavans for June 1764, but too obscure for an elementary
proposition. It is somewhat simplified by Belidor in his
Ingenieur Frangois. Frisius, in his Cosmographia, has
given one, which is perhaps the best of all those that are
easily comprehended without acquaintance with the higher
mathematics; but we imagine that, although no one can
doubt of the conclusion, it has not that intuitive evidence
for every step of the process that seems necessary.
Composi- 50. We here offer another, composed by blending toge-
tumofpres-ther the methods of Bernoulli and D’Alembert; and we
imagine that no objection can be made to any step of it.
We limit it entirely to pressures, and do not at all consider
nor employ the motions which they may be supposed to
produce.
(A.) If two equal and opposite pressures or incitements
to motion act at once on a material particle, it suffers no
change of motion; for if it yields in either direction by
their joint action, one of the pressures prevails, and they
are not equal.
Equal and opposite pressures are said to balance each
other; and such as balance must be esteemed equal and
opposite.
(B.) If a and b are two magnitudes of the same kind,
proportional to the intensities of two pressures which act
in the same direction, then the magnitude a + b will mea¬
sure the intensity of the pressure, which is equivalent, and
may be called equal to the combined effort of the other
two; for when we try to form a notion of pressure as a
measurable magnitude, distinct from motion or any other
effect of it, we find nothing that we can measure it by but
another pressure. Nor have we any notion of a double or
triple pressure different from a pressure that is equivalent
to the joint effort of two or three equal pressures. A pres¬
sure a is accounted triple of a pressure b, if it balances
three pressures, each equal to b, acting together. There¬
fore, in all proportions which can be expressed by numbers,
we must acknowledge the legitimacy of this measurement;
and it would surely be affectation to omit those which the
mathematicians call incommensurable.
In like manner, the magnitude a — b must be acknow¬
ledged to measure that pressure which arises from the
joint action of two pressures a and b acting in opposite di¬
rections, of which a is the greatest.
(C.) Let ABCD and AbCd (fig. 2) be two rhombuses,
which have the common diagonal AC. Let the angles
BA6, DAe?, be bisected by the straight lines AE and AF.
If there be drawn from the points E and F the lines
EG, EH, F<7, F/i, making equal angles on each side of EA
and FA, and if G<7, H4 be drawn, cutting the diagonal
AC in I and L: then AI + AL will be greater or less
than AQ, the half of AC, according as the angles GEH,
g¥h, are greater or less than GAH, gAh.
Second
Law of
Motion-
Fig. 2.
A.
Draw GH, gh, cutting AE, AF, in O and o, and draw
Oo, cutting AC in K.
Because the angles AEG and EAG are respectively
equal to AEH and EAH, and AE is common to both tri¬
angles, the sides AG, GE, are respectively equal to AH,
HE, and GH is perpendicular to AE, and is bisected in
O ; for the same reasons gh is bisected in o. Therefore
the lines Gg, Oo, ¥ih, are parallel, and IL is bisected in
K. Therefore AI + AL is equal to twice AK. More¬
over, if the angle GEH be greater than GAH, AO is
greater than EO, and AK is greater than KQ. There¬
fore AI + AL is greater than AQ; and if the angle GEH
be less than GAH, AI + AL is less than AQ.
(D.) Two equal pressures, acting in the directions AB
and AC (fig. 3), at right angles to each other, compose a
pressure in the direction AD, which bisects the right angle;
and its intensity is to the intensity of each of the consti¬
tuent pressures as the diagonal of a square to one of the
sides.
336
Second
Law of
Motion.
DYNAMICS.
Fig. 3.
Fig. 4.
It is evident, that the direction of the pressure, gene¬
rated by their joint action, will bisect the angle formed
by their directions ; because no reason can be assigned
for the direction inclining more to one side than to the
other. _ . .
In the next place, since a force in the direction AD
does, in fact, arise from the joint action of the equal pres¬
sures AB and AC, the pressure AB may be conceived as
arising from the joint action of two equal forces similarly
inclined and proportioned to it. Draw EAF perpendicu¬
lar to AD. One of these forces must be directed along
AD, and the other along AE. In like manner, the pres¬
sure AC may arise from the joint action of a pressure in
the direction AD, and an equal pressure in the direction
AF. It is also plain that the pressures in the directions
AE and AF, and the two pressures in the direction AD,
must be all equal. And also, any one of them must have
the same proportion to AB or to AC, that AB or AC has to
the force in the direction AD, arising from their joint ac¬
tion.
Therefore, if it be said that AD does not measure the
pressure arising from the joint action of AB and AC, let
hd, greater than AD, be its just measure, and make
Kd : AB = AB : kg — AB : Ae. Then Kg and Ae have
the same inclination and proportion to AB that AB and AC
have to Kd. We determine, in like manner, two forces
A/and Kg as constituents of AC.
Now Kd is equivalent to AB and AC, and AB is equi¬
valent to Ke and Kg ; and AC is equivalent to A/and Kg.
Therefore Kd is equivalent to Ae, Kf, Kg, and Kg. But
(A) Ae and Kf balance each other, or annihilate each
other’s effect; and there remain only the two forces or
pressures Kg, Kg. Therefore (B) their measure is a mag¬
nitude equal to twice Kg. But if Kd be greater than the
diagonal AD of the square, whose sides are AB and AC;
then Kg must be less than AI, the side of the square
whose diagonal is AB. But twice Kg is less than AD, and
much less than Kd. Therefore the measure of the equi¬
valent of AB and AC cannot be a line Kd, greater than
AD. In like manner, it cannot be a line Kb that is less
than AD. Therefore it must be equal to AD, and the
proposition is demonstrated.
(E.) Cor. Two equal forces, AB, AC, acting at right
angles, will be balanced by a force AO, equal and oppo¬
site to AD, the diagonal of the square whose sides are
AB and AC ; for AO would balance AD, which is the
equivalent of AB and AC.
(F.) Let AECF (fig. 4), be a rhombus, the acute angle
of which, EAF, is half of a right angle. Two equal pres¬
sures, which have the directions and measures AE, AF,
compose a pressure having the direction and measure
AC, which is the diagonal of the rhombus.
Second
Law cf
Motion.
It is evident, in the first place, that the compound force
has the direction AC, which bisects the angle EAF. If
AC be not its just measure, let it be AP less than AC.
Let ABCD be a square described on the same diagonal,
and make AP : AQ = AE: AO, = AF : Ao. Draw KOG,
Ko<7 perpendicular to AE, AF; draw GI$s OHo, EG, EK,
Fg, FK, PF, and PE. , , u • u m
The angles CAB and FAE are equal, each being half
of a right angle. Also the figures AEPF and AGEK are
similar; because AP : AQ = AE : AO. Therefore FA :
AP = KA : AE, and EA : AP = GA : AE. Therefore,
in the same manner that the forces AE, Ah are affirmed
to compose AP, the forces AG and AK may compose the
force AE, and the forces Kg and AK may compose the
force AF. Therefore (B) the force AP is equivalent to
the four forces AG, AK, Kg, AK. But (D) AG and
Kg are the sides of a square, whose diagonal is equal to
twice AI; and the two forces AK, AK are equal to, or
are measured by, twice AK. Therefore the four forces
AG, AK, Kg, AK, are equivalent to 2 AI + 2 AK =
4 AH.
But because AP was supposed less than AC, the angle
FPE is greater than FAE, and GEK is greater than GAK,
AO is greater than OE, and AH is greater than HQ, and
2AH is greater than AQ; and therefore 4AH is greater
than AC, and much greater than AP. .Therefore AP
is not the just measure of the force composed of AE and
AF.
In like manner it is shown that AE and AF do not
compose a force whose measure is greater than AC. It
is therefore equal to AC; and the proposition is demon¬
strated.
(G.) By the same process it may be demonstrated, that
if BAD be half a right angle, and EAF be the fourth of
a right angle, two forces AE, AF will compose a force
measured by AC. And the process may be repeated for
a rhombus, whose acute angle is gYh, yoth, &c. of a right
angle; that is, any portion of a right angle that is pro¬
duced by continual bisection. Two forces, forming the
sides of such a rhombus, compose a force measured by the
diagonal.
(H.) Let ABCD, Kb Cd, (fig. 5), be two rhombuses,
formed by two consecutive bisections of a right angle.
Let AECF be another rhombus, whose sides AE and AF
bisect the angles BA6 and DAc?.
The two forces AE, AF, compose a force AC.
Bisect AE and AF in O and o. Draw the perpendicu¬
lars GOH, goh, and the lines GI^, OKo, FFLh, and the lines
EG, EH, Fg, Fh.
DYNAMICS.
337
Fig. 5.
A.
It is evident that AGEH and AgYh are rhombuses;
because AO — OE, and Ao — oF. It is also plain, that
since bAd is half of BAD, the angle GAH is half of bAd.
It is therefore formed by a continual bisection of a right
angle. Therefore (G) the forces AG, AH, compose a
force AE; and Ag, Ah, compose the force Ah. There¬
fore the forces AG, AH, Ag, Ah, acting together, are
equivalent to the forces AE, AF, acting together. But
AG, Ag compose a force — 2 AI; and the forces AH, Ah
compose a force — 2 AL. Therefore the four forces act¬
ing together are equivalent to 2 AI + 2 AL, or to 4 AK.
Bui because AO is ^ AE, and the lines Gg, Oo, HA, are
evidently parallel, 4 AK is equal to 2 AQ, or to AC; and
the proposition is demonstrated.
(I.) Cor. Let us now suppose that by continual bisec¬
tion of a right angle we have obtained a very small angle
a of a rhombus ; and let us name the rhombus by the mul¬
tiple of a, which forms its acute angle.
The proposition (G) is true of a, 2 a, 4 a, &c. The pro¬
position (H) is true of 3 a. In like manner, because (G)
is true of 4a and 8a, proposition (H) is true of 6a; and
because it is true of 4 a, 6 a, and 8 a, it is true of 5 a and
7 a. And so on continually till we have demonstrated it
of every multiple of a that is less than a right angle.
(K.) Let HAS (fig. 6) be perpendicular to AC, and let
ABCD be a rhombus, whose acute angle BAD is some
multiple of 2 a that is less than a right angle. Let Ab, Gd
be another rhombus, whose sides Ab, Ad bisect the angles
KAB, SAD. Then the forces Ab, Ad compose a force AC.
Fig. 6.
taken less than any angle that can be named, the proposi¬
tion may be considered as demonstrated of every rhombus ;
and we may say,—
(M.) Two equal forces, inclined to each other in any
angle, compose a force which is measured by the diagonal
of the rhombus, whose sides are the measures of the consti¬
tuent forces.
(N.) Two forces AB, AC (fig. 7) having the direction
and proportion of the sides of a rectangle, compose a force
AD, having the direction and proportion of the diagonal.
Second
I.aw of
Motion.
Fig. 7.
Draw the other diagonal CB, and draw EAF parallel to
it: draw BE, CF parallel to DA.
AEBG is a rhombus ; and therefore the forces AE
and AG compose the force AB. AFCG is also a rhom¬
bus, and the force AC is equivalent to AF and AG.
Therefore the forces AB and AC, acting together, are
equivalent to the forces AE, AF, AG, and AG acting
together, or to AE, AF, and AD acting together; but
AE and AF annihilate each other’s action, being opposite
and equal (for each is equal to the half of BC). There¬
fore AB and AC acting together are equivalent to AD,
or compose the force AD.
(0.) Two forces, which have the direction and propor¬
tions of AB, AC (fig. 8) the sides of any parallelogram,
compose a force having the direction and proportion of
the diagonal AD.
Fig. 8.
Draw 6R, c?S parallel to BA, DA. It is evident that
AR6B and ASoT) are rhombuses, whose acute angles are
multiples of a, that are each less than a right angle.
Therefore (1) the forces AR and AB compose the force
Ab and AS, AD compose Ad; but AR and AS annihi¬
late each other’s effect, and there remains only the forces
AB, AD. Therefore Ab and Ad are equivalent to AB
and AD, which compose the force AC; and the proposi¬
tion is demonstrated.
(L.) Cor. Thus is the corollary of last proposition ex¬
tended to every rhombus, whose angle at A is some mul¬
tiple of a less than two right angles. And since a may be
VOL. VIII.
Draw AF perpendicular to BD, and BG and DE per¬
pendicular to AC.
Then AFBG is a rectangle, as is also AFDE ; and
AG is equal to CE. Therefore (N) AB is equivalent
to AF and AG. Therefore AB and AC acting together,
are equivalent to AF, AG, and AC acting together; that
is, to AF and AE acting together; that is (N) to AD ;
or the forces AB and AC compose the force AD.
51. Hence arises the most general proposition.
If a material particle be urged at once by two pressures Composi-
or incitements to motion, whose intensities are proportional tion of all
to the sides of any parallelogram, and which act in the di- incite-
rections of those sides, it is affected in the same manner as
it were acted on by a single force, whose intensity is measur¬
ed by the diagonal of the parallelogram, and which acts in
its direction: Or, two pressures, having the direction and
proportion of the sides of a parallelogram, generate a pres¬
sure having the direction and proportion of the diagonal.
52. Thus have we endeavoured to demonstrate from ab¬
stract principles the perfect similarity of the composition
of pressures, and the composition of forces measured by
the motions which they produce. We cannot help being
of the opinion that a separate demonstration is indispen-
2 U
338
Second
Law of
Motion.
Seeming
difference
of the com¬
positions
of motion
and of pres-
sure disap
pear when
carefully
examined.
DYNAMICS.
gably necessary. What may be fairly deduced from the
one case cannot always be applied to the other. No com¬
position of pressures can explain the change produced by
a deflecting force on a motion already existing; for the
changing pressure is the only one that exists, and there is
.none to be compounded with it. And, on the other hand,
our notions and observations of the composition of mo¬
tions will not explain the composition of pressures, unless
■ we take it for granted that the pressures are proportional
'to the velocities; but this is perhaps a gratuitous assump¬
tion. At any rate, it is not an intuitive proposition ; and
we have mentioned some facts where it seems that they
do not follow the same proportion. The pressure of four
equal springs produces only a double velocity. It would
appear, therefore, that there are circumstances which
oblige us to say, that the exertion of pressure, as a cause
of motion, is not (always at least) proportional to the real
measurable pressure. We are therefore anxious to disco¬
ver in what the difference consists ; and in the mean time
must allow, that the pressure exerted on a body at rest is
different from its exertion in producing motion. We can¬
not indeed state any immediate comparison between pres¬
sure and motion, nor have we any clear conception of the
connection between them. It is only by our own sensations of
touch that we have any notion of pressure, and it is expe¬
rience that teaches us that it always accompanies every
cause of motion. We can, however, observe the propor¬
tions of pressures, and compare them with the proportions
of motion. We very often observe them different; and
therefore it was indispensably necessary to investigate the
laws of combined pressure as we did the laws of combin¬
ed motion in consequence of pressure. Yet we should
err if we hastily asserted that pressures are not propor¬
tional to the motions which they produce; all that we are
entitled to call in doubt is, whether the pressures in their
exertion, while they actually produce motion, or changes
of motion, continue to be the same as when they do not
produce motion, being withstood or balanced by opposite
pressures. Considered as causes of motion, we ought to
think that they do not vary while they produce motion,
and that the actual pressure, while it produces a double
motion, is really double, although it may be quadruple
when the body exerting it is made to act on a body that
it cannot move. We are confirmed in this opinion by ob¬
serving, that other facts show us, that even while produ¬
cing motion, the pressure which we call quadruple, because
we have measured it by four equal pressures balancing
it, is really quadruple, considered as the cause of motion,
and produces a quadruple motion. A bow which requires
four times the force to draw it to any given extent, will
communicate the same velocity to a bundle of four arrows
that a bow four times more easily drawn communicates to
one arrow, and will therefore produce a quadruple motion.
Yet it will only produce a doub’e velocity in the arrow
that acquired a simple velocity from a bow having one
fourth of the strength.
These discrepancies should excite the endeavours of me¬
chanicians to investigate the laws observed in the action
of pressures producing motion. Had this been done vuti
care and with candour, we should not have had the great
difference of opinion which still divides philosophers
about the measures of moving forces. But a spirit of party,
which had arisen from other causes, gave importance to
what was at first only a difference of expression, and made
the partizans of Mr Leibnitz avail themselves of the figu¬
rative language which has done so much harm in all the
departments of philosophy. Notwithstanding all our cau¬
tion, it is hardly possible to avoid metaphorical conceptions
when we employ the language of metaphor. 1 he abettors
of the Leibnitzian measure of moving forces, or perhaps,
to speak more properly, the abettors of the Leibnitzian
measure of that force which is supposed to preserve bodies
in their condition of motion, insist that the force which ^
is exerted in producing any change of motion is greater in
proportion as the motion changed is greater ; and they
give a very specious argument for their assertion. 1 hey ap¬
peal to the exertions which we ourselves make. Here we
are conscious of the fact. Then they give similar examples
of the action of bodies. A clay ball, moving six feet per
second, will make the addition of one foot to the velocity
of an equal clay ball that is already moving four feet per
second in the same direction. But if this last ball be al¬
ready moving ten feet per second, we must follow it with
a velocity of twelve feet in order to increase its velocity
one foot. But, without insisting on the numberless para¬
logisms and inconsistencies which this way of conceiving
the matter would lead us into, it suffices to observe, that
the phenomena give us abundant assurance that there has
been the same exertion in both these cases. . This ac¬
celeration is always accompanied by a compression ot the
balls, and the compression is the same in both. Ihis com¬
pression is a very good measure of the force employed to
produce it; and, in the present case, we need not even
trouble ourselves with any rule for its measurement: for
surely, when the compression is not different, but the same,
the force exerted is the same. Ihis is farther confirmed
by observing, that it requires the same force to make the
same pit, or to give the same motion, to a piece of clay lying
on the table of a ship’s cabin, whether the ship be sailing two
miles or ten miles per hour.
Thus we see that there are strong reasons for believ¬
ing, that the exertions of pressure in producing motion,
or that the pressures actually exerted, are proportional to
the changes of motion observed, and that they coincide
in this respect with our abstract conceptions of moving
forces.
But we have still better arguments. None of the Leib-
nitzians think of denying the equal exertions of gravity,
or of any of those powers which they call solicitations or
accelerating forces. They all admit that gravity, or any
constant accelerating force, produces equal increments of
velocity in equal times, and that a double gravity will pro¬
duce a double increment in an equal time, and an equal
increment in half of the time: and that a quadruple gia-
vity will produce a double velocity in half the time. All
these things are granted by them, and their writings are
full of reasonings from this principle. Now, from the fact,
acknowledged by the Leibnitzians, that the quadruple force
of a bow gives a double velocity to the arrow, in every in¬
stant of its action, it indisputably follows, that it has acted
on it only for half the time of the action of the four times
weaker bow, which gives the arrow only half the velocity ;
and thus has the discrepancy between the effects of pres¬
sures and of our abstract moving forces entirely disappear¬
ed. For this circumstance of the difterence in the time of
acting will be found, on strict examination, in all the cases
of the change of motion by pressures which we measure by
their effects on a body at rest. When this and the appre¬
ciable changes of actual pressure, during the time of pro¬
ducing the motion, are taken into consideration, all dif¬
ference vanishes, and the composition of pressures is in
perfect harmony with the composition of motions, or ot
abstract moving forces. Dynamics is thus made a de¬
monstrative science, and affords the opportunity of investi¬
gating, by observation and experiment, the nature of those
mechanical powers which reside in bodies, and which ap¬
pear to us under the form of pressure, inducing us to con¬
sider pressure as a cause of motion.
In this, however, we are rather inaccurate. Pressure is
one of the sensible effects of that property which is also
Second
Law of
Motion.
I) Y N A
Second the cause of motion. It is not the pressure of a piece of
Law of lead, but its heaviness, that is the reason that it gives
Motion. niotion to a kitchen jack. Pressure is merely a generic
name, borrowed from a similar instance, and given to mov¬
ing forces, which have the same nature, but different
names that serve to mark their connection with certain
substances, in which they may be supposed to reside.
Natural philosophy is almost entirely employed in examin¬
ing the nature of these various pressures or accelerative
forces; and the general doctrines of dynamics, by ascer¬
taining what is common to them all, enable us to mark
with precision what is characteristic of each.
General 53. We have now advanced very far in this investiga-
corollaries. tion; for we have obtained the criterion by which we
learn the direction and the magnitude of every changing
force ; and, on the other hand, we see how to state what
will be the effect of the exertion of any force that is known
or suspected to act. All this we learn by the composition
of forces ; and the greatest part of mechanical disquisition
consists in the application of this doctrine. For such rea¬
sons it merits minute consideration ; and therefore we
must point out some general conclusions from the proper¬
ties of figure, which will greatly facilitate the use of the
parallelogram of forces.
54. First, The constituent and the resulting forces, or
the simple and compound forces, act in the same plane;
for the sides and diagonal of a parallelogram are in one
plane.
Fig. 9.
55. Second, The simple and the compound forces are
proportional to the sides of any triangle which are paral¬
lel to their directions. For if any three lines, ab, bd, ad,
be drawn parallel to AB, AC, and AD (fig. 9), they will
form a triangle similar to the triangle ABD. For the
same reasons they are proportional to the sides of a tri¬
angle ctib'd, which are respectively perpendicular to their
directions.
56. Third, Therefore each is proportional to the sine of
the opposite angle of this triangle ; for the sides of any
triangle are proportional to the sines of the opposite
angles.
57. Fourth, Each is proportional to the sine of the an¬
gle contained by the directions of the other two ; for AD
is to AB as the sine of the angle ABD to the sine of the
angle ADB. Now the sine of ABD is the same with the
sine of BAG contained between the directions AB and
AC, and the sine of ADB is the same with the sine of
CAD : also AB is to AC, or BD, as the sine of ADB (or
CAD) to the sine of BAD.
Some spe- 58. We now proceed to the application of this funda-
cial uses of mental proposition. And we observe, in the first place,
the paral- t]lat s;nce ^D may be the diagonal of an indefinite num-
jelogram ber of parallelograms, the motion or the pressure AD may
°aeS' result from the joint action of many pairs of forces. It
may be produced by forces which would separately pro¬
duce the motions AF and AG. This generally gives us
the means of discovering the forces which concur in its
production. If one of them, AB, is known in direction
and intensity, the direction AC, parallel to BD, and the
intensity, are discovered. Sometimes we know the direc¬
tions of both. Then, by drawing the parallelogram or
M I C S. 339
triangle, we learn their proportions. The force which de- Second
fleets any motion AB into a motion AD, is had by simply
drawing a line from the point B (to which the body
would have moved from A in the time of really moving
from A to D) to the point D. The deflecting force is
such as would have caused the body move from B to D
in the same time. And, in the same manner, we get the
compound motion AD, which arises from any two simple
motions AB and AC, by supposing both of the motions
to be accomplished in succession. The final place of the
body is the same, whether it moves along AD or along
AB and BD in succession.
59. This theorem is not limited to the composition ofEquiva-
two motions or two forces only; for since the combinedknt of^
action of two forces puts the body into the same state or’
if their equivalent alone had acted on it, we may suppose
this to have been the case, and then the action of a third
force will produce a change on this equivalent motion.
The resulting motion will be the same as if only this third
force and the equivalent of the other two had acted on
the body. Thus, in fig. 10, the three forces AB, AC, AE,
may act at once on a particle of matter. Complete the
parallelogram ABDC ; the diagonal AD is the force which
is generated by AB and AC. Complete the parallelogram
AEFD; the diagonal AF is the force resulting from the
combined action of the forces AB, AC, and AE. In like
manner, completing the parallelogram AGHF, the dia¬
gonal AH is the force resulting from the combined ac¬
tion of AB, AC, AE, and AG, and so on of any number
of forces.
Fig. 10.
This resulting force and the resulting motion may be
much more expeditiously determined, in any degree ot
composition, by drawing lines in the proportion and di¬
rection of the forces in succession, each from the end of
the preceding. Thus, draw AB, BD, DF, FH, and join
AH ; AH is the resulting force. The demonstration is
evident. . .
60. It is to be noticed here, that in the composition of
more than two forces, we are not limited to one plane.
The force AD is in the same plane with AB and AC ;
but AE may be elevated above this plane, and AG may
lie below it. AF is in the plane of AD and AE, and Afl
is in the plane of AF and AG.
Complete the parallelograms ABLE, ACKE, ELFK.
It is evident that ABLFKCD is a parallelepiped, and that
AF is one of its diagonals. Hence we derive a more ge¬
neral theorem of great use.
Three forces having the proportion and direction of the th ree
sides of a parallelopiped, compose a force having the pro-
portion and direction of the diagonal.
61. Any number of forces acting together on one par-One force
tide of matter are balanced by a force that is equal and may ba-
opposite to their resulting force; for this force would ba-many
lance their resulting force which is equivalent to them in™^to'
action. When this is duly considered, we perceive that^
each force is then in equilibrio with the equivalent of all
340
DYNAMICS.
Second
Law of
Motion.
Expedi¬
tious me¬
thods for
obtaining
the result¬
ing motion
in compli¬
cated cases.
the others ; for a force can balance only what is equal and
opposite to it. It appears very readily by the geometri¬
cal construction. If, instead of the circuit A, B, D, F, H,
we take B, D, F, H, A, we have BA for the equivalent of
the forces AC, AE, AG; but AB is equal and opposite
to BA. Therefore the force AB is in equilibrio with the
equivalent of all the others.
62. When any number of forces act on one particle of
matter, and are in equilibrio, if they be considered as act¬
ing in parcels, the equivalents of these parcels are in equi¬
librio ; for let the forces AB, AC, AE, AG, Ah, be in
equilibrio, and let them be considered in the two parcels
AB, AC, and AE, AG, AA, then AD is the equivalent of
AB, BD (or AC), and DA is the equivalent of DF, FH,
HA (or A/i) : now AD and DA balance each other. This
corollary enables us to simplify many intricate complica¬
tions of force ; it also enables us to draw accurate conclu¬
sions from very imperfect observations. In most of our
practical discussions we know, or at least we attend to, a
part only of the forces which are acting on a material par¬
ticle ; and in such cases we reason as if we saw the whole :
yet is our mathematical reasoning good with respect to
the equivalent of all the parcels which we are contem¬
plating, and the equivalents of the smaller parcels of which
it consists; and the neglected force, or parcel of forces,
induces no error on our conclusions.
63. In the spontaneous phenomena of nature, the in¬
vestigation and discovery of our ultimate object of search
is frequently very difficult, on account of the multiplicity
of directions and intensities of the operating forces or mo¬
tions. We may generally facilitate the process, by sub¬
stituting equivalent forces or motions acting in convenient
directions. It is in this way that the navigator computes
the ship’s place with very little trouble, by substituting
equivalent motions in the meridional and equatorial direc¬
tions for the real oblique courses of the ship. Instead of
setting down ten miles on a course, S. 36° 52' W. he
supposes that the ship has sailed eight miles due south,
and six miles due west, which brings her near to the same
place. Then, instead of fourteen miles south-west, he
sets down ten miles south and ten miles west; and he
proceeds in the same way for every other course and dis¬
tance. He does this expeditiously by means of a traverse
table, in which are ready calculated the meridional and
equatorial sides of right-angled triangles, corresponding
to every course and distance. Having done this for the
course ot a whole day, he adds all the southings into one
sum, and all the westings into another; he considers
these as forming the sides of a right-angled triangle;
he looks for them, paired together, in his traverse table,
and then notices what angle and what distance corre¬
sponds to this pair. This gives him the position and mag¬
nitude of the straight line joining the beginning and end
of his day’s work.
The miner proceeds in the same way when he takes the
plan of subterraneous workings, measuring, as he goes
along, and noticing the bearing of each line by the com¬
pass, and setting down, from his traverse table, the
northing or southing, and the easting or westing, for each
oblique line: but there is another circumstance which he
must attend to, namely, the slope of the various drifts,
galleries, and other workings. This he does by noting
the rise or the dip of each sloping line. He adds all these
into two sums, and taking the risings from the dips, he
obtains the whole dip. Thus he learns how far the work¬
ings proceed to the north, how far to the east, and how
far to the dip.
Hie reflecting reader will perceive that the line joining
the two extremities of this progression will form the dia¬
gonal of a rectangular parallelopiped ; one of whose sides
Second
Law of
Motion.
lies north and south, the other lies east and west, and the
third is right up and down.
The mechanician proceeds in the very same way in the
investigation of the very complicated phenomena which
frequently engage his attention. He considers every
motion as compounded of three motions in some conve¬
nient directions, at right angles to each other. He also
considers every force as resulting from the joint action of
three forces, at right angles to each other, and takes the
sum or difference of these in the same or opposite direc¬
tions. From this process he obtains the three sides of a
parallelopiped, and from these computes the position and
magnitude of the diagonal. This is the motion or force
resulting from the composition of all the partial ones.
This procedure is called the estimation or reduction ofForces
motions and forces. may be
estimated
Fig. 11. by, or re-
A o duced to
64. A motion or force AB (fig. 11) is said to be estimated^ nh(e,i
in the direction EF, or to be reduced to this direction when direcuon>
it is conceived as compounded of the motions or forces AC,
AD, one of which, AC, is parallel to EF, and the other,
AD, is perpendicular to it. This expression is abundant¬
ly significant; for it is plain that the motion AD neither
promotes nor hinders the progress along EF, and that AC
expresses the whole progress in this direction.
Fig. 12.
ET
""-''A
H
65. In like manner, a force AB (fig. 12) is said to be esti- or a given
mated in, or reduced to, a given plane EFGH, when it isPlane-
conceived as resulting from the joint action of two forces
AC, AD, one of which is parallel to a line ab drawn in
that plane, and the other AD is perpendicular to it. The
position of the line ab is determined by letting fall B5
perpendicular to the plane, and drawing 6P to the point
P, in which BA meets the plane; then Aa being drawn
parallel to B&, will cut off ba, which is the reduction of
the motion AB to the plane. Drawing AC parallel to ab,
and completing the parallelogram ACBD, it is evident
that the motion AB is equivalent to AD and AC, which
is parallel to ab, and the three forces AB, AC, AD, are,
as they should be, in one plane perpendicular to the plane
EG.
66. If three forces AB, AC, AD (fig. 13) are in equilibrio, Equili-
and are reduced to any one direction dAl, or to one plane brium of
EFGH, the reduced forces are also in equilibrio. iorces so
First, let them be reduced to one direction dlby draw- estl™duced
ing the perpendiculars B6, Cc, Do?; make AL equal to °r re
AD, and join BE, CL, and draw the perpendiculars L/,
Cc ; then, because the forces AB, AC, AD, are in equili¬
brio, ABLC must be a parallelogram, and AL is the force
equivalent to AB and AC combined; then, because the
lines Dd, Bb, Cc, hi, are parallel, dA is equal to A/, and
Ab to Co, or to cl; therefore Al is equal to the sum of
Ab and Ac, which are the reductions of AB and AC ;
DYNAMICS.
341
Second therefore c/A is equal to the same sum, and in equilibrio
Law of wjt n
Motion.
Fig. 13.
Secondly, Let them be reduced to one plane, EFGH,
and let a/3, ax, ab, be the reduced forces. The lines D5,
Aa, B/3, Cx, LX, are all parallel, being perpendicular to
the plane ; therefore the planes AB, /3a, and CL, Xx, are
parallel, and a/3, xX, are parallel. For similar reasons,
/3X, osx, are parallel; therefore aj3Xx is a parallelogram.
Also, because the lines Db, Aa, LX, are parallel, and DA
is equal to AL; therefore ba is equal to aX. But be¬
cause a/3Xx is a parallelogram, the forces a/3, ax, are equi¬
valent to aX; and ab is equal and opposite to aX, and will
balance it; and therefore will balance a/3 and ax, which
are the reductions of AB and AC to the plane EFGH,
while ab is the reduction of AD; therefore the proposi¬
tion is demonstrated.
The most usual and the most useful mode of reduction
is to estimate all forces in the directions of three lines
mode of re- drawn from one point, at right angles to each other, like
to their co ^ ^iree P*ane angles of a rectangular chest, forming the
ordinates°^en§Ui> the breadth, and the depth of the chest. These
are commonly called the three co-ordinates. The result¬
ing force will be the diagonal of this parallelopiped. This
process occurs in all disquisitions in which the mutual ac¬
tion of solids and fluids is considered, and when the oscil¬
lation or rotation of detached free bodies is the subject of
discussion.
Relative 67. The only other general theorem that remains to be
motions of deduced from this law of motion is, that if a number of
bodies are moving in any manner whatever, and an equal
an^extra^ ^orce ac*: on every particle of matter in the same or paral-
neous * directions, their relative motions will suffer no change ;
7iTd 14
The most
useful
for the motion of any body A (fig. 14), relative to another
body B, which is also in motion, is compounded of the
real motion of A, and the opposite to the real motion of
B; for let A move uniformly from A to C, while B de¬
scribes BD uniformly; draw AB, also draw AE equal and
Second
Law of
Motion.
parallel to BD ; join EC, DC, ED. The motion of A, re¬
lative to B, consists in its change of position and distance.
Had A described AE, while B described BD, there would
have been no change of relative place or distance; but A
is now at C, and DC is its new direction and distance.
The relative or apparent motion of A therefore is EC.
Complete the parallelogram ACFE; it is plain that the
motion EC is compounded of EF, which is equal and pa¬
rallel to AC, the real motion of A, and of EA, the equal
and opposite to BD, the real motion of 13.
Now let the motions of A and B sustain the same change ;
let the equal and parallel motions AG, BH, be compound¬
ed with the motions AC and BD ; or let forces act at
once on A and B, in the parallel directions AG, BH, and
with equal intensities ; in either supposition, the resulting
motions will be Ac, B<7, the diagonals of the parallelograms
AGcC and BHofD. Construct the figure as before, and
we see that the relative motion is now ec, and that it is
the same with EC both in respect of magnitude and po¬
sition.
Here we still see the constant analogy between the
composition of motions and the composition of forces. In
the first case, the relative motions of things are not chan¬
ged, whatever common motion be compounded with them
all; or, as it is usual’y but inaccurately expressed, al¬
though the space in which they move be carried along
with any motion whatever. In the second case, the rela¬
tive motions and actions are not changed by any external
force, however great, when equally exerted on every par¬
ticle in parallel directions.
Thus it is that the evolutions of a fleet in a uniform
current are the same, and produced by the same means,
as in still water. Thus it is that we walk about on the
surface of this globe in the same manner as if it neither
revolved round the sun, nor turned round its axis. Thus
it is that the same strength of a bow will communicate a
certain velocity to an arrow, whether it is shot east, or
west, or north, or south. Thus it is that the mutual ac¬
tions of sublunary bodies are the same, in whatever direc¬
tions they are exerted, and notwithstanding the very great
changes in their velocities by reason of the earth’s rota¬
tion and orbital revolution. The real velocity of a body
on the earth’s equator is about 3000 feet per second great¬
er at midnight than at mid-day. For at midnight the mo¬
tion of rotation nearly conspires with the orbital motion,
and at mid-day it nearly opposes it. The diflerence be¬
tween the velocities at the beginning of January and the
beginning of July is vastly greater. And at other times
of the day, and other seasons of the year, both motions of
the earth are transversely compounded with the easterly
or westerly motion of an arrow or cannon bullet; yet we
can observe no change in the effects of the mutual actions
of bodies.
68. This is an important observation, because it proves This af-
that forces are to be measured by no other scale than by fords a de-
the motions which they produce. We have had repeated monstra-
occasions to mention the very different estimation of mov-tlon (,t tl,e
ing forces by Mr Leibnitz; and have shown how, by a 0f
very partial consideration of the action of those natural moving
powers called pressures, he has attempted to prove that forces to
moving forces are proportional to the squares of the velo- the mo-
cities ; and we showed briefly in what manner a rightt‘ons P™'
consideration of what passes when motion is produced by ^
measurable pressures, proves that the forces really exert- ‘ ’
ed are as the velocities produced. But the most copious
proof is had from the present observation, that, in fact, the
mutual actions of bodies depend on their relative motions
alone.
69. The Leibnitzian measure of moving force is altoge¬
ther incompatible with the universal fact now mentioned,
7
342
DYNAMICS.
Second
Law of
Motion.
and is in¬
compatible
with their
propor¬
tionality
to the
squares of
those mo¬
tions.
So Ber¬
noulli’s de'
fence of
this last
opinion is
without
force.
viz. that the relative motions of bodies, resulting from
their mutual actions, are not affected by any common mo¬
tion, or the action of any equal and parallel force on both
bodies; for this universal fact imports, that when two bo¬
dies are moving with equal velocities in the same direc¬
tion, a force applied to one of them, so as to increase its
velocity, gives it the same motion relative to the other, as
if both bodies had been at rest. Here it is plain that the
space described by the body in consequence of the primi¬
tive force, and of the force now added, is the sum of the
spaces which each of them would generate in a body at
rest. Therefore the forces are proportional to the veloci¬
ties or changes of motion which they produce, and not to
the squares of those velocities. This measure of forces,
or the position that a force makes the same change on any
velocity whatever, and the independence of the relative
motions on any motion that is the same on all the bodies
of a system, are counterparts of each other. Since this
independence is a matter of observation in all terrestrial
bodies, we are entitled to say that the powers which the
Author of nature has imparted to natural bodies are no
way different from what are competent to matter once
called into existence. And it also follows from this, that
we must always remain ignorant of the absolute motions
of bodies. The fact that it has required the unremitted
study of ages to discover even the relative motions of our
solar system, is an argument to prove that the influence
of this mechanical principle extends far beyond the limits
of this sublunary world ; nor has any phenomenon yet
been exhibited which should lead us to imagine that it is
not universal.
When we have made use of these arguments with some
zealous partizans of Mr Leibnitz’s doctrine, they have an¬
swered, that if indeed this independence of the relative
motions of terrestrial bodies were observed to obtain ex¬
actly, it would be a conclusive argument. But the motion
with which all is carried along is so great in comparison
with the motions which we can produce in our experi¬
ments, that the small additions or diminutions that we can
make to the velocity of this common motion must observe
very nearly the proportions of the additions or diminutions
of their squares. The differences of the squares of 2, 3,
and 4, are very unequal ; but the differences of the squares
of 9, 10, 11, are much nearer to the ratio of equality;
and the differences of the squares of 1000001, 1000002,
1000003, do not sensibly deviate from this ratio. But it
is not fact that we cannot produce motions which have
a very sensible proportion to the common motion. The
motion of a cannon ball discharged with one third of its
weight of powder, is nearly equal to that of the rotation
of the earth's equator. When, therefore, we discharge the
ball eastward, we double its motion ; when to the west¬
ward, we destroy it. Therefore, according to Leibnitz, the
action in the first case is three times the action in the se¬
cond. In the first case it changes the square of the velo¬
city (which we may call 1) from 1 to 4 ; and, in the se¬
cond, it changes it from l to 0. But, say the Leibnitzians,
the velocity of rotation is but ^ of the orbital velocity of
the earth, and our observations of the velocities of cannon
bullets are not sufficiently exact to ensure us against an
error of ^rr-r. But the latter observations on the oeculiar
Slf
Second
Law of
Motion.
the motions produced in our experiments be so varied
that cases must occur when the difference of the results of
the two measures of force will be very sensible.
But, further, they have not attended to the agreement
of our experiments when the discharges of cannon are made
in a direction transverse to that of the common motion.
Here the immensity of the common motion, and the mi¬
nuteness of our experimental velocities, can have no effect
in diminishing the difference of the results of the two doc¬
trines. This will appear distinctly to every reader who is
much conversant in disquisitions of this kind; and it is in
these more moderate motions that the complete indepen¬
dence of the relative motions on the common motions most
accurately appears. Pendulum clocks and watches have
been often executed which do not deviate from perfect
equability of motion one part in 86,400. This could not
be obtained in all directions of the oscillations, if the
forces deviated from the ratio of the velocities one part
in 86,400.
On the whole, we may consider it as established on the Perfect
surest foundation, that the action of those powers of na- agreement
tural bodies which we call pressures, such as the force of-0* Llie a*)*
springs, the exertions of animals, the cohesion of bodies, as
well as the action of those other incitements to motion force wjl[1
which we call attractions and repulsions, such as gravitation, all our ac-
magnetism, and electricity, is proportional to the change curate ob*
of velocity produced by it. And we must observe here, scrvations
that this is not a mere mode of conception, the result of0*tlie ex'
motions of the fixed stars concur in showfing, tnat the sun,
with his attending planets, are carried along with a very
great motion, which, in all probability, has a sensible ratio
to **ie 01'hital motion of the earth. This must make a pro-
digious change on the earth’s absolute motion, according
as her orbital motion conspires wfith, opposes, or crosses,
this other motion ; the earth may even be at absolute rest
in some points of its orbit. Thus wfill the composition with
the laws of human thought, which cannot conceive a na-Natural0
tural power as the cause of motion otherwise than by itSp0Wers.
producing motion, and which cannot conceive any degree
of moving power different from the degree of the motion.
This is tiie abstract doctrine, and is true whether the
pressures are proportional to the velocities or to the
squares of the velocities.
But we see further, that whatever is the pressure of a
spring (for example) on a quiescent body, yet the pressure
actually exerted in producing a double velocity is only
double, and not quadruple, as our first imperfect obser¬
vations make us imagine.
70. Sir Isaac Newton has added another proposition to Newton’s
the number of laws of motion ; namely, that every action third Lw
is accompanied by an equal and contrary re-action. But in i^fo^nded
affirming this to be a law of nature, he only means that it ^ experi.
is a universal fact: and he makes this affirmation on the ence aione,
authority of what he conceives to be a law of human and is not
thought; namely, that those qualities which we find in a necessary
all bodies on which we can make experiments and ob-truth-
servations, are to be considered as universal qualities of
body. But we have limited the term law of motion to
those consequences that necessarily flow from our notions
of motion, of the causes of its production and changes.
Now this third Newtonian proposition is not such a result.
A magnet is said to act on a piece of iron, when, and only
when, the vicinity of the magnet is observed to be accom¬
panied by certain motions of the iron. But it by no means
follows from this observation, that the presence of the iron
shall be accompanied by any motion, or any change of
state whatever of the magnet, or any appearance that can
suggest the notion that the iron acts on the magnet.
When this was observed, it was accounted a discovery.
Newton discovered that the sun acts on the planets, and
that the earth acts on the moon; and Kepler discovered
that the moon re-acts on the earth. Newton had observed
that the iron re-acts on the magnet; that the actions of
electrified bodies were mutual; and that every action of
sublunary bodies was, in fact, accompanied by an equal
and contrary re-action. On the authority of his rule of
philosophizing, he affirmed that the planets re-act on the
sun, and that the sun is not at rest, but is continually agi-
D Y N A
Second tated by a small motion round the general centre of gra-
Law of vitation. He pointed out several consequences of this re-
Motion. action. Astronomers examined the celestial motions more
narrowly, and found that those consequences do really
obtain, and disturb all the planetary motions. It is now
found that this reciprocity of action obtains throughout
the solar system with the utmost precision, and that the
third Newtonian proposition is really a law of nature, al¬
though it is not a law of human thought. It is a disco¬
very. The contrary involves no absurdity or contradic¬
tion. It would indeed be contrary to experience; but
things might have been otherwise. It is conceivable and
possible that a ball A shall strike another equal ball B,
and carry it along with it, without any diminution of its
velocity. The fact that the velocity of A is reduced to
one half, is the indication of a force residing in B, which
force changes the motion of A; and the intensity of this
force is learned from the change which it produces. This
is found to be equal to the change produced by A on B.
And thus the re-action of B is discovered to be equal to the
action of A.
It is highly probable that this universality and equality
of re-action to action is the consequence of some general
principle, which we may in time discover ; meanwhile we
are entitled to suppose it universal, and to reason from this
topic in our disquisitions about the actions of bodies on
each other.
Manner- Although the celebrated philosophers of Europe have
tuis, Leib-at last agreed in the reception of the two propositions so
nitz, and largely discussed by us as the laws of motion, they have
other phi- differed exceedingly in their opinion about their origin
osop ers, an(j va)idity. Some asserted that they are entirely mat-
tertained ters experience, while others affirmed them to be ne-
very in a- cessary truths. The Royal Academy of Berlin made this
dequatc question the subject of their prize dissertation in the year
opinions 1744. Mr Maupertuis, president of the academy, pub-
the'foi.11111^ lished a dissertation, in which he endeavoured to prove
dat'on of ^iat t*iey are necessary truths, only because they are such
the laws as make the quantity of action the least possible, an economy
of motion, which is worthy of infinite wisdom, and therefore certain¬
ly directs the choice of the Author of nature. On this
account alone are they necessary truths.
But this is not the way to consider a question of this
kind. We know too little about infinite wisdom to be able
to say, with Messrs Leibnitz and Maupertuis, that the
Deity should or should not impress on bodies laws differ¬
ent from those which are essential to matter; and we are
not to inquire whether God could or could not do this.
We know from our own experience, that matter, when
subjected to the action of intelligence, may be moved in
a way extremely different from what it would follow if
left to itself, and that its motions may either be regulated
by fixed but contingent law, or may be without any con¬
stancy whatever, and vary in every instance. When we
suppose the existence of matter and motion, a variety of
truths are involved in the supposition, in the same manner
as all the theorems in the third book of Euclid's Elements
are involved in the conception of a circle and a straight
line. Our first employment should be to evolve those
truths. We can do this in no way but by first noticing the
relations of the ideas that we have of the different objects
of contemplation, and then following the laws of human
thought in our judgments concerning those relations. This
process of the mind is expressed in the train of a geome¬
trical demonstration. The different parts or argumenta¬
tions of this train are not the causes of our conclusions,
but the means by which we form our judgment; not the
reasons of the truth of our ultimate conclusion, but the steps
by wfiieh we arrive at the knowledge of it. The young
geometer generally thinks otherwise. But that this is the
M I C S. 343
matter of fact, is plain from this, that more than one de- Second
monstration, and often very different, can be given of the
same theorem. We must proceed in the same manner in
the present question; and the first general truths which
we find involved in the notions of matter, motion, and
force, must be received as necessary truths. The steps
by which we arrive at the discovery are the laws of hu¬
man thought; and the expression of the discovery, in¬
volving both the truth itself, and the manner of conceiv¬
ing it, is a necessary law of motion. There may be other
facts, perhaps as general as any of those necessary laws,
but which do not necessarily result from the relations of
our notions of motion and of force. These are discovered
by observation only, and they serve to characterize the
forces which nature presents to our view. These facts are
contingent laws of motion.
We apprehend that this method has been followed in
treating this article. The first proposition, termed a law
of motion, is only a more convenient way of expressing our
contemplation of a motion in body as an effect of the ge¬
neral cause which we term force. The second proposition
does nothing but express more distinctly the relation be¬
tween this cause and its effect; it expresses what we
mean by the magnitude and the kind ot the cause. The
proposition, stating the composition of forces, is but ano¬
ther form of the same law, better suited to the ordinary
procedure in geometrical disquisitions.
These propositions might have completed the doctrines
of dynamics; but it appears that, in order to the produc¬
tion of a material universe which should accomplish the
purposes of the Creator, it was necessary that there be
certain characteristic differences between the forces in¬
herent in the various collections of matter which compose
this universe. The facts or physical laws (for the above-
mentioned laws are metaphysical) of motion may be dif¬
ferent from those which would have been observed had
matter been left entirely to itself. This difference may
have introduced other laws of motion as necessarily re¬
sulting from the nature of the forces. We have occasion¬
ally mentioned some instances where this appears to ob¬
tain, but gave good reasons for affirming that a due exa¬
mination of all circumstances which may be observed in
the production or variation of motion by those forces, has
demonstrated, that there are no such deviations from the
two laws of motion already determined, but that all the
mechanical powers of bodies, when considered merely as
causes of motion, act agreeably to the same laws. Careful
examination was, however, said to be necessary.
This examination must consist in distinctly noticing the
circumstances that occur in the production of motion by
any force whatever. It is by no means enough to state
simply the intensity of the force and the direction of its
exertion. If a force continue to act, it continues to vary
the motion already produced. Should the force change its
intensity or direction while it is acting, these circumstan¬
ces must induce still farther changes in the motion; and
it is not till all action has ceased that the motion is brought
to its ostensible state, in which it is the object of our at¬
tention and our future discussions. Instances of the ef¬
fects of such continued and such varied actions are to be
seen in most of the phenomena of nature or art. The com¬
munication of motion by impulse is perhaps the only in¬
stance (very frequent indeed) that can be produced where
this is not necessary; nay, we shall perhaps find reason to
conclude that this instance is not an exception, and that
even the communication of motion from one billiard ball
to another is brought about by an action continued for
some time, and greatly varied during that time. Much
preparation is therefore necessary before we can apply the
344
OP A cede- general laws of motion to the solution of most of the ques-
rated and tions which come before us in the course even of our ele-
Ketarded mentary disquisitions. We must lay down some general
Motions. osit.ions which determine the results of the continued,
’ and perhaps varied, actions of moving forces; and we
must mark the different effects of the simple continuation
of action, and also those of the variations in this continu¬
ed action, both in respect of intensity and direction. I he
effect of a mere continuance of action must be an accele¬
ration of the motion, or a retardation of it if the force con¬
tinue to act in the opposite direction. The effect of the
continued action of a transverse force must be a continual
deflection, that is, a curvilineal motion. These must there¬
fore now occupy our attention in their order.
OF ACCELERATED AND RETARDED MOTIONS.
DYNAMICS.
,, , t bO -(-112 192 of .Acceifc.
small. The mean of these two, or -9 , = _ 9b, ^ ^
is probably more exact
Circum- 71. All men can perceive that a stone dropped from the
stantial ex-band, or sliding down an uniform slope, has its motion con-
position of tinually accelerated, and that the motion of an arrow ris-
ourconcep-jn(r perpendicularly through the air is continually retard-
tion of the th feej n0 difficulty in conceiving these chan-
nfa hndv ges of motion as the effects of the continual^ operation of
in respect their weight or heaviness. The falling stone is in a differ-
to motion, ent condition in respect of motion in the beginning and
end of its fall. In what respect do these states of the body
differ? Only in respect to what we call its velocity. This
is an affection of motion; it is an expression of the rela¬
tion between the two notions or ideas which concur to
form the idea of motion, namely, the space and the time.
These are all the circumstances that we observe in a mo¬
tion. Time elapses, and during its currency a space is de¬
scribed. The term velocity expresses the magnitude of the
space, which corresponds to some unit of time. Thus the
rate of a ship’s motion is determined when we say that it
is nine miles in an hour, or nine miles per hour. W e some¬
times say (but awkwardly) “ the motion is at the rate or
with the velocity of a mile in three days. It is most con¬
veniently expressed by a number of some given units of
length, which completely make up the line described du¬
ring this unit of time. But the mechanicians express it in
a way more general by a fraction, of which the numera¬
tor is a number of inches, feet, yards, fathoms, or miles,
and the denominator is the number of seconds, minutes,
or hours employed in moving along this line. This is a
very proper expression; for when we speak of any velo¬
city, and continue to reason from it, we conceive ourselves
to speak of something that remains the same, in the dif¬
ferent occasions of using the term. Now if the velocity be
constant, it is indifferent how long the line may be, because
the time of its description will be lengthened in the same
proportion. Thus if 48 feet be described in 12 seconds,
36 feet will be described in 9 seconds, 16 feet will be de¬
scribed in 4 seconds, &c. Now 3cf, and , are frac¬
tions of equal value, being equal to or 4, that is, to the
velocity of 4 feet per second. The value of this fraction,
or the quotient of the number of the units of length, di¬
vided by the number of units of time, is the number of
those units of length described uniformly in one unit of
time.
Magnitude But how shall we determine the velocity in any instant
of a velo- or -;u dlly p0int of a motion that is continually changing?
whkdfw Suppose that a body has fallen 144 feet, and that we
have n^ac-wou^ ascertain its velocity in that point of its fall, or the
tual mea- velocity which it has in passing through that point. In
sure. the next second the body falls 112 feet farther. This can¬
not be the measure of the velocity at the beginning of the
fourth or the end of the third second. It is too great. The
fall during the preceding second was 80 feet. This is too
2 7 2 ~ rated and
is prooaniy more cAaei. Due attention to the nature of
this motion shows us that 96 is the proper measure, or ,  :
that the motion at that instant is at the rate of 96 feet
per second. But it is peculiar to this kind of motion that
the half sum of the spaces described in two succeeding
equal moments is the measure of the velocity in the mid¬
dle instant. Therefore this method will not generally give
an accurate measure. Yet it is indispensably necessary to
obtain some accurate measure; for it is in this particular
alone that the state of the body differs from its similar
state in another instant. The difference of place makes
no distinction; for if a body continue its motion unchan¬
ged, its condition in every different instant of time, or
point of space, is unchanged, or the same. The change of
place is not a change of motion, but is involved in the
very conception of the continuation of the motion. Ihe
change of condition consists, therefore, in the change of
velocity: therefore the change of velocity is the only in¬
dication and the only measure of the action (perhaps ac¬
cumulated) of the changing force. It is therefore the
chief object of our search ; and accurate measures of velo¬
city are absolutely necessary.
72. When the velocity changes continually, there can
be no actual measure of it. In what then does the magni¬
tude of a velocity consist, when there is no actual measure
of it ? It is a certain undescribable determination, by which,
if not changed, a certain space ivould be uniformly de¬
scribed in a given unit of time. Thus we know, that if,
when a stone has fallen sixteen feet, its motion be direct¬
ed along a horizontal plane, without diminution, it will
move on for ever at the rate of thirty-two feet per second.
The space which would be thus described is not the velo¬
city, but the measure of the velocity. But the proportions Momenta,
of those spaces, being the proportions of those measures, *7
are the proportions of the velocities themselves. We may jocjjjes
discover these proportions in the following manner: are
Fig. 15.
continu¬
ally chan¬
ging-
Let AL(j (hg. Id) be a line described by a uouy wnu a u
a motion any how continually but gradually varied ; and ^
it be required to determine the proportion of the velocity ^ mecjia.
in any point C to the velocity in any other point F. njcai dis-
Axiom.—If A be to B in a ratio that is greater than any quisitions.
ratio less than that of C to D, but less than any ratio greater
than that of C to D, then A is to B as C to D.
Take the straight line aeg to represent the time of the
body’s motion along ACG, so that the points a, c,f g,
may represent the instants of time in which the body
passes through the points A, C, F, G; and the portions
tf’fff’ °1 the line ag, may represent the times employ¬
ed in describing the portions AC, CF, FG; and therefore
ac is to af as the time of describing AC to the time of de¬
scribing AF. N
DYNAMICS.
345
Of Accele- Moreover, let hkno be a line so related to the straight
rated and line acfg, by the perpendicular ordinates ah, ck,fn, go, that
Retarded (-]ie areas ackh, afnh, agoh, may be proportional to the por-
tions AC, AF, AG, of the line described by the moving
body; and let this relation be true with respect to every
point B, D, E, &c. and the corresponding points h, d, e,
&c.
Then it is affirmed that the velocity in the point C is to
the velocity in the point F as ck is tofn.
Let the equal lines be, cd, ef, fg, represent equal mo¬
ments of time, and let B, D, E, G, be the points through
which the body is passing at the instants b, d, e, g. Then
the areas bike, chid, emnf,fnog, will represent, and be pro¬
portional to, the spaces BC, CD, EF, FG, which are de¬
scribed during the moments be, cd, ef, fg.
Draw tp parallel to ag, so as to make the rectangle btpc
equal to the trapezium bike; and draw the lines qv, ur, sx,
in the same manner, so that each rectangle may be equal
to its corresponding trapezium.
If the motions had been uniform during the moments
be &n<\fg, that is, if the spaces BC and FG had been uni¬
formly described, then the velocity in the point C would
have been to the velocity in the point F as cp to fs ; for
since the rectangles btpc and fsxg are respectively equal
to the trapeziums bike and fnog, and since bike is to fnog
as BC is to FG, the rectangle btpc is to the rectangle/^
as BC to FG. But because these two rectangles have
equal altitudes be and fg, they are to each other in the
proportion of their bases cp and <7#, or cp and fs. Therefore
BC is to FG as cp to fs. But if BC and FG are uniformly
described in equal times, they are proportional to the ve¬
locities of those uniform motions. Therefore cp is to fs as
the velocity with which BC is uniformly described to the
velocity with which FG is uniformly described in an equal
time.
But the motion expressed by the figure is not uniform,
because the line hlo recedes from the axis ag, and the
areas, cut off by the parallel ordinates, increase in a greater
proportion than the corresponding parts of the axis; that
is, the spaces increase faster than the times; for the mo¬
ments he, cd, effg, being all equal, it is evident that the
corresponding slips of the area continually augment. The
motion is swifter at the instant c than at the instant b, and
the velocity at the instant c is greater than that with which
the space BC would be uniformly described in the same
time. For the same reason, the velocity at the instant f
is less than that with which the space FG would be uni¬
formly described in the same time. Therefore the velo¬
city at the instant c is to the velocity at the instant /in a
greater ratio than that of cp to fs. In the very same
manner, it will appear, by comparing the motion during
the moment ee?with the motion during the moment ef, that
the velocity at the instant c is to the velocity at the in¬
stant/in a less ratio than that of to fr.
Therefore the velocity in the point C is to the velocity
in the point F in a greater ratio than that of cp to fs, but
in a less ratio than that of cq to fr.
But by continually diminishing the equal moments be,
cd, ef fg, it is evident that cp and cq continually approach
to equality with ck, and fr and fs continually approach to
equality with/? ; that when cp is less than ck,fs is greater
than/?, and when cq is greater than ck,fr is less than/?.
Therefore the velocity in the point C is to the velocity
in the point F in a ratio that is greater than the ratio of
any line less than ck to any line greater than/?, but which
is less than the ratio of any line greater than ck to any
line less than /?. Therefore the ratio of the velocity in
C to the velocity in F is greater than any ratio that is
less than that of ck to/?; but it is less than any ratio
that is greater than that of eh tofn. Therefore the velo-
yol. vm.
city in the point C is to the velocity in the point F as ckOi Accele-
to fn. rated and
This important theorem may be expressed in more ge- Bearded
neral terms as follows : 0 ion&
If the abscissa ag of a line hko represent the time of any
motion, and if the areas bounded by parallel ordinates be pro-
portional to the spaces described, the ordinates are propor¬
tional to the velocities.
Remark.—The propriety or aptitude of expressing the
time by the portions of the axis aeg will perhaps appear
more clearly in the following manner:
Let aeg be any straight line, and let h’kv be another line
straight or curved. Let the straight line ahz, perpendicu¬
lar to ag, be carried uniformly down along this line, keeping
always perpendicular to it, and therefore always parallel
to its first position ahz. In its various situations ckz, emz,
&c. it will cut off areas ackh, aemh, &c. bounded by the
axis, by the ordinates ah and ck, or by the ordinates ah
and em, &c. and by the line hkg. By this motion the
moveable ordinate is said, in the language of modern geo¬
metry, to generate the areas ackh, aemh, &c. At the same
time, let a point A move along the line ACG, setting out
from A at the instant when the line az sets out from a ;
and let the motion of the point A be so regulated that the
spaces AB, AC, AD, &c. generated by this motion may
increase at the same rate with the areas abih, ackh, adlh,
&c. or such that we shall have AB to AC as abih to ackh,
&c. It is plain that the motion along AG is the same with
that described in the enunciation of the proposition; for
because the motion of the ordinate az along the axis ag is
supposed to be uniform, the spaces ab, ac, ad, &c. are pro¬
portional to the times in which they are described, and
may therefore be taken to measure or to represent those
times.
73. Cor. 1. In a motion continually varied, the velocities
in the different points of the path are to each other in the li¬
miting or ultimate ratio of the spaces described in equal times,
those times being supposed to diminish continually; for it
is evident that if the equal moments be, cd, effg, are sup¬
posed to diminish continually till the instants b and d
coalesce with c, and the instants e and g coalesce with f
then the ratio of ck to /? is the limit of the continually
increasing ratio of cp to fs, or of the continually diminish¬
ing ratio of cq to fr. Sir Isaac Newton calls this the ulti¬
mate ratio of cp to fs, or of cq to fr. Now the ratio of cp
to fs is, by construction, the same with the ratio of the
rectangle btpc to the rectangle fsxg, and the ratio of cq to
fr is the same with the ratio of the rectangle cqvd to the
rectangle eurf But the ratio of the rectangle btpc to the
rectangle fsxg is the same with the ratio of the space bike
to the space/?????; that is (by hypothesis) the same with
the ratio of the space BC to the space FG; and the ratio
of the rectangles cqvd and eurf is the same with that of
the spaces CD and EF. Therefore the ratio of the velo¬
city at C to the velocity at F is the same with the ulti¬
mate ratio of the small increments BC, FG, or CD, EF of
the spaces generated in very small and equal times.
It is also evident, that because the ratio of ck to /? is
the limit both of the ratio of cp to/ and of the ratio of c^
to fr, these ultimate ratios are the same, and that we may
say that the velocity in C is to the velocity in F in the
ultimate ratio of BC to EF, or in the ultimate ratio of CD
to FG.
We also can easily perceive that the ratio of the area
bike to the area emnf approaches more near to the ratio
of ck to fn as we take the moments be and ef smaller.
Therefore, in many cases of practice, where it may be
easy to measure the spaces described in the different
small moments of the motion, but difficult to ascertain
their ultimate ratio, so as to obtain accurate measures of
2 x
346
Of Accele¬
rated and
Retarded
Motions.
D Y N A M I C S
the proportions of the velocities, we may reduce the errors
of measurement to something very insignificant, by taking
these moments extremely small; and we shall diminish
the error still more by taking the proportion of the half
sum of BC and CD to the half sum of EF and FG for the
proportion of the velocities in C and F.
It often happens that we have it not in our power to
compare the spaces described in small moments which are
precisely equal. Still we can find the exact proportion
of the velocities, if we can ascertain the ultimate ratio of
the increments of the spaces, and the ultimate ratio of the
moments of time in which these increments are described ;
for it is plain, by considering the gradual approach of the
points p and r to the points k and n, that the ratio of ck
to fn is still the ultimate ratio of the bases of rectangles
equal to the mixtilineal areas, whether the altitudes (re¬
presenting the moments) are equal or not. Now the bases
of two rectangles are in the proportion of the rectangles
directly, and of their altitudes inversely. But the ulti¬
mate ratio of the altitudes is the ultimate ratio of the mo¬
ments, and the ultimate ratio of the rectangles is the ulti¬
mate ratio of the spaces described in those unequal mo¬
ments. Therefore, in such cases, we have,
74. Cor. 2. The velocities are in the ratio compounded of
the direct ultimate ratio of the momentary increments of the
spaces, and die inverse ultimate ratio of die increments (or
moments') of the times in which these increments of the spaces
are made.
If s, v, and t, are taken to represent the magnitudes
of the spaces, velocities, and times, and if ds, dt, and dv,
are taken always in the limiting or ultimate ratio of their
momentary increments,1 we shall have v always in the
proportion of ds directly, and of dt inversely. We express
this by the proportional equation v =f which is equi¬
valent to the analogy V; v = ^^ or V : v~ :
dsdT. .
75. N. B. Here observe that this is not the only way
of stating the relation of space and time—the abscissa
may be made the time, and the ordinate the space : then
, . dy
tne velocity =
The converse of this proposition may be thus expressed.
Converse 76. If the axis ag of the line hko represent the time of a
theorem, varied motion along the line AG, and if the ordinates ah,
hi, ck, Sfc. be as the velocities in the instants a, b, c, or in
the points A, B, C ; then the areas abih, ackh, adlh, fyc.
are proportional to the spaces AB, AC, AD, &c.
This may be demonstrated in the same way with the
former ; but the indirect demonstration is more brief, and
equally strict. .
If the spaces AC, AF, &c. are not proportional to the
areas ackh, afnh, &c. they are proportional to some other
areas ackh', afn'li', &c. which are bounded by the same
ordinates, and by another line likn!. But because the
areas ackh’, cfn’h', &c. are always proportional to the
spaces AC, AF, &c. described on the line AG, the velo¬
city in the point C is to the velocity in the point F as
the ordinate ck is to the ordinate//?/; but, by hypothesis,
the velocity in C is to the velocity in F as ck to//, and
fn' is equal to fn, which is absurd. Therefore the spaces
AC, AF, are not proportional to any other areas, &c.
77. Cor. The ultimate ratio of the momentary incre¬
ments of the spaces is compounded of the ratio of the veloci¬
ties, and the ultimate ratio of the increments oj the times:
for when the moments be, ef, are equal, it is evident that
the ultimate ratio of the rectangles bept, efru is the same
with the ultimate ratio of the increments of the spaces.
But the ultimate ratio of these rectangles is the same
with that of their bases cp and/-; that is, the ratio of c«
to fn that is, the ratio of the velocities. And when the
moments are unequal, the ratio of the rectangles is com¬
pounded of the ratio of their bases and the ratio of their
altitudes ; that is, compounded of the ratio of the veloci¬
ties and the ultimate ratios of the moments of time.
We have therefore d$ ds — VrfT : vdt and ds = vdt.
It most commonly happens that we can only observe
the accumulated results of varied motions, and in them
we only observe a space passed over, and a certain portion
of time that has elapsed during the motion ; but being able
to distinguish the portions of the whole space which are
described in known portions of the whole time, and hav¬
ing made such observations in several parts of the motion,
we discover the general law that the motion affects, and.
we affirm this law to hold universally, even though we
have not observed it in every point. We do this with a
degree of probability and confidence proportioned to the
frequency of our observation. It is not till we have done
this that we can make use of the first of these two proposi¬
tions, which enables us to ascertain the velocity of the
motion in its different moments. Thus, if we observe that
a stone in falling descends one foot in the quarter of a
second, 16 feet in a second, 64 feet in two seconds, and
144 feet in three seconds, the general law immediately
observed is, “ that the spaces described are as the squares
of the times ” for 1 is to 16 os the square ot j. to the
square of 1. Again, 16 is to 6+ as 1* to ‘A and 16 is to
144 as l2 to 32. Hence we infer, with great probability,
that the stone would fall 36 feet in a second and a halt;
for 16 is to 36 as P to l^-2; and we conclude in the same
way for all other parts of the motion.
78. This immediate observation of the analogy between
the spaces and the squares of the times suggests an easy
determination of the velocity in this particular kind o
motion, and it merits particular notice, being very often
referred to. We can take ag to represent the time, and
then, because the areas which are to represent the spaces
described must be proportioned to the squares of tiie por¬
tions of ag, we perceive that the line which comes m
place of hko must be a straight line drawn from a; for
example, the straight line aby, for this is the only boun¬
dary which will give areas abfi, acx., add, &c. proportional
to all, ad-, ad-, &c. And we perceive that any straight
line drawn from a will have this property.
Having thus got our representations of the times and
the spaces, we say, on the authority of our theorem, that
the velocity at the instant b is to the velocity at the in¬
stant d as 6/3 to dh, &c. And now we begin to make in¬
ferences purely geometrical, and express our discoveiy of
the velocities in a very general and simple manner. We
remark, that 6/3 is to do as ab is to ad; and we make t ic
same affirmation concerning the magnitudes repiesentec
by these lines. We say that the velocity at the instant
is to the velocity at the instant d as the time ab is to the
time ad. We say, in terms still more general, that the
velocities are proportional to the times from the beginning
of the motion. We moreover perceive, that the spaces are
Of Aocele
rated and
Retarded
Motions.
A good
example
of geome
trical me¬
thod.
» In this article as originally printed, the symbols i, i, and v were employed to represent the tnings here denoted by ds, dt, and
dv,. a like-change in the notation of the fluxions of the quantities will be made throughout the article
DYNAMICS. 347
Of Accele-also proportional to the squares of the acquired velocities ;
rating and 0r the velocities are as the square roots of the spaces.
Retarding can further infer, from the properties of the tri-
angle, that the momentary increments of the spaces are
proportional to the momentary increments of the squares
of the times, or of the squares of the velocities.
We also observe, that not only the whole acquired ve¬
locities are proportional to the whole elapsed times, but
that the increments of the velocities are proportional to
the times in which they are acquired ; for cr* is to gf as
be to df &c. Equal increments of velocity are therefore
acquired in equal times. Therefore such a motion may,
in great propriety of language, be denominated a uniform¬
ly accelerated motion; that is, a motion in which we observe
the spaces proportioned to the squares of the times, is a mo¬
tion uniformly accelerated; and spaces in the duplicate ra¬
tio of the times form the ostensible characteristic of an
uniformly accelerated motion.
79. Lastly, if we draw parallel to the axis ab, we per¬
ceive that the rectangle aeik is double of the triangle act.
Now, because ae represents the time of the motion, and
et represents the acquired velocity, the rectangle aeik will
represent the space which would be uniformly described
with the velocity eg during the time ae. But the triangle
aet represents th.e space really described with the uniform¬
ly accelerated motion during the same time. Hence we
infer, that the space that is described in any time, with a
motion increasing uniformly from nothing, is one half of
the space which would be uniformly described during the
same time with the final velocity.
These are but a part of the inferences which we ma}'
draw from the geometrical properties of those representa¬
tions which we had selected of the different measureable
affections of motion. We may affirm, with respect to the
motions themselves, all the inferences which relate to
magnitude and proportion, and thus improve our know¬
ledge of the motions.
We took the opportunity of this very simple and per¬
spicuous example, to give our readers a just conception of
the mathematical method of prosecuting mechanical know¬
ledge, and to make them sensible of the unquestionable
authority for every theorem deduced in this manner.
One of the most important is, to discover the accumu¬
lated result of a motion of which we only observe the mo¬
mentary increments. This is to be done by finding the
area, or portions of the area, of the mixtilineal space agolt;
and it is evidently analogous to the inverse method of
fluxions, or the integral calculus.
In most cases, we must avail ourselves of the corollary
ds == vdt, and we obtain the solution of our question only
in the cases where our knowledge of the quantities ds, dt,
and v (considered as geometrical magnitudes, that is, as
lines and surfaces), enables us to discover s and t.
OF ACCELERATING AND RETARDING FORCES.
80. Having thus discovered the proportions of the ve¬
locities in motions varying in any manner whatever, we
can observe the variations which happen in them. These
variations are the effects, and the only marks and mea¬
sures, of the changing forces. They are the characteris¬
tics of their kinds (considered merely as moving forces);
that is, the indications of the directions in which they act;
for this is the only difference in hind of which they are
susceptible in this general point of view. If they increase
the velocity, their direction must be conceived as the
same with that of the previous motion; because the re¬
sult of the action of a force is equivalent to the composi¬
tion of the motion which that force would produce in a
quiescent body with the motion already existing; and an Of Accf>Ie-
increase of velocity is equivalent to the composition of a rating and
motion in the same direction.
Having no other mark of the force but the acceleration, 'YA.A
we have no other name for it in the abstract doctrines of
dynamics, and we call it an accelerating force. Had it
retarded the motion, we should have called it a retarding
force.
In like manner we have no measure of the magnitude or
intensity of an accelerating force, but the acceleration
which it produces. In order therefore to investigate the
powers which produce all the changes of motion, we must
endeavour to obtain measures of the acceleration.
A continual increase of velocity is the effect of the con¬
tinued action of accelerating forces. If equal increments
of velocity are produced in every succeeding equal mo¬
ment of time, we cannot conceive that there is any change
in the accelerating force. Therefore a uniformly accele¬
rated motion is the mark of the unvaried action of an ac¬
celerating force, that is, of the continued action of a con¬
stant force ; of a force whose intensity is always the same.
When therefore we observe a body describe spaces pro¬
portional to the squares of the times, we must infer that
it is urged forward by a force whose intensity does not
change ; and, on the other hand, a constant force must
produce a uniformly accelerated motion by its continued
action. And if any previous circumstances assure us of
this continued action of an invaried force, we may make
all the inferences which were mentioned under the article
of uniformly accelerated motion.
81. That force must surely be accounted double which Measure of
produces a double increment of velocity in the same time an at;cele-
by its uniform action; we can form no other estimation of£atin8
its magnitude. And in general, accelerating forces must Ke*
accounted proportional to the increments of velocity which
they produce, by acting uniformly during the same or equal
times.
Supposing them to act on a body at rest. Then the
velocity produced is itself the increment; and we must
say that accelerating forces are proportional to the velo¬
cities which they generate in a body in equal times. And
because we found (No. 79), that the space described with
a uniformly accelerated motion is half the space which
would be uniformly described in the same time with the
final velocity, which space is the direct measure of this
velocity, and because halves have the same proportion
with the wholes—we may say that accelerating forces are Another
proportional to the spaces through which they impel a body measure
from rest in equal times by their uniform action.
This is an important remark; because it gives us an
easy measure of the force, without the trouble of first
computing the velocities. It also gives us the only dis¬
tinct notion that we have of the measurement of forces
by the motions which they produce. When speaking of
the composition of forces, we distinguished or denomi¬
nated them by the sides and diagonal of a parallelogram.
•These lines must be conceived as proportional to the
spaces through which the forces urge the body uniformly
during the small and insensible time of their action, which
time is supposed to be the same for both forces; for the
sides of the parallelogram are supposed to be separately
described in equal times, and therefore to be proportional
to the velocities generated by the constituent forces. If
indeed the forces do not act uniformly, nor similarly, nor
during equal times, we cannot say (without farther inves¬
tigation) what is the proportion of the intensity of the
forces, nor can we infer the composition of their action.
We must at least suppose, that in every instant of this
very small time of their joint action, their direction re¬
mains unchanged, and that their intensities are in the
348
DYNAMICS.
Forces.
Of Accele-same ratio. We shall see by and by, that with these
rating and conditions the sides of the parallelogram are still propor-
Itetarding t;onai to t]ie velocities generated. In the mean time we
may take the spaces through which a body is uniformly
impelled from rest (that is, with a uniformly accelerated
motion) as the measures of the forces; yet these spaces
are but the halves of the measures of the velocities. Then,
if a body be moving with the velocity of thirty-two feet
per second, and an accelerating force acts on it during a
second, and if this force be such that it would impel the
body (from a state of rest) sixteen feet, it will add to the
body a velocity of thirty-two feet per second. Accord¬
ingly, this is the effect of gravity—the weight of a pound
of lead may be considered as a force which does not vary
in its intensity. We know that it will cause the lead to
fall sixteen feet in a second; but if the body has already
fallen sixteen feet, we know that it is then moving with
the velocity of thirty-two feet per second. And the fact
is, that it will fall forty-eight feet farther in the next se¬
cond, and will have acquired the velocity of sixty-four
feet per second. It has therefore received an augmenta¬
tion of thirty-two feet of velocity by the action of gravity
during the second second; and gravity is in fact a con¬
stant force, causing equal increments of velocity in equal
times, however great the velocities may be. It does not
act like a stream of fluid, whose impulse or action dimi¬
nishes as the solid body withdraws from it by yielding.
But supposing that we have not compared the incre¬
ments of velocity uniformly acquired during equal times,
in what manner shall we measure the accelerating forces ?
In such a case that force must be accounted double which
generates the same velocity, by acting uniformly during
half the time; for when the force is supposed invariable,
the changes of velocity which it produces are proportional
to the times of its action; therefore if it produces an
equal velocity in half the time, it will produce a double
velocity in an equal time, and is therefore a double force.
The same may be said of every proportion of time in which
an equal change of velocity is produced by the uniform
action of an accelerating force. The force must be ac¬
counted greater in the same proportion that the time re¬
quired for the production of a given velocity in a body is
less. Hence we infer that accelerating forces are inversely
’proportional to the times in which a given change of velocity
is produced by their uniform action.
82. By combining these two propositions, we establish
this general theorem:
Measure of Accelerating forces are proportional to the changes of velo¬
city which they produce in a body by their uniform action
directly, and to the times in which these changes are pro¬
duced inversely.
If, therefore, A and a are the forces, V' and v' the
changes of velocity, and T' and i the portions of time in
which they are uniformly produced, we have
V' v!
A : « = W : «/T', = ^ : y
and a =
• a
The formula « == — is not restricted to any particular
magnitude of vr and t'. It is true, therefore, when the por¬
tion of time is diminished without end ; for since the ac¬
tion is supposed uniform, the increment of velocity is
lessened in the same proportion, and the value of the frac-
vr
tion — remains the same. The characters or symbols v'
and t' are commonly used to express finite portions of v
and £. The symbols v and t are used by Newton to ex-
accelerat¬
ing force.
press the same things taken in the ultimate or limiting Of Accele-
ratio. (These have been changed to dv and dt through-rabng and
out this article.) They are usually considered as indefi- Retanhng
nitely small portions of v and t. We shall abide by the
formula a = -j-.
• dt
83. It must always be kept in mind, that v and t are ab-Is an ab.
stract numbers; and that v refers to some unit of space, stract
such as a foot, an inch, a yard; and that t refers to somenumber*
unit of time, such as an hour, a minute, a second; and
especially that a is the number of the same units of space,
which will be uniformly described in one unit of the time
with the velocity generated, by the force acting uniform¬
ly during that unit. It is twice the space actually describ¬
ed by the body during that unit when impelled from rest
by the accelerating force. It is necessary to keep hold
of these clear ideas of the quantities expressed by the
symbols.
On the other hand, when the measure of the accelerat- Measure
ing force is previously known, we employ the theorem °^a
at — 1/; that is, the addition made to the velocity during0* velocity*
the whole or any part of the time of the action of the
force is obtained by multiplying the acceleration of one
unit of time by the number of such units contained in t'.
These are evidently leading theorems in dynamics, be-These
cause all the mechanical powers of nature come under themeasures
predicament of accelerating or retarding forces. It is the exPressthe
collection of these in any subject, and the manner inpartofoui
which they accompany or are inherent in it, which de-knowledge
termine the mechanical character of that subject; andofmecha-
therefore the phenomena by which they are brought into nical na-
view are the characteristic phenomena. Nay, it may eventure*
be questioned whether the phenomena bring any thing
more into view. This force, of which we speak so fami¬
liarly, is no object of distinct contemplation; it is merely
dv
a something that is proportional to And when we ob-
dV
serve that the ^7, found in the motions that result from
d l
dv
the vicinity of a body A, is double of the — which re¬
sults from the vicinity of another body B, we say that a
force resides in A, and that it is double of the force resid¬
ing in B. The accelerations are the things immediately
and truly expressed by these symbols. And the whole
science of dynamics may be completely taught without
once employing the word force, or the conception which
we imagine that we form of it. It is of no use till we
come to study the mechanical history of bodies. Then,
indeed, we must have some way of expressing the fact,
that an acceleration =
32 feet
F-
is observed in every thing
on the surface of this globe; and that an acceleration
418 feet ...
 p— is observed over all the surface of the sun.
These facts are characteristic of this earth and of the sun;
and we express them shortly by saying that such and
such forces reside in the earth and in the sun. It will pre¬
serve us from many mistakes and puzzling doubts, if we
resolutely adhere to this meaning of the term force; and
this will carry mathematical evidence through the whole
of our investigations.
84. As velocity is not an immediate object of contem- Another
plation, and all that we observe of motion is a space and measure of
a time, it may be proper to give an expression of this mea-?cce\erat"
sure of accelerating force which involves no other idea. *orce‘
Supposing the body to have been previously at rest, we
DYNAMICS.
349
Of AccbIc" v w •
rating and have a==—. Multiply both parts of the fraction by t
Ketarding ^
which does not change its value, and we have a=~
But vt = s; and therefore a
s
The formula a = A is equivalent to the proportion
f:\—s:a; and a would then be the space through which
the accelerating force would impel the body in one unit
of the time t. But this is only half of the measure of
the velocity which the accelerating force generates during
that unit of time. For this reason we did not express the
accelerating force by an ordinary equation, but used the
symbol ==. In this case, therefore, of uniform action, we
<2s
may express the accelerating force by a = —.
85. The following theorem is of still more extensive
use in all dynamical disquisitions.
Most ge¬
neral mea¬
sure of ac¬
celerating
force.
Accelerating forces are ‘proportional to the momentary in¬
crements of the squares of the velocities directly, and as the
spaces along which they are uniformly acquired inversely.
Fig. 16.
Let A'B, A'C, and AD (fig. 16) be three lines, described
in the same or equal times by the uniform action of accele¬
rating forces; the motions along these lines will be uniform¬
ly accelerated, and the lines themselves will be proportional
to the forces, and may be employed as their measures.
On the greatest of them, AD, describe the semicircle
ABCD, and apply the other two lines A'B, A'C as chords
AB, AC. Draw EB, FC perpendicular to AD. Take
any small portions B5, Cc of AB and AC, and draw be, cf
perpendicular to AD, and EA and FA parallel to AB and
AC.
Then, because the triangles DAB and BAE are similar,
we have AD : AE = AD2 : AB2. And because AD is
to AB as the velocity generated at D is to the velocity
generated at B (the times being equal), we have AD to
AE as the square of the velocity at D to the square of
the velocity at B; which we may express thus:
AD : AE = V2, D : V2, B.
For the same reasons we have also
AD : AF = V2, D : V2, C. Therefore
AE : AF = V2, B : V2, C.
But because in any uniformly accelerated motion, the
spaces are as the squares of the acquired velocities, we
have also
AE : Ae = V2, B : V2A, and
AF : A/ = V2, C : V2c.
Therefore Ee is to Yf as the increment of the square of
the velocity acquired in the motion along B6 to the incre¬
ment of the square of the velocity acquired along Cc.
But by similarity of the triangles ABD and EcA, we Of Accele-
have ratingand
AB : AD = Ee : EA; and in like manner,
AD : AC = FA : F/. Therefore
AB : AC = Ee X FA : F/ X EA.
Now AB and AC are proportional to the forces which
accelerate the body along the lines A'B and A'C ; Ee and
F/ are proportional to the increments of the squares of
the velocities acquired in the motions along the portions
BA and Cc; and EA and FA are equal to those portions
respectively. The ratio of AB to AC is compounded of
the direct ratio of Ee to Yf and the inverse ratio of EA
to FA. The proposition is therefore demonstrated.
The proportion may be expressed thus:
Ee Yf
AB : AC = ^ and may be expressed by the
proportional equation AB = or symbolically, a =
Fig. 17.
A Gr .7 F J*
Remark.—Because the motion along any of these ^ is but
three lines is uniformly accelerated, the relation between one half of
spaces, times, and velocities, may be represented by means th6 incre-
of the triangle ABC (fig. 17); where AB represents thement<“ vS*
time, BC the velocity, and ABC the space. If BC be taken
equal to AB, the triangle is half of the square ABCF of
the velocity BC; and the triangle ADE is half of the
square AD EG of the velocity DE. Let Y>d and BA be
two moments of time, equal or unequal. Then Y)deY and
BAcC are half the increments of the squares of the veloci¬
ties DE and BC, acquired during the moments Y)d and
BA. It was demonstrated that the ratio of the area
Y)deY to the area BAcC is compounded of the ratio of DE
to BC, and the ultimate ratio of Y)d to BA. But Do? and
BA are respectively equal to te and xc. Therefore Y>deY
is to BAcC, in the ratio compounded of the ratio of DE to
BC, and the ultimate ratio of te to xc. If we represent
DE and BC by V and v, then te and xc must be repre¬
sented by V' and ?/, the increments of V and v; and then
the compound ratio will be the ratio of VV' to vd ; and if
we take the ultimate ratio of the moments, and conse¬
quently the ultimate ratio of the increments of the velo¬
cities, we have the ratio of Vc?V to vdv. If therefore
V2 and v2 represent the squares of the velocities, Vc?V and
vdv will represent, not the increments of those squares,
but half the increments of them.
We may now represent this proposition concerning ac-
vdv
celerating forces by the proportional equation a = —- ;
V2 — v2
and we must consider this as equivalent with a = ---
keeping always in mind that a, V, and v, relate to the
same units of time and space, and that a is that number
of units of the scale on which S and s are measured,
which is run over in one unit of time.
350 D Y N A
Of Accele. This will be more clearly conceived by taking an ex¬
rating and ample. Let us ascertain the accelerative power of gra-
lietarding v;tys supposing it to act uniformly on a body. Let the
■ t orces. ^ SpgCes measured in feet and the time in seconds. It is
Measure ofa matter °* observation, that when a body has fallen 64
gravity feet, it has acquired a velocity of 64 feet per second ; and
considered that when it has fallen 144 feet, it has acquired the velo-
as an acce- city of 96 feet per second. We want to determine what
1 era ting velocity gravity communicated to it by acting on it du-
01ce’ ring one second. We have V2=:9216, and •w2 = 4096 ;
and therefore V2 — v2 — 5120. S = 144, and s — 64, and
S —s = 80, and 2 (S — s) = 160. Now a — — 32.
Therefore gravity has generated the velocity 32 feet per
second by acting uniformly during one second.
86. The augmentation of the square of the velocity is pro¬
portional to the force and to the space jointly. For, because
a we have ads — vdv.
ds
Thus we learn, that a given force, acting uniformly on
a body along a given space, produces the same increment
of the square of the velocity, whatever the previous velo¬
city may have been. Also, in the same manner as we for¬
merly found that the augmentation of the velocity was
proportioned to the time during which the force has acted,
so the augmentation of the square of the velocity is pro¬
portional to the space along* which it has acted.
Theorems It is pretty plain, that all that we have said of the uni-
rrspecting form action of an accelerating force may be affirmed of a
retarding retarding i'orce, taking a diminution or decrement of velo-
Imees. cjty in place of an increment. A uniformly retarded mo¬
tion is that in which the decrements of velocity in equal
terms are equal, and the whole decrements are propor¬
tional to the whole times of action. Such a motion is the
indication of a constant or invariable force acting in a di¬
rection opposite to that of the motion. We conceive this
to be the case, when an arrow is shot perpendicularly up¬
wards ; its weight is conceived as a force continually press¬
ing it perpendicularly downwards.
In such motions, however great the initial velocity may
be, the body will come to rest; because a certain deter¬
mined velocity will be taken from the body in each equal
successive moment, and some multiple of this will exceed
the initial velocity. Therefore the velocity will be extin¬
guished before the end of a time that is the same multiple
of the time in which the velocity was diminished by the
quantity above mentioned. It is no less evident that the
time in which any velocity will be extinguished by an op¬
posing or retarding force, is equal to the time in which
the same force would generate this velocity in the body
previously at rest. Therefore,
87. (1.) The times in which different initial velocities
will be extinguished by the same opposing force are pro¬
portional to the initial velocities.
88. (2.) The distances to which the body will go till
the extinction of its velocity, are as the squares of the
initial velocities.
(3.) They are also as the squares of the times elapsed.
89. (4.) The distance to which a body, projected with
any velocity, will go till its motion be extinguished by the
uniform action of a retarding force, is one half of the space
which it would describe uniformly during the same time
with the initial velocity.
Forces ge- It very rarely happens that the force which accelerates
neially va-the body acts uniformly, or with an unvaried intensity,
their in ten-. 6 auractl0n °r a magnet, for example, increases as the
sity. 1101j approaches it. The pressure of a spring diminishes
as it unbends. The impulse of a stream of water or wind
diminishes as the impelled surface retires from itbyyield-
M I C S.
ing. Therefore the effects of accelerating forces are very Of Accele.
imperfectly explained, till we have shown what motions re- rating and
suit from any given variation of force, and how to discover ^^nl'nn
the variation of force from the observed motion. This last
question is perhaps the most important in the study of
mechanical nature. It is only thus that we learn what is
usually called the nature of a mechanicalforce. This chiefly
consists in the relation subsisting between the intensity of
the force and the distance of the substance in which it re¬
sides. Thus the nature of that power which produces all
the planetary motions, is considered as ascertained, when
we have demonstrated that its pressure or intensity is in¬
versely as the square of the distance from the body in
which it is supposed to reside.
Acceleration expresses some relation of the velocity and
time. This relation may be geometrically expressed in a
variety of ways. In fig. 18 the uniform acceleration, or
the unvaried relation between the velocity and the time,
is very aptly expressed by the constant ratio of the ordi¬
nates and abscisses of the triangle agv. The ratio of di
to ad is the same with that of eg to ae, or that of ftp to af
&c.; or the ratio of the increment of velocity vtl to the
increment of the time or be, or that of ip to u, &c.
dv
This ratio it* : (St is equivalent to the symbol —.
Fig. 18.
But when the spaces described in a varied motion are
represented by the areas bounded by a curve line hko, we
no longer have that constant ratio of the increments of
the ordinates and abscisses.
90. Therefore, in order to obtain measures of the acce- Theirmea.
lerating forces, or at least of their proportions, let the ab-suresin
scissa aegfng. 18) of the line hko again represent the time®ucl1 case!l
of a motion. But let the areas bounded by parallel ordi-^vvo,1^
nates now represent the velocities; that is, let the whole orenis 0f
area increase during the time ag at the same rate with the most ex¬
velocities of the motion along the line AG. In this case tensive
the ordinates hi, ck, dl, &c. will be as the accelerations at use.
the instants b, c, d, &c. or in the points B, C, D, &c.
This is demonstrated in the same way as the former pro¬
position (No. 72). If the accelerating force be supposed
constant during any two equal moments icand fg, the rect¬
angles bept and fgxs would express the increments of ve¬
locity uniformly acquired in equal times, and their bases
cp and j's would have the ratio of the accelerations, or of
the accelerating forces. But as the velocities expressed
by the figure increase faster than the times during every
moment, the force at the instant c is to the force at the
instant fin a greater ratio than that of cp to fs; but, for
similar reasons, it is in a less ratio than that of cq to fr;
and therefore (as in the other proposition) the force at
the instant c is to the force at the instant jf as ck to fn.
91. Cor. Because cp is to fs in the ratio compounded of
DYNAMICS.
351
Forces.
Of Accele-the direct ratio of the rectangle cptb to the rectangle/kegs
rating andan(j tiie inverse ratio of the altitude be to the altitude^;
Retarding an{j bgcauge these rectangles are proportional to the in¬
crements of velocity, and the ultimate ratio of the alti¬
tudes is the ultimate ratio of the moments or increments
of the time, we must say that the accelerating forces {that
is, their intensities or pressures producing acceleration) are
directlg as the increments of velocity, and inversely as the
increments of the times; which proposition may be ex¬
pressed in regard to two accelerations A and a, by this
analogy:—
dV dv
A;0 = dT:*-
dv
Or by the proportional equation a = —. Also adt = dv,
andJadt =■ v'. And thus do these theorems extend even
to the cases where there cannot be observed an immediate
measure either of velocity or of acceleration, because nei¬
ther the space nor the velocity increases uniformly.
The theorem a is employed when we would dis¬
cover the variation in the intensity of some natural power.1
We observe the motion, and represent it by a figure ana¬
logous to fig. 18, where the abscissa represents the times,
and the area is made to increase at the same rate with the
spaces described. Then the ordinates will represent the
velocities, or have the proportion of the velocities. Then
we may draw a second curve on the other side of the same
abscissa, such that the areas of this last curve shall be pro¬
portional to the ordinates of the first. The ordinates ot this
last curve are proportional to the accelerating forces.
92. On the other hand, when we know from other cir¬
cumstances that a force, varying according to some known
law, acts on a body, we can determine its motion. The
intensity of the force in every instant being known, we
can draw a line so related to another line representing the
time, that the ordinates shall be proportional to the forces.
The areas will be proportional to the velocities. We can
draw another curve to the same absciss, such that the or¬
dinates of this shall be proportional to the areas of the
other, that is, to the velocities of the motion. The areas
of this second curve will be proportional to the spaces de¬
scribed.
93. We must now observe, that all that has been said
concerning the effects of accelerating forces continually
varying, relates to changes of motion, independent of what
the absolute motions may be. The areas of the line whose
ordinates represent the velocities do not necessarily re¬
present the spaces described, but the change made on the
spaces described in the same time ; not the motions, but
the changes of motion. If, indeed, the body be supposed
to be at rest when the forces begin to act, these areas
represent the very spaces that are passed over, and the
ordinates are the very velocities. In every case, how¬
ever, the accelerations are the real increments of the ve¬
locities.
This circumstance gives a great extension to our theo¬
rems, and enables us to ascertain the disturbances of any
species of regular motion, apart from the motions them¬
selves, and thus avoid a complication which would fre¬
quently be inextricable in any other way. And this pro¬
cess, which is merely mathematical, is perfectly conform¬
able to mechanical principles. It is in fact an application
of the doctrine of the composition of motion ; a doctrine
All these
theorems
relate to
changes of
ve'ocity;
hy which
means
they indi¬
cate imme¬
diately the
operation
of natural
powers.
rigidly demonstrated when we measure a mechanical force Of Accele-
by the change of motion which it produces. Acceleration rating and
is the continual composition of a new motion with the mo-
tion already produced.
We may learn from this investigation of the value of anjyj0 finite
accelerating force, that no finite change of velocity is ef-change of
fected in an instant by the action of an accelerating force, velocity
When the fig. 18 is used for the scale of accelerations,can bepro-
and they are represented by the ordinates of the line hho, jnUsL^n^nban
the increment of velocity is represented by an area, thatan^ acceig.
is, by a slip of the whole area ; which slip must have somerat;ing
altitude, or must occupy some portion of the abscissa which force,
represents time. Some portion of time, however small it
may be, must elapse before any measurable addition can
be made to the velocity. The velocity must change con¬
tinually. As no motion can be conceived as instantane¬
ous, because this would be to conceive that in one instant
the moving particle is in every point of its momentary
path,—so no velocity can change, by a finite quantity, in
one instant, because this would be to conceive that in
that instant the particle had all the intervening velocities.
The instant of change is at once the last instant of the
preceding velocity, and the first of the succeeding, and
therefore must belong to both. This cannot be conceived,
or is absurd. As a body, in passing from one part of space
to another, must pass in succession through all the inter¬
mediate places ; so, in passing from one velocity to another,
it must in succession have all the intermediate velocities.
It must be continually accelerated—we must not say gra¬
dually—however small the steps.
But to return from this digression :
94. The most frequent cases which come under exami-More con-
nation do not show us the relation between the forces and venient
times, but the relation between the forces and spaces.
Thus, when a piece of iron is in the neighbourhood of ai^thea,;-
magnet, or a planet is considered in the neighbourhood t;„n ot-
of the sun, a force is acting on it in every point of its path, forces, and
and we have discovered that the intensity of this force more fre-
varies in a certain proportion. Thus, a spring varies in its(lut'ntfv
pressure as it unbends; gunpowder presses less violently
as it expands, &c. &c.
Fig. 19.
Our knowledge is generally confined to some such effect
as this. We know, that while a body is moving along a
line, ADE (fig 19), it is urged forward by a force, of which
the intensity varies in the nroportion of the ordinates BF,
CG, DH, El, &c. of the line FGHI.
To investigate the motion or change of motion produced
by the action of this force, let CD be supposed a very small
portion of the space s, which we may express by s'. Draw
GK perpendicular to DH. Then, if we suppose that the
See Barrow’s Led. Gcometr. passim.
352
Of Accele¬
rating and
lletarding
Forces.
DYNAMICS.
force acts with the unvaried intensity CG through the
whole space CD, the rectangle CDKG will express half
of the increment of the square of the velocity (No. 85).
We may suppose that the force acts uniformly along the
adjoining small space Dr with the intensity DH. The
rectangle DHor will in like manner express another half
increment of the square of the velocity. And in like man-
same compounded ratio; therefore the force in C is to theOCAceele-
force in E as CG to El. RetanW
98. The line hko (fig. 18) was called by Dr Barrow
(who first introduced this extensive employment of mo-
tion into geometry) the scale of velocities ; and the lineScalesof
FHL (fig. 19) was named by him the scale of accelera- furce, velo-
tions. Hermann, in his Phoronomia, calls it the scale of city, acce-
Most im¬
portant
theorem.
ner we may obtain a succession of such increments. The forces. We shall retain this name, and we may ca no o ^
aggregate or sum of them all will be half the difference fig. 18 the smfe of accelerations, when the areas represent
between the square of the velocity at B and the square of the velocities. Sir Isaac Newton added another sea e o
the velocity at E. v^ry great use> viz- a scale of times- 15 constructed as
If we employ^to express the indetermined or variable follows,
intensity of the accelerating force, and v to express the 99. Let ABE (fig. 19) be the line along which a body
variable velocity, and vr its increment uniformly acquired, is accelerated, and let FHI be the scale of forces, that is,
then the rectangle CDKG will be expressed by/s'. We having its ordinates FB, HD, IE, &c. proportional to the
have seen that this is equal to vv'. Therefore, in every forces acting at B, D, E, F, &c.; let fhi be another line so
case where we can tell the aggregate of all the quantities related to ABE, that is to Ei in the inverse subdupli-
fs, it is plain that we will obtain half the difference be- cate ratio of the area BFGC to the area BFIE ; or, to ex¬
tween the squares of the velocities in B and E, on the press it more generally, let the squares of the ordinates to
supposition that the intensity of the force was constant the line fgi be inversely as the areas of the line FHI in-
along each little space, and varied by starts. Then, by tercepted between these ordinates and the first ordinate
increasing the number and diminishing the magnitude of drawn through B ; then the times of the bodies moving^
those little portions of the space without end, it is evident from a state of rest in B are as the intercepted areas of
that we terminate in the expression of the real state of the the curve fgi.
case, i. e. of a force varying continually; and that in this por ]et CD and Ee be two very small portions of the
case the aggregate of these rectangles occupies the whole space described in equal times. They will be ultimately
area AEIF, and is equivalent to the fluent ot’fds, or to the as tjie velocities in C and E. The area FBCG is to the
symbol//^ used to express this fluent, which is conceived area FBEI as the square of Ei to the square of Cg (by
an aggregate of small rectangles /*'. And we see that construction); but the area FBCG is to FBEI as the
this area expresses half of the augmentation of the square square of the velocity at C to the square of the velocity
of the velocity. Therefore, at E (by the proposition); therefore the square of the ve-
95. If the abscissa AE (fig. 19) of a line FGI is the locity at C is to the square of the velocity at E as the
path along which a body is urged by an accelerating force, square of Ei to the square of Cg ; therefore Ei is to C^
and if the ordinates BF, CG, DH, fyc. are proportional to as the velocity at C to the velocity at E, that is, as CD
the forces acting in the points B, C, D, &;c. the intercepted to Ee; but since E* : Cg = CD : Ee, we have lu X Ee
areas BCGF, BEIF, fyc. are proportional to the augmenta- = Cg X CD, and the elementary rectangles Cgkt) and
tions of the square of the velocity.1 Eime are equal, and may represent the equal moments of
Observe that the areas BCGF and DEIH are also pro- time in which CD and Ee were described. Ihus the areas
portional to the augmentations made on the squares of the of the line fgi will represent or express the times of de¬
velocities in B and in D. scribing the corresponding portions of the abscissa.
Observe also, that it is indifferent what may have been We may express the nature of this scale more briefly
the original velocity. The action of the forces represent- thus. Let BE be the space described with any varied
ed by the ordinates make always the same addition to its motion, and fgi a curve, such that its ordinates are in¬
square ; and this addition is half the square of the velocity versely as the velocities in the different points of the ab-
whieh those forces would generate in the body by impel- scissa, then the area will be as the times of describing the
ling it from rest in the point A. corresponding portions of the abscissa.
96. Lastly, on this head, observe, that we can state 100. In all the cases where our mathematical know-Example
what constant or variable force will make the same aug- ledge enables us to assign the values of the ordinates
mentation of the square of the velocity by impelling the the figure 19, we can obtain the law of action of the forces, PTq g5
body uniformly along the same space BE, or along what or the nature of the force; and where we can assign the
space a given force must impel the body in order to pro- value of the areas from our knowledge of the proportions
duce the same increase of the square of its velocity. In of the ordinates or forces, we can ascertain the velocities
the first case, we have only to make a rectangle BENp, of the motion. We shall give an example or two, which
equal to the area BEIF, and then Bp is the intensity of will show the way in which we avail ourselves of the geo-
the constant force wanted. In the second case, in which metrical properties of figure in order to ascertain the ef-
the force EO is given, we must make the rectangle AaOE fects of mechanical forces.
equal to the area BEIF, and AE is the space required
Converse. 97. The converse of this proposition, viz. if the areas
are as the increments of the square of the velocity, the ordi¬
nates are as the forces, is easily demonstrated in the same
way ; for if the elementary areas CDKG and EIMe repre¬
sent increments of the squares of the velocity, the accele-
(1.) In fig. 19, let the accelerating force which impels
the body along the line AB be ponstant, and let the body
be previously at rest in B ; the line which bounds the or¬
dinates that represent the forces must be some line <p HN
parallel to AB. The area BDHp is to the area BENp as
the square of the velocity at D to the square of the velo-
rating forces are in the ratio compounded of the direct city at E. These areas, having equal bases DH andEN,
ratio of these rectangles and the inverse ratio of their al- are as their altitudes BD and BE; that is, the spaces
titudes, because these altitudes are the increments of the described are as the squares of the acquired velocities,
space (No. 85). Now the base CG of the rectangle And we see that this characteristic mark of uniformly ac-
CDKG is to the base EI of the rectangle EIMe in the celerated motion is included in this general proposition.
i Newton’s Principiu, i. 3E
DYNAMICS.
353
Of AccsIp-
rating and
lletarding
Forces.
Fig. 20.
101. (2.) Let us suppose that the body is impelled from
A (fig. 20), towards the point C, by a force proportional
to its distance from that point. This force may beVepre-
sented by the ordinates DA, EB, eb, &c. to the straight
line DC. We may take any magnitude of these ordinates;
that is, the line DC may make any angle with AC. It
will simplify the investigation if we make the first force
AD = AC. About C describe the circle AHa, cutting
the ordinate EB in F; let eb be another ordinate, cutting
the circle in / very near to F; draw CH perpendicular to
AC, and make the arch HA := /F, and draw he parallel to
HC ; join FC and DH, and draw F<? perpendicular tofb.
Let EVIL be another ordinate.
The area DABE is to the area DAKL as the square
of the velocity at B to the square of the velocity at K.
But DABE is the excess of the triangle ADC above the
triangle EBC, or it is half of the excess of the square of
CA or CF above the square of CB, that is, half the square
of BF. In like manner, the area DAKL is equal to half
the square of KM ; but halves have the same ratio as the
integers; therefore the square of BF is to the square of
KM as the square of the velocity at B to the square of the
velocity at K; therefore the velocity at B is to the velo¬
city at K as BF is to KM. The velocities are proportional
to the sines of the arches of the quadrant AFH described
on AC.
Cor. 1. The final velocity with which the body arrives
at C is to the velocity in any other point B as radius to
the sine of the arch AF.
Cor. 2. The final velocity is to the velocity which the
body would acquire by the uniform action of the initial
force at A as 1 to \/2; for the rectangle DACH ex¬
presses the square of the velocity acquired by the uniform
action of the force DA ; and this is double of the triangle
DAC; therefore the squares of these velocities are as 1
and 2, and the velocities are as ^/l, and ^/2, or as 1
to */2.
102. Cor. 3. The time of describing AB is to the time
of describing AC as the arch AF to the quadrant AFH.
For when the arch F/’ is diminished continually, it is plain
that the triangle/i'F is ultimately similar to CFB, by rea¬
son of the equal angles Cib (or CFB) and /jF, and the
right angles CBF and /Ft; therefore the triangles ^rF
and CBF are also similar. Moreover, BA is equal to F^,
Fjfis equal to AH, which is ultimately equal to cC ; there¬
fore, since the triangles fg¥ and CFB are similar, we have
Fy : Ff — FB : CF — FB : HC ; therefore BA is to cC
as FB to HC, that is, as the velocity at B to the velocity
at C; therefore BA and cC are described in equal mo¬
ments when indefinitely small; therefore equal portions
vol. vm.
F/l AH, of the quadrant correspond to equal moments of Of Accele-
the accelerated motion along the radius AC; and the rating and
arches AF, FM, MH, &c. are proportional to the times Retarding
of describing AB, BK, KH, &c.
Cor. 4. The time of describing AC with the unequally
accelerated motion, is to the time of describing it uni¬
formly with the final velocity as the quadrantal arch is to
the radius of a circle; for if a point move in the quad¬
rantal arch so as to be in F, f M, H, &c. when the body
is in B, A, K, C, it will be moving uniformly, because the
arches are proportional to the times of describing those
portions of AC ; and it will be moving with the velocity
with which the body arrives at C, because the arch AH is
ultimately = Cc. Now if two bodies move uniformly with
this velocity, one in the arch AFH, and the other in the
radius AC, the times will be proportional to the spaces
uniformly described; but the time of describing AFH is
equal to the time of the accelerated motion along AC,
therefore the proposition is manifest.
103. Cor. 5. If the body proceed in the line Ca, and
be retarded in the same manner that it was accelerated
along AC, the time of describing AC uniformly with the
velocity which it acquires in C is to the time of describ¬
ing ACa with the varied motion, as the diameter of a
circle to the circumference; for because the momentary
retardations at K', B', &c. are equal to the accelerations at
K and B, &c. the time of describing ACa is the same with
that of describing AHa uniformly with the greatest velo¬
city ; that is, to the time of describing AC uniformly as
AHa to AC, or as the circumference of a circle to the
diameter; therefore, &c. N. B. In this case of retard¬
ing forces it is convenient to represent them by ordinates
K'L, B'E, aD', lying on the other side of the axis ACa;
and to consider the areas bounded by these ordinates as
subtractive from the others. Thus the square of the ve¬
locity at K' is expressed by the whole area DACK'L'C,
the part C'K'L' being negative in respect of the point
DAC. This observation is general.
Cor. 6. The time of moving along KC, the half of AC,
by the uniform action of the force at A, is to that of de¬
scribing ACa by the varied action of the force directed to
C, and proportional to the distance from it, as the diame¬
ter of a circle to the circumference ; for when the body
is uniformly impelled along KC by the constant force IK,
the square of the velocity acquired at C is represented by
half the rectangle IKCH, and therefore it is equal to the
velocity which the variable force generates by impelling
it along AC (by the way, an important observation). The
body will describe AC uniformly with this velocity in the
same time that it is uniformly accelerated along KC.
Therefore by Cor. 5 the proposition is manifest.
Cor. 7. If two bodies describe AC and KC by the ac¬
tion of forces which are everywhere proportional to the
distances from C, their final velocities will be proportional
to the distances run over, and the times will be equal.
For the squares of the final velocities are proportional
to the triangle ADC, LKC, that is, to AC2, KC2, and
therefore the velocities are as AC, KC. The times of
describing AC and KC uniformly, with velocities propor¬
tional to AC and KC, must be equal; and these times
are in the same ratio (viz. that of radius to £ of the cir¬
cumference) to the times of describing AC and KC with
the accelerated motion. Therefore, &c.
Thus, by availing ourselves of the properties of the
circle, we have discovered all the properties or characters
of a motion produced by a force always directed to a fixed
point, and proportional to fhe distance from it. Some of
these are remarkable, such as the last corollary ; and they
are all important, for there are innumerable cases where
this law of action obtains in nature It is nearly the law
2 Y
354
DYNAMICS.
Of Accele-of action of a bowstring, and of all elastic bodies, when
rating and their change of figure during their mutual action is mo-
Ketarding derate.
and it has been by the help of this proposition
, first demonstrated in a particular case by Lord Brouncker
and Mr Huygens, that we have been able to obtain pre¬
cise measures of time, and consequently of actual motions,
and consequently of any of the mechanical powers of na¬
ture. It is for this reason, as well as for the easy and
perspicuous employment of the mathematical method of
proceeding, that we have selected it.
Instead of giving any more particular cases, we may
observe in general, that if the intensity of the force be
proportional to any power whose index is n—1 of the
distance, and if a be the distance from the fixed point at
which the body begins to be accelerated, and x its dis¬
tance from the point in any part of the motion, the velo¬
city will he = Van — xn. This is very plain, because the
increment CGHD of the area of fig. 19, which is also the
increment of the square of the velocity, is =xn~ldx, and the
area is ==x” ; and the whole area, corresponding to the
distance a, is an. Therefore the portion of the area lying
beyond the distance x is an —xtl. This is as the square of
the velocity, and therefore the velocity is as the square
root Van — xn of this quantity.
vdv
This proposition, ovf= —, is the 39th of
the first book of Newton’s Principia, and is perhaps the
most important in the whole doctrine of dynamics, whe¬
ther employed for the investigation of forces or for the
explanation of motions. It furnishes the most immediate
data for both purposes, but more especially for the last.
By its help Sir Isaac Newton was able to point out the
numerous disturbances of the planetary motions, and to
separate them from each other; thus unravelling, as it
were, that most intricate motion in which all are blended
together. He has given a most wonderful specimen of
its application in his Lunar Theory.
We now are able to explain all the puzzling facts which
were adduced by Leibnitz and his partisans in support of
their measure of the forces of bodies in motion. We see
why four springs, equally bent, communicate but a double
velocity, and nine springs but a triple velocity; why a
bullet moving twice as fast will penetrate an earthen ram¬
part to a quadruple depth, &c. &c.
Conserva- This theorem also gives a most perspicuous explanation
tio virium of the famous doctrine called conservatio virium vivarum.
vivarum. When perfectly elastic bodies act on each other, it is
found that the sum of the masses multiplied by the squares
of the velocities is always the same. This has been sub¬
stituted, with great encomiums, by the German philoso¬
phers, in place of Descartes’s principle, that the quantity
of motion in the universe, estimated in one direction, re¬
mains always the same. They are obliged, however, to
acknowledge, that in the actions of perfectly hard bodies,
there is always a loss of vis viva, and therefore have denied
the existence of such bodies. But there is the same loss
in the mutual actions of all soft or ductile, or even imper¬
fectly elastic, bodies ; and they are miserably puzzled how
to explain the fact; but both the conservatio and the amissio
are necessary consequences of this theorem.
In the collision of elastic bodies, the whole change of
motion is produced during the short time that the bodies
are compressed, and while they regain their figure. When
this is completed, the bodies are at the same distance
from each other as when the mutual action began. There-
fore the preceding body has been accelerated, and the
following body has been retarded along equal spaces ; and
in every point of this space the accelerating and the re¬
tarding force has been equal. Consequently the same
area of fig. 20 expresses the change made on the square Of Accele.
of the velocity of both bodies. Therefore, if V and U are rating and
the velocities before collision, and v and u the velocities Hoarding
after collision, of the two bodies A and B, we must have 0^ce\
A X Vz — ?;2 = B X m2 — U2, and therefore A X V2
+ BXU2 = AX«2 + BX u\
But in the other class of bodies, which do not complete¬
ly regain their figure, but remain compressed, they are
nearer to each other when their mutual action is ended
than when it began. The foremost body has been acce¬
lerated along a shorter space than that along which the
other has been retarded. The mutual forces have in
every instant been equal and opposite. Therefore the
area which expresses the diminution of the square of the
velocity must exceed the area expressing the augmenta¬
tion by a quantity that is always the same when the
permanent compression is the same; that is, when the
relative motion is the same. A X V2 — v1 must exceed
B X m2 — U2, and A X V2 + B X U2 must exceed
A X r2 + B X w2.
This same theorem is of the most extensive use in all
practical questions in mechanic arts; and without it me¬
chanics can go no farther than the mere statement of
equilibrium.
Hermann, professor of mathematics at Pavia, one of the History of
ornaments of the mathematical class of philosophers, has No. 95 is
given a pretty demonstration of this valuable proposition, curious.
in the Acta Eruditorum Lip sice for 1709; and says, that
having searched the writings of the mathematicians with
great care, he found himself warranted to say, that New¬
ton was the undoubted author, and boasts of his own as
the first synthetical demonstration. The purpose of this
assertion was not very apparent at the time ; but long
after, in 1746, when Hermann’s papers, preserved in the
town-house of Pavia, were examined, in order to deter¬
mine a dispute between Maupertuis and Koenig about
the claim to the discovery of the principle of least action,
letters of Leibnitz’s were found, requesting Hermann to
search for any traces of this proposition in the writings
of the mathematicians of Europe. Leibnitz was by this
time the envious detractor from Newton’s reputation, and
could not but perceive that all his contorted arguments
for his doctrine received a clear explanation by means of
this proposition, in perfect conformity to the usual mea¬
sure of moving forces. Newton had discovered this theo¬
rem long before the publication of the Principia, and even
before the discovery of the chief proposition of that book
in 1666; for in his Optical Lectures, the materials of
which were in his possession in 1664, he makes frequent
use of a proposition founded on this. (See No. 42.) We
may here remark, that Hermann’s demonstration is in
every step the same with Dr Barrow’s demonstration of
it as a theorem merely geometrical, without speaking of
moving forces (see Led. Geometr. xi. p. 85, edit. 16), but
giving it as an instance of the transformation of curves,
which he calls scales of velocity, of time, of acceleration,
&c. It is very true that Barrow in these mathematical
lectures approached very near to both of Newton’s dis¬
coveries, the fluxionary geometry, and the principles of
dynamics; and the junto on the Continent, who were his
continual detractors, charge him with impudent plagia¬
rism from Dr Barrow, and even say that he has added no¬
thing to the discoveries of his teacher. But surely Dr Bar-
row was the best judge of this matter; and, so far from re¬
senting the use which Newton has made of what he had
taught him, he was charmed with the genius of thejuvenis
spectatissimus his scholar, and of his own accord gave him
his professorial chair, and ever after lived in the utmost har¬
mony and friendship with him. Nay, it would even appear
DYNAMICS.
355
Of Accele-from some expressions in those very lectures, that Dr Bar-
rating and row owed to young Newton the first thought of making
^Forces"8 SUC^ extens*ve use m°tion in geometry. We recommend
wor^ Barrow’s to the serious perusal of our read¬
ers, who wish to acquire clear notions of the science of
motion, and an elegant taste in their mechanical disquisi¬
tions. After all the cultivation of this science by the
commentators and followers of Newton, after the Phoro-
nomia of Hermann, the Mechanica of Euler, the Dyna-
mique of D’Alembert, and the Mechanique Analytique of
De la Grange, which are undoubtedly works of transcen¬
dent merit and utility, the Principia of Newton will still
remain the most pleasing, perspicuous, and elegant speci¬
men of the application of mathematics to the science of
universal mechanics, or what we call Dynamics.
The two fundamental theorems fdt —dv, ?cn&fds = vdv,
enable us to solve every question of motion accelerated
or retarded by the action of the mechanical powers of na¬
ture. But the employment of them may be greatly ex¬
pedited and simplified by noticing two or three general
cases which occur very frequently.
Similar in- 104. These may he ccdled similar instants of time, and
slants and similar points of space which divide given portions of time,
points, ancj 0j- Space in the same ratio. Thus the middle is a si¬
milar instant of an hour or of a day, and is the similarly
situated point of a foot or of a yard. The beginning of
the 21st minute, and of the 9th hour, are similar instants
of an hour and of a day. The beginning of the fifth inch,
and of the second foot, are similar points of a foot and
of a yard.
Similar ac- 105. Forces may he said to act similarly when their in-
tions, what, tensities in similar instants of time, or in similar points of
space, are in a constant ratio. Thus in fig. 20, when one
body is impelled towards C from A, and another from K,
each with a force proportional to the distance of every
point of its motion from C, these forces may be said to act
similarly along the spaces AC and KC, or during the times
represented by the quadrantal arches AFH, KNO. The
following propositions on similar actions will be found
very useful on many occasions; but we must premise a
geometrical lemma.
Fig. 21.
Forces.
true of their sums. But when the number of these rect- Of Accele-
angles is increased, and their breadth diminished without rating and
end, it is evident that the ultimate ratio of the sum of all B-^tanling
the rectangles, such as CDHG, to the sum of all the rect¬
angles cdhg, is the same with that of the area ADHE to
the area adhe, and the proposition is manifest.
107. If two particles of matter are similarly impelled du-
ring given times, the changes of velocity are as the times and
as the forces jointly.
Fig. 22.
i A
IH
106. If there be two lines EFGH (fig. 21), efgh, so re¬
lated to their abscisses AD, ad, that the ordinates BF, hf
drawn from similar points B and h of the abscisses, are in
the constant ratio of AE to ae; then the area ADHE is
to the area adhe as the rectangle of AD X AE to the rect¬
angle ad x ae.
For, let each abscissa be divided into the same number
of equal and very small parts, of which let CD and cdbe
one in each. Inscribe the rectangles CGID, cgid. Then
because the number of parts in each axis is the same, the
lengths of the portions CD and cd will be proportional to
the whole abscisses AD and ad. And because C and care
similar points, CG is to eg as AE is to ae. Therefore CD
X CG : cd X eg = AD X AE : ad X ae. This is true of
each pair of corresponding rectangles, and therefore it is
Let the times be represented by the straight lines ABC
(fig. 22), and abc, and the forces by the ordinates AD,
BE, CF, and ad, he, cf. Then if B and b are similar in¬
stants (suppose the middles) of the whole times, we have
BE : he = AD : ad. Therefore, by the lemma, the area
ACFD is to acfd as AC X AD to ac X ad. But these
areas are proportional to the velocities (No. 72), and the
proposition is demonstrated. For the same reason, the
change of velocity during the time AB is to the change
during ah as AB X AD to ah X ad.
Cor. 1. If the times and forces are reciprocally propor¬
tional, the changes of velocity are equal; and if the forces
are inversely as the times, the changes of velocity are
equal.
108. If two particles he similarly urged along given spaces,
the changes made on the squares of the velocities are as the
forces and spaces jointly.
for if AC (fig. 22) and ac are the spaces along which
the particles are impelled, and the forces are as the ordi¬
nates AD and ad, the areas ACFD and acfd are as the
changes on the squares of the velocities. But these areas
are as AC X AD, and ac X ad. Therefore, &c.
Cor. 2. If the spaces are inversely as the forces, the
changes of the squares of the velocities are equal; and if
these are equal, the spaces are inversely as the forces.
Cor. 3. If the spaces along which the particles have
been impelled from a previous state of rest, are directly
as the forces, the velocities are also as the forces. For,
because the changes of the squares of the velocities are
as the spaces and forces jointly, they are in this case as
the squares of the forces or of the spaces ; but the changes
of the squares of the velocities are in this case the whole
squares of the velocities ; therefore the squares of the ve¬
locities are as the squares of the forces, and the velocities
areas the forces. N. B. This includes the motions re¬
presented in fig. 20.
109. If two particles he similarly impelled along given
spaces, from a state of rest, the squares of the times are pro¬
portional to the spaces directly, and to the forces inversely.
Let ABC (fig. 22), abc, be the spaces described, aud
AD, ad, the accelerating forces at A and a. Let V, B
express the velocity at B, and v, b the velocity at b.
Let GHK and ghk be curves whose ordinates are in¬
versely as the velocities at the corresponding points of
the abscissa. These curves are therefore exponents of
the times (No. 99). Then, because the forces act simi¬
larly, we have, by the last theorem, AC X AD : ac
X ad =\~, B : vl, h, = hlJ1 ; HB2. Therefore HB
: hh — Vac X ad : VAC X AD, and therefore in a con-
356
DYNAMICS.
Of Accele- stant ratio. Call this the ratio of mfi to n. But since
rating and the ordinates of the lines GHK, glik, are inversely as
Retarding t])e veiocities, the areas are as the times (No. 99) ; and
since these ordinates are in the constant ratio of m to n,
the areas are in the ratio of AC X m to ac X There¬
fore (calling the times of the motions T and t), we have
1 '.t = m X AC :n X etc; and therefore
T2 : *2 = w2 X AC2: rc2 X ac2. But
rri1 \rP — ac X ad\ AC X AD. Therefore
T2: *2 = ac X ad X AC2: AC X AD X a<?,
or T2 : <2 = ad X AC : AD X ac.
the impelled body contains the number m of atoms, the Of Deflect-
mv inSFolces-
arrrrrorrfltp. nf forCCS is W
But since we measure forces by the quantity of motion
which they produce, we must conceive, that when the
same force is applied to a body which consists of w par¬
ticles, and produces the velocity u, by acting uniformly
during the same time t, the force nj 'S equal to the force
v
m —.
OrT2-(S = —
U AD ad.
The attentive reader will observe that these three pro¬
positions give a great extension to the theorems which
were formerly deduced from the nature of uniformly ac¬
celerated motion, or of uniform action of the forces, and
were afterwards demonstrated to obtain in the momentary
action of forces any how variable.
The first of the three propositions, V:v—FXT:/X£,
is the extension of the theorem fdt = dv. The second,
V2 : v2 — F X S:/ X s, is the extension of the theorem
fds — vdv. And the third, T2: f
S £_
FT
is the exten-
t
110. Sir Isaac Newton found it absolutely necessary, Moving
in the disquisitions of natural philosophy, to keep this force, mo.
circumstance of acceleration clear of all notions of quan- ti.ve
tity of matter, or other considerations, and to contem-^™”"*'
plate the affections of motion only. He therefore con-guishe(1
v # from acce-
sidered - as the true original measure of acceleratinglerating
t force.
force, and ntj as an aggregate. He therefore calls the
aggregate a vis motrix, a moving force, measured by
the quantity of motion that it generates. And he confines
sion of/= or of fd (f) = ds. These theorems
d{t)
hold true of all similar actions; and, only for this rea¬
son, are true of uniformly accelerated motions, or uniform
actions.
Aggregate There remains one thing more to be said concerning
of many the action of accelerating forces. Their magnitude is
equal acce- ascertained by their effect. Therefore that is to be con-
lerating sidered as a double force which produces a double quan-
°UeS’ tity of motion. Therefore when a body A contains twice
the number of equal atoms of matter, and acquires the
same velocity from the action of the force F, that another
body a, containing half the number of atoms, acquires
from the action of a force/, we conceive F to be double
of/. That this is a legitimate inference appears clearly
from this, that we conceive the sensible weight of a body,
or that pressure which it exerts on its supports, as the ag¬
gregate of the equal pressure of every atom accumu¬
lated perhaps on one point; as when the body hangs by a
thread, and, by its intervention, pulls at some machine.
Without inquiring in what manner or by what interven¬
tion this accumulation of pressure is brought about, we
see clearly that it results from the equal accelerating
force of gravity acting immediately on each atom. When
this weight is thus employed to move another body by
the intervention of the thread, which is attached to
one point perhaps of that body, it puts the whole into
motion, generating a certain velocity v in every atom, by
acting uniformly during the time t. We conceive each
atom to have sustained the action of an equal accelerating
force whose measure is —. Without considering how this
force is exerted on each atom, or by what it is immediately
exerted, or how it is diffused through the body from the
point to which the weight of the other body is applied by
means of the thread ; we still consider it as the aggregate
of the action of gravity on each atom of that other body.
Moreover, attending only to the motion produced by it,
and perhaps not knowing the weight of the impelling
body, we measure it, as a moving force, by considering it
as the aggregate of the forces propagated to each atom of
he impelled body, and measured by If we know that
• v j i
the term accelerating force to the quantity - measured by
the acceleration or velocity only. It would be conve-
v
nient, therefore, also to confine the symbol / to m j>
and to retain the symbol a for expressing the accelerat-
• r v
ing force
This appellation of motive force is perfectly just and
simple ; for we may conceive it as the same with the
accelerating force which produces the velocity m times v
in one particle, by acting on it uniformly during the
time t This motion of one particle having the velocity
mv, is the same with that of m particles having each the
velocity v. . .
If therefore a motive force / act on a body consisting
/ v
of m particles, the accelerating force a is z= — —.
Therefore the three last propositions concerning the
similar, the uniform, or the momentary actions of moving
forces, when expressed in the most general terms, are,
v
or vdv —
&
? 4
ms’
7*
OF DEFLECTING FORCES.
111. When we observe the direction of a body to Deflecting
change, we unavoidably infer the agency of a force which forces,
acts in a direction that does not coincide with that of the
body’s motion ; and we may distinguish this circumstance
by calling it a deflecting force. We have already shown
how to estimate and measure this deflecting force, by
considering it as competent to the production of that mo¬
tion which, when compounded with the former motion,
will produce the new motion (No. 44). Now, as all changes
of motion are really compositions of motions or forces, it
/
DYNAMICS.
357
Of Deflect¬
ing Forces.
Alteration
of deflec¬
tions are
continual,
and pro¬
duce curvi-
lineal mo-
tions.
is evident that we shall explain the action of deflecting
forces when we show this composition.
We may almost venture to say a priori, that all deflec¬
tions must be continual, or exhibit curvilineal motions:
for as no finite velocity, or change of velocity, can be pro¬
duced in an instant by the action of an accelerating force,
no polygonal or angular deflection can be produced; be¬
cause this is the composition of a finite velocity produced
in an instant. Deflective motions are all produced by the
composition of the former motion, having a finite velocity,
with a transverse motion continually accelerated from a
state of rest. Of this we can form a very distinct notion,
by taking the simplest case of such accelerated motion,
namely, a uniformly accelerated motion.
Fig. 23.
Example.
Determi¬
nation of
the path,
112. Let a body be moving in the direction AC (fig.
23) with any constant velocity, and when it comes to A,
let it be exposed to the action of an accelerating force,
acting uniformly in any other direction AE. This alone
would cause the body to describe AE with a uniformly
accelerated motion, so that the spaces AD, AE, would be
as the squares of the times in which they are described.
Therefore, if AB be the space which it would have de¬
scribed uniformly in the time that it describes AD by the
action of the accelerating force, and AC the space which
it would have described uniformly while it describes AE
by the action of the accelerating force, nothing more is
wanted for ascertaining the real motion of the body but
to compound the uniform motion in the direction AC with
the uniformly accelerated motion in the direction AE.
AD is to AE as the square of the time of describing AD
to the square of the time of describing AE ; that is, as
the square of the time of describing AB to the square of
the time of describing AC; that is, as AB2 to AC2 (by
reason of the uniform motion in AC). This composition is
performed by taking the simultaneous points B, D, and
the simultaneous points C, E, and completing the paral¬
lelograms ABED, ACGE. The body will be found in
the points F and G in the instants in which it would have
been found at B and C by the uniform motion, or in D and
E by the accelerated motion. In the same manner may
be found as many points of the real path as we please. It
is plain that these points will be in a line AFG, so related
to AE that AD : AE = DF2: EG2; or so related to the
original motion AC, that AB2 : AC2 = BF : CG, &c.
This line is therefore a parabola, of which AE is a dia¬
meter, DF and EG are ordinates, and which touches ACOfDeflect.
in A. Forces.
Having thus ascertained the path of the body, we
also ascertain the motion in that path ; that is, the velo-^1®
city in any point of it. We know that the velocity in the tjjis path,
point G is to the velocity of the uniform motion in the
direction AC as the tangent TG is to the ordinate EG;
because this is the ultimate ratio of the momentary incre¬
ment of the arch AFG to the momentary increment of
the ordinate EG. Thus is the velocity in every point of
the curve determined. We have taken it for granted that
the line of projection touches the path, and that the direc¬
tion in every point is that of the tangent. To suppose
that the curve, in any portion of it, coincides with the
tangent, is to suppose that the body is not deflected, that
is, is not acted on by a transverse accelerating force;
and to suppose that the tangent makes a finite angle with
any part of the path, is to suppose that the deflection is
not continual, but by starts, both of which are contrary
to the conditions of the case. No straight line can be
drawn between the direction of the body and the suc¬
ceeding portion of the path, otherwise we must again
suppose that the deflection is subsultory, and the motion
angular.
113. But while the investigation is so easy when the
direction and intensity of the deflecting force in every
point of the curve are known, the investigation of the de¬
flecting force from the observed motion is by no means
easy. The observed curvilineal motion always arises from
a composition of a uniform motion in the tangent with
some transverse motion ; but the same curvilineal mo¬
tion may be produced by compounding the uniform mo¬
tion in the tangent with an infinity of transverse mo¬
tions, and the law of action will be different in these
transverse motions according as their directions differ.
We must learn not only the intensity of the deflecting
force, and the law of its variation, but also its direc¬
tion in every point of the curve. It is not easy to find
general rules for discovering the direction of the trans¬
verse force ; most commonly this is indicated by extrin¬
sic circumstances. The deflecting force is frequently
observed to reside in or to accompany some other body.
It may be presumed, therefore, that it acts in the direc¬
tion of the line drawn to or from that body ; yet even this
is uncertain. The most general rule for this investiga¬
tion is to observe the place of the body at several inter¬
vals of time before and after its passing through the point
of the curve, where we are interested to find its precise
direction. We then draw lines joining those places of the
tangent where the body would have been by the uniform
motion only. We shall perhaps observe these lines of
junction keep in parallel positions : we may be assured
that the direction of the transverse force is the same with
that of any of these lines. This is the case in the ex¬
ample just now given of a parabolic motion ; but when
these lines change position they will change it gradu¬
ally, and their position in the point of contact is that to
which their positions on both sides of it gradually ap¬
proximate.
But all this is destitute of the precision requisite in
philosophical discussion. We are indebted to Sir Isaac
Newton for a theorem which ascertains the direction of the
transverse force with all exactness, in the cases in which
we most of all wish to attain mathematical accuracy, and
which not only opened the access to those discoveries
which have immortalized his name, but also pointed out
to him the path he was to follow, and even marked his
first steps. It therefore merits a very particular treat¬
ment.
1
358
Of Deflect.
ing Forces.
DYNAMICS.
Fig. 24.
Newton’s
fundamen¬
tal theo¬
rem for the
direction
of a deflect¬
ing force.
Areas = to
the times
indicate
central
forces.
Centre of
deflection.
Centre of
forces.
Central
forces.
114. If a body describes a curve line ABCDEF (fig.
24) lying in one plane, and if there be a point S so situat¬
ed in this plane that the line joining it with the body
describes areas ASB, ASC, ASD, &c. proportional to the
times in which the body describes the arches AB, AC,
AD, &c. the force which deflects the body from rectili¬
neal motion is continually directed to the fixed point S.
Let us first suppose that the body describes the poly¬
gon ABCDEF, &c. formed of the chords AB, BC, CD,
DE, EF, &c. of this curve, and, for greater simplicity of
argument, let us consider areas described in equal succes¬
sive times; that is, let us suppose that the triangles ASB,
BSC, CSD, &c. are equal, and described in equal times.
Make Be = AB, and draw cS.
Had the motion AB suffered no change in the point B,
the body would have described Be in the equal moment
succeeding the first; but it describes BC. The body has
therefore been deflected by an external force, and BC is
the diagonal of a parallelogram (No. 45, 46), of which Be
is one side, and cC is another. The deflecting force will
be discovered, both in respect of direction and intensity,
by completing the parallelogram BcC&. B£> is the space
which the deflecting force would have caused the body to
describe in the time that it describes Be or BC. Because
Be is equal to BA, the triangles BSc, BSA are equal.
But, by the nature of the motion, BSA is equal to BSC ;
therefore the triangles BSC and BSe are equal. They
are also on the same base BS ; therefore they lie between
the same parallels, and Cc is parallel to SB. But cC is
parallel to Bb; therefore B5 coincides with BS, and the
deflecting force at B is directed toward S. By the same
argument, the deflecting force at the angles D, E, F, &c.
is directed to S.
Now, let the sides of the polygon be diminished, and
their number increased without end. The demonstration
remains the same, and continues, when the polygon finally
coalesces with the curve, and the deflection is continual.
When areas are described proportional to the times,
equal areas are described in equal times ; and therefore
the deflection is always directed to S. Q. E. D.
The point S may, with equal propriety of language, be
called the centre of deflection, or the centre of forces ; and
forces which are thus continually directed to one fixed
point may be distinguished from other deflecting forces
by the name central forces.
The line joining the centre of forces with the body, andOfDeflect-
which may be conceived as a stiff line carrying the body inS f ur‘'es.
round, is usually named the radius vector.
115. The converse of this proposition, viz. that if thevector
deflecting forces be always directed to S, the motion is Central
performed in one plane, in which S is situated, and areas forces pro-
are described proportional to the times, is easily demon- duce areas
strated by reversing the steps of this demonstration. The ProPor|;ion*
motion will be in the plane of the lines SB and Be, be-^J^1 e
cause the diagonal BC of the parallelogram of forces is in
the plane of the sides. Areas are described proportional
to the times ; for Ce being parallel to SB, the triangles
SCB and ScB are equal; and therefore SCB and SAB
are equal, &c. &c.
116. Cor. 1. When a body describes areas round S pro-veiocitv is
portional to the times, or when it is continually deflected inversely
toward S, or acted on by a transverse force directed to S, as the per-
the velocities in the different points A and E of the curve Pen^^'^ar
are inversely proportional to the perpendiculars Sr and S£, |,gntre
drawn from the centre of forces to the tangents in those
points; that is, to the perpendiculars from the centre on
the momentary directions of the motion : for since the
triangles ASB, ESF are equal, their bases AB, EF are
inversely as their altitudes Sr, S£; but these bases being
described in equal times, are as the velocities, and they
ultimately coincide with the tangents at A and E.
117. Cor. 2. If Ba and Ft be drawn perpendicular to
SA and SE, we have SA X Ba = SE X Ft, and SA: SE
= Ft : Ba. For SA X Ba is double of the triangle BSA,
and SE X Ft is double of the equal triangle SFE.
118. Cor. 3. The angular velocity round S, that is, the Angular
magnitude of the angle described in equal times by the velocity is
radius vector, is inversely proportional to the square ofinve)'sebr
the distance from S. For when the arches AB, EF ares(!’ua|.g 0f
diminished continually, the perpendiculars Ba and Ft will ^jjga(]fs_0
ultimately coincide with arches described round S with tance from
the radii SB and SF. Now the magnitude of an angle is the centre
proportional to the length of the arch which measures it0ff°rces<
directly, and to the radius of the arch inversely. In any
circle, an arch of two inches long measures twice as many
degrees as an arch one inch long; and an arch one inch
long contains twice as many degrees of a circle whose
radius is twice as short. Therefore, ultimately, the angle
ASB is to the angle ESF as Ba to F*, and as SF to SB
jointly ; that is, as Ba X SF to Fi X SB. But Ba : Fs
= SE : SA (Cor. 2) ; therefore ASB: ESF = SE X SF:
SB X SA, = ultimately SE2 : SB2.
This corollary gives us an ostensible mark, in many
very important cases, of the action of a deflecting force
being always directed to a fixed point. We are often
able to measure the angular motion when we cannot mea¬
sure the real velocities.
Having thus discovered the chief circumstances which Intimate
enable us to ascertain the direction of the deflecting force, connection
we proceed to investigate the quantity of this deflective
determination in the different points of a curvilineal m0‘ ti^e higher
tion. This is a more difficult task. The momentary ef-geometry.
feet of the deflecting force is a small deviation from the
tangent; and this deviation is made with an accelerated
motion. The law of this acceleration regulates the cur¬
vature of the path, and is to be determined by it. We
may be allowed to observe by the way, that it appears
clearly, from the form in which Newton has presented all
his dynamical theorems, that we are indebted to these
problems for the immense improvement which he has
made in geometry by his invention of fluxions. The pur¬
poses he had in view suggested to his penetrating mind
the means for attaining them ; and the connection be¬
tween dynamics and geometry is so intimate, that the
same theorems are in a manner common to both. This is
DYNAMICS.
359
Of Deflect-particularly the case in all that relates to curvature. Or
ing Forces, shall we say that the geometry of Dr Barrow suggested
the dynamical theorems to Newton ? We have seen how
the curvature of a parabola is produced by a force acting
uniformly. The momentary action of all finite forces may
be considered as uniform, and therefore the curvature
will be that of some portion of some parabola; but it will
be difficult to determine the precise degree without some
farther help. We are best acquainted with the properties
of the circle, and will have the clearest notions of the cur¬
vature of other curves by comparing them with circles.
Measure of The curvature of a circular arch of given length is so
curvature, much greater as its radius is shorter, for’it will contain
so many more degrees in the same length ; and therefore
the change of direction of its extremities is so much
greater. Curvatures may always be measured by the
length of the arch directly, and the radius inversely.
Fig. 25.
Evolution 119. Suppose a thread made fast at one end of a material
ami inyolu-curve ABCD (fig. 25), and applied to it in its whole length.
1 lion Taking hold of its extremity D, unfold it gradually from
curves. curve DCBA ; the extremity D will describe another
curved X)cba. This geometrical operation is called the
evolution of curves, and Y)cba is called the evolute of DCBA,
which is called the involute of Y)cba. Perhaps this deno¬
mination has been given from the genesis of the area or
surface contained by the two lines, which is folded up
and unfolded somewhat like a fan. When the describing
point is in b, the thread &B is undoubtedly the momentary
radius of a circle ebf, whose centre is B, the point of the
involute which it is just going to quit. The momentary
motion of b is the same, whether it is describing an arch
of the evolute passing through b, or an arch of a circle
round the centre B. The same line bt, perpendicular to
the thread 6B, touches the circle ebf and the curve T>ba
in the point b. This circle ebf must lie within the curve
T)ba on the side of 5B toward a, because on this side the
momentary radius is continually increasing. For similar
reasons, the circle ebf Wes without the curve on the other
side of 5B. Therefore the circle e//both touches and cuts
the curve T)ba in the point b. Moreover, because every por¬
tion of the curve between b and D is described with radii
that are shorter than Z»B, it must be more incurvated than
any portion of the circle ebf For similar reasons, every por¬
tion of the curve between b and a must be less incurvated
than this circle; therefore the circle has that precise de¬
gree of curvature that belongs to the curve in the point
Circle of b; it is therefore called the equicurve circle, or the circle
uirvature. of curvature, and B is called the centre, and B6 the radius
' circle.1^'6 curvature. It is easy to perceive that no circle can be
described which shall touch the curve in b, and come oe-OfDeflecu
tween it and the circle ebf; for its centre must be in some^g Forces,
point i of the radius 5B. If ib be less than ¥>b, it must
fall within the curve on both sides of Z>, and if ib is greater
than B6, the circle must fall without the curve on both
sides of B5. The circle ebf lies closer to the curve, has
closer contact with it than any other, and has therefore
got the whimsical name of osculating circle ; and this sort
of contact was called osculation.
This view of the genesis of curve lines is of particular
use in dynamical discussions. It exhibits to the eye the
perfect sameness of the momentary motion, and therefore
of the momentary deflection, in the curve and in the
equicurve circle, and leaves the mind without a doubt but
that the forces which produce the one will produce the
other. A great variety of curves may be described in
this way. If perpendiculars be drawn to the curve Y)ba
in every point, they will intersect each other, each its
immediate neighbour, in the circumference of the curve
DBA; and geometry teaches us how to find the curve
DBA which shall produce the curve Y)ba by evolution.
(See Fluxions.)
It is a matter worthy of remark, that the path of a body
that is deflected from rectilineal motion by a finite force,
varying according to any law whatever, may always be
described by evolution. This includes almost every case
of the action of deflecting forces; none being excepted
but when, by the opposite action of different forces, the
body is in equilibrio in one single point of its path.
Our task is now brought within a very narrow compass,
namely, to measure the deflection in the arch of a circle.
Fig. 26.
Had the motion represented in fig. 26 been polygo¬
nal, it is plain that the deflecting force in the point B
is to that in the point E as the diagonal ¥>b of the pa¬
rallelogram ABC6 to the diagonal E« of the parallelogram
DEF« ; therefore let ABCZY be a circle passing through
the points A, B, and C, and let the radius vector BS cut
the circumference in Z; draw AZ, CZ, and the diagonal
AC, which necessarily bisects and is bisected by the dia¬
gonal BA The triangles 6BC and CBZ are similar; for
the angle C&B is equal to the alternate angle AB& or
ABZ, which is equal to the angle ACZ, standing on the
same chord AZ. And the angle CB5, or CBZ, is equal
to CAZ, standing on the same chord CZ; therefore the
remaining angle 6CB is equal to the remaining angle
360
DYNAMICS
Of Deflect-AZC; therefore ZA is to AC as BC to B6, and
B6
ing Forces. AC X BC
~AZ
In like manner Ei =
DFXEF
Dz
Measure of Now let the points A and C continually approach, and
deflecting ultimately coalesce with B; it is evident that the circle
forces. ABCZY is ultimately the equicurve or coinciding circle
at the point B, and that AS ultimately coalesces with
and is equal to BS, and that AC X BC is ultimately
2BC2 2EF2
2BC2; therefore ultimately Bi : Ei — ■ : ——, or
BZ
Ez
BC2 EF2
iEz’
|BZ
Now BC and EF being described in equal times, are as
the velocities: E>b and Ee are the measures of the veloci¬
ties which the deflective forces at B and E would gene¬
rate in the time that the body describes BC or EF, and
are therefore the measures of those forces. They are as
the squares of the velocities directly, and inversely as those
chords of the equicurve circles which have the directions of
the deflection.
Observe that Eb or Ei is the third proportional to half of
BZ
the chord and the arch described ; for B6 : BC = BC : —.
It is evident, that as the arches AB, BC, continually
diminish, AC is ultimately parallel to the tangent Br, and
BO is equal to the actual deflection from the tangent.
OCz
The triangles BOC and AOZ are similar, and BO =
sive motion, the body describes BC, it deflects from the tan- Of Deflect
gent through a space equal to the half of B6, because the inS Forces,
momentary action of the deflecting force may be consi- J
dered as uniform. The progressive velocity BC may be
generated by the same force uniformly acting through a
space greater than BC ; call this space x. The spaces
along which a body must be uniformly impelled in order
to acquire different velocities are as the squares of those
velocities; therefore B62 : BC2 = Bo : x; but Eb : BC
— BC : ^ BZ; therefore B62 : BC2 := B£>: | BZ, and Eb
: 1 BZ = Bo : x, and Eb -.Eo = ^ BZ :x; but Bo is ^ of
Eb, therefore a: is ^ of BZ ; that is,
121. The velocity in any point of a curvilineal path is
that which the deflecting forces in that point would generate
in the body by impelling it uniformly along one fourth part
of the deflective chord of the equicurve circle. If the veloci¬
ty increase, the chord of the equicurve circle must in¬
crease ; that is, the path becomes less incurvated. If the
force be increased, the curvature will also increase, for
the chord of curvature will be less.
There is another general observation to be made on the
velocity of a curvilineal motion, which greatly assists us in .
our investigation.
122. If a body describes a curve by the action of a force Compari-
always directed to a fixed point, and vary ing according to son oforbi.
any proportion whatever of the distances from that point, and taJ motion
if another body, acted on by the same centripetal force, move W1
toward the centre in a straight line, and if in any one case of ff centr6
equal distances from the centre of force the two bodies have
equal velocities, they will have equal velocities in every other
case of equal distances from the centre.
or ultimately = We may measure the forces by the
actual deflections, because they are the halves of the
measures of the generated velocities ; and we may say that
Measure of 120. The actual momentary deflection from the tangent is a
deflection. third proportional to the deflective chord of the equicurve
circle and the arch described during the moment.
Caution. Either of these measures may be taken, but we must
take care not to confound them. The first is the most
proper, because the change produced on the body (which
is the immediate effect and measure of the force) is the
determination left inherent in it to move with a certain
velocity. This is the measure also which we obtain by
means of the differential or fluxionary calculus; but the
other measure must be obtained when our immediate ob¬
ject is to mark the actual path of the body. The steps of
this demonstration, which is Newton’s, naturally terminate
in the equicurve circle, and give at once the immediate
measure of the deflecting force. At the same time the
reader must perceive that this measure does not depend
on the force being always directed to one centre; it is
enough that the two sides of the polygon, in immediate
succession, are described in equal times. This is neces¬
sary in order that ABC6 may be a parallelogram, and that
the diagonals AC and Eb may mutually bisect each other.
Thus have we obtained a measure of deflecting force,
and, in the most important cases, a method of discovering
its direction. It only remains to point out the relation
between the intensity of the force, the curvature of the
path, and the velocity of the motion. These three cir¬
cumstances have a necessary connection ; for we see that
the intensity is expressed by certain values of the other
two in the formula f = -r-77\ or f — - ,,r/ ■. The de-
flective velocity B6 is acquired in the time that the body
describes BC ; therefore the deflective velocity is to the ve¬
locity in the curve as B6 to BC. The velocity B6 is acquired
by an accelerated motion along BO ; for while, by progres-
Fig. 27.
along the curve line VIK/e. About the centre C describe
concentric arches ID, KE, very near to each other, and cut¬
ting the curve in I and K, and the line AC in D and E;
draw IC, cutting KE in N, and draw NT perpendicular
to the arch IK of the curve, and complete the parallelo¬
gram ITNO. Let the bodies be supposed to have equal
velocities at I and at D.
Then, because the centripetal forces are supposed to be
the same for both bodies when they are at equal distan¬
ces, the accelerating forces at D and I may be represent-
DYNAMICS.
361
Of Deflect-ed by the equal lines DE and IN; but the force IN is not
ing Forces, wholly employed in accelerating the body along the arch
IK, but, acting transversely, it is partly employed in in-
curvating the path. It is equivalent to the two forces 10
and IT, of which only IT accelerates the body. Now
IKN is a right-angled triangle, as is also the triangle
INT ; and they are similar; therefore IN : IT = IK : IN,
or DE : II IK : DE ; that is, the force which accele¬
rates the body along DE is to the force which accelerates
the body along IK as the space IK is to the space DE ;
therefore (No. 86) the increment of the square of the ve¬
locity acquired along DE is equal to the increment of the
square of the velocity acquired along IK. But the velocities
at D and I were equal, and consequently their squares were
equal; and these having received equal increments, there¬
fore the squares of the velocities at E and K are equal,
and the velocities themselves are equal. And since this
is the case in all the corresponding points of the line AC
and the curve VIK, the velocities at ail equal distances
' from C will be equal.
It is evident that the conclusion will be the same, if the
bodies, instead of being accelerated by approaching the
centre in the straight line AC, and in the curve VIK,
are moving in the opposite directions from E to A, or
from I to V, and are therefore retarded by the centripe¬
tal force.
Retarded 123. Cor, Hence it follows, that if a body be projected
curvilineal fr0m any point, such as V, of the curve, in a line tending
“ straight from the centre, with the velocity which it had in
companied tlmt Point .of. the curve> ^ would go to a distance VA,
by recess sucll> tliat, ^ lt were impelled along AV by the centripe-
fi'ora the tal force, it would acquire its former velocity in the point
centre. V; also in any point between V and A it will have the
same velocity in its recess from the centre that it has
there in its approach to the centre.
The line BLFG, whose ordinates are as the intensities
of the centripetal force in A, V, D, E, or in A, V, I, K, may
be called the scale or exponent of force ; the areas bound-
ed by the ordinates AB, VL, DF, EG, &c. drawn from
any two points of the axis, are as the squares of the velo¬
city acquired by acceleration along the intercepted part
of the axis, or in any curvilineal path, while the body ap¬
proaches the centre, or which are lost while the body re¬
tires from it. When we can compute these areas we ob¬
tain the velocities (see No. 102).
We are now in a condition to solve the chief problem
in the science of dynamics, to which the whole of it is in
a great measure subservient. The problem is this:
Inverse 124. Let a body be projected with a known velocity
problem offr°m a given point and jn a gjven direction, and let it be
forces? undei! the |nfluence of a mechanical force, whose direc¬
tion, intensity, and variation, are all known ; it is required
to determine its path, and its motion in this path, for any
given time.
This problem is susceptible of three distinct classes of
conditions, which require different investigation.
1. The force may act in one constant direction; that
is, in parallel lines.
2. The force may be always directed to a fixed point.
3. It may be directed to a point which is continual¬
ly changing its place.
1. When the force acts in parallel lines, the problem is
solved by compounding the rectilineal accelerated motion
which the force would produce in its own direction with
the uniform motion which the projection alone would have
produced. The motion must be curvilineal when the ac¬
celerating force is transverse, in any degree whatever, to
the projectile motion ; and the curvilineal path must be
concave on that side to which the deflecting force tends,
for the force is supposed to act incessantly. The place of
' VOL. vm.
the body will be had for any time, by finding where the Of Deflect*
body would have been at the end of that time by each ing Forces,
force acting alone, and by completing the parallelogram. '-'■'V'—''
Ihus, suppose a body projected along AB (fig. 23), while
it is continually acted on by a force whose direction is
AD. Let D and B be the places where the body would
be at the end of a given time. Then the body will, at
the end of that time, be in F, the opposite angle of the
parallelogram ABFD. But it has not described the dia¬
gonal At, because its motion has been curvilineal, as we
shall find by determining its place at other instants of this
time.
The velocity in any point F is found by first determin¬
ing the velocity at D, and making Dd to DFas the velocity
at D to the velocity at B (that is, the velocity of projec¬
tion, because the motion along AB is uniform). Then
draw e?F. Then AB is to d¥ as the constant velocity of
projection to the velocity at F. We have seen already
(No, 112-119) that d¥ is a tangent to the curve in F.
Hence we may determine the velocity at F in another
way. Having determined the form of the path in the way
already described, by finding its different points, draw
the tangent I'd, cutting the line DA in d. Then the
velocity at A is to that at F as AB to dF. Hence also
we see that the velocities in every point of the curve
are proportional to the portion of the tangents at those
points which are intercepted between any two lines pa¬
rallel to AD.
Either of these methods for ascertaining the velocity,
in this case of parallel deflections, will in general be
easier than the general method in No. 121, by the equi-
curve circle. -
It was thus that Galileo discovered the parabolic mo¬
tion of heavy bodies.
2, We must consider the motions of bodies affected byinverse
centripetal or centrifugal forces, always tending to one problem of
fixed point. I his is the celebrated inverse problem of cm-centripetal
tripetal forces, and is the forty-second proposition of the f°rces-
first book of Newton’s Principia. We shall give the so¬
lution after the manner of its illustrious author, because
it is. elementary in the purest sense of the word, keeping
in view the two leading circumstances, and these only,
namely, the motion of approach and recess from the cen¬
tre, and the motion of revolution. By this judicious
process, it becomes a pattern by which more refined,
and, in some respects, better solutions should be model¬
led. At the same time we shall supply some steps of
the investigation which his elegant conciseness has made
him omit.
125. Let a body which tends to C (fig. 28) with a
force proportional to the ordinates of the exponent
BLFG, having the axis CA, be projected from V in the
direction VQ, with the velocity which the centripetal
force would generate in it by accelerating it along AV.
It is required to determine the path or orbit VIKI of the
body, and its place I in this orbit, at the end of the as¬
signed time T.
Suppose the thing done, and that I is the place of the
body. About the centre C, with the distances CV and
Cl, describe the circles YV and ID. Draw CIX to the
circumference, and draw the ordinate DF of the expo¬
nent of forces, producing it toward x, and produce the or¬
dinate VL toward a. Let W be the distance to which
the body would go along the tangent VQ in the time T,
and join tC. Let this be supposed done for every point
of the curve. Let aik and axy be two curves so related
to the curve VIK, that the ordinate DF cuts oft' an area
VmD equal to the orbital sector VCI, and an area VaxD
equal to the circular sector VCX.
Then, because the velocity of projection is given, the
2 z
362
DYNAMICS.
Of Deflect-distance is known, and the area of the triangle VC*,
ing Forces. But this is equal to the area VCI, by the laws of central
forces. (No. 115.) Therefore the area VmD is given.
Also, because the area VCI increases in the proportion of
the time, the area YaiD increases at the same rate.
Fig 28.
Therefore, having these subsidiary curves aik, axy, the
problem is solved as follows:
Draw an ordinate D*, cutting off an area VaiD propor¬
tional to the time, and describe a circle DIR. Then
draw a line CX, cutting off a sector VCX, equal to the
area YaxD cut off by the ordinate T)ix. This line will
cut the circle DR in ehe point I, which is the point of the
orbit that was demanded.
But the chief difficulty of the problem consists in the
description of the two subsidiary curves aik and axy, into
which the lines VIK and VXY are transformed. We at¬
tain this construction by resolving the motion in the arch
of the orbit into two motions, one of which is in the di¬
rection of the transverse force, or of the radius vector, and
the other is in the direction of revolution, or perpendicu¬
lar to the radius.
Let Yk and IK be two very small arches described in
equal moments, and therefore ultimately in the ratio of
the velocities in V and I (No. 73). Describe the circle
KE, cutting IC in N. Draw KC and kC, and kn perpen¬
dicular to VC.
The element ICK of the orbit is = ^ ^ or to
A IC X KN. This is equal to the element D?'AE of the
area Vm'D, or to D« X DE, or to Di X IN. Therefore
IN : KN = 1 IC : Di, or 2IN : KN = IC : D«, and D? =
IC X KN .
21N *
Now let Alfgh be the exponent of the velocities, that
is (No. 86), let W be to Dfz as ABLV to ABED, or Yl
: Df = V ABLV : VABED. Make Yv and li in the tan¬
gents respectively equal to Yl and Df. Draw vu and iO
perpendicular to VC and IC, and vm perpendicular to LV
vCe<^' ^et an equilateral hyperbola, having
* ^°r a.symPtotes, and cutting ED produced in
r% Y?611 or(linates Ym, Dr, are inversely proportional
to CV, CD, or Ym : Dr = CD : CV, = Cl : CV. But
because the momentary sectors VGA and ICK are equal,
kn : KN = Cl; CV. Therefore,
Ym : Dr = kn : KN; Of Deflect-
but Yv : Ym — Yk : kn, Forces,
and I* (or Df) : Vr = IK : Yk,
therefore I*: Dr = IK : KN;
but li : iO = IK : KN, by sim. triang.
therefore Dr =: iO, and iO : Ym =: YC : Cl.
Also, by similarity of triangles, 10 : *0 = IN : KN, and
210 : *0 = 2IN : KN.
Now it was shown, that in order that the space DiAE
may be equal to the space ICK, we must have
2IN : KN = IC : Di,
or 210 : iO = IC : Di ;
but iO : Ym = VC : IC,
therefore 210 : Vm = VC : Di,
VC X Ym
and D, = ^Io--
Having obtained Di, we easily get D#; for the ultimate
ratio of ICK to XCY is that of IC2 to VC2. Therefore
make
IC2 : VC2 = Di : D*.
Thus are the points of the two subsidiary curves aik,
axy, determined.
The rectangle VC X Ym is a constant magnitude, and
is given because VC is given, and Ym is the given velo¬
city Yl, diminished in the ratio of radius to the sine of the
given angle CVQ.
But the line 210 is of variable magnitude; but it is also
given by means of known quantities. I02 is = li2 — iO2,
= Dfz — Dr2, and 10 = VD/’2 — Dr2. Moreover, Df2
VC2 X Vw£
= ABED, and Dr2 = - , . Therefore 210 =
/
IC2
ABED
VC2 X Ym2
   •, expressed in known quantities,
because ABED is known from the nature of the centripe¬
tal force.
Let the indeterminate distance Cl or CD be = x, and
let the ordinate DF, expressing the force, be y. Let VC
be a, and Ym be c, and let ab be a rectangle equal to the
whole area of the exponent of force lying between the or¬
dinate AB and the ordinate CZ, so that ba —J'ydx may
represent the indeterminate area ABED.
We have Di — ac
2 J ^ —Jy
ydx ■
and D# =:
2x2Jab —Jydx — .
Remark.—We have hitherto supposed that the velo¬
city of projection is acquired by acceleration along AV.
But this was merely for greater simplicity of argument,
and that the final values of D« and Da: might be easier
conceived. In whatever way the velocity is acquired, it
will still be true, that when in any point V we make Yl to
Ym as the momentary increment Yk of the arch is to the
perpendicular kn on the radius vector, we shall have in
every other point, such as I, the line D/to the line Dr as
the increment IK of the arch to KN. And in the final
equation E)f will still be expressed by V ab — j'ydx.
126. Cor. 1. Ihe angle which the path of the projectile
makes with the radius vector is determined by this solu¬
tion ; for li is to iO as radius to the sine of this angle;
which sine is therefore =
xYab
-fydx
127. Cor. 2. When the magnitude — is equal to Apsides
” determin-
Y ab —
'Jydx, the path is perpendicular to the radius vec-ed;
DYNAMICS.
363
and curva¬
ture.
Newton
Of Deflect-tor, and the body Is at one of the apsides of its orbit, and
iugForces.begins to recede from the centre after having approach¬
ed to it, or begins to approach after having receded.
128. Cor. 3. The curvature of the orbit VIK is also de¬
termined in every point; for the curvature of any line is
inversely as the radius of the equicurve circle, and this is
to the chord which passes through C as radius to the sine
of the angle CD‘. Because the velocity in any point I is =
VABFD, and is equal to what the centripetal force at I
would produce, by impelling the body along one fourth of
the deflective chord of the equicurve circle, we have this
, , . ABFD _ , . .
chord — 4 —JJIT-- we °l)tain lt; by taking a third
proportional to the momentary deflection and the momen¬
tary arch of the curve, or by other processes of the higher
geometry, all proceeding on the quantities furnished in
this investigation.
129. Such is the solution of this celebrated problem
the inven- given by Sir Isaac Newton, who may justly be called the
inventor of the science of which it is'the chief result, as
well as of the geometry by help of which it is prosecuted.
For we cannot give this glory to Galileo; for his simple
problem of the motion of bodies affected by uniform and
parallel gravity, however just and elegant his solution may
be, was peculiar; and the same must be said of Mr Huy¬
gens’s doctrine of centrifugal forces. Besides, these theo¬
rems had been investigated by Newton several years be¬
fore, sud mathesi facem preferente, as corollaries which he
could not pass unnoticed, from his general method. This
is proved by letters from Huygens. Newton’s investiga¬
tion is extremely but elegantly concise, and is one of the
best exertions of his sagacious mind.
130. Whether we consider this problem as a piece of
mere mathematical speculation, or attend to its conse¬
quences, which include the whole of the celestial motions
in all their extent and complication, we must allow it to be
highly interesting, and likely to have engaged much atten¬
tion in the period of ardent inquiry which closed the last
century. Accordingly, it was no sooner known, by the pub¬
lication of the Mathematical Principles of Natural Philo¬
sophy in 1686, than it occupied the talents of the most
eminent mathematicians ; and many solutions were pub¬
lished, some of which differ considerably from Newton’s
and some are more expeditious, and better fitted for com¬
putation. Of these, the most remarkable for originality and
ingenuity are those of De Moivre, Hermann, Keill, and
Stewart. The last differs most from the methods pur¬
sued by others. M‘Laurin’s propositions on this subject,
and in that part of his fluxions which treats of curvature,
are highly valuable, classing the chief affections of curvi-
lineal motions geometrically, as they are suggested by the
fluxionary method; and then showing, in a very instruc¬
tive manner, the connection between these mathematical
affections of motion and the powers of nature which pro¬
duce them. This part of his excellent work is a fine ex¬
ample of the real nature of all inquiries in dynamics,
showing that it differs from geometry little more than in
the language, in which the word force is substituted for
acceleration, retardation, or deflection. We recommend the
careful perusal of these propositions to all who wish to
have clear conceptions of the subject. Dr John Keill and
Dr Horsley (bishop of Rochester) have given particular
treatises on the motions of bodies deflected by centripetal
forces inversely proportional to the cubes of the distances ;
induced by the singular motions which result from this*
law of action, and the multitude of beautiful propositions
which they suggest to the mathematician. Newton, in¬
deed, first perceived both of these peculiarities, and has
begun this branch of the general problem. He first de¬
Historv of
this pro¬
blem.
monstrated the description of the logarithmic and hyper-Of Deflect,
bolic spirals, and indicated a variety of curious recurring ing Forces,
elliptical spirals, which would be described by means of
this force, showing that they are all susceptible of ac¬
curate quadrature. Several of those authors affect to con¬
sider their solutions as more perfect than Newton’s, and
as more immediately indicating the remarkable properties
of such motions; and also affect to have deduced them
from different and original principles. But we cannot help
saying that their claims to superiority are very ill found¬
ed ; there is not a principle made use of in their solutions
which was not pointed out by Newton, and employed by
him. The appearance of originality arises from their hav¬
ing taken a more particular concern in some general pro¬
perty of curvilineal motions, such as the curvature, the
centrifugal force, &c. and the making that the leading
step of their process. But Newton’s is still the best, be¬
cause it is strictly elementary, aiming at the two leading
circumstances, the motion to or from the centre, and the
motion of revolution round that centre. To these two
purposes he adapted his two subsidiary curves.
131. Is it not surprising, that, twenty-five years after the Singular
publication of Newton’s Principia, a mathematician on the boast of
Continent should publish a solution in the Memoirs of the^°bn. Bor-
French Academy, and boast that he had given the firstnoulil‘
demonstration of it ? Yet John Bernoulli did this in 1710.
Is it not more remarkable that this should be precisely
the solution given by Newton, beginning from the same
theorem, the 40th l.Prin. following Newton in every step,
and using the same subsidiary lines ? Yet so it is. Ber¬
noulli actually reduces the whole to two functions, namely,
ac , a2 c
*/ ab —ddx — J abp—xAJ <pdx — a2 c1 x
which last is plainly the same with Newton’s
Q X CX2
A2 V ABDF —~Z ;
because Newton’s ^is the same with —, and Newton’s
A x
A2 V ABFD — Z2 is the same with
x<lJ ab S
i- which Bernoulli has changed into
abp — — a?
Bernoulli’s chief boast in this dissertation is, that note
philosophers may be assured that the planets will always
describe conic sections; a truth of which they had not as
yet received any proof; because, says he, Newton’s argu¬
ment for it in the corollary of the 13th proposition is in¬
conclusive, and because he had not been able to accom¬
modate his demonstration of the 41st and 42d propositions
to the particular case of the planetary gravitation. New¬
ton’s demonstration in the corollary of the 13th proposi¬
tion is just founded on the principle on which the very
demonstration of the 42d, adopted by Bernoulli, proceeds,
and without which that demonstration is of no force; name¬
ly, that a body, in given circumstances of situation, velo¬
city, direction, and centripetal force, can describe no other
figure than what it really describes. Newton did not ac¬
commodate the demonstration of the 42d proposition to
the planetary motions, because he had already demon¬
strated the nature of their orbits; but mentions the case
of a force proportional to the reciprocal of the cubes of their
distance, not as a deduction from the 42d, but because it
was not a deduction from it, and admitted a very singular
and beautiful investigation by methods totally and essen¬
tially different.
364
DYNAMICS.
Conclusion. 132. It cannot be expected that, in the narrow limits
prescribed to a work like ours, we can proceed to consider
the various departments of this celebrated problem. We
are only giving the outlines of the general doctrines of
dynamics ; and we have bestowed more time on those
which are purely elementary than some readers may think
they deserve. We were anxious to give just conceptions
of the fundamental principles of dynamics; because we
know that nothing else can entitle it to the name of a de¬
monstrative science, and because we see much indistinct¬
ness and uncertainty, and a general vagueness or want
of precision, in several elementary works which are put
into the hands of persons entering on the study. This
leads to errors of more consequence than a person is apt
to think i because they affect our leading thoughts of me¬
chanism itself, and our notions of the intimate nature of
the visible universe.
Universal 133. But we must conclude the article with this great
re-action is problem. Many very general doctrines of dynamics re-
a law of the.majn untouched; all, namely, that relate to the rotative
^orlcl mot'on °f rigid bodies, and all that relate to the mutual
action of bodies on each other in the way of impulse.
Notwithstanding these great omissions, we must observe
that no new principle remains to be considered. We have
given all that are necessary; and there is no question that
occurs in the cases omitted which cannot be completely
answered by means of the propositions already established.
We have taught how to discover the existence and agency
of a mechanical force, to measure and characterize it, and
then to state what will be its various effects, according to
the circumstances of the case.
134. Proceeding by these principles, men have disco¬
vered an universal fact, that every action of one body on
another is accompanied by an equal re-action of that other
on the first in the opposite direction ; that is, to express
it in the language of dynamics, “ all the phenomena which
make us infer that the body A possesses a force by which
it changes the motion of the body B, show, at the same
time, that B possesses a force by which it makes an equal
and opposite alteration in the motion of A.” This, how¬
ever, is not a doctrine of abstract dynamics; it does not
flow from our idea of force ; therefore it was not included
in our list of the laws of motion. It is a part of the me¬
chanical history of nature, just as the law of universal
gravitation is; and it might be called the law of universal
re-action. Sir Isaac Newton has, in our humble apprehen¬
sion, deviated from his accustomed logical accuracy, when
he admits, as a third axiom or law of motion, that re-ac¬
tion is always equal and contrary to action. It is a phy¬
sical law, in as far as it is observed to obtain through the
whole extent of the solar system. But Newton himself
did not, in the subsequent part of his noble work, treat it
as a logical axiom ; that is, as a law of human thought
with respect to motion; for he labours with much solici¬
tude, and with equal sagacity, to prove, by fact and obser¬
vation, that it really obtains through the whole extent of
the solar system; and it is in this discovery that his chief
claim to unequalled penetration and discernment appears.
Impulsion 135. Availing ourselves of this fact, we, with very little
explained trouble, state all the laws of impulsion. The body A, for
J lt’ example, moving to the westward at the rate of eight feet
per minute, overtakes the double body B, moving at the
rate of four feet per minute. What must be the conse¬
quence of their impenetrability, and of the equality and
contrariety of action and re-action ? Their motions must
be such that both sustain equal and opposite changes.
They must give, in some way or other, this indication of
possessing equal and opposite forces. This will be the
case it, when the changes are completed, A and B move
on in contact at the rate of four feet per minute ; for here
A has produced in each half of B a change or mqtion Conclusion
two, and therefore a totality of change equal to four.
This is the effect, the mark, the measure of the impulsive
force of A ; for it is the whole impulsion. B has produced
in A a change of motion four, equal to the former, and in
the opposite direction. This is the effect, mark, and mea¬
sure of the repulsive force of A; for it is the whole repul¬
sion. And this is all that we observe in the collision of
two lumps of clay; and the observation is one of the facts
on which the reality of the physical law of equal action
and re-action is founded ; and we can make no further in¬
ference from this fact.
But the event might have been very different. A and
B may be two magnets floating on corks on water, with
their north poles fronting each other. We know, by other
means, that they really possess forces by which they equal¬
ly repel each other. The dynamical principles already
established tell us also what must happen in this case.
That both conditions of equal re-action and sensible repul¬
sion may be fulfilled, A must come to rest, and B must move
forward at the rate of four feet per minute. The same
thing must happen in the meeting of perfectly elastic bo- .
dies, such as billiard balls. If elasticities are known to be
imperfect in any degree, our dynamical principles will still
state the effect of their collision in conformity to the law
of equal reaction.
136. In like manner, all the motions of rotation are ex-and rota-
plained or predicted by means of the same principles of11011'
dynamics applied to the force of cohesion. This is con¬
sidered as a moving force, because, when the attraction
of a magnet acts on a bit of iron attached to one end of a
long lath floating on water, the whole lath is moved, al¬
though the magnet does not act on it at all; some other
force acts on it; it is its cohesion, which is therefore a
moving force, and the subject of dynamical discussion.
137. And thus it appears that these subjects do not
come necessarily, nor perhaps with scientific propriety,
under the category of dynamics, but are parts of the me¬
chanical history of nature. Yet, did a work like ours give
room in this place, the study of mechanical nature might
be considerably improved, by giving a system of such ge¬
neral doctrines as involve no other notions but those of
force and its measures, and the hypothesis of equal re-ac¬
tion. Some very general, nay universal, consequences of
this combination might be established, which would great¬
ly assist the mechanician in the solution of difficult and
complicated problems. Such is the proposition, that the
mutual actions of bodies depend on their relative motions
only, and require no knowledge of their real motions. This
principle simplifies in a wonderful manner the most diffi¬
cult and the most frequent cases of action which nature
presents to our view ; but at the same time gives a severe
blow to human vanity, by forcing us to acknowledge that
we know nothing of the real motion of any thing in the
universe, and never shall know any thing of it, till our
intellectual constitution, or our opportunities of observa¬
tion, are completely changed.
138. M. d’Alembert had made this principle still more
serviceable for extricating ourselves from the immense
complication of actions that occurs in all the spontaneous
phenomena of nature, by presenting it to us in a different
form, which more distinctly expresses what may be called
the elements of the actions of bodies on each other. His
proposition is as follows (see his Dynamique, page 73):
“ In whatever manner a number of bodies change their D’AIem-
motions, if we suppose that the motion which each body bert’s ge-
would have in the following moment, if it were perfectly Pf111'
free, is decomposed into two others, one of which is the
motion which it really takes in consequence of their mu- ^
tual actions, the other will be such, that if each body were
I) Y $
D Y V
365
Dynamo- impressed by this force alorie (that is, by the force which
meter would produce this motion), the whole system of bodies
would be in equilibrio.”
Dysm. This is almost self-evident; for if these second consti-
tuent forces be not such as would put the system in equi¬
librio, the other constituent motions could not be those
which the bodies really take by the mutual action, but
would be changed by the first.
For example, let there be three bodies P, Q, R, and let
the forces A, B, C, act on them, such as would give them
the velocities jo, q,r, in any directions whatever, producing
the momenta, or quantities of motion, P Xjo, Q X <7, R X r,
which we may call A, B, C, because they are the proper
measures of the moving force. Let us moreover suppose,
that, by striking each other, or by being any how connect¬
ed with each other, they cannot take these motions, A, B,
and C, but really take the motions a, b, and c. It is plain
that v/e may conceive the motion A impressed on the body
P, to be composed of the motion a, which it really takes,
and of another motion a. In like manner, B may be re¬
solved into b, which it takes, and another /3; and C into c
and x. The motions will be the same, whether we act on
P with the force A, or with the two forces a and a;
whether we act on Q with the force B, or with b and /3;
and on R with the force C, or with c and x. Now, by the
supposition, the bodies actually take the motions a, b, and
c ; therefore the motions a, /3, and x, must be such as will
not derange the motions a, b, and c; that is to say, that
if the bodies had only the motions a, j3, and x, impressed
on them, they would destroy each other, and the system
would remain at rest.
M. d’Alembert has applied this proposition with great
address and success to the very difficult questions that oc¬
cur in the motions and actions of fluids, and many other
most difficult problems, such as the precession of the equi¬
noxes, &c. The cause of its utility is, that in most cases
it is not difficult to find what forces will put a system in
equilibrio ; and, combining these with the known extrane¬
ous forces whose effects we are interested to discover, we
obtain the motions which really follow the mutual action
of the bodies.
This is not, properly speaking, a principle ; it is a form
in which a general fact may be conceived. In the same
way the celebrated mathematician De la Grange observ¬
ed, that a system of bodies, acting on each other in any
way, is in equilibrio, if there be impressed on its parts
forces in the inverse proportion of the velocities which
each body takes in consequence of their action or connec¬
tion ; and he expresses this universal fact by a very simple
formula ; and, calling this also a principle, he solves every
question with ease and neatness, by reducing it to the in¬
vestigation of those velocities. In this way he has writ¬
ten a complete system of dynamics, to which he gives the
title of Mechanique Analytique, full of the most ingenious
and elegant solutions of very interesting and difficult pro¬
blems ; and all this without drawing a line or figure, but
accomplishing the whole by algebraic operations.
But this is not teaching mechanical philosophy; it is
merely employing the reader in algebraic operations, each
of which he perfectly understands in its quality of an al¬
gebraic or arithmetical operation, and where he may have
the fullest conviction of the justness of his procedure.
But all this may be (and, in the hands of an expert alge¬
braist, it generally is), without any notions, distinct or in¬
distinct, of the things or the process of reasoning that are
represented by the symbols made use of. (j. it.)
DYNAMOMETER, an instrument for ascertaining the
relative strength of men and horses. An ingenious instru¬
ment of this kind was invented in London about the middle
of the last century by the celebrated mechanician Graham,
and improved by Desaguliers. It was constructed of wood¬
work however, and was soon found to be too complicated
and cumbrous to be of any general utility. A simpler in¬
strument was that invented by Leroy of the French Aca¬
demy. It consisted of a metal tube ten or twelve inches
in length, placed vertically on a foot like that of a candle¬
stick, and containing in the inside a spiral spring, having
above it a graduated shank terminating in a globe. This
shank, together with the spring, sunk into the tube in pro¬
portion to the weight acting upon it, and thus pointed out,
in degrees, the strength of the person who pressed on the
ball with his hand. Simpler and more ingenious than either
of these however is that of Regnier, of which a detailed
description will be found in the Journal de VEcole Poly¬
technique, tom. ii.
This dynamometer, in its form and size, has a near re¬
semblance to a common graphometer. It consists of a
spring twelve inches in length, bent into the form of an
ellipsis ; from the middle of which arises a semicircular
piece of brass, having engraved upon it the different de¬
grees that express a force of the power acting on the
spring. The whole of this machine, which weighs only
two pounds and a half, opposes, however, more resistance
than may be necessary to determine the action of the
strongest and most robust horse.
DYRRHACHIUM, in Ancient Geography. See Epi-
damnus, and Durazzo.
DYSvE, in Scandinavian Mythology, inferior goddesses,
whose province it was to convey the souls of such as died in
battle to the abode of Odin, which was called Valhalla or
the hall of slaughter, where they were to drink, with him
and their other gods, in cups formed of the skulls of their
enemies, a kind of malt liquor called cerevisia. The Dysce
conveyed those who died a natural death to Hela, the god¬
dess of hell, where they were tormented with hunger, thirst,
and every kind of evil.
DYSART, a royal burgh and seaport-town of Scotland,
county of Fife, situated on the north coast of the Firth of
Forth, 12 miles N. by E. of Edinburgh. It consists chiefly
of three narrow streets, with a species of square in the
centre. In the principal or High street are a number of
antique houses, the fronts of which are generally decorated
with inscriptions and dates. Dysart House, the residence
of the Earl of Rosslyn, is on the west side of the town. Dy¬
sart is a place of great antiquity, being mentioned so early
as 874, when the Danes invaded Fife. It was made a royal
burgh in the reign of James Y. The trade of Dysart was
formerly very considerable, and acquired for it the name of
“ Little Holland but it is now unimportant, the chief ex¬
ports being coal. The harbour of the town is tolerably
good,—and has attached to it a wet-dock. The weaving of
checks and ticks constitute the chief employment of the in¬
habitants. It unites with Kirkcaldy, Burntisland, and King-
horn, in returning a member to parliament. Pop. (1851)
of municipal burgh 1610 ; of parliamentary burgh 8041.
DYSCRASY, among physicians, denotes an ill habit or
state of the humours, as in the scurvy, jaundice, &c.
DYSENTERY, a diarrhoea or flux, in which the stools
are mixed with blood, and the bowels severely griped.
DYSOREXY, a want of appetite; or a bad and depraved
appetite.
DYSPEPSIA, a difficulty of digestion.
DYSPNGiA, a difficulty of breathing.
DYVOUR (Fr. devoir), in Scotch Law, an insolvent
debtor; a bankrupt who has made a cessio bonorum to his
creditors.
366
E.
E Tjl the second vowel, and fifth letter of the alphabet.
II This letter is most probably derived from the old
(Imerus. c}mrac{.er jn ancient Hebrew and Phoenician alphabets,
reversed by the Greeks to this position, E, not from the
Hebrew ?], as some have supposed. From the same origin
is also derived the Saxon e, which is the first letter in their
alphabet that differs from the Latin one. It is formed by
a narrower opening of the larynx than the letter A; but the
other parts of the mouth are used nearly in the same man¬
ner as in that letter. E has a long and short sound in
most languages. The short sound is audible in bed, fret,
den, and other words ending in consonants; the long sound
is produced by a final e, or an e at the end of words, as in
glebe, here, hire, scene, sphere, interfere, revere, sincere, and
the like, in most of which it sounds like ee. In some other
cases, this letter, by coming after i, is long, as in believe,
chief, grief reprieve; and sometimes the long sound is ex¬
pressed by ee, as in bleed, beer, creed, and so on. Some¬
times the final e is silent, and only serves to lengthen the
sound of the preceding vowel, as in rag, rage, stag, stage,
hug, huge. The sound of e, however, is obscure in the fol¬
lowing words: oxen, heaven, bounden, fire, massacre, maugre,
and other words. The Greeks have their long and short e,
which they call epsilon e, and eta g. The French have se¬
veral kinds of e ; the Latins have likewise a long and short
e. In some instances the latter also write e instead of a, as
dicem for dicam; and this is no doubt the reason why a is
so often changed into e in the preter-perfect tense, as ago,
egi ; facio, feci, and the like.
As a numeral, E stands for 250, according to the verse,
E, quoque ducentos et quinquaginta tenebit.
In the calendar it is the fifth of the dominical letters; and
in sea charts it distinguishes all the easterly points. In an¬
cient contractions and abbreviations E represents Est, En¬
nius, Edilis; EB, Ejus Bona ; ED, Ejus Bomus; EE,
Ejus JEtas ; EF, Ejus Filius ; and so on.
EACHARD, John (1636-1697), an English divine, and
the author ot The Grounds and Occasions of the Contempt
of the Clergy and Religion inquired into, 1670. In 1675
he succeeded Lightfbot as master of Catharine Hall. He
also wrote against the philosophy of Hobbes. A collected
edition of his works was published in 1774.
Eachakd, Laurence, an English historian, and nearly re¬
lated to the preceding, was born in 1721 at Suffolk, where
his father was a clergyman. He was educated in the uni¬
versity of Cambridge; and after taking orders was presented
to the living of Welton and Elkington in Lincolnshire. He
was subsequently archdeacon of Lincoln, and prebendary of
Stowe. He died in 1730. The work by which he is best
known is his History of England, in two parts, from the
time of the Roman Invasion to the Revolution. It has been
attacked by Calamy and Oldmixon; but though it reached
several editions, it is now almost entirely forgotten. He
wrote also an Ecclesiastical History from the Nativity of
Christ to Constantine; a History of Rome till Augustus; a
History of the Revolution, and several other works.
EADMERUS, Eadmer, or Edmer, an English historian
of the twelfth century. The place of his birth is unknown.
His taste for history was developed at an early age; and
when a monk in the cathedral of Canterbury he became
the bosom friend of St Anselm and his successor Ralph.
To the former of these he was appointed spiritual director
by the pope. In 1120 he was sent for by Alexander I. of
Scotland, to be raised to the primacy of that kingdom; and
having obtained leave of Henry and the Archbishop of Can¬
terbury, he departed for Scotland, where he was kindly re¬
ceived by the king, and on the third day after his arrival Eagle,
elected bishop of St Andrews. On the day after his elec- . ^
tion, however, a dispute arose in regard to the ceremony of
consecration ; Eadmer refusing to be consecrated by any
but the Archbishop of Canterbury, whom he believed to be
primate of all Britain; and Alexander with equal pertinacity
maintaining that the see of Canterbury had no pre-eminency
over that of St Andrews. This breach between the king
and the bishop-elect became daily wider, until at length
Eadmer, despairing of recovering the royal favour, sent his
pastoral ring to the king, laid his pastoral staff upon the high
altar, and abandoning his bishopric, returned to England.
He was kindly received by the Archbishop and clergy of
Canterbury, though they disapproved of his stiffness ; and
being deprived of their sympathy, Eadmer soon repented of
his impetuosity, and endeavoured to retrace his steps. With
this view he wrote a long submissive letter to the king of
Scotland in 1122, entreating his permission to return to the
bishopric, and promising compliance with his royal pleasure
in everything respecting his consecration. These overtures,
however, did not produce the desired effect. The fame of
Eadmer accordingly rests solely on his historical works, par¬
ticularly on his History of the Affairs of England in his own
Time, from 1066 to 1122 ; a work in which he has inserted
many original papers, and preserved many important facts
which are nowhere else to be found. This production has
been highly commended for its authenticity, as well as the
regularity of its composition and purity of its style. It is
indeed more free from legendary tales than any other work
of this period; and it is impossible to peruse it with attention
without conceiving a favourable opinion of the learning,
good sense, sincerity, and candour of its author. Eadmer
wrote also the Lives of St Anselm, St Wilfred, St Dunstan,
and others. The best edition of his History is that by Selden
in 1623.
EAGLE. See Ornithology.
Eagle, in Heraldry, is accounted one of the most noble
bearings in armoury, and, according to the learned in this
science, ought to be given to none but such as greatly excel
in the virtues of generosity and courage, or have rendered
singular service to their sovereigns ; in which case they may
be allowed a whole eagle, or an eagle naissant, or only the
head or such other parts as may be judged most suitable to
their exploits.
The eagle has been borne as an ensign or standard by
several nations. The first who seem to have assumed the
eagle were the Persians, according to the testimony of Xeno¬
phon ; but subsequently it was adopted by the Romans, who,
after a great variety of standards, at length fixed on the
eagle, in the second year of the consulate of C. Marius,
having till that period used indifferently wolves, leopards,
and eagles. The Roman eagles were figures in relief formed
of silver or gold, and borne on the tops of pikes ; the wings
being displayed, with frequently a thunderbolt in the talons.
Under the eagle on the pike were piled bucklers, and some¬
times crowns.
Constantine is said to have been the first who introduced
the eagle with two heads, to intimate, that though the em¬
pire seemed divided, it had yet only one body. Others say
that it was Charlemagne who resumed the eagle as the Ro¬
man ensign, and added to it a second head ; but that opinion
is destroyed by an eagle with two heads observed by Lip-
sius on the column of Antoninus, as also by the eagle’s
having only one head on the seal of the golden bull of the
Emperor Charles IV. The conjecture, therefore, of Me-
nestrier appears more probable; namely, that the emperors
of the East, when there were two on the throne at the same
EAR
E A R
367
Eagle time, struck their coins with’the impression of a cross W'ith
a double traverse, which each of them held in his hand, as
Ear. being the symbols of the Christians ; and that they did the
like with the eagle in their ensigns, and, instead of doubling,
joined them together, representing them with two heads; a
practice in which they were followed by the emperors of
the West. But this conjecture of Menestrier is not con¬
firmed by ancient coins, without which Papebroche inclines
to think the use of the eagle with two heads to have been
merely arbitrary, though he admits it to be probable that it
was first introduced on occasion of there being two em¬
perors on the same throne.
The eagle on medals is, according to Spanheim, a sym¬
bol of divinity and providence, and, according to all other
antiquaries, of empire. The princes on whose medals it is
most usually found are the Ptolemies, and the Seleucidae of
Syria. An eagle with the word consecratio expresses the
apotheosis of an emperor.
Eagle (Aquila), a constellation. See Astronomy.
White Eagle, a Polish order of knighthood, instituted in
1325 by Vladislaus V. on marrying his son Casimir to a
daughter of the grand duke of Lithuania. The badge was
a gold chain to which was suspended a silver eagle crowned.
Black Eagle, an order of knighthood, instituted in 1701
by the elector of Brandenburg, on his being crowned king
of Prussia. The badge was an orange-coloured ribbon sus¬
taining a black eagle.
Eagle, in Numismatics, a sort of base money which was
current in Ireland in the early part of the reign of Edward
I., that is, about the year 1272. There were also lionines,
rosades, and many other coins of the same sort, named ac¬
cording to the figures with which they were impressed. The
current coin of the kingdom at that time was a composition
of copper and silver, in determinate proportions; but these
were so much inferior to the standard of that time, that they
were not intrinsically worth half so much as the others.
They were imported from France and other foreign countries.
When Edward had been a few years established on the
throne, he set up mints in Ireland for coining good money,
and then prohibited the use of eagles, and other kinds of
base coin ; making it death, with confiscation of effects, to
import any more of them into the kingdom. Eagle is the
designation of the principal gold coin of the American
United States.
Eagle-Stone. See TEtites.
E ALDERMAN, or Ealdorman, among the Saxons, was
of the same import with Earl among the Danes. The word
was also used tor an elder, senator, or statesman; and hence,
at this day, those functionaries are called aldermen who are
associates to the chief officer in the common council of a
city or corporate town.
EAR. See Anatomy.
Ear is used technically in music to denote susceptibility
of the auditory organ, as well as of the mind, to all musical
impressions; or the faculty of perceiving them correctly,
and the power of transmitting them unchanged to the sen-
sorium. When speaking figuratively of an ear, a good ear,
a fine ear for music, we mean an ear very sensitive to
music—able to distinguish true intonation from false—to
perceive accuracy of time and justness of harmony—to feel
the beauties of a musical composition and discover its faults,
&c. To have no ear for music implies the absence of all
these powers. An ear for the measure and cadence of
poetical versification and for rhyme, by no means neces¬
sarily implies an ear for music, although both may and often
do co-exist. Some distinguished poets have been utterly
destitute of musical ear; while others, such as Milton, pos¬
sessed great musical susceptibility. The want of an ear
for music is a defect as inscrutable as that peculiarity of eye
in some persons which hinders them from distinguishing
colours. See Music, § The sense of hearing, (g. e. g.)
EARING, in nautical language, a rope attached to the
cringle of a sail, by means of which it is bent or reefed.
EARL, a British title of nobility, next below a marquis,
and above a viscount. The title is one of great antiquity,
and the word is evidently a corruption of the Norwegian
jarl. A certain order of the Saxon nobility was called eal-
dormen, elder men, a word of the same signification with
senior or senator among the Romans ; and also schiremen,
because they had each of them the civil government of a
civil division or shire. On the irruption of the Danes they
changed the names to eorels, which, according to Camden,
had the same signification in their language. In Latin they
are called comites, (a title first used in the empire), from
being the king’s attendants; a societate nomen sumpserunt,
reges enim tales sibi associant. After the Norman Con¬
quest they were for some time called counts, from the
French ; but they did not long retain that name themselves,
though their shires are thence denominated counties to this
day. It is now become a mere title, the holders of which
have nothing to do with the government of the county, that
being now entirely devolved on the sheriff, the earls-deputy
or vicecomes. In writs, commissions, and other formal in¬
struments, the sovereign, when mentioning any peer of the
degree of an earl, usually styles him trusty and well-be¬
loved cousin; an appellation as ancient as the reign of
Henry IV., who being, either by his wife, his mother, or
his sisters, actually related or allied to every earl in the
kingdom, artfully and constantly acknowledged that con¬
nection in all his letters and other public acts; whence the
usage descended to his successors, though the reason has
long ago failed.
Y.hm.-Marshal. See Marshal.
EARNEST (Arrh^e), something given to bind a bar¬
gain ; generally a small sum of money. By the civil law,
he who recedes from his bargain loses his earnest; and if
the person who received the earnest resiles, he must return
the earnest double. But with us, the person who gives it
is in strictness obliged to abide by his bargain ; and in case
he decline it, he is not discharged upon forfeiting his ear¬
nest, but may be sued for the whole money stipulated.
EAR-RING, an ornament worn at the ear; a pendant
or jewel suspended by means of a ring or a hook passing
through the pendulous lobe of the ear. The use of this
kind of ornament dates from the remotest antiquity, since
the first mention of ear-rings occurs in the book of Genesis.
Ear-rings of certain kinds were anciently, and still are, in
the East, instruments or appendages of idolatry and super¬
stition—being regarded as talismans and amulets. Such,
probably, were the ear-rings of Jacob’s family, which he
buried with the strange gods at Bethel. This somewhat
barbarous species of adornment was used (as it still is in
some countries) by both sexes among many Oriental nations;
especially by the Lydians, Persians, Babylonians, Libyans,
and Carthaginians, as may be gathered from various ancient
authors.
Among the Hebrews and the Egyptians their use appears
to have been confined to women: but that they were ex¬
tensively used by the men of various other nations is suf¬
ficiently proved by the Egyptian monuments.
Among the Greeks and Romans ear-rings were worn only
by females, and were sometimes of enormous value. It is
a curious fact that the ears of the Venus de’ Medici, and of
some other female statues, are pierced, as if for the purpose
of bearing these appendages.
EARTH (Sax. card, earth, yrth), among ancient philo¬
sophers, one of the four elements of which the whole system
of nature was believed to be composed. In Astronomy and
Geography, it denotes one of the primary planets, being the
terraqueous globe we inhabit. See Astronomy ; Figure
of the Earth ; Geology ; Physical Geography.
EARTHENWARE. See Pottery.
Earing
Earthen¬
ware.
368 E A S
Earth- EARTHQUAKE. The proximate cause of earthquakes,
quake though by no means accurately defined, seems referable to
II the action of internal heat or fire. That the earth was once
Easton. gubject to ^ acti0n of a vast internal power springing pro-
bably from the development of subterranean or central heat,
the elevations and depressions, and the generally scarred
and torn character of its exterior, make sufficiently evident.
A power similar in kind, but more restricted in degree, is
still at work in the bowels of the earth, and occasionally
breaks down all barriers and devastates certain parts of the
world. There is good reason for holding that earthquakes
are closely connected with volcanic agency. Both probably
spring from the same cause; and may be regarded as one
mighty influence operating to somewhat dissimilar results.
Volcanic agency, therefore, is an indication of earthquakes,
and traces of the first may be taken as indications of the
existence (either present or past, actual or possible) of
the latter.
The manifestation of these awful phenomena is restricted
in its range. Accordingly, geologists have laid down cer¬
tain volcanic regions or bands within which this manifesta¬
tion takes place. Over these regions various traces of vol¬
canic agency are found, such as either gaseous vapours or
hot springs, or bituminous substances, and in some in¬
stances (occasionally) active volcanoes. See Physical
Geography, sec. v.; AEtna ; Antioch ; Lisbon ; &c.
EARTHS, in Chemistry. See Chemistry.
EASDALE, a small island of Argyleshire, 10 miles
S.S.W. of Oban; noted for its slate-quarries, which have
been wrought for 150 years.
EASE, in seamen’s language, is to slacken a rope. To
ease a ship is to put the helm a-lee when she is sailing
close-hauled.
EASEL, the portable frame on which painters place their
canvas. Hence, easel-pieces are the smaller pictures which
are painted on the easel, as distinguished from those which
are drawn on walls, ceilings, &c.
EASINGWOLD, a market-town in the north riding
of Yorkshire, 13 miles N.N.W. of York. A large market
is held here every Friday, chiefly for butter, bacon, and
agricultural produce from the vicinity. Pop. (1851) 2240.
EAST, one of the four cardinal points of the world, be¬
ing that point of the horizon where the sun is seen to rise
when in the equinoctial. The word east is Saxon. In
Italy, and throughout the Mediterranean, the east wand is
called the levante; in Greek, avaroX-rj and aTr^Xiorr-qs, be¬
cause it comes from the side of the rising sun, mr rjXiov; in
Latin, JEurus.
East India Company. See India.
EASTBOURNE, a village and watering-place on the
coast of Sussex, 65 miles from London by the Brighton
and South Coast railway. It is situated in a chasm be¬
tween two cliffs ; one of which, Beachy Head, is the loftiest
headland on the English Channel. It is divided into three
distinct parts, and is much resorted to for sea-bathing, Pop.
of parish (1851) 3133.
EASTER, a festival of the Christian church, observed
in memory of our Saviour’s resurrection. The Greeks call
it pasga, the Latins pascha, from a Hebrew word signifying
passage, applied to the Jewish feast of the Passover. It is
called Easter in English, from the goddess Eostre, who was
worshipped by the Saxons with peculiar ceremonies in the
month of April. The Asiatic churches kept their Easter
upon the very same day on which the Jews observed their
Passover, and others on the first Sunday after the first full
moon in the new year. This controversy was determined
in the council of Nice, when it was ordained that Easter
should be kept upon one and the same day, which should
always be a Sunday, in all Christian churches in the world.
See Calendar, vol. vi., p. 86.
EASTON, the capital of the county of Northampton,
E B E
state of Pennsylvania, N. America, is situated on the W. Eastport
side of the Delaware river, which here receives the Lehigh ii
93 miles E.N.E. of Harrisburg. This is one of the most Lberhar(1-
prosperous commercial towns in Pennsylvania, being the
entrepot of an extensive trade between the coal and iron
fields of that state, and the terminus of several lines of rail¬
way and of canals. It has numerous churches and educa¬
tional institutions; among the latter—-Lafayette College,
which in 1850 had a president, 7 professors, and 82 stu¬
dents. Pop. (1850) 7250. There are several other places
of this name in the United States.
EASTPORT, the capital of Washington county, state of
Maine, North America, is built on the Moose and several
smaller islands in Passamaquaddy Bay, 183 miles W.N.W.
of Augusta. Pop. (1850) 4125. It is a garrison town, and
has a fine harbour and an extensive trade.
EAU de Cologne, a well-known perfume, prepared in
many different ways. The recipe of Jean Maria Farina may
be found in Ure’s Dictionary of Arts, but it appears to be
needlessly complicated. A good imitation of the genuine
Eau de Cologne may be thus prepai'ed : To one pint of very
pure alcohol add the following ingredients; oils of berga¬
mot, rosemary, and orange-peel, of each 1 drachm; carda¬
mom seeds, 1 drachm; orange-flower water, 1 pint; and
distil off one pint from a water bath.
Eau de Luce, a compound formed of the distilled oil ot
amber and a strong solution of ammonia, to which some
mastic and scent are usually added. The vaunted efficacy
of this compound as a remedy for the bites of venomous
reptiles, appears to reside solely in the ammonia it contains,
EAVES (Sax. efese; Fr. eaux), the lower edges of the^
inclined sides of a roof, which project beyond the face of
the walls, so as to throw off rain from the foundations.
Yjky^&-Dropper, one who stands under the eaves, or near
the wall or window of a house, for the purpose of hearing
what passes within. Eaves-droppers are called by the Stat.
of West. i. c. 33, “ evil members of the commonwealth.” In
England they are punishable by a fine.
EBDOMARIUS, or Hebdomarius, is used in old ec¬
clesiastical writings to denote an officer who was appointed
weekly to superintend the performance of divine service in
cathedrals, and prescribe the duties of each person officiat¬
ing in the choir.
EBDOME, in Antiquity, a festival observed by the
Spartans on the seventh day of every lunar month, in honour
of Apollo, to whom all seventh days were sacred, because he
was born on the seventh day of the month; and hence he
was sometimes called Ebdomagetes.
EBERHARD, Johann Augustus, an eminent German
theologian and philosopher, was born at Halberstadt, in
Lower Saxony, Aug. 31, 1739. His father was the singing-
master at the church of St Martin’s in that town, and also
teacher of the school of the same name; a man, it is said,
of a lively disposition, and considerable literary attainments.
Young Eberhard was educated partly at home and partly in
the school above mentioned. In the seventh year of his
age he repaired to the University of Halle, with the view of
prosecuting his theological studies. Towards the end of
1759 he returned to his native town, and became tutor to
the eldest son of the Baron Von der Horst, to whose family
he attached himself for a number of years. In 1763 he was
appointed con-rector of the school of St Martin’s, and second
preacher in the Hospital Church of the Holy Ghost; but
he soon afterwards resigned these offices, and followed his
patron to Berlin.
The advantages he enjoyed in this family, of being intro¬
duced into the best company, tended to polish his manners
and to form, even at an early period, a style of writing whicu
served as a model to many of his contemporaries. Flis resi¬
dence at Berlin gave him an opportunity of extending his
knowledge, and of cultivating the acquaintance of some of
E B E E B O 369
Eberhard. the most eminent literary characters in Germany. Amongst
i —f these were Nicolai and Mendelssohn, with whom he asso¬
ciated upon terms of intimate friendship.
In 1768 he accepted the situation of preacher or chaplain
to the workhouse at Berlin, along with that of preacher in
the neighbouring fishing village of Stralow. The income
from these livings was small; but his object was to con¬
tinue at Berlin, and he had at the same time the promise
of further preferment upon the first vacancy. He now ap¬
plied with renewed ardour to the study of theology, philo¬
sophy, and history; and the first fruits of his talents and
application soon appeared in his Netv Apology of Socrates ;
a work exhibiting such originality of thought and eloquence
of style as at once established his character as a writer. This
work was occasioned by an attack which was made on the
sentiments contained in the fifteenth chapter of Marmontel’s
Belisarius by one Peter Hofstede, a clergyman of Rotter¬
dam, who, with a misdirected industry, raked up the vices
of the most celebrated characters in the pagan world, and
even went so far as to maintain that the most virtuous
amongst the heathen wrere no fit objects of divine mercy.
He seemed particularly desirous to blacken the character
of Socrates ; and from this circumstance Eberhard was in¬
duced to give to his work the title which we have mentioned
above. The greater part of it is occupied with an investi¬
gation of some of those peculiar doctrines which have been
admitted as dogmas of the Christian church, upon the autho¬
rity of some of the early fathers ; and an examination of those
texts of Scripture upon which they are founded. The
Apology itself, which constitutes but a small part of the
book, is esteemed a masterpiece of clear, dignified, and per¬
suasive eloquence. The whole work exhibits much reading
and philosophical reflection ; but the liberality of his reason¬
ing gave great offence to many of the strictly orthodox di¬
vines of his time, and is believed to have obstructed his
preferment in the church.
In 1774 he was appointed to the living of Charlottenburg;
and he employed the leisure he had in this situation in pub¬
lishing a second volume of his Apology; in which he not
only endeavours to obviate some objections which were
taken to the former part, but continues his inquiries into
the doctrines of the Christian religion, religious toleration,
and the proper rules for interpreting the Scriptures. Per¬
ceiving that his further promotion in the church would be
attended with difficulty, he resolved, although reluctantly, to
accept the situation of professor of philosophy at the Uni¬
versity of Halle, which became vacant in 1778 by the death
of G. F. Moier. But, however excellent as a writer, and
however just his ideas upon philosophical subjects, he does
not appear to have been peculiarly qualified to excel as a
teacher. He was highly esteemed, indeed, both by profes¬
sors and students ; but his lectures, although they attracted
at first a considerable concourse, never acquired any degree
of popularity. He continued, however, to lecture very regu¬
larly ; and published several manuals for the use of his pupils.
On his arrival at Halle, the philosophical faculty presented
him with a diploma as doctor in philosophy and master of
arts. In 1786 he was admitted a member of the Berlin
Academy of Sciences; and in 1805 the king of Prussia
conferred upon him the honorary title of a privy-councillor.
In 1808 he obtained the degree of doctor in divinity, which
was given him as a reward for his theological writings. He
married in 1778, but had no children. He died Jan. 6,
1809, being then in the seventieth year of his age.
Eberhard’s attainments in philosophy and literature were
extensive and profound. He was master of the learned
languages, spoke and wrote French with facility and cor¬
rectness, and understood English, Italian, and Dutch. He
had read a great deal, was thoroughly versed in the philo¬
sophical sciences, and possessed a just and discriminating
taste for the fine arts. He was a great lover of music, and
VOL. vm.
was himself a proficient in that science. His manners were Ebingen
mild and unassuming; and his amiable and cheerful disposi- II
tion, no less than his talents and virtues, endeared him to a Ebony-
numerous circle of friends.
The following is a list of his works :—Nom Apologie des Socrates,
&c., 2 vols. 8vo, 1772-8 ; Allgemeine Theorie des Denkens und
Empfindens, &c., Berlin, 1776, 8vo,—this essay obtained the prize
assigned by the Royal Society of Berlin for that year; Von dem
Begriff der Philosophic und ihren Theilen, Berlin, 1778, 8vo,—a short
essay, in which he announced the plan of his lectures on being ap¬
pointed to the professorship at Halle ; Lobschri/t auf Herrn Johann
Thunmann, Prof, der Weltweisheit und Beredsamkeit. auf der Univer-
sitdt zu Halle, Halle, 1779, 8vo; Amyntor, eine Geschichte in Briefen,
Berlin, 1782, 8vo. This work was written with the view of coun¬
teracting the influence of those sceptical and Epicurean principles
in religion and morals which were then so prevalent in France, and
thence rapidly spreading amongst the higher ranks in Germany.
It is composed with great elegance and perspicuity, and exhibits
much philosophical reflection, and knowledge of the world. The
story is simple, and seems to have been merely intended as a vehicle
for the sentiments. Ueher die Zeichen der Aufkldrung einer nation,
&c., Halle, 1783, 8vo ; Theorie der Schdnen Kunste und Wissenschaf-
ten, &c., Halle, 1783, 8vo, 3d ed. 1790 ; Vermischte Schriften,
Halle, 1784; Neue Vermischte Schriften, lb. 1786; Allgemeine Ges¬
chichte der Philosophie, &c., Halle, 1788, 8vo; 2d ed. with a con¬
tinuation and chronological tables, 1796. Eberhard published also
an abridgment of this work in 1794. Versuch einer Allgemeinen-
Heutschen Synonymik, &c., Halle and Leipsic, 1795-1802, 6 vols.
8vo. This is esteemed a classical work on the synonymes of the
German language. An abridgment of it was published by the
author in one large volume 8vo, Halle, 1802. Handbuch der
Aesthetik, &c., Halle, 1803-1805, 4 vols. 8vo. Besides the works
above mentioned, Eberhard contributed a number of small tracts
and essays to various periodical and scientific publications, and
translated several foreign works. He was also the editor of the
Philosophical Magazine, Halle, 1788-1792, and of the Philosophical
Archives, Halle, 1793-1795. These two periodical works, which
are now little read, were instituted for the purpose of controverting
the metaphysical principles of Kant, and of vindicating the doc¬
trines of Leibnitz and Wolf. Frederick Nicolai published a Me¬
moir on the life and character of Eberhard, Berlin and Stettin,
1810, 8vo. See also K. H. Jordens, Lexicon Deutscher Bichter und
Prosaisten ; and Biographic Universelle. (j. C.)
EBINGEN, a town of Wiirtemberg, circle of Balingen
on the Schmieha, with 4400 inhabitants, engaged chiefly
in the manufacture of woollen cloths, hosiery, hats, and
leather.
EBIONITES, a Jewish-Christian sect of the first cen¬
tury, who separated themselves from that branch of the
Nazarenes that remained faithful to the apostolic doctrine.
They differed from the Nazarenes in this, that they asserted
the permanent obligation of the whole Mosaic law, and on
this account they retained circumcision, and highly valued
the Pentateuch. They regarded Christ as a mere man ; and
used a translation of the Gospel of Matthew in Greek cha¬
racters, but in the Syro-Chaldaic dialect. At a later period
they adopted other books attributed to St James, St Peter,
and Clement. Epiphanius and Tertullian both derive the
name from Ebion, a disciple of Cerinthus, who is said to
have founded the sect. Others derive it from the Hebrew
Ebionim, i.e. poor people, a name at first either given to
the Christians by the Jews, or probably assumed by the
former on account of their poverty. They originally planted
themselves at Pella, on the other side of Jordan, and gra¬
dually spread from thence into the Decapolis, Persea, and
Syria. They were afterwards merged with the Elcesaites.
The ancient authorities on the subject of the Ebionites are
Origen, Epiphanius, and Eusebius. See also the disserta¬
tions of Mosheim, Credner, Detmer, and Walch.
EBONY (c/Sevos), a species of wood, brought principally
from the East. It is exceedingly hard and heavy, of great
durability, and susceptible of a very fine polish ; and hence
it is wrought into a variety of toys, and used in mosaic and
other kinds of inlaid work. As a dye also it yields a fine
green tincture. There are several varieties of ebony, namely,
black, red, green, and yellow; but the black is the most
valuable. Ebony is obtained from several species of Dios-
3 A
370 E C B
Eboracum pyros ebenus, a tree of the natural order EbenacecB. The
II supply of this valuable wood comes principally from Mada-
Ecbatana. gascar> the Mauritius, and Ceylon. The heart of the tree
yields the finest ebony. The best is jet black, free from
veins and rind, of a very dense structure, astringent, and of
an acrid pungent taste. When laid on burning coals it
yields an agreeable perfume; and when green it readily
takes fire from its abundance of oil. See Botany, Nat.
Ord. 135.
The facilities for staining pear-tree and other hard woods
of a fine black colour has greatly limited the use of genuine
ebony in modern times. It is stated in M‘Culloch’s Com¬
mercial Dictionary that the price of ebony varies in the
London market from L.5 to L.20 a ton, and that the quan¬
tities imported are but inconsiderable.
EBORACUM, or as it is sometimes written Eburacttm,
the ancient name of York, which in the days of the Roman
empire in Britain was a place of considerable importance.
It was at Eboracum that the Emperors Constantins and
Severus died, and that Constantine the Great was born.
Numerous remains of the Roman occupation have been
found at York, throwing much light upon the social cus¬
toms and domestic manners of that people. See York.
EBRO, a river of Spain. See Spain.
EB UDfE, or Hebudes, the ancient name of the Hebrides
or Western Isles.
EBULLITION, the motion produced in any liquid by
the escape of a portion of it converted into an aeriform state
by heat; as exemplified in the boiling of water, the slaking
of lime, &c.
ECASTOR, or Mecastor, an oath in which Castor was
invoked. It was not the custom for men to swear by Cas¬
tor, nor for women by Pollux.
E C A T Ti A, ’E/omua, in Grecian Antiquity, statues
erected to the goddess Hecate, as the giver of riches and
prosperity, and the protectress of new-born babes.
ECBATANA, now Achmetha, a city in Media. The
derivation of the name is doubtful; but Major Rawlinson
(Geogr. Journal, x. 134) has left little question that the
title was applied exclusively to cities having a fortress for
the protection of the royal treasures. In Ezra we learn
that in the reign of Darius Hystaspes the Jews petitioned
that search might be made in the king’s treasure-house at
Babylon for the decree which Cyrus had made in favour
of the Jews (Ezra, v. 17). Search was accordingly made
in the record-office (“ house of the rolls”), where the trea¬
sures were kept at Babylon (vi. 1): but it appears not to
have been found there, as it was eventually discovered “ at
Achmetha, in the palace of the province of the Medes”
(vi. 2). It is here worthy of remark, that the LXX. re¬
garded “ Achmetha,” in which they could hardly avoid
recognising the familiar title of Ecbatana, as the generic
name for a city, and accordingly rendered it by ttoMs ;
and that Josephus, as well as all the Christian Greeks, while
retaining the proper name of Ecbatana, yet agree, with the
Greek Scriptures, in employing the word /?dpts to express
the Hebrew Birtha (“ the palace”), which is used as the
distinctive epithet of the city.
In Judith i. 2-4, there is a brief account of Ecbatana, in
which we are told that it was built by Arphaxad, king of
the Medes, who made it his capital. It was built of hewn
stones, and surrounded by a high and thick wall, furnished
with wide gates and strong and lofty towers. Herodotus
ascribes its foundation to Deioces, in obedience to whose
commands the Medes erected “ that great and strong city,
now known under the name of Agbatana, where the walls
are built circle within circle, and are so constructed that
each inner circle overtops its outer neighbour by the height
or the battlements alone. This w'as effected partly by the
nature ot the ground (a conical hill), and partly by the build¬
ing itself. 1 he number of the circles was seven, and within
E C B
the innermost was the palace of the treasury. The battle- Ecbatana.
ments of the first circle were white, of the second black, of
the third scarlet, of the fourth blue, of the fifth orange ; all
these wrere brilliantly coloured with different pigments ; but
the battlements of the sixth circle were overlaid with silver,
and of the seventh with gold. Such were the palace and
the surrounding fortification that Deioces constructed for
himself; but he ordered the mass of the Median nation to
construct their houses in a circle around the outer wall.”
(Herodot. i. 98). It is contended by Major Rawlinson
{Geogr. Journal, x. 127) that this story of the seven walls
is a fable of Sabsean origin, the seven colours mentioned
being precisely those employed by the Orientals to denote
the seven great heavenly bodies, or the seven climates in
which they revolve. He adds (p. 128), “I cannot believe that
at Agbatana the walls were really painted of these colours:
indeed, battlements with gold and silver are manifestly
fabulous; nor do I think that there ever could have been
even seven concentric circles ; but in that early age, where
it is doubtful whether mithraicism or fire-worship had ori¬
ginated in this part of Asia, it is not at all improbable that,
according to the Sabaean superstitions, the city should have .
been dedicated to the seven heavenly bodies, and perhaps
a particular part assigned to the protection of each, with
some coloured device emblematic of the tutelar divinity.”
This Ecbatana has been usually identified with the pre¬
sent Hamadan. Major Rawlinson, however, while admit¬
ting that Hamadan occupies the site of the Median Ecba¬
tana, has a learned and most elaborate paper in the Geo¬
graphical Journal (x. 65-158; On the Site of the Atropa-
tenian Ecbatana), in which he endeavours to show that the
present Takht-i-Suleiman was the site of another, the Atro-
patenian Ecbatana; and that to it, rather than to the proper
Median Ecbatana, the statement in Herodotus and most
of the other ancient accounts are to be understood to refer.
The major, indeed, seems inclined to consider the Ecbatana
of the apocryphal books as his Atropatenian Ecbatana; but is
rather more doubtful in claiming it as the Achmetha of Ezra.
But without undertaking to determine what amount of an¬
cient history should be referred to the one or to the other,
we feel bound to conclude that Hamadan was the site of
the Achmetha of Ezra, and the Ecbatana of the Apocrypha:
1. Because it is admitted that the Median Ecbatana was a
more ancient and more anciently great city than the Atro¬
patenian metropolis ; 2. Because the name “Achmetha”
may easily, through the Syrian Ahmethan, and the Arme¬
nian Ahmetan, be traced in the Persian Hamadan ; 3. And
because all the traditions of the Jews refer to Hamadan as
the site of the Achmetha and Ecbatana of their Scriptures.
Hamadan is still an important town, and the seat of one
of the governments into which the Persian kingdom is di¬
vided. It is situated in N. Lat. 34. 53., E. Long. 40., at
the extremity of a rich and fertile plain, on a gradual ascent,
at the base of the Elwund Mountains, whose higher sum¬
mits are covered with perpetual snow. Some remnants of
ruined walls of great thickness, and also of towers of sun-
dried bricks, present the only positive evidence of a more
ancient city than the present on the same spot. Heaps of
comparatively recent ruins, and a wall fallen to decay, at¬
test that Hamadan has declined from even its modern im¬
portance. 1 he population is said by Southgate to be about
30,000, which probably exceeds the truth very consider¬
ably. It is little distinguished, inside, from other Persian
towns of the same rank, save by its excellent and well-sup¬
plied bazaars, and the unusually large number of khans of
rather a superior description. This is the result of the ex¬
tensive transit trade of which it is the seat, it being the
great centre where the routes of traffic between Persia, Me¬
sopotamia, and Persia, converge and meet. Its own manu¬
factures are chiefly in leather. Many Jews reside here,
claiming to be descended from those of the Captivity who
EcclesalL
Bierlow.
E C C
Eccentric remained in Media. Benjamin of Tudela says that in his
time the number was 50,000. Modern travellers assign
them 500 houses; but the Rabbi David de Beth Hillel
{Travels, pp. 85-87, Madras, 1832), who was not likely to
understate the fact, and had the best means of information,
gives them but 200 families. He says they are mostly in
good circumstances, have fine houses and gardens, and
are chiefly traders and goldsmiths. They speak the broken
Turkish of the country, and have two synagogues. Ihey
derive the name of the town from “ Haman” and “ Mede,”
and say that it was given to that foe of Mordecai by King
Ahasuerus. In the midst of the city is a tomb which is in
their charge, and which is said to be that of Mordecai and
Esther. It is a plain structure of brick, consisting of a small
cylindrical tower and a dome (the whole about 20 feet high),
with small projections or wings on three sides. Within are
two apartments—a small porch formed by one of the wings,
and beyond it the tomb-chamber, which is a plain room
paved with glazed tiles. In the midst, over the spots where
the dead are supposed to lie, are two large wooden frames or
chests, shaped like sarcophagi, with inscriptions in Hebrew
and flowers carved upon them. There is another inscrip¬
tion on the wall, in bas-relief, which, as translated by Sir
Gore Ousley, describes the present tomb as having been
built over the graves of Mordecai and Esther by two devout
Jews of Kashan, in a.m. 4474. The original structure is
said to have been destroyed when Hamadan was sacked by
Timour. As Ecbatana was then the summer residence of
the Persian court, it is probable enough that Mordecai and
Esther died and were buried there; and traditional testi¬
mony, taken in connection with this fact, and with such a
monument in a place where Jews have been permanently
resident, is better evidence than is usually obtained for the
allocation of ancient sepulchres. The tomb is in charge of
the Jews, and is one of their places of pilgrimage. Kinneir,
Ker Porter, Morier, Frazer, and Southgate, furnish the best
accounts of modern Hamadan.
History mentions another Ecbatana, in Palestine, at the
foot of Mount Carmel, towards Ptolemais, where Cambyses
died (Herod, iii. 64; Plin. v. 19). It is not mentioned by
this or any similar name in the Hebrew writings : and we
are at a loss to discover the grounds which Major Rawlin-
son says exist for concluding that there was a treasury in
this position (Geoyr. Journ. x. 134).
ECCENTRIC, deviating or departing from the centre.
In geometry the term is applied to circles and spheres which
have different centres, and consequently are not parallel;
as opposed to concentric, or such as have a common centre.
In astronomy it denotes the distance of the centre of a
planet’s orbit from the centre of the sun—or the distance
between the centre of an ellipse and its focus. In me¬
chanics the term is applied to any revolving motion of
which the axis is not placed in the centre.
ECCHELLENSIS, Abraham, a learned Maronite, as¬
sociated with Le Jai in the preparation of his Polyglott
Bible. He was at first the coadjutor of Gabriel Sionita, a
countryman of his, who afterwards quarrelled with him, and
brought his case before parliament. In 1636 the congrega¬
tion de Propaganda Fide associated him with those whom
they had employed in making an Arabic translation of the
Scriptures ; and he removed to Rome for that purpose in
1652. While professor of oriental languages at Rome, he
translated into Latin the fifth, sixth, and seventh books of
Apollonius’s Conics; a task in which he was assisted by
John Alphonso Borelli. Ecchellensis died at Rome in
1664.
ECCLES, a manufacturing parish of L-mcashire, Eng¬
land, 4 miles from Manchester., Pop. (1851) 41,497, chiefly
engaged in the several branches of the cotton manufac¬
ture.
ECCLESALL-Bierlow, a village in the west riding of
E C C
371
Yorkshire, parish of Sheffield, 3^ miles from the town of Eccleshall
that name. The inhabitants, like those of Sheffield, are en¬
gaged chiefly in the manufacture of iron and steel articles.
Pop. of township, which includes 26 hamlets, (1851) 24,552.
ECCLESHALL, a market-town of England, in the
county of Stafford, on the river Sow, 6^ miles W.N.W. of
the town of Stafford. It is a neatly built place, and con¬
tains a castle, the residence of the bishop of Lichfield. In
its church Bishop Halse concealed Queen Margaret when
she fled from Muckleston. Market-day Friday. Pop. of
parish (1851) 4696.
ECCLESIA, in Grecian Antiquity, the general assem¬
bly of Athenian citizens, who met from time to time to
discuss public affairs. Ecclesiae were of two kinds, ordinary
and extraordinary. The first of these were held three times
every month; while the others were only summoned on some
pressing emergency. When any measure of unusual im¬
portance was to be publicly debated, the people were sum¬
moned from the country by special messengers. An assem¬
bly thus convened was called a cataclesia.
Much discussion has taken place as to the exact days of
the month on which the ecclesiae were held ; but the result
has only been to prove either that there were no days in¬
variably fixed for them, or that we have no data by which
to determine accurately what these days were. In Ulpian
it is stated that when there were three assemblies a-month,
the first fell on the eleventh, the second on the twentieth,
and the third about the thirtieth of the month.
Ecclesiae were originally held in the Agora or Forum.
The place of meeting was subsequently removed to the
Pnyx, and afterwards to such of the greater temples as
might be most convenient. The Pnyx lay to the west of
the Areopagus, and commanded an extensive view. It was
partly within the city walls, and had an area of about 12,000
square yards. On its northern side, cut out of the solid
rock, was the bema or hustings from which the speakers
addressed the people. From this tribunal a splendid view
of the principal buildings of the city might be had. The
right of assembling the people lay with the presidents of
the senate or Council of Five Hundred, who both advertised
beforehand the business to be discussed, and on the day
of meeting sent round a crier to remind the citizens that
their presence was required. In times of war, however,
or other national crises, the generals of the army sometimes
assumed this privilege, though it was necessary for them in
doing so to give notice of their intention by a public pro¬
clamation. They also sometimes claimed the right of pre¬
venting the ecclesia from assembling ; but their claims to
this privilege were not generally recognised. Such of the
citizens as refused to attend were fined, and six magistrates
called Lexiarchs were appointed to collect the fines. To
assure a full meeting, the custom was ultimately introduced
of paying the poorer classes a small sum for their attend¬
ance. This sum was originally an obolus, but after the
time of Pericles it was raised to three.
Ecclesia is also the name in Hellenistic Greek for the
Christian Church.
ECCLESIASTES, or the Preacher, one of the canon¬
ical books of the Old Testament. The Hebrew word Co-
heleih, of which the above two titles are a translation, is of
somewhat difficult etymology; but if the merely modern
shade of meaning attached to the word preacher be avoided,
there is no reason to abandon this its ancient title for the
fanciful renderings, collector, assembly, academy, &c., which
have been popular abroad.
The history of the interpretation of Ecclesiastes presents
the same great features with that of the other books of Scrip¬
ture. Of its admission into the canon there is not even the
shadow of a doubt; although some of the learned Jews
mentioned in the Talmud seem to have been haunted with
scruples in regard to its heresy, its “ contradictions,” and
372 E 0 C
Ecclesias- its “materialism.” From these Talmudists to Theodore of
tes- Mopsuestia, and from that period again till the Reformation,
its orthodoxy remained generally unchallenged both in the
synagogue and in the church. During the last and the
present century it has shared the fate of all ancient docu¬
ments at the hands of Continental Rationalism, and is now
emerging from this its fiercest and apparently final ordeal.
The points under dispute are, severally, its unity and plan,
its ethical characteristics, its date and authorship. Its unity
is denied by the whole Wolfian school of critics ; but their
schemes of partition into dialogues and disjointed narratives,
rival poems, literary discussions, ethical aphorisms, and un¬
finished practical essays, are more than mutually destructive.
The peculiarity of the diction, and the unity of the subject,
is too marked to admit of the possibility of divided author¬
ship. In regard to the plan of the book, their rival theories
are equally at fault. Between the scheme of Kaiser, who
detects throughout historical and prophetic delineations of
the characters and reign of the later kings, and that of
Ewald and Hitzig, who recognise in it the utterances of in¬
carnate wisdom, it may easily be imagined that there are
intermediate hypotheses interminable. The most plausible
ground for recognising a plurality of authors, and conse¬
quently a frequent divergence of plan in the book, lies in the
abruptness of its transitions, which are in fact made without
regard to logical accuracy or rigorous simplicity of method ;
but this can hardly be recognised as necessarily inconsistent
either with a fixed plan or with a unity of authorship, since,
as is the case with the Song of Solomon, it enters into the
very conception of the book, that it should present its main
theme abruptly from a variety of opposite points of view.
The theme itself, which is the vanity of all earthly things,
is never lost sight of; and however far the orbit of its illustra¬
tion sweeps, there is ever a periodical return to this dreary
central thought. So entirely, however, does the ethical value
which we attach to it depend on the hypothesis which we
hold in regard to its structure, that De Wette on one theory
rejects the book entirely as unhinging the doctrine of final
retribution, and Moses Stuart on another receives it as con¬
taining more explicit reference to this grand event than any
other book of the Old Testament. If, as some have sup¬
posed, it be a mental autobiography of Solomon, in which
he brings to light the Epicurean maxims that soothed and
incited him in his career of folly and dissipation, the ethical
difficulties vanish.
The date of Ecclesiastes is not so precisely determined by
its diction as was at one time confidently supposed. Its
alleged Hellenisms, at one time triumphantly paraded as
the demonstration of its late origin, have been entirely eli¬
minated by later scholars; and the rash assertion that it is
coloured with the peculiar Greek philosophizing in regard
to the chief good, has been successfully disproved. Its Chal-
daisms, which have at least as great affinity to patriarchal
as to modern Hebrew, have been reduced to some eight
or ten instances. And taking into account the necessi¬
ties, or even the eccentricities of philosophical language, it
is not too much to say that these might have been written
in the golden age of Hebrew literature. The political
sketches in the book have also been employed with a view
to ascertain its date. Setting out on the principle that the
author is depicting the miseries of contemporary history,
almost all the leading epochs of later Jewish history have
been adduced as answering the description. The absence,
however, of certain well-known features, such as the pre¬
valence of idolatry, is fatal to such a theory ; and it is some¬
what remarkable that later writers have been compelled to
abandon all except the terra incognita of Jewish history,
and to regard the description as alone applicable to the
time when the Holy Land was a mere Persian province.
1 he researches of Kaiser, above alluded to, at least show
that the delineations do not refer to any well-defined period.
E C II
They are in truth only vivid sketches of phenomena that Ecclesias-
are ceaselessly repeated in Eastern political history.
The authorship of Ecclesiastes, if not attributed to So- Ech Jadeg
lomon, must remain for ever a matter of uncertainty. All v .*
other names rest merely on conjecture. To those who re-
^ard Solomon’s name as introduced merely as the repre¬
sentative of wisdom, it must on the one hand be conceded
that such a practice was common with writers who flourished
after the exile ; but on the other hand it seems equally clear,
that as the whole scope of the book points naturally to the
real authorship of Solomon, the book of Ecclesiastes, if
this authorship be disproved, must be ranked as at the best
a pious forgery, and must be condemned to take its place
with other apocryphal productions. Much, however, yet
remains to be done in investigating the minutiae of this ques¬
tion. The affinities of Ecclesiastes in thought and style with
the book of Proverbs are certainly as marked as the discre¬
pancies of the two books in diction. The proverbial style
in both is the same ; and even the varieties of the diction,
although they may seem to indicate that they are the pro¬
duction of different authors, cannot be adduced as proving
that they were written at widely different epochs. The .
sketches are undoubtedly such as might have been antici¬
pated from a king, who, in his own history and in his rela¬
tion to foreign despotisms, had brought everything that
was false in morality and false in politics within the circle of
his own experience ; and it seems strange that the incon¬
gruity of the sentiments should not have been detected by
those who knew the social condition of the people in So¬
lomon’s reign far better than we can ever hope to do. The
expression (i. 12), “ I the preacher was king,” does not
decide the question of the authorship; it has evident refer¬
ence to the testamentary character of the treatise, which,
as the last of Solomon’s productions, we might beforehand
expect to be written in a dialect somewhat marked with
foreign idioms. T wenty years of habitual intercourse with
the representatives of foreign nations, whose languages,
though distinct, had yet a very close resemblance to Hebrew,
must have sensibly affected the dialect of the court; and
to us it seems not unsuitable that the penitential acknow¬
ledgments of Solomon should be handed down to posterity
in the broken dialect which was the very symbol of his self¬
degradation. (r. W—N.)
ECCLESIASTICAL (eK/cX^o-ia, an assembly or meet¬
ing), pertaining or relating to the church ; as ecclesiasti¬
cal polity, jurisdiction, history, &c.
ECCLESIASTICUS, or the Wisdom of Jesus, son of
Sirach, one of the apocryphal books of the Old Testament.
It consists of an anthology of proverbs drawn from other
compilations of same kind, and also from the experience of
the writer, who lived about 210-180 e g. Its Hebrew ori¬
ginal is now lost. It is called Ecclesiasticus because put
into the hands of the catechumens in the early church.
ECCOPROTICS (e/< and Koirpos, f<eces), in Medicine,
laxative remedies which purge gently ; mild cathartics.
ECDICI, "EkSucoi, among the ancients, patrons of cities,
who defended their rights, and took care of the public
money. Their office resembled that of the modern syndics.
ECHELON (Fr. echelle, a ladder), in military tactics,
the position of an army when its divisions are arranged one
behind the other, in the form of steps.
ECHINADES, a group of islands at the mouth of the
Achelous, off the coast of Acarnania. In the days of Hero¬
dotus some of these islands had become incorporated with
the mainland, in consequence of the great quantities of al¬
luvial soil annually brought down by the Achelous. Thucy¬
dides expected that in course of time the entire group
would in this manner become part of the continent; but
his anticipations have not even yet become realized. The
alluvial deposits had ceased to a great extent in the time
of Pausanias, who attributed this circumstance to the fact
E C H
Echinate that the lands of iEtolia were no longer cultivated so well
II as they once had been. Notice is taken of the Echinades
Echo, by Homer, who mentions that Meges, the son of Phyleus,
joined the Grecian expedition against Troy with 40 ships.
Dulichium is specified as the particular island over which
this Phyleus reigned, and its fertility is highly praised by
the poet. It is not exactly known what this Dulichium
really was. Some ancient writers identified it with Cepha-
lonia ; Strabo maintains that it was the same with Dolicha,
one of the Echinades. None of these islands, however, as
they now exist, bear out the Homeric description of Duli¬
chium. Col. Leake observes that Petala, the largest of the
group, seems to have the best claim to that distinction.
Pliny gives a catalogue of nine of these islands : the group
as it now stands comprises between twenty and thirty islands,
some of which, however, are little more than barren reefs.
Nine only of the whole number are at present under culti¬
vation.
ECHINATE or Echinated (Lat. echinus, a hedgehog),
set with prickles or spines ; prickly like a hedgehog ; a term
of frequent use in natural history.
ECHINITE, a name of the fossil sea-urchin, frequently
found in chalk pits.
ECHINODERMATA, the first class of Cuvier’s fourth
great division of the animal kingdom, commonly called
Zoophytes, or radiated animals. It includes, among numer¬
ous other species, the star-fish, sea-urchins, &c. See
Zoophytes, and Amimal Kingdom.
ECHINUS, the general name of the sea-urchins. See
Zoophytes.
Echinus, in Architecture, a kind of egg-shaped mould¬
ing. See Glossary to Architecture.
ECHO, a mountain-nymph, employed by Jupiter to baffle
and mislead Juno, while he himself sported with her sister
Oreades among the glades of Bceotia. As soon as Juno dis¬
covered the deception, she punished the nymph by changing
her into an echo. In this condition she became enamoured
of Narcissus; and when that youth failed to return her love,
she pined away, till at length nothing remained of her but
her voice.
Echo, from a sound, or rather from an echo.
Sounds are reflected from the surfaces of hard bodies, such
as hills, rocks, walls, &c., in such a manner that the angle
of reflection is equal to the angle of incidence; and, in
certain circumstances, these reflexions produce very re¬
markable echoes. The form of the reflecting surface, plane,
or convex, or concave, &c., modifies the reflection. Sounds
are also reflected by the surface of water, and sometimes
even by clouds. In an elliptical room, if the sound proceed
from one of the foci of the ellipsis, a person placed in the
opposite focus will hear the sound much more distinctly
than if placed in any other part of the room. The pheno¬
mena of whispering domes and whispering galleries depend
on similar principles,—for example, in the case of the dome
of St Paul’s Cathedral, London. Some echoes repeat only
sounds of a certain pitch. Others are said to repeat sounds,
but not at the same pitch as the original sounds. Such is
the echo at Roseneath in Scotland, which is said to repeat
a musical sound three times, but each time lower and lower
by the interval of a tone. There seems to be some error
in this observation at Roseneath. An echo at Genetay,
six miles from Rouen, is said to repeat words several times
in varied tones. Other echoes, calledpolysyllabical, repeat
many syllables or words. Multiple or tautological echoes
repeat the same word several times; as at the castle of
Simonetta, about two miles from Milan, where the echo
repeats a word about twenty times over. Another, near
Coblentz, is said to repeat a word seventeen times. Gas¬
sendi mentions an echo near the tomb of Cecilia Metella at
Rome, which repeated the first verse of the JSneid eight
times. Dr Plot, in his Natural History of Oxfordshire, men-
E C L 373
tions a remarkable echo at Woodstock Park, near Oxford, Echo
which repeats seventeen syllables in the day time, and II
twenty at night. Another echo, on the north side of Ship- Eclectics,
ley Church, in Sussex, is said by Harris {Lex. Techi) to
repeat distinctly, in favourable circumstances, twenty-one
syllables.
Echo is also used for the place where the repetition of
the sound is produced or heard. In echoes, the place where
the speaker stands is called the phonic centre, and the ob¬
ject or place that returns the voice the phonocamptic
centre.
Echo, in Music, is a term applied to that sort of airs or
pieces in which certain passages are repeated with dimi¬
nished intensity of sound. Paisiello, in his Proserpina, and
Mayer, in his Elisa, employed this kind of echo. Skilful
performers on the horn, the flute, the clarinet, &c., produce
echo passages with great effect. A certain organ stop is also
called an echo ; and on the same instrument an echo is
imitated by means of alternate loud and soft stops,—the
latter repeating phrases given out by the former, (g. e. g.)
Echo, in Architecture, a term applied to a certain kind
of vault or arch, made commonly of an elliptic or parabolic
figure, for the purpose of producing artificial echoes.
ECIJA, an ancient city of Spain, province of Seville, on
the Xenil (a tributary of the Guadalquiver), which is here
crossed by a fine old bridge, 53 miles E.N.E. of Seville.
Pop. 23,722. It was a considerable city in the time of the
Romans, by whom it was called Astigo ; and, according to
Pliny and Pomponius Mela, was the rival of Cordova and
Seville. Many inscriptions and interesting relics of anti¬
quity are to be found in the town and its vicinity. It is
surrounded by old walls, and the streets are narrow and
crooked : but it has a noble square in its centre adorned
with a fine fountain. There are six churches, several of
them richly adorned, and many hospitals and monasteries.
From the extreme heat of this town, it has acquired the
sobriquet of la Sartenilla or the frying-pan. Outside the
town near the river is a fine alameda or public promenade,
planted with trees, and adorned with statues and fountains.
Ecija has manufactures of coarse cloths, linen, and leather ;
and the vicinity is fertile in corn and wine.
ECKERNFORDE, a seaport-town of Denmark, duchy
of and 15 miles E.S.E. of Schleswig. It is situated on an
inlet of the Baltic, and has a good harbour and a consider¬
able trade. Pop. 4058.
ECKIUS or Echius, Joannes (1483-1543), the anta¬
gonist of Luther, was born in Suabia. His family name
was Mayer. He was professor at Ingolstadt, and at the
Reformation disputed both with Luther and Carlstadt. At
the diet of Augsburg he argued against the Protestant
Confession. He wrote a work entitled Enchiridion Con-
troversiarum ; Apologia contra Bucerum ; a tract on the
Mass ; an Exposition of Haggai; and several smaller works.
ECKMUHL or Eggmuhl, a small village of Bavaria,
on the Great Laber, 15 miles S.S.E. of Regensburg, cele¬
brated for the important victory gained here by the French
over the Austrians on 22d April 1809, and which obtained
for Davoust the title of prince of Eckmiihl.
ECLECTICS {Electici), a name given to some ancient
philosophers, who, without attaching themselves to any par¬
ticular sect, took whatever they judged good and solid from
each ; and hence their denomination, from e* and Acycw to
choose. Laertius observes that they were also, for the same
reason, denominated analogetici ; but that they call them¬
selves philalethes, or lovers of truth. The chief or founder
of the eclectics was Potamon of Alexandria, who lived under
Augustus and Tiberius, and w ho, weary of doubting of all
things with the Sceptics and Pyrrhonists, formed the Eclec¬
tic sect, called by Vossius the Eclective.
Towards the close of the second century, a sect arose in
the Christian Church under the denomination of Eclectics,
374
ECO
Eclipse
II
Econo¬
mists.
or modern Platonists, professing to make truth the only ob¬
ject of their inquiry, and to be ready to adopt from all the
different systems and sects such tenets as they thought
agreeable to it. However, they preferred Plato to the
other philosophers, and looked upon his opinions concern¬
ing God, the human soul, and things invisible, as conform¬
able to the spirit and genius of the Christian doctrine. One
of the principal patrons of this system was Ammonius Saccas,
who laid the foundation of that sect afterwards distinguished
by the name of the New Platonists in the Alexandrian
school.
There was also a certain ancient sect of physicians called
Eclectics, of whom Archigenes, who lived under Trajan,
was the chief, and selected from the opinions of all the other
sects those which he considered best and most rational.
Hence they are called eclectics, and their prescriptions
medicina eclectica.
ECLIPSE (tKAea/fis, from e/cAet7retv to forsake, to fail),
in Astronomy, an obscuration of the light of the sun, moon,
or other heavenly body, by the interposition of another
heavenly body between us and that body. See Astronomy.
ECLIPTIC, in Astronomy, a great circle of the sphere,
supposed to be drawn through the middle of the zodiac,
making an angle with the equinoctial of about 23° 30'
ECO
which is the sun’s greatest declination ; or, more strictly Ecliptic
speaking, it is that path or way among the fixed stars ||
which the earth appears to describe to an eye placed in
the sun. The angle of inclination of the equator and ^ mis s'
ecliptic is called the obliquity of the ecliptic. This has
been subject to a small irregular diminution since the time
of the earliest observations on record. Its mean diminution
per century is about 48". See Astronomy.
Ecliptic, in Geography, a great circle on the terrestrial
globe, answering to, and falling within, the plane of the
celestial ecliptic. See Geography.
ECLOGUE, in Poetry, a kind of pastoral composition,
in which shepherds are introduced conversing together.
The word is formed from the Greek inX-oyri choice; so
that, according to the etymology, eclogue should be a select
piece ; but custom has assigned to it a further signification,
namely, a little elegant composition in a simple natural style
and manner.
The idyl and the eclogue, in their primary sense, are the
same ; but custom has appropriated the name of eclogue to
pieces in which shepherds are introduced; and idyl to those
written in a simple style, but without any pastoral interlo¬
cutors.
ECLUSE. See Clusius.
ECONOMISTS.
It is not generally known how much the science of po- his own reflections, he seems to have been chiefly indebt-
litics, that master science, the late offspring of the im- ed to the writers of England; but there appears some
proved reason of modern times, is indebted to the philo- reason to conclude that tfie best of these had not fallen
sophers who are known to the world by the title of eco- in his way. We do not perceive, for example, any sign
nou/ists. They were, it is true, preceded in this country of acquaintance with the writings of Locke,
by Hobbes and by Locke, and in France by Montesquieu ; Jean-Claude-Maria Vincent, Seigneur de Gournay, was
but in analysing the frame of civil society, they added an extraordinary man for the age and country in which
considerable lights to those which had been communicat- he was produced. He was born at St Malo, in the month
ed by their predecessors ; and they attempted to point of May 1712, the son of Claude Vincent, one of the most
out the mode of combining the various springs of social considerable merchants of the place. Destined to corn-
action in a more liberal and beneficent system than had merce by his parents, he was sent to Cadiz when scarcely
yet been recommended to the world. seventeen years of age. His vigilant attention to business
It is worthy of remark, that the merits of this sect, in did not hinder him from finding time, well husbanded and
the secondary department of political economy, have so diligently applied, not only for storing his mind with ge-
much obscured their important speculations on the great neral knowledge, but for unravelling the combinations of
questions respecting the best possible order capable of commerce, and ascertaining its elementary principles,
being given to society, that they are, in this country at After he had raised himself to great eminence as a mer-
least, wholly unknown, except in the character of politi- chant, and to a high reputation for knowledge of the prin-
cal economists; though their political economy formed ciples of commerce, the ministers of France conceived the
only a small and subordinate branch of their entire sys- design of turning his knowledge to advantage in the office
tern ; and, what is indeed extraordinary, we know not a of intendant of commerce, as they call it, to which he was
book in the English language in which an account of that raised in 1751.
system is to be found. No sooner was M. de Gournay invested with his office,
This article is intended to contain, Isf, the history of than he began to wage war with the established system
the sect; ‘Idly, an account of their system; and, 'idly, of regulations and restrictions, which the experience of
some observations, pointing out the principal errors into twenty years of mercantile practice the most varied and
which they have fallen. the most extensive, discussions with the most intelligent
merchants of Holland and of England, the perusal of the
I. M. de Gournay appears to have been the first man in best writers on the subject, and the impartial application
France who had formed any systematic notions on the of his own philosophical thoughts, had all conspired to
real principles of trade. It is true, indeed, that Fenelon make him regard as a source, not of national advantage,
had recommended, on the direct suggestion of good sense, but of continual vexation and hardship to individuals, and
detached from theory, the practice of freedom of trade, of poverty to the state. “ He was astonished,” says M.
The Marquis d’Argenson was celebrated for the sound Turgot, “ to find that a citizen could neither make nor
and important maxim, Pas tropgouverner ; and the memo- sell a commodity, without having purchased a privilege,
rable advice of the merchants to the meddling Colbert by getting himself made, at a great expense, a member
was well known, Laissez-nous faire. Another of the more ot some corporation ; that if he made a piece of cloth, for
peculiar doctrines of the economists was expressed in the example, of any quantity and quality different from those
famous maxim of the great Due de Sully, Que le labourage commanded in certain regulations, instead of being al-
et le pdturage sont les mammelles de Vetat; and Montes- lowed to sell it to those purchasers whom such quantity
quieu had brightly but superficially run over several of and quality suited the best, he should be condemned to
the questions relative to trade. see it cut in pieces, and to pay a fine heavy enough to re-
For such lights as M. de Gournay did not derive from duce a whole family to beggary. He could not conceive
ECONOMISTS.
375
Et?ono- how, in a country where the succession to titles, to estates,
mists. anti even to the crown itself, rested upon custom, and
■"'Y'w where the application of even the punishment of death
was rarely guided by any written definitions, the govern¬
ment should have thought proper to fix by written laws
the length and breadth of each piece of cloth, and the
number of threads which it ought to contain. He was
not less astonished to see the government take in hand to
regulate the supply of commodities ; proscribe one sort of
industry in order to make another flourish; shackle with
peculiar restrictions the sale of the most necessary articles
of subsistence ; prohibit the storing of commodities, of
which the quantity produced varies greatly from year to
year, while the quantity required for consumption is pretty
nearly the same; restrain the export and import of a
commodity subject to the greatest fluctuation of price ;
and dream of insuring the plentiful supply of corn by
rendering the condition of the labourer more uncertain
and more wretched than that of any other part of the
community.” {CEuvres de M. Turgot, iii. 333.)
It may easily be imagined that M. de Gournay would
find himself encountered by opposition the moment he en¬
deavoured to introduce his beneficial views into practice.
The grand instruments of this opposition were certain
words and phrases, which have been used to screen mis¬
rule in every country in which the voice of reform has be¬
gun to be raised. “ M. de Gournay,” says Turgot, “ was op¬
posed, under the names of an ‘ innovator’ and a £ theo¬
rist,’ for endeavouring to develop the principles which
experience had taught him, and which he found univer¬
sally recognised by the most enlightened merchants of
every part of the world among whom he had lived. The
principles marked out for reprobation, under the title of
the ‘ new system,’ appeared to him to be exactly the prin¬
ciples of plain good sense. The wb de of this system was
founded upon the certain maxim, the., in general, each man
is a better judge of his own interest, than another man to
whom it is a matter of indifference. From this M. de
Gournay concluded, that, when the interest of individuals
is precisely the same with the general interest, the best
thing to be done is, to leave every man at liberty to do
what he likes. Now he held it as impossible, that in com¬
merce, fairly left to itself, the interest of the individual
should not coincide with the interest of the community.”
The proof which M. Turgot gives of the fundamental pro¬
position, that the interest of the individual and of the com¬
munity in a free commerce are the same, we need not re¬
peat ; because it can neither be rendered more clear nor
more cogent than it is already in works with which every
person is familiar, who is at all conversant with political
science.
“ From this principle M. de Gournay concluded, that
the sole duties of government with regard to commerce
are: 1. To render to all the branches of industry that
precious liberty, of which the prejudices of barbarous
times, the proneness of governments to lend themselves
to the gratification of individual interests, and the pursuit
of a mistaken good, have conspired to deprive them : 2.
To facilitate the exercise of industry and ingenuity to
every member of the community, exciting thereby the
greatest competition among sellers, and ensuring the
greatest perfection and cheapness of the commodities sold :
3. To admit the greatest competition among buyers, by
opening to the seller every possible market; the sole
means of encouraging reproduction, which hence derives
its only reward : 4. To remove every obstacle by which
the progress of industry is retarded, by depriving it of its
natural reward.”
It is to M. de Gournay, therefore, that Turgot ascribes
the origin of political economy in France. “ It is to the
ardour,” says he, “ with which M. de Gournay endeavour- Econo-
ed to direct to the study of commerce and of political eco- mists,
nomy, all the talent which he was able to discover, and to
the facility with which he communicated the lights which
he himself had acquired, that we ought to ascribe the
happy fermentation which for some years has been excit¬
ed on these important subjects; a fermentation which
arose two or three years after M. de Gournay was inten-
dant of commerce, and has since that time procured us se¬
veral works calculated to wipe off from our nation that re¬
proach of frivolity, which, by its indifference for the more
useful studies, it had but too justly incurred.”
Francis Quesnay was born in the village of Ecqueville
in the year 1694. According to M. Dupont de Nemours,
the editor and commentator of the works of Turgot, and
a zealous economist, he was the son of a small proprietor,
who cultivated his own little property ; and he was emi¬
nently indebted to his mother for the forming of his mind.
Though he was educated as a physician, and rose to such
eminence in his profession as to be first physician to the
king, the early occupation of his mind on the business of
agriculture had given the current of his thoughts a per¬
manent direction ; and when he was summoned to reflect
on the sources of wealth, by the discussions probably to
which the speculations of M. de Gournay had given birth,
agriculture was the object on which his attention was
more particularly fixed. He produced several works on
different points of the science and practice of medicine ;
and it was only at a late period of life that his works on
political economy appeared. His chief production on
this subject, Physiocratie, ou du Gouvernement le plus
avantageux au genre humain, was first published in 1768.
Not only had the speculations which he broached, and
which he propagated with much fervour and diligence,
considerable success in the world, but he had the fortune
to gain a considerable number of proselytes, who exerted
themselves with an ardour for the diffusion of his doctrine,
and with a devotion to the opinions of their master, which
more resembled the enthusiasm of the votaries of a new
religion, or that of the followers of some of the ancient
philosophers, than the indifference with which new spe¬
culations in philosophy have on all other occasions been
received in modern Europe; and which gave to the eco¬
nomists more of the character of a sector a school, than
has appeared to belong to those who have in recent times
concurred in any other system of philosophical opinion.
There was, in truth, in the system of M. Quesnay and
the other economists, many things well calculated to at¬
tract attention and excite enthusiasm. From a few simple
principles, they deduced, as they imagined, by a chain of
very close and imposing arguments, a system of changes
which would easily be introduced, without the smallest
interruption to the tranquillity and happiness of the ex¬
isting generation, calculated to remove from society all
the deformities by which it was overspread, and to com¬
municate to the mass of human beings a fulness of happi¬
ness hitherto altogether unknown. At this point, there¬
fore, we may close the historical part of this article ; for
the success of the great work of Dr Adam Smith, in a
short time, superseded the political economy of the sect;
and after the political economy was discredited, the rest
of their doctrines met with little regard. The memory of
them, however, is well worthy of being preserved ; and
this task we shall now, in as few words as possible, endea¬
vour to perform.
II. The economists proceeded upon no Utopian plan,
which supposes society to be composed of beings dif¬
ferent from those with whom we are already acquainted.
They took man as he is, a being having wants, and govern¬
ed by the desire of avoiding pain and obtaining pleasure.
ECONOMISTS.
376
Econo- Man must have subsistence. Upon this ground they
mists, first t00k their stand. This being allowed, it followed, of
V—course, that whatever was the best means of obtaining
subsistence, would command the operations of men as
soon as ever it was sufficiently known.
Of these means, the first and fundamental is the esta¬
blishment of property. This they proved by convincing
arguments. We cannot exist without consuming. The
nature of man leads to a rapid multiplication of human
beings, and the earth yields a spontaneous nourishment
for only a few. To make food keep pace with population,
labour must be employed upon the ground. Men would
be born for no other purpose than that of destroying one
another, if there were not means of increasing the quan¬
tity of food in proportion to those that were born. La¬
bour, then, is one of the physical necessities of nature.
But if labour be necessary, so is property, because, with¬
out property, there can be no labour.
The proof of this proposition is short and irresistible.
Nobody would labour under an assurance that he would
derive no advantage from his labour. Nobody would la¬
bour without a certain probability that he should enjoy
the fruits of his labour. Now, this is property. The only
question, then, which remains is, what is the degree of as¬
surance with respect to the fruits of a man’s labour; in
other words, what are the laws of property which tend
most to secure the benefits which human beings derive
from their labour ? This, said the economists, is the ob¬
ject and the end of our researches.
They proceeded in their inquiry by the following steps.
As a means to this labour, on which every thing depends,
a man must be free to use his natural faculties of labour
—his muscular powers. This freedom they called the
'property of his persons As another means to the same
end, he must be free to use exclusively, and to preserve,
what he acquires by his labour. This they call his move-
able property.
Here we see the origin of that to which men have as¬
signed the names of rights and duties. The exclusive
powers assigned to the man over his person, and over the
fruits of his labour, are called his rights. To allow these
exclusive powers, by abstaining from every act which
would impair them, is called the duties of all other men.
Here we see, also, that rights and duties are reciprocal ;
that they imply one another, that they are created to¬
gether, and that the one cannot exist without the other.
Destroy the rights of property in the man, you destroy,
by the same act, the duties of other men to exclude them¬
selves from what was called his property. Destroy, in the
same manner, the duties of other men to exclude them¬
selves from what was called his property, and you destroy,
at the same time, his right to that exclusion. Rights and
duties are, in fact, but different names given to the same
thing, according as it is regarded under one or another of
two points of view.
Another important concatenation is here also to be seen.
Rights are advantages ; things to be enjoyed. Duties are
burthens, abstracted from things to be enjoyed. Why should
men accept these burthens, submit to these duties ? Why,
but because they find their advantage in doing so. It is
plain how they find their advantage in doing so, and there
is, there can be, no other reason. Men submit to the duties
of respecting other men’s rights, that they may have rights
themselves. It is good for them to have rights; there
can be no rights without duties. It is better to have the
rights submitting to the duties, than, by renouncing the
duties, to have no rights. The duties are then the price
which is paid for the rights. The duties which one man
yields to other men, are the price which he pays for hav¬
ing rights of his own. Duties, then, are in themselves
evils; and they never ought to exist, except when they Econo-
are compensated by a greater good. Nobody ought to nnsts.
be subjected to a burthen, which is not, either to himself,
or to the community in which he has clubbed his private
interests, attended with a good sufficiently great to over¬
balance the evil which he is made to endure. Utility,
then, is the exclusive foundation ot duty.
Having laid this foundation, the economists proceed.
On the necessity of subsistence rests the necessity of
property, and on the necessity of property rests the neces¬
sity of a certain inequality in the conditions of men. This
inequality exists, because a good is obtained through it,
which can in no other way be obtained ; and that good
the parent of every thing else to which the name of good
is applied. “ Those who complain of it,” says Mercier
de la Riviere, one of the chief expositors of the doctrines
of the sect, “ see not that it is a link in the chain by which
the human species must drag from the abyss of non-pro¬
duction every thing which they enjoy. As soon as I have
acquired the exclusive property of a thing, another man
cannot have the property of it at the same time. The
law of property is the same for all men ; each man, how-,
ever, acquires in proportion to his faculties of acquiring :
but the measure of these is different in different men.
And besides this fundamental law, there is, in the whirl¬
pool of accidents, a continual succession of combinations,
some more, some less fortunate, which increase the causes
of that inequality of acquisition, without which the mo¬
tives to acquisition cannot exist I admit,
however,” he in conclusion adds, “that in any given com¬
munity, these differences in the possessions of different
men may become the source of great disorders, and which
augment again these same differences beyond their natu¬
ral and necessary degree. But what follows from this ?
That men ought to establish an equality of conditions ?
Certainly not; for to that end, it would be necessary to
destroy all property, and, by consequence, all society : it
only follows that they should correct those disorders
which make that which is an instrument of good become
an instrument of evil: which alters in such a manner the
distribution of things, that force places all the rights on
one side and all the duties on the other.”
We have seen that the necessity of labour to procure
the means of life and the means of enjoyment, produced
a necessity of property personal and property moveable, as
the two sorts were named by the economists. The neces¬
sity of raising food, as well as the first material of most of
the other articles of human enjoyment, by labour upon
the land, produces a like necessity of creating a property
in the soil. The proof of this proposition is not less short
and convincing than that which regards the other species
of property. To make the land yield a produce useful to
man, it must be cleared of many incumbrances, and pre¬
pared with much labour and expense. No adequate re¬
turn can be obtained for this labour to the man who would
bestow it, without a perpetuity of possession. It is essen¬
tial for the well-being of the species that the labour should
be yielded, and in the greatest degree of perfection. It
cannot be yielded perhaps at all, certainly in no tolerable
degree of perfection, without that exclusive possession
which constitutes property. Property in land is, there¬
fore, essential to the well-being of the human species.
We see in this manner what are the rights and what
are the duties which the supply of the first wants of hu¬
man nature renders it necessary to constitute ; but as all
mankind are not disposed to respect rights and duties, it
is necessary, in order to obtain the advantages which they
are destined to produce, that measures should be taken
to protect them.
I he measures taken to protect them are generally corn-
ECONOMISTS.
377
Econo, prehended under one name, that is, government. The pro-
mists. tection of the rights, or, which means the same thing, the
insuring of the duties, is the end, the government is the
means; and the question is, what combination of means is
best adapted to the purpose ?
This assuredly is the most important question to which
the human faculties can be directed; and the economists
have never yet, received the credit which is their due,
for the ability and success with which they laboured to
resolve it. No speculations can be conceived of more im¬
portance than those in which they engaged, nor has it yet
become easy to throw upon them a greater portion of
light.
The grand classes of means by the skilful combination
of which they conceived that the end might be obtained,
were either more direct or more indirect. The more indi¬
rect were liberty and evidence ; the more direct were laws
exactly adapted to the end, magistrates exactly adapted
to the execution of these laws, and a supreme, or, as they
called it, “ tutelary power'd We shall endeavour to com¬
municate their leading ideas on each of these particulars.
1. Liberty. We have seen that the end which is aimed
at through property, as a means, is the greatest possible
abundance of the things adapted for human enjoyment,
and that property is a means altogether indispensable for
that end. It is now to be proved that liberty is abso¬
lutely necessary to enable property to answer the purpose
of a means to that end, and that, without liberty, the
existence of property is deprived of almost all its advan¬
tages. In fact, the right which a man has not the liberty
to enjoy is not a right. The right of property in a man’s
person, in his moveables, in his land, is the right of en¬
joying ; but the right of enjoying and the liberty of enjoy¬
ing are the same thing. Liberty, therefore, cannot be
hurt without damaging the right of property, and the right
of property cannot be hurt without damaging liberty.
“ It is,” says Mercier de la Riviere, “ so inseparably con¬
nected with the right of property, that it is confounded
with it, and that the one cannot exist without the other.
Deprive a man,” he cries, “ of all the rights of property,
and I defy you to find in him a vestige of liberty. On
the other hand, suppose him deprived of every portion of
liberty, and I defy you to show that he truly retains every
right of property.”
It is now pretty clear that liberty is necessary to pro¬
duce that abundance of production which is the end aimed
at by the constitution of all rights and duties. Man is
excited to labour only in proportion as he is stimulated by
the desire of enjoying ; but the desire of enjoying can
only be a motive of action in so far as it is not disjoined
from the liberty of enjoying. You cannot have produc¬
tions in abundance, without the greatest possible induce¬
ment to labour; you cannot have the greatest possible
inducement to labour, without the greatest possible liberty
of enjoyment. The chain of evidence is therefore com¬
plete.
“ Let us not,” say the economists, “ seek in men beings
which are not men. Nature has destined them to know
only two springs of action, or moving powers; the appe¬
tite of pleasure and the aversion to pain. It is in the
purpose of nature, therefore, that they should not be de¬
prived of the liberty of enjoying, since, without that li¬
berty, the first of those two powers would lose the whole
of its force. Desire of enjoying, liberty of enjoying ; these
are the soul of the social movements, these are the fruit¬
ful seed of abundance, because that precious combination
is the principle of all the efforts made by human beings
to procure it.”
2. Evidence. Property, and by consequence liberty and
security of enjoying, being proved to constitute the es-
vol. vm.
sence of what they called the natural and essential order
of society, it was seen to be in reality a chain of physical
consequences, involving nothing arbitrary, nothing change¬
able ; evident, on the other hand, simple, and resting on
no other ground than that of being the most advantageous
possible to the whole body of the community, and to
every one of its members.
“ Ihe best possible order of society, however,” they
observed, “ cannot be established where it is not suffi¬
ciently known ; but for that very reason, that it is the
best order, the establishment of it, as soon as it is known,
must become the common ambition of men ; it must then
introduce \lse\f by necessity, and, once established, it must
by necessity continue for ever.” These were bold pro¬
mises, but the proof was correspondent. “ The best pos¬
sible order of society must introduce itself as soon as
known, and preserve itself for ever as soon as introduced,
because the appetite of pleasure, and the aversion to
pain, the only moving powers within us, lead naturally
and constantly toward the greatest possible augmentation
of enjoyments ; and the desire of enjoying implies by ne¬
cessity that of the means by which enjoyment is pro¬
cured. It is, then,” said the economists, “ impossible
that men should know their best possible condition with¬
out a consequent union of all wills and all power to pro¬
cure and to preserve it. Imagine not,” they cried, “ that
for the establishment of this essential order it is neces¬
sary to change the nature of men, and divest them of
their passions; their passions, on the other hand, become
auxiliaries in this establishment, and, for the most com¬
plete success, it is only necessary to place them in a con¬
dition to see with evidence that it is in this order alone
they can find the greatest possible sum of enjoyments and
of happiness.”
These philosophers made some admirable observations
upon the nature of evidence, and the important purposes
to which it is subservient. They made a distinction be¬
tween those propositions which a man receives without
evidence, and those which he only receives upon the
strength of evidence. The first they denoted by the
word opinion, the second they marked by the names of
knowledge and certainty. “ As error,” they said, “ is every
thing which is not truth, in like manner, what is not evi¬
dence is only opinion; and whatsoever is only opinion is
arbitrary, and liable to change. It is evident, therefore,
that these opinions are not a sufficient foundation for the
natural and essential order of societies. A solid edifice
cannot be erected on a basis of sand ; and that into which
nothing arbitrary can enter, which is and must be un¬
changeable as the ends to which it is directed, can never
be founded on a principle so arbitrary and various as
opinion; opinion which, however just and true it may ac¬
cidentally be, so long as it is not founded on evidence,
is but opinion still, and liable every moment to be sub¬
verted and expelled by any other opinion, however ex¬
travagant and absurd.”
Evidence is the knowledge, clearly attained and pos¬
sessed by ourselves, of all that is necessary to see the
truth or falsehood of an object of belief. This excludes
all doubt, all uncertainty, every thing arbitrary, all exer¬
cise of will. A man can no more help believing that
which he actually holds in his mind evidence sufficient to
prove, than he can help seeing the object which is painted
on his retina.
From this irresistible power of evidence the economists
deduced the most important consequences. “ Not only is
it,” they said, “ the essential characteristic of evidence to
stand the test of the most severe examination, but the
most severe examination can have no other effect than
that of displaying it to more advantage ; that of giving to
3 B
ECONOMISTS.
it a power more predominating and supreme; while, on
the other hand, sufficient examination destroys preposses¬
sion and prejudice, and establishes in their place, either
evidence, or at least suspension of judgment, where evi¬
dence on which to found a judgment is out of our reach.”
On the first of these propositions, that “ evidence can
stand the test of the most severe examination,” they said,
“ that all attempt at proof was surely unnecessary,—it
was self-evident; and hence,” they said, “ was evidently
deduced this most important consequence, ‘ that the liber¬
ty of examining, of criticising, and of contradicting evi¬
dence, is always and necessarily without inconvenience.’ ”
“ lhat a sufficient examination destroys prepossession
and prejudice, they regarded as a proposition equally in¬
disputable ; and from this it followed, as an irresistible
consequence, “ that the most unbounded liberty of exa¬
mination and contradiction is of primary and essential im¬
portance ; for no examination can be sufficient till all the
reasons of doubt are exhausted.”
“ lhat a sufficient examination establishes evidence in
the place of error in the case of all questions where evi¬
dence is within our reach,” was a truth, they said, resting
on the same immoveable basis; and from this it followed,
as an evident consequence, “ that liberty of inquiry will
lead by necessity to the clear and public knowledge of
what is the best possible order of human society; for on
this subject evidence is undeniably within our reach.”
. “ We may thus regard evidence as a sort of beneficent
divinity, whose pleasure consists in spreading peace on
earth. Never do you behold mathematicians at war with
mathematicians on account of the truths which they have
established on evidence; if they enter into a momentary
dispute, it is only while they are yet in the avenue of in-
quiry, and have investigation solely in view ; but as soon as
evidence has pronounced either on the one side or the other,
every man lays down his arms, and only thinks of enjoy¬
ing in peace the good which is thus acquired in common.”
“ Pass now,” say the economists, “ from the evidence
of mathematical to that of social truths ; to the evidence
of that order of human affairs in society which would pro¬
duce to men the greatest possible amount of happiness,
from the known effects of evidence in the first of these
cases, try to conceive what would be the effects of it in
the second ; what would of necessity be the internal con¬
dition of a society governed by that evidence; what would
Tiecessity be the political and respective situation of all
nations if they were illuminated by its divine effulgence ;
consider if men, rallied under the standard of that evi¬
dence, would have any division among them ; if any mo¬
tive for war would be sufficiently powerful to make them
sacrifice to it their best, and to themselves evidently best
possible condition : penetrate still deeper, and see if the
pictures which that medium presents to you do not excite
in you sensations, or rather transports, which elevate you
above yourself, and appear to indicate that, by means of
evidence, we communicate with the divinity.
But to increase your sensibility to the impressions
which those pictures will make upon your understanding
and your heart, place in opposition all the inconveniences
which, in a state of ignorance, arise from the force of
opinion.
cer^a^n thing is forbidden under the sanction of
punishments capable of inspiring the greatest terror. What
power can such prohibition and punishments have against
an opinion which tends to despise them ? None ; we have
too many examples to prove it.
A nian is placed by his birth in a situation in which
e“ec.t ^le happiness of a great number of other
men it he made a beneficent use of his advantages; what
is it the man performs when his opinion is wrong? He
sacrifices his advantages to the disorder of his opinion,
lives and dies unhappy.
“ One man unarmed commands an hundred thousand
with arms in their hands, of whom the weakest is stronger
than he. What constitutes his power? Their opinion;
they obey him in obeying it; they follow their leader be¬
cause they have an opinion that they ought to follow him.
“ Do you wish to see other effects which characterize
the force of opinion ? Consider the effects of honour; of
that sort of enthusiasm which prefers toil and fatigue to
repose, poverty and privation to riches, and death To life,
on which it finds the secret of shedding a lustre.
“ Opinion, of one sort or another, governs the world.
Even when it is but a prejudice, an error, there is no
power in the moral world comparable to its power. Fruit¬
ful in phantoms, it borrows all the colours of reality, in
order to deceive. Source inexhaustible of good and of
evil, it is through it alone that we see, by it alone that we
will and we act. According as it borders upon truth or
falsehood, it pioduces virtues or vices, the great man or
the villain. No danger stops it; difficulties render it more
intense ; at one time it founds empires, at another destroys
them. J
“ Every man is therefore a little kingdom upon the earth,
governed despotically by opinion. He will burn the temple
of Ephesus, if it is his opinion that he should burn it; in
the midst of the flames he will brave his enemies, if his
opinion is that he ought to brave them. Our physical
powers themselves are so completely subordinate to the
power of opinion, that, to have the command of our phy¬
sical povyers, it is necessary to begin by having the com¬
mand of our opinion; but how is it possible to have the
command of opinion, while it is the sport of ignorance,
and its nature arbitrary ? How is it possible to fix and to
unite the opinions of men, but by the agency of evidence?
Is it not visible that the Author of nature has appointed
no other means for chaining our arbitrary will ?
We ought to look, therefore, upon ignorance as the
necessary principle of all the evils which have afflicted
society; and upon the knowledge, that is, the evidence of
the best possible order of society, as the natural source of
all the good which is destined for the inhabitants of the
earth.
“ But as all the physical forces in the world cannot
render that evident which is not so, and as evidence can
spimg from nothing but adequate examination, from the
necessity of that evidence clearly follows the necessity of
examination, from the necessity of examination clearly
follows the necessity of the greatest possible liberty of con¬
tradiction, and, in addition to that liberty, the existence
of all those political institutions which are required to give
to evidence its greatest possible publicity?'
T he publicity of evidence was a subject on which the
economists dw^elt with peculiar emphasis, and which
they branched out into a number of the most important
consequences. “ I he necessity of it,” they said, “was
apparent from this, that the proper order of society can¬
not be solidly established, but in proportion as it is suffi¬
ciently known. In any society, if some men only had
knowledge and evidence of this order, while the multitude
rested in other opinions, it would be impossible for this
ordei to govern ; it would in vain command ; it would not
t o eyed. Ihis state would be that of a perpetual intes¬
tine war of one part of the nation with another. By m-
lestinewarthey did not, however, mean,” they said, “ only
that which is performed with arms in the hands, and by
open force ; they more peculiarly referred to those dis¬
guised and clandestine ravages and oppressions exercised
under forms of law; to those dark and predatory prac¬
tices, which sacrifice all the victims which artifice is piffle
Econo.
mists.
ECONO
Econo- to bring within their power ; to all those disorders, in a
mists, word, which tend to make all particular interests enemies
of one another, and thus to uphold, among the members
of the same political body, an habitual war of clashing in¬
terests, the contending effects of which tear in sunder all
the bunds of society'. This situation is so much the more
dreadful in as much as, excepting the superior and go¬
verning force of evidence, there is no power in nature
equal to that of opinion; as in its aberrations opinion is
tremendous, and as no means exist by which we can make
sure of retaining it always within proper limits, when it is
once given up to its own inconstancy, and to seduction.
“ From the publicity, which is an indispensable condi¬
tion to possession of evidence respecting what is best in
the social order, we are conducted to the necessity of
public instruction. Though faith,” said the economists,
“ be the gift of God, a peculiar grace, which cannot be
the work of men alone; nevertheless it is held that the
preaching of the gospel is peculiarly necessary to the pro¬
pagation of the faith. Why, then, should not every one
have the same opinion with regard to the publication of
the social order, more especially as that publication has
no need of being aided by grace and supernatural light ?
This order is instituted for men, and all men are born to
live under it; it is then required by this order that men
should know it, and accordingly they have all a sufficient
portion of natural faculties, to be able to elevate them¬
selves to that knowledge. For the same reasons that
knowledge is required, instruction is required, by which
alone certain kinds of knowledge can be attained.”
The economists did not enter into details respecting es¬
tablishments necessary for instruction. They, however,
affirmed, that such establishments “ constituted a part of
the essential form of a society, and that they could hardly
be too numerous, because instruction can never be too
common.” They affirmed, also, that “ verbal instructions
did not suffice; that it was necessary to have doctrinal
books, suited to the purpose, and in every body’s hand.
This help,” they said, “ was so much the more important,
as it was clear of all inconvenience, for error cannot stand
in the presence of evidence ; and contradiction is not less
advantageous to evidence than it is fatal to error, which
has nothing to fear so much as examination.”
What they affirmed with respect to the necessity of
those which they called doctrinal books, and of the liberty
which ought to reign with regard to them, “ was found¬
ed,” they said, “ upon the very nature of that order which
is due to society, and of the evidence which belongs to it.
That order,” they observed, “ is either perfectly and evi¬
dently known, or it is not. In the first case, its evidence
and simplicity render the formation of heresies on the
subject of it altogether impossible. In the second case,
men cannot arrive at knowledge or evidence, but through
the conflict of opinions. It is certain that an opinion can
be established only upon the ruins of those which are op¬
posed to it; it is further certain, that every opinion which
is not founded upon evidence will be contradicted, until it
is either destroyed, or recognized on evidence for a truth,
in which case it ceases to be a bare opinion, and becomes
an evident principle. And thus, in the pursuit of truths,
capable of being established on evidence, the conflict of
opinions leads, of necessity, to evidence, because it is by
evidence alone it is capable of being terminated.”
This doctrine is of such infinite importance, that we are
willing to prolong it, by adding the illustration which the
economists were accustomed to adduce. “ If a man should
be actuated by any motives to write a book endeavouring
to persuade his countrymen that they might live without
subsistence, that they ought to make commodities with¬
out the materials, that they multiply themselves by
MIST S. 379
change of place, or any other extravagant opinion, it Econo-
would be highly useless for the public authority to give mists,
itself any concern or labour to prevent such a book from
making an impression upon the public mind ; and, far from
feeling any alarm, every body would rest securely upon
the evidence of the contrary truths, assured that this
evidence would always be sufficient for itself, and would
quietly triumph over all the ridiculous efforts which would
be made to oppose it.
“ So absolutely necessary is it to leave to the whole
body of society tbe greatest possible freedom of examina¬
tion and contradiction ; so absolutely necessary is it to
abandon evidence to its own strength, that there is no
other power which can supply its place ; physical power,
of what magnitude soever, can command actions alone,
never opinions. The experience of every day affords to
this truth the evidence of the senses. So little have our
physical powers any influence over our opinions, that our
opinions, on the contrary, exercise an uncontrollable do¬
minion over our physical powers. Our physical powers
are put in motion, and guided by our opinions alone. The
common or social, called the public force, is formed by the
union of the physical powers of many individuals. This
supposes, necessarily and invariably, a correspondent union
of evils; and this can never exist but in consequence of
an union of opinions, good or bad. It is, therefore, to
reverse the order of things, and take the effect for the
cause, to desire to give the public force a power over
opinion, while it is from the union of opinions that public
force holds its own existence, and while, by consequence,
it can have no stability but in proportion to that which
reigns in the opinion on which it is founded, that is to
say, in proportion as bare opinions, stripped of evidence, are
replaced by opinions fixed and invariable, because found¬
ed upon evidence which cannot deceive.”
3. Laws. Flaving established as incontrovertible truths,
that property is necessary to the production of the means
of human life and enjoyment, that the system of human
rights and duties spring from it as natural consequences,
and that the natural and essential order of societies is
nothing in reality but the chain or connected order of
these same rights and duties, the economists laid down
the following definition: “ That the essential form of a
society is the continuation of all those social institutions
which are necessary to consolidate the right of property,
and secure to it all the liberty which essentially belongs
to it.”
Among these instrumental establishments, an important
place is held by laws, of which they communicated the
following very striking and original idea.
“ A multitude of men assembled without acknowledg¬
ing any respective rights, any reciprocal duties, would not
form a society. That does not consist in the meeting of
a number of men in a particular place. It may subsist
among men very remote in respect of place, and not sub¬
sist among men very near in respect of place. That which
really constitutes the union, are the conditions of the union.
These conditions are the systems of rights and duties, in
other words, the conventions entered into for their com¬
mon interest by the members of the associated body. The
laws, then, are precisely those conventions, by operation
of which, the reciprocal rights and duties are established
in such a manner that the members of the society are no
longer permitted arbitrarily to depart from them.
“ Of these conventions, some are of such a .nature as
cannot be defined very exactly, or at least cannot be en¬
forced by artificial sanction, but must be left to the na¬
tural coercion of the approbation and disapprobation of
mankind. Such are tbe common duties of morality ; gra¬
titude, veracity, charity, and the like. But the next uuss
380
E C O N O
Econo- of these conventions are those which are capable of being
mists, defined exactl}', and enforced by artificial sanctions; as,
murder shall not be committed, property shall not
be stolen. This last class of conventions are those which
are properly called laws.
“ The first property necessary to give those laws their
best possible form (for, in regard to their substance, it is
always supposed that they are strictly conformed to that
utility from which the whole system of rights and duties
takes its origin) is, that they be definitive; to distinguish,
by an incontrovertible line, what each of them does, from
what it does not, comprehend. This is implied in the very
notion of a law, which is to render something positive,
which would otherwise be arbitrary.
“ The second property necessary to give laws their best
possible form is, that they be written. This is indeed
implied in the first property; because no combination of
ideas can he rendered positive and unvarying, of which
the expression is not positive and unvarying. But nothing
can render an expression positive and unvarying but a
permanent sign; and, of permanent signs, none is equal to
writing.
“ The third property necessary to give to laws their
best possible form is, that the reason of each be annexed
to it. The distinction is very important between the let¬
ter of the law, and the reason of the law. The letter of
the law is its textical composition; the reason of the law
is the motive by which it was dictated. The man who is
guilty of murder shall receive a certain punishment. This
is the letter of the law. The reason is, that if murder
were common, and not restrained by adequate motives, the
happiness of human beings, if not the species, would soon be
destroyed. Having thus acquired a knowledge of the rea¬
son of the law, I possess the evidence of its utility. And
of this I should not have been possessed, had I seen in
the law nothing more than the letter. Let us suppose two
laws, which equally assign the punishment of death; the
one for homicide, the other for walking at certain hours
in the day. Is it not clear that they would be viewed
with different eyes; that the one would appear to be just,
the other tyrannical ; that we should feel within our¬
selves a natural disposition to submit to the one, a dispo¬
sition to avail ourselves of every thing which might serve
as a means to deliver us from the hateful yoke of the
other? This difference arises from the different judgment
we form of the reason of these bad laws. The first car¬
ries with it the evidence of its utility; and that evidence
overcomes and binds without resistance the understand¬
ing and the will. The other carries with it, instead of
the evidence of utility, the evidence of nothing but a dis-
proportional rigour, of a manifest evil, to which our un¬
derstanding, and consequently our will, can never submit.
“ It is not, therefore, in the letter, but in the reason of
the laws, that we must seek for the first principle of a
constant submission and obedience to the laws; for that
principle can be nothing but the dominion exercised o ver
our minds by the evidence of the justice of necessity, that
is, the utility of the laws; now this evidence is not in the
letter of the laws; to establish that submission, therefore,
generally and invariably, two conditions are requisite ;
one is, that the reason of the laws contain conclusive evi¬
dence of their utility, commonly called their justice and
necessity; the other is, that the publication of this evi¬
dence be so complete, in respect both of clearness and
diffusion, as to lodge it in the mind of a majority of all
classes of the people. Men, persuaded that their laws
were bad laws, might indeed for a time be constrained to
observe them; but such a submission, contrary as it is to
nature, could not be durable, nor escape daily breaches
on the part of those who regarded themselves as suffering
M I S T S.
by the injustice of the laws. Submission to the laws is Econo-
always, and necessarily, proportional to the idea which we mists.
hold of their justice and necessity ; that is, their indispen-
sable use in procuring good and eschewing evil.
“ If laws,” said the economists, “are any thing but the
results of the natural order of society, or of that system
of duties and rights which are rightly founded upon the
interest of all; if the legislature of any country sets up
rights and duties of another sort, these new rights and
duties are contrary to the first; and hence, of necessity,
the laws which prescribe them are in a state of perpetual
opposition with our understandings and wills.” This con¬
trariety they proved in the following manner: “ All the
rights which a reasonable being can desire are summed
up in that of property ; because from the right of property
results the liberty of enjoying; a liberty which ought to
have no bounds but those which are assigned to it by the
similar rights of property belonging to other men. As
the essential order of society thus determines the mea¬
sure of liberty belonging to each of its members, and as
that measure is the greatest which can be, without dis¬
turbing that essential order itself, it is impossible that any
thing should be added to the liberty, that is, to the rights
of one set of men, without taking from the liberty, and
by consequence from the property, of other men ; and this
is an injustice and disorder, the tendency of which is de¬
structive to the society.”
It is destructive to the society, because it throws it
into a state of violence. “ My neighbour,” says Mercier
de la Riviere, “ will be content that he is not allowed to
reap or to injure my crop; but for the same reason he
will not be content that I should be allowed to reap or to
injure bis. On the view of such an injury permitted in
regard to any other man, he will take the alarm, his fears
will be excited for himself, and this anxiety will be a
state of torment, from which his reason will perpetually
urge him to seek relief. A law which violates the prin¬
ciple of utility, is a law therefore resisted by that evi¬
dence which governs beyond control the human will. To
make such a law, is to put the society into a state of vio¬
lence, because it is to put the minds of men into a state
hostile to one another, and more or less hostile to the
laws.
4. Magistrates. By this term the economists under¬
stood judges, and, in a word, all the leading functionaries
employed in giving execution to the laws. Agreeably to
the doctrines already exhibited, they conceived that the
first service of the magistrates is that of shedding the
light of evidence upon the particular cases which have
been too obscure for the parties. But as there are some
minds with which you cannot be sure of being able in
every case to bring evidence, as it were, in contact, the
magistrate needs to be armed with a coercive power;
and all that is necessary is, that he affords to the rest of
the community evidence that in such cases the power has
been used agreeably to the principle of general good.
From these premises, the chief consequence which they
deduced was, that the legislative and judicial powers are
never to be united in the same hand, without destroying
among the people all certainty of the justice and neces¬
sity of their laws, that is, the very essence of the laws
themselves.
“ The essential form of positive laws,” they said, “ in
that which makes them to be what they ought to be, is,
that they consist of certain visible signs, which show, that
in the institution of them, that order has been followed
which is necessary, Isf, to ensure their justice and neces¬
sity, that is, their adaptation to the ends of obtaining
good and avoiding evil; 'idly, to render their adaptation
to those ends evident or certain to the individuals whom
ECONOMISTS.
Econo- they concern. Now it is clear that these conditions could
mists. not be fulfilled if the legislative power was to engross the
judicial functions. The legislator and judge being the
same person, neither could the legislator find any resource
against his own mistakes in the close review and expe¬
rience of the judge; nor, on the other side, could the ar¬
bitrary will of the judge find any bridle or chain in the
authority of the legislator; but the laws, however good in
themselves, would be rendered evil by a variable and cor¬
rupt administration.
“ If the legislator were judge also, his business would
be to consummate and to crown all the mistakes which he
incurred, or the abuses which he committed, in the forma¬
tion of the laws. If the judge were legislator also, the
laws existing only in conformity to his will, he would be
under no necessity to consult the laws in passing his judg¬
ment, and would always ordain as law-maker, what he
should have to determine as law-interpreter. Thus the
reason of the positive laws would be found to consist in
nothing but the will of the legislator, as he would be
guided in making them by nothing but its arbitrary im¬
pulses ; and, in the same manner, the reason of the judi¬
cial decisions would be found to consist in nothing but the
mere will of the judge, whose independence would enable
him to make them whatever he pleased. This double ma¬
lady abundantly proves that those laws would be stript of
the essential characteristics of law, the evidence of their
justice and necessity, and an absolute exemption from
every thing arbitrary.”
The duties of the judge they deduced in the following
order: As the laws are in themselves mute, and the ma¬
gistrate is the organ through which they speak, he is par¬
ticularly charged with the guardianship of the laws. It
is of importance to know what is implied in the term
guardianship of the laws. It relates either to the laws
which are made, or to those which are to be made. The
natural strength of the laws consists in the evidence of
their goodness. Their weakness consists in the strength
of the hands which dispose of the physical power. As
the laws are mute in themselves, they cannot wield that
evidence in which their strength consists. The magis¬
trates, who are the mouth of the laws, ought therefore to
wield it for them, and to resist the hands in which the
physical power is deposited, when they attempt the in¬
fringement of the laws, with all the force which evidence
can be made to exercise over the minds of the community.
The same principles demonstrate what are the duties
incumbent on the depositaries of the judicial power with
regard to laws to be made. As laws ought all to be found¬
ed on that concatenation of the causes of human good
which the economists denominated “ the primary and es¬
sential reason of all laws, the evidence of that primary and
essential reason was,” they said, “ a deposit, so to speak,
in the hands of the judicial instruments, of which they
owed an account to the legislature, to the nation, and to
God himself, of whose supreme will that evidence is the
decisive token. It was their first duty, therefore, to have
a perfect knowledge of that primary and essential reason.”
Their next duty was, on all occasions, as far as their ut¬
most efforts could extend, to impart that evidence to the
governing power, and to make it as clear as it can be
made, what laws, not yet proposed, that evidence shows
that the society requires.
The economists further affirmed, “ that no man can,
without rendering himself criminal towards earth and
heaven, undertake to perform the office of judge, accord¬
ing to laws that are evidently unjust. He would in that
case cease to be a minister of justice, in order to become
a minister of iniquity. If any law, for example, ordained
that a man should be condemned to the ultimate punish-
381
ment, on the mere denunciation of another man, and with- Econo-
out any inquiry into the truth of the allegation, is it not
evident that such a law would be a law of murder? And
is it not equally evident, that the barbarian who should
pronounce a judgment agreeably to that law, would be
the voluntary instrument of murder? It is necessary,
however, either to go the full length of saying that a man
can, without guilt, become the instrument of such a law,
or allow that no minister of the law ought to lend his mi¬
nistry to the execution of a law evidently unjust; for if
he may for one such law, so he may for all, however atro¬
cious; no outrage to humanity, no excess of evil, presents
any limiting point.”
5. The tutelary authority. “ The union of wills to form
that of individual powers; the union of individual powers
to form a common or public force; the deposit of that
force in the hands of a chief, by whose ministry it may
command, and make itself obeyed,—these,” said the eco¬
nomists, “ are the component parts of the tutelary autho¬
rity. The tutelary authority is nothing more than a phy¬
sical force resulting from an union of wills; and, by ne¬
cessary consequence, it is impossible for it to be either
powerful or secure, unless the intuitive and determining
force of evidence be the principle of that union.
“ In one sense, it may be affirmed that the right of
commanding belongs to evidence alone; for, in the order
of nature, evidence is the only rule of conduct bestowed
upon us by the Author of nature. But all men are not
equally capable of seizing evidence; and even if they
were, the interest of the moment often operates upon
them with such vehemence, that the appetite of enjoy¬
ment will not, in a state of disorder, be restrained by the
evidence of duty. Among human beings, therefore, it is
necessary that the natural authority of evidence be armed
with a physical force; and that the legislative power,
though it commands in the name of evidence, have the
disposal of the public force to ensure obedience to its
injunctions.”
From the analysis of what is necessary to constitute the
tutelary authority, the key-stone, as it were, of the arch
of human society, that which gives to the whole its bind¬
ing force, and retains the parts in their order, the econo¬
mists deduced a variety of most important conclusions, of
which we can only present the more striking as a sample.
The first is, that the legislative and executive powers
are essentially inseparable, and that all the fine-looking
theories, which have solicited and obtained so much of
the admiration of a superficial world about the virtues of
their separation, are phantoms in the air, the mere visions
of imagination. “ To dictate laws is to command ; and as
our passions render it impossible that commands should
be more than useless sounds without the physical power
of making them obej'ed, the right of prescribing laws can
have no existence without the physical power of enforcing
them. The depositary of the power is, therefore, and ne¬
cessarily, the master of the right; and the executive power
is always and certainly the legislative power. Let the
enemies of this conclusion turn and torture the subject
which way they please, they never can escape from it.
Suppose, in order to form two powers, that the legislative
right is confided to one organ, the public force to another,
when opposition arises, which of the two is to be obeyed?
As it is impossible that two contradictory commands can
be obeyed at the same time, it must be absolutely decid¬
ed which of the two is in preference to be obeyed. Now,
this decision is, by the very fact, the destruction of the
other power, and the establishment of that one. These
two powers, therefore, unavoidably run into one; the le¬
gislative power necessarily becomes the executive power,
or the executive becomes the legislative.
I
382
ECONOMISTS.
Econo- The second is, that the legislative never has, never can
mists, have, a right lo make bad laws. A right to make bad
laws, they said, is a contradiction in terms. A right sup¬
poses a compact; it is the offspring of an agreement, tacit
or express ; the idea of it can no more exist without that
of a mutual convention, than a debt without the contract
of debtor or creditor. The compact upon which all rights
are founded is that of mutual advantage ; it is the union
of all wills, freely determined by a great interest, of which
the evidence is visible to all. How can that union which
only exists for the sake of a good continue to exist if it
is seen to produce evil ? The hope cannot be framed of
maintaining it by force, because force is its effect; force
can exist only subsequent to union, and in consequence of
union. The horrid prerogative of being able to make bad
laws supposes necessarily a state of ignorance, a state in
which the vices of the laws are not illuminated by evi¬
dence; for it is impossible that a community should con¬
sent to uphold that which visibly hurts them. The power
exists in this hateful situation, but the right as little there
as anywhere else.
The economists come next to the important question,
What is the security for the right use of the legislative power ?
On this subject their anxiety to secure to their opinions
the benefit of publicity, and the favour of those in whose
hands the governing powers were actually deposited, led
them to use the veil of expressions too general, and into
some positive mistakes. “ The security,” they said, “ for
the right use of the legislative power, is the interest of that
same power, which can, in the general order alone, find its
own best possible state. The irresistible force which evi¬
dence acquires by publicity is also that security. This
evidence exists in its greatest force in the body of the
magistrates, who cannot, without ceasing to be ministers of
justice, lend their ministry to the execution of laws evident¬
ly unjust; or forbear, without being criminal, their utmost
endeavours to make the evidence of that injustice as clear
as possible both to the legislature and to the nation.”
The grand question followed, What are the hands in
which the legislative power ought to be deposited ? Having
demonstrated that the legislative and executive powers
cannot by possibility exist in any but the same hands, and
that they form together what they denominated the tute¬
lary authority, they proceeded to inquire what was implied
in the idea of authority. “ Unite,” said they, “ upon one
object a multitude of opinions and of wills; from that
union will arise naturally and necessarily an union of phy¬
sical forces for the accomplishment of those wills ; and
from the whole together will result an authority, or, in
other words, a right of commanding, founded upon a physi¬
cal power of procuring obedience to what is thus command¬
ed. If these opinions and wills should disunite, and
form, for example, two parties, the forces will for that rea¬
son be divided; there will be two forces, two authorities,
and, by consequence, two societies. That two authorities
cannot exist in the same society, they maintained by the
following proof. Such authorities must be either equal or
not equal. If equal, each of them taken separately is null.
If unequal, the superior is the real and only authority.
That, in the first case, each taken separately would be
strictly and literally null, arose, they said, from the very
nature of equality, which rendered it absolutely impossi¬
ble that the one could do any thing without the other.
^Neither ot them, therefore, could procure a single act of
obedience, except by their union ; but, at the very moment
of their union, they cease to be two authorities, and form
both together only one authority made out of the union of
both. Unity is, then, a part of the very essence of autho¬
rity ; to divide it is to reduce it to an incapacity of acting,
that is, to extinguish it; for authority is not authority but
in so far as it can act to procure the execution of its
will.”
From the necessary unity of the tutelary authority it
followed, they said, by necessary consequence, that the
organ of that authority must be one man. That the phy¬
sical force which is one of its component parts can be di¬
rected only by one will, is above the need of proof. But
it is said that one will may be formed out of the union of
several wills, and that the public force is not subject to
the separate wills till the union takes place.
To this the economists made answer, that if the oppo¬
sition of one will can suspend the effect of all the others,
it reduces authority to inaction, and for that reason
destroys it. The reason why physical force is neces¬
sary is, that you cannot count upon the union of all wills.
If, to avoid this objection, you have recourse, they said,
to plurality of suffrage, you build no longer on the basis
of evidence. That which divides opinions is not yet evi¬
dent. As nothing in government ought to be arbitrary,
and every thing that is not arbitrary is founded on reasons,
that is, evidence, there cannot be diversity of opinions on
matters of government, except from the effect of igno¬
rance, or of bad design on the part of the deliberants.
But it cannot be determined by a few voices less or more,
on which side the ground of evil lies. Experience shows
that an accredited error may long unite partizans in much
greater number than the truth by which it is opposed.
The number of those who concur in an opinion cannot
render that evident which is not evident; their opinion is
only opinion still, which is of course subject to change ; for
nothing but evidence is unalterable. And with respect to
bad design, as that results from particular interests, it can
never be determined whether the number of those whom
such interests command is the greatest or the least. On
both accounts, then, plurality of suffrage is not security.
But the greatest evil, they said, of the mode of deter¬
mining, by majority of votes, the question respecting the
social order, was, that it set individual interest in opposi¬
tion to public ; in which case the public interests are sure
to be sacrificed. “ How great soever the differences
among men, they have within them, nevertheless, two
grand moving powers common to all, and which are the
source of all their actions—the appetite of pleasure and the
aversion to pain. To suppose that men can move in op¬
position to those powers, is to suppose that the cause can
depend upon the effect. But the desire of enjoyment,
and opinion by which it is modified, cannot act naturally
and constantly in the direction of the public interest, when
authority is divided among several persons who are liable
to have interests opposite to one another. For it may be
laid down as a truth which will not admit of contesta¬
tion, that the public interest cannot be considered as
generally safe when it is in opposition to the private
interests of those who are entrusted with it. If one
or more of the public administrators behold any great
advantage to themselves in a sacrifice which has been
made, or which may be made, of the public interest, we
ask, said the economists, What can prevent the sacrifice
from being made ? Not the two springs of action which
nature has placed within us to be the cause of all we do;
for they are in this case put in opposition to the public
interest. Not any other authority in opposition to that of
the public administrator, since by the supposition they
themselves engross the whole of the governing power.”
The remaining evil which the economists ascribe to this
expedient was, that it attached to the number of votes a
despotical authority, which can safely and usefully belong
to evidence alone. “ Under this system it is not evidence,”
they said, “ which governs; it is opinion, or the will of a
certain number of men actuated by the same opinion.
ECONO
Econo- The mischief apt to result cannot be estimated ; it is with-
mists. out bounds. Suppose, in fact, that the vote of the majo-
“''Y'*-' rity is dictated by private interests, and that evidence is
on the side of the minority, is it not monstrous that the for¬
mer should command, and that the form of the govern¬
ment should lend to bad design a title to triumph over
evidence itself ? I his excess of disorder is nevertheless
inevitable under so defective a plan of government; and
the nation remains absolutely without protection against
the scourges with which, under private interest set in
opposition to public, it may be lacerated, especially if
these private interests are the interests of men who, by
their riches or otherwise, are in possession of power.
“ We forget not, they said, “ that the mischievous
tendency of private interest would find a counterpoise in
the knowledge of the nation. It is very true, that in a na¬
tion really enlightened, a nation that had from evidence
the knowledge of its own true interests, the body of rulers
could not abuse their authority. But why? because the
evidence of the abuse would in that case annihilate the
authority. But the idea of a nation governed by plurali¬
ty of suffrage, and by evidence at tbe same time, involves
an absurdity. Again, a nation sufficiently instructed to
know all the links in the chain of social good and evil,
would never sanction a form of government which places
the common interest in opposition to the private interests
of those to whom it is entrusted. Besides, it would be
ridiculous to suppose a nation sufficiently instructed to have
the wills of ull united under the evidence of what is best in
the social order, and to suppose its rulers at the very same
time so ignorant as to be divided on those subjects, and
reduced for a ground of decision to plurality of suffrage.
So long, on the other hand, as a nation is not thus
instructed, the people properly so called, sunk in igno¬
rance and prejudices, see no farther than the nearest ob¬
jects by which they are surrounded ; each canton thinks
the interest of the state is all summed up in the interest
of that canton ; each profession in the interest of that pro¬
fession ; the knowledge of relations and dependencies is
absolutely wanting. Such men cannot ascend from effects
to causes, much less enumerate the links in the chain of
causes and effects. It becomes, therefore, morally impos¬
sible for them to act by principle and by rule. Ever cre¬
dulous, and prone to prepossession, they must be gained
in order to be persuaded ; the same artifices must be prac¬
tised upon them which are used to seduce them. The
resolutions of men, the sport of momentary impressions,
must have all the inconstancy of these impressions. Di¬
vided into rich and poor, the rich look upon the poor as
made for them, and upon every power which they wish to
possess as naturally their due. The poor, justly discon¬
tented with the treatment they receive, and mistaking the
cause, are tempted to envy the condition of the rich, and
to regard as injustice the inequality of the partition which
is made between them. It is evidently, therefore, unsafe
to choose the body of administration exclusively from
either of these two classes. Nor would much be gained
if one half were chosen from the one and the other from
the other. If the separate portions continued to be go¬
verned by the prejudices and views of the classes to which
they belonged, they would do nothing but contend; and
there is only one way in which they could receive a mo¬
tive to cease,—if collusion would enable them to serve their
own private interests by sacrificing the interests with which
they were entrusted?
The economists come then to their grand conclusion
with respect to the artificial or physical security of the
social order. To the question, what is the best form of
government, they answered, the government of a sin¬
gle individual, uniting in his own person the whole of the
►MIS T S. 383
legislative and executive powers ; in other words, absolute. Econo.
“All men,” they said, “would confess that the best form mists,
of government was that which was so perfectly conforma-
bie to the natural and essential order ol’societies, that no
abuse could result from it; that form, in short, which ren¬
ders it impossible to make gain out of misrule—which sub¬
jects him who governs to the absolute necessity of having no
greater interest than that of governing well.” This advan¬
tage would be found, they affirmed, in the government of an
hereditary sovereign, and it would be found in no other.
I he reason was, that in no other could the interests of
governor and governed be rendered absolutely the same.
As the hereditary sovereign is the hereditary proprietor
of the sovereignty, the interest of the sovereignty is his
interest. The interest of the sovereignty means the most
perfect possible state of the governing authority ; that is,
the most perfect possible assurance of obedience to its
command. But obedience to command can only arise
out of the union of wills. And there can be no perfect
assurance of the union of wills to obey but from one cause;
the evidence that what is commanded is for the benefit of
those who are to obey. The interest of the hereditary
sovereign, therefore, and the interest of the community, is
one and the same.
With regard to the famous idea of the balance & con¬
stitution, that fancied arrangement of things in which the
power and will of one part of the instruments of govern¬
ment finds a counterpoise in the power and will of an¬
other; this pretended counterpoise the economists treated
as a perfect chimera, a mere imposition of the imagination,
a sort of day-dream.
1 he nation, they said, is either instructed or not in¬
structed. Let us examine the supposition of the balance
in both cases. If it is instructed, or, in other words, pos¬
sesses the evidence ot the causes of good and evil in so¬
ciety, there is no balance of forces ; there is only one force,
because force follows will, and here wills are united. They
carry the development of this idea to a great length, to
which our limits will not permit us to follow them.
If the nation is not instructed, or. in other words, does
not possess the evidence of the causes of good and evil in
society, the establishment of counter-forces is impractica¬
ble. To ignorance there can be only one salutary coun¬
teracting force, and that is evidence. The effect of ig¬
norance in the sovereign is dreaded; and to remove the
dread, another man’s ignorance is provided. This is what
people call making counter-forces. It must be confessed
that they are not of the very best sort of materials. How
could it ever be imagined that confidence for any thing
stable could be laid on any thing so unaccountable as the
results of ignorance ?
Let us adopt this chimera for a moment, and ask if it
be possible to assure ourselves that each force will be the
same to-morrow which it appears to be to-day. It is evi¬
dently impossible; nay, what each appears to-day may be
& false appearance; for, resting only on opinion, detached
from evidence, it rests on what can never be exactly known.
The idea of a balance is the idea of two powers, one
tending by its own force in one direction, another urging
it by an equal force in an opposite direction. The effect
is rest. To balance the power of the sovereign acting in
one direction, you provide another power acting in an op¬
posite direction. If the powers are equal, they destroy
one another, and there is no action. If they are unequal,
there are not two powers, but only one power; for the
greater swallows up the less.
The theory of a constitutional balance is founded on a
metaphor, a contrivance of language ; and moral forces
are supposed to be subject to the laws of material forces.
Material forces acting on a body in different directions*
Ji
384 ECONO
Econo- make it assume a certain determinable duration between
mists, tiie two. But it has not been considered, that in physics
the direction given does not depend upon the opinion of
the tilings which act. In morals, on the other hand, the
tilings which are depended upon for counteraction change
their duration according to their opinion. A theory
which supposes that to be uniform and constant which is
known to be the reverse, is evidently absurd.
Suppose every thing which the theory needs to be sup¬
posed. Conceive an assembly, or assemblies, provided to
counteract the sovereign, and so constituted, as to form
the most perfect counteraction possible; that the sove¬
reign can ordain nothing but with the consent of the as¬
semblies, and the assemblies nothing but with the consent
of the sovereign. In this case, it is not a government of
one, but a government of many; each member of the as¬
semblies shares in the sovereignty; they are so many
partners, therefore, with a particular partner at their
head. The question is, what are the interests of the
partnership? Those of the nation or not ? The interests
of the partnership doubtless are, to make it as profitable
to the members as possible; for it would be absurd to
suppose them not governed by their private interests.
Suppose, then, that there is originally a tendency to
counteraction between the sovereign and the assemblies.
It is very obvious that they will put an end to this coun¬
teraction, as far as they discover that the suspension of it
is conducive to their private interests. This is a law of
nature, and may be taken for granted. As far, then, as
the serving of the private interests of the members is con¬
cerned, there is no balance of opposite forces; the forces
combine instead of opposing, and so far the balance is lost.
The loss of the balance to this extent may be a loss en¬
grossing the whole of the protection to the common inte¬
rest which it was expected to yield, or it may be a loss
not extending so far. If it goes to the whole extent of
that protection, there is to the purpose in question no ba¬
lance at all. If it does not go to the whole extent, there
will still be some balance, more or less. What then is the
case? The case is, that the loss goes to the whole, and
that the balance does not exist. The balance does not
exist, as far as the private interests of those who share
among them the governing powers are concerned. But
it is only from the private interests of those who govern
that the nation has any thing to fear; it is only against
these interests that the balance is provided. As far, how¬
ever, as these private interests are concerned, the balance
does not exist. As far, therefore, as the balance is even
supposed to be of any service, the balance is excluded by
the law of nature. It follows as a corollary, that in a
country where the people depend upon what is called a
balance as the whole of their security for good govern¬
ment, they have no security at all.
Such is the analysis which the econcmists present of
the causes of good and evil in human society, and of that
order of things which best insures the presence of the
one and the absence of the other. That part of their
doctrine which alone is yet known to the mere English
reader, their Political Economy, is introduced as only an
auxiliary exposition. It is part of the development by
which they endeavoured to prove the identity which they
supposed between the interests of the sovereign and the
interests of the people. But, as a very distinct account
of this part of their system has been given by Dr Adam
Smith and other writers, and as our object rather was the
exhibition of those doctrines of the sect which nobody
has yet presented to our countrymen in their own language,
we shall content ourselves with only marking the place
which their political economy held in their general system.
As the society has public expenses, it is necessary that
MISTS.
it also have a public revenue. To reconcile the formation Econo-
of a public revenue with the idea of social order, it ought nnst**
to be formed, if possible, without infringing the property
of individuals, for the sake of which the order of society
itself is established. It ought, therefore, if possible, to
be formed without diminishing the revenue of individuals.
When the real origin of revenue, the source from which
it all is drawn, is sufficiently understood, the mode of
forming a revenue for the sovereign, without diminishing
that of individuals, would be immediately apparent. The
source of all riches is the land ; because the land alone, of cdl
the sources of production, yields a produce greater than the
cost of the production. The surplus produce of the land,
therefore, constitutes a fund, which is over and above the
remuneration to the agents of production, and out of
which the revenue of the sovereign may be taken, with¬
out diminishing the motive to production; that is, with¬
out retarding the natural progress of the state in wealth,
population, and felicity.
To lay the foundation for this plan of a public revenue,
it was necessary to prove that the land is the only source
of production; and that manufactures and commerce,
though they alter the form of things, never add any thing
to the amount or value of production. In the develop¬
ment of these views, one of the most remarkable results
at which the economists arrived was the necessity of per¬
fect freedom to all the proceedings which lead to produc¬
tion; as giving to produce that form which is most agree¬
able to those who are to make use of it. Till the time of
the economists, the necessity of holding those proceedings
in chains, and binding them to the will of governments,
was the universal doctrine of governments, and, to a great
degree, of speculators themselves. The general principles
of the economists respecting the freedom of property ne¬
cessary to constitute the foundation of social order, led
them to infer the evil of those abridgments of freedom;
but they examined the inference in detail, and showed
that the meddling officiousness of governments to compel
industry to one thing, and exclude it from another, not
only failed to effect any good purposes, but of necessity
created obstructions of the greatest magnitude to produc¬
tion in general, and tended powerfully to keep down the
wealth, population, and prosperity of the state. The light
which they diffused on this subject, and which soon pro¬
duced a grand effect on the minds of men, was a good,
the magnitude of which is beyond calculation.
Another of their conclusions is, that the revenue of the
sovereign, taken, as they said it ought to be, wholly from
the net produce of the land, ought to be a fixed and un¬
alterable proportion of that produce. The reason appear¬
ed to them conclusive. If the proportion was variable,
and depended upon the will of the owners of the land,
they might be induced to break upon the public revenue,
and deprive the state of those benefits which the public
revenue is necessary to produce. If it depended upon the
sovereign, the property of the land might be detached
from that of its produce; nobody would have a motive to
become a proprietor in land, and all the advantages which
depend on the existence of that property would be lost
the production of subsistence would fail, and the commu¬
nity could not exist.
This proportion being once fixed, there is no longer any
contrariety between the interest of the sovereign and the
interest of any portion of his people ; and the proprietors
cf land are as completely and securely exempt from con¬
tributing to the expense of the state, as any other class
of the community. The sovereign derives no part of his
revenue from the subject; and this deplorable source of
the conflict of interests is wholly cut off’ The proportion
being settled for ever between the sovereign and the land-
ECONOMISTS.
Econo- owners, that alone is the property of the landowner which
mists. is t]le proportion remaining to him. The rest is, with
regard to him, as if it did not exist. The sovereign they
denominated, therefore, co-proprietor of the land ; and
between him and the landowner, commonly so called, a
perfect community of interests is fixed. It is the interest
of the sovereign that the produce of the land should in¬
crease, because, with every increase in the produce of the
land, his revenue increases. It is also the interest of the
landowner that the produce of the land should increase,
because it is from the same cause that his revenue in¬
creases. See the article Political Economy.
III. In the remarks which we have to offer on the doc¬
trines of this sect, we must content ourselves with a few
general strictures on one or two leading points.
The most important slips which the economists made
in tracing the laws of the social order, are found in their
deductions respecting the tutelary authority. Many steps,
nevertheless, in that doctrine they have established. That
the legislative, and executive power are essentially the
same, and cannot be separated except in appearance, they
seem to us to have placed beyond the reach of dispute.
I hat no security for good government can be found in an
organization of counter-forces, or a balance in the consti¬
tution, they have proved in a manner equally satisfactory.
But we think they have not proved that a security for
good government can ever be found in the personal in¬
terests of a sovereign who unites in himself the whole of
the legislative and executive power. And we think they
have not proved that this security, if it cannot be found in
the interests of such a sovereign, can be found in nothing
else.
1. That the economists do not reason correctly from
their own principles, when they regard the interests of
the sovereign as an adequate security for good govern¬
ment, may be made apparent, we should hope, by an ar¬
gument of a very few steps.
In a perfect state of the social order, they say that the
interest of the sovereign would be the same with that of
the community; and the evidence of this identity would
be so clear to the sovereign, that the effect of it would be
irresistible on his mind. But in a perfect state of the
social order, they say also, that the interest of every man
would consist in the most exact conformity to all the rules
of that order, and that the evidence of this truth would
be so apparent as to be sure of its effect. In the only
state, therefore, in which the interest of the individual
entrusted with the tutelary authority could be relied on
as a security, the tutelary authority itself would not be
required ; for in a state in which every man would, of his
own accord, do what is best, an authority to compel him
to do so would be worse than useless.
The moment when you suppose a tutelary authority to
be necessary, the moment at which you suppose there is
any man in the community who can regard his private in¬
terest as consisting in any degree in what is hurtful to the
community, how can you be sure that the depositary of
the legislative and executive powers will not be that man ?
It can be easily shown that no man is acted upon by
stronger forces to impel him in that direction.
In order to prove that the legislative power cannot be
exercised by the community at large, the economists de¬
clare expressly, “ that if we study the nature of each man
in particular, we shall find in general that he would if
possible have nothing but rights on his own side, nothing
but obligations on the side of other men. The legislative
power can be exercised with safety only by those who
possess in perfection the evidence of the justice and ne¬
cessity of the original and pervading laws of social order.
It cannot, therefore, be exercised in safety by a body of
VOL. VIII.
385
men, among whom unequal rights exist, and must exist; Econo-
and who at the same time are all separately desirous that mists,
the inequality should be in their favour.”
Admit this—admit that all men in general desire to
have nothing but rights on their own side, obligations on
the side of other men; to have the inequality all in their
own favour; to possess advantages, in short, over their
fellows in the community; and it is surely absurd to talk
of security in the interest of the sovereign.
It is a part of their doctrine, that he who is entrusted
with the legislative power cannot be entrusted with the
judicial power; because in that case the same party, both
legislators and judges, would destroy law, by the exercise
of arbitrary will. This is a direct admission, or rather an
unlimited affirmation, that the interest of the sovereign
is not a security such as good government requires.
Again, it is said by the economists, “ that under a govern¬
ment conformable to the principles of order, the positive
laws would be of a justice and necessity publicly evident;
and that in order to apply these laws, the judges would
unite two sorts of knowledge, both of its meaning and of
its reason ; and, secondly, a knowledge of the facts which
constitute the case in which they are required to decide.”
No men, according to them, are more urgently called
upon, none can be more reasonably expected to be in full
possession of the evidence of that interest which every
man has in the preservation of the social order. Yet so
far are the economists from saying that the interest of
these men, and the evidence they could possess of that
interest, would be a sufficient security for the right admi¬
nistration of their trust, that they declare them liable to
the greatest malversations, and that the ultimate security
would lie in the sovereign, who would check them. It is
surely matter of wonder how the economists could fail to
perceive, that the very same motives which they rejected
as security for the right use of authority in the judges,
they trusted to as complete security in the sovereign ;
though likely to operate on the judges with greater force
than upon him.
2. We think it may also be made apparent, that the
economists do not reason correctly from their own princi¬
ples, when they conclude, that if security for good govern¬
ment cannot be found in the interests of one man entrust¬
ed with the whole of the legislative and executive powers,
it can be found in nothing else.
They expressly state, that “ the first, the real deposi¬
tary and general guardian of the laws, is the nation itself,
at the head of which is the sovereign. Accurately speak¬
ing, the deposit and guardianship of the laws can belong
to those alone who are armed with the superiority of the
physical force, to procure to that deposit its necessary su¬
periority. This being evident, it is the nation as a body
which naturally and necessarily is the depositary and
guardian of its own laws; because there is in the nation
no power comparable to that which results from the com¬
bination of its powers.” Again,
In contending that the legislative and executive powers
must always be exercised by the same hands, they affirm
that those powers could only be exercised by those who
had in their hands the superiority of the physical force.
Observe, now, the legitimate conclusion;
The people alone have the physical force necessary to
constitute them guardians of the laws. The same force
is necessary for the makers and the executors of the laws.
No body, therefore, but the people ever can, accurately
speaking, have either the legislative or the executive
powers. In a state of ignorance they may be led by fraud
to lend their powers to their own destruction. But it is
a part also of the doctrine of the economists, that in a
state of knowledge, in which they may be easily placed,
3 c
ECU
&86
Economy
Ecuador.
Name, situ¬
ation, and
boundaries
Physical
formation.
ECU
it is not possible they should make any but a good use of
their power.
“ A nation," they said, “ governed according to the
natural and essential order of society, has necessarily the
perfect evidence and knowledge of it, and therefore sees
with certainty that it enjoys its best possible situation.
This perception, of necessity, unites all the wills and all
the forces in the nation for the support of that order,
and, by consequence, for the creation and preservation of
all the institutions which are best adapted to that sup¬
port.” The people, therefore, may be safely trusted.
In a nation governed badly, governed not according to
“ the natural and essential order,” but according to what
the economists call the u political order,” “ it is always,”
they said, “ one part of the nation which governs the rest;
the weaker which governs the stronger. In this case, too,
the power of him who commands consists in nothing but
the powers united of those who obey him. And this
union of their forces supposes, of necessity, the union of
their wills; which can be founded only upon the persua¬
sion that this obedience procures them their best possible
condition. The powers of the nation in this vicious order
are less at the disposal of the sovereign than at the dis¬
posal of those who hire to him their agency, and, by con¬
sequence, sell to him the means of procuring obedience
from the nation; his situation is therefore at bottom a
real dependence ; his situation is precarious, uncertain,
changeable; he is put in chains, which he dares not at¬
tempt to break.” In every situation, therefore, it is the
will of the people, either of the whole of the people unit¬
ed, or of a part of the people united against the rest, which
is in reality both the legislative and the executive power.
Estimate, therefore, as high as you please, exaggerate to
any excess, the inconvenience of being governed by the
people, you have that inconvenience still; you are bound
to it by the inexorable law of nature; it is not within the
range of possibility that you should escape from it.
We have already seen that the economists declare that
“ every man wishes to have all the rights on his own side,
all the duties on the side of other men; that every man
likes inequality, in short, when the inequality is in his own
power.” From this they infer, that the community can¬
not safely govern; hut from this it may with much more
justness be retorted upon them, that nothing else can
safely govern. The interest of the community, say the
economists, is easily known ; the evidence of it is within
the reach of all descriptions of the people, and so cogent
as to be irresistible. The union of wills, according to
their doctrine, follows as a matter of course. Here, there¬
fore, it should seem we have a much better security than
can be found in the interest of any individual, sovereign
or subordinate.
It is remarkable enough that the economists have whol¬
ly overlooked, in their criticism on the plans opposed to
their own, the representative system ; and yet it is pretty
evident that it is by means of the representative system
that the grand problem of government must finally be re¬
solved. The speculations connected with this subject
will, however, find a more fitting place under the article
Government. (j.m—l.)
ECONOMY, Political. See Political Economy.
ECSTACY. See Extasy.
ECSTATICI (’E/co-rartKot, from i&o-rrjfu, I am entranced?),
in Antiquity, diviners who were cast into trances or ecstacies,
in which they lay as if dead, hut who, on recovering their
senses, gave strange relations of what they had seen or heard.
ECTHESIS, in Ecclesiastical History, a confession of
faith, in the form of an edict, published in 639 by the Em¬
peror Heraclius, with a view to allay the troubles occasioned
by the Eutychian heresy in the Eastern Church. He re¬
voked it, however, on being informed that Pope Severinus
had condemned it as favouring the Monothelites ; declaring
at the same time that Sergius, patriarch of Constantinople,
was its author.
ECUADOR, an independent state of South America,
lying under the equator, from which it takes its name. It
'corresponds, with a trifling difference, to the old Spanish pro¬
vince or intendancy of Quito; hut formed anciently the north¬
ern portion of the empire of the Incas of Peru, and latterly
the south-western province of the now dissolved republic of
Columbia. It is situate between S. Eat. 6. and N. Lat. 2., and
W. Long, from Greenwich 70. and 82.,—being about 830
miles in length from E. to W., and 560 in breadth from N.
to S.,—and only contains an area of about 320,000 English
square miles. It is bounded on the S. by the state of
Peru, on the N. by New Granada, on the E. by Brazil, and
on the W. by the Pacific Ocean ; hut the boundaries of the
eastern portion of the state are not yet very well defined.
The western portion of the state, to the extent of about
a third of its area, is covered with mountains. These con¬
sist principally of a cross section of the Andes, about 7° in
length, forming at the northern and southern boundaries re¬
spectively the two large mountain-knots of Loja or Loxa,
and Pastes. Between these knots the range of the Andes
forms a single mass, about 300 miles in length and from 70
to 80 miles in breadth, rising with a steep acclivity at the dis¬
tance of about iO to 90 miles from the shores of the Pacific
Ocean to a mean elevation of about 9000 feet, and forming
on its summit a long plateau or table-land, bordered on each
side by parallel ranges of mountains, which again rise several
thousand feet higher, and have their peaks covered with
perpetual snow. The highest, or those on the E. and W.
sides of these ranges, are about 50 miles apart, while the
lower and interior ranges occupy a breadth of several miles
on each side, leaving between them a narrow belt of flat
ground—from 15 to 24 miles in width, and 300 miles in
length from N. to S.—divided into three parts by two cross
ridges. The southmost portion forms the valley of Cuenca,
which has an elevation of about 7800 feet; the northmost
is the celebrated plain of Quito, which has a mean elevation
of about 9600 feet; and between them is the valley of Alausi
and Ambato, with a mean elevation of 8000 feet. The valley
ol Cuenca is connected with the middle valley by the pass of
Assuay, the crest ofwhich rises to the great elevation of 15,520
feet; but the ridge between Allausi and Quito, called the Alto
de Chisinche, rises only about 500 feet above the contiguous
plains on the N., and is of inconsiderable width. Among the
lofty summits that border these valleys, the following table
gives the names of the principal, with their elevations in
feet above the level of the sea:—
Feet.
Chimborazo  21,424
Cayambe-Urcu  19,534
Antisana  19,137
Cotopaxi  18^875
Iliniza   17,376
Sangay  16,827
Feet.
Chumbal  16,824
Carguairazo  16,663
Cotocache  16,448
Tunguragua  15,960
Pichincha  15,936
With the exception of Chimborazo, all these are active, or
only recently quiescent volcanoes; and the surrounding
districts are subject to frequent earthquakes, some of which
have been terribly destructive.
Between the Andes and the sea the country is covered
with mountains, which, however, do not seem to form con¬
tinuous ridges. The shores themselves are high, rising
along the Pacific with a bold and broken line of gulfs, bays,
Ecuador.
ECUADOR
Ecuador, and headlands, except at the S.W., where the Gulf of Guaya-
quil, 'jO miles wide, terminates inland, with an alluvial valley,
or long plain, several miles in breadth, and so low as to be
always flooded in the rainy season. In the bosom of the
gull lies the island of Puna, with an area of more than 200
square miles, but inhabited only by a few fishermen.
To the eastward the Andes sink abruptly into the great
plain which extends eastward to the Atlantic Ocean along
the river of the Amazons and its mighty tributaries, some
of which have their sources among the mountains of Ecu¬
ador. In this direction flow the waters of the valleys of
Cuenca and Alausi, and Hambato, while those of Quito
find their way to the Pacific through the rivers of Patias
and Esmeraldas. So far as within this state, the great plain
is partly wooded and partly a savannah interspersed with
many lagunes and stagnant pools, and intersected by innu¬
merable streams flowing from the Andes.
Geology. Granite seems to form the basis of the whole range of
the Andes, but it rarely appears on the surface. Gneiss is
sometimes found in connection with the granite, but mica-
schist is by far the commonest of the crystalline rocks. Quartz
is likewise very abundant, and vast tracts of red sandstone
with gypseous and saliferous marls occur near Quito. Por¬
phyry and greenstone abound all over the range, and great
masses of trachyte, from 14,000 to 18,000 feet thick, are
visible on Chimborazo and Pichincha. Basalt, of columnar
structure, inclosing olivine, and overlaid with thick beds of
clay, is fcmd on the table-land of Quito. Immense quan¬
tities of lava, tnfa, obsidian, and other volcanic products, are
likewise found, particularly along the western face of the
Andes.
Climate. Although this state lies under the equator, the great ele¬
vation of the mountain mass of the Andes renders the cli¬
mate, in the elevated districts, mild and temperate. In the
valley of Quito there prevails an everlasting spring, so equal
in its temperature that vegetation never ceases; and the
city has acquired the title o'i Sempre rtrcfe (ever-green), and
Eterna primavera (everlasting spring). The change of sea¬
sons is scarcely perceptible, while the mean temperature of
the day, all the year round, varies only from 60° to 67°, and
that of night from 48° to 52°Fahr. The season between Sep¬
tember and May is called winter, and the rest of the year
summer; but the winter is only distinguishable by a somewhat
greater quantity of rain, and the summer by a greater number
of fine days. All the year round, however, scarcely a day
passes without rain. In the mornings and evenings the sky is
generally clear and serene, but in the afternoon it is gene¬
rally overcast with dark clouds, which pour down torrents of
rain, often accompanied with awful storms of thunder. Some¬
times, however, the rain continues all night, and occasionally
three or four days together. Wind blows continually along
the valley, either from the north or from the south, but never
with great violence. In the low country on the coasts the
climate is very different. At Guayaquil the temperature is
generally between 98° and 104°, and people complain of
cold when it falls to 84° or 86°. In the other valleys along
the coast the mean temperature of the year varies between
78° and 82°; but from December till April the heat rises
to 95°, and during these months rain falls with little inter¬
ruption, frequently accompanied with violent tempests. The
floods at that season are so great, that in the valley of
Guayaquil the country becomes one sheet of water even to
the base of the Andes, to which the people betake them¬
selves for refuge, with their herds and flocks. Fevers, diar¬
rhoeas, dysentery, vomiting, and spasms, then prevail, and the
mortality is often very great. On the acclivity of the Andes,
at the elevation of 3000 to 5000 feet, a soft spring tempera¬
ture prevails, never varying more than 7° or 8°, and the
mean temperature of the year being from 68° to 70°. The
great eastern plain has a hot climate, the mean temperature
being probably from /5 to 85°. I he heat sometimes rises
to 95°; but every day, early in the afternoon, a wind, gene- Ecuador,
rally accompanied with rain, begins to blow from the east- ^ — >
ward with great force, and continues till sunset.
In the low countries that flank the base of the Andes Vegetable
the banana, cycas, plantain, cacao, jatropha which produces produc-
cassava and manioc, the cotton tree, indigo, coffee, and the ^on8,
sugar-cane abound ; beneath the elevation of 4000 feet, the
plants chiefly cultivated for food are the sweet potato,
mandioc, yam, and banana, with rice, maize, and some
legumes; but above 3100 feet most of these become rare,
and thrive only in particular situations. The sugar-cane,
however, has been grown so far up as 7500 feet. In some
of the valleys are extensive plantations of sugar-cane, cotton,
tobacco, and cocoa. The valley of Guayaquil is particularly
fertile; the soil is alluvial, and there are few spots even
between the tropics which can vie with it in richness and
variety of vegetation. It is covered with groves of every
kind of tropical fruits, either wild or cultivated, as the pine¬
apple, pomegranate, shaddock, orange, lime, lemon, peach,
apricot, cherimoyer, pulta, granadilla, tuna, and pacay. In
the same region are found the olive, pepper plant, tomatas,
and sweet potatoes, gum copal, copaiba balsam, carana,
dragon’s blood, sarsaparilla, and vanilla. To these succeed,
in the humid and shaded clefts on the slopes of the moun¬
tains, tree ferns and cinchona or Peruvian bark, the finest
kind of which is obtained about 8 to 12 miles S. of Loja
among the mountains of Uritusinga, Villanaco, and Rumusi-
tana, where the trees that yield it grow in a soil resting on
mica-slate and gneiss, at the moderate elevation of 5756
to 76/3 feet above the level of the sea. Between the ele¬
vations of 6000 to 9000 feet is the region best suited for
the European cereals. Wheat will not form the ear lower
than at 4500 feet, or ripen higher than at 10,000 feet; but
barley and rye growat an elevation 2500 feet still higher. To
these may be added the guinoa, a most useful production for
domestic purposes. In this region also, and a little above
it, grow the potato and its congeners, all of which are ex¬
tensively used as food; the chick pea, broad bean, cabbage,
and other European vegetables, are likewise abundant.
Within the cereal limits are found the oak, elm, ash, and
beech, which never descend lower than 5500 feet, and are
seldom found higher than 9200 feet above the level of
the sea. Higher up, the larger forest trees, except the
pine, begin to disappear; and on the mountains of Quito the
escallonia mark the highest limit of trees at an elevation of
11,600 feet. The bejarias, the highest of shrubs, terminate
at 13,400 feet, above which, in rich and beauteous verdure,
rises the zone of the grasses. Above these, among the
trachyte rocks, only lichens, lecideas, and the brightly col¬
oured dust-like lepraria are met with; and to these succeed
the region of perpetual snow.
In some parts of the low country the air swarms with Animals,
musquitoes and other flies still more tormenting, while the
ground teems with snakes, centipedes, ansi other reptiles.
The banks of the great rivers are crowded with caimans
or alligators. Bats are exceedingly numerous and of great
size ; the forests of the warmer regions abound with arma¬
dillos, monkeys, and cavys ; and everywhere are found the
jaguar, the puma, the ounce, the ocelot, and several varieties
of the wild cat. The pecari and deer are likewise common,
as well as that singular animal the ant-eater. The charac¬
teristic animals of the Andes are the llama, the guanaco,
the vicuna, and the paco or alpaca, some of which are
trained as beasts of burden, while others, particularly the
vicunas, run wild among the mountains, where they are
hunted by the Indians. Sheep and cattle are reared in
great numbers, especially the former, in the valleys of the
Andes, and on the declivities of the mountains. Horses,
asses, and mules, are reared in sufficient numbers to be
articles of export. The chief of the birds is the condor,
which is found all along the Andes southward as far as the
388
Ecuador.
Mineral
produc¬
tions.
Popula¬
tion.
Manufac¬
tures.
Political
condition.
ECU
Strait of Magellan, but nowhere to the north of the equator.
The turkey, vulture, and gallinago, are frequently met with,
to "ether with many kinds of smaller birds. In some districts,
particularly along the coasts, considerable quantities of
bees-wax are collected; and higher up there are spots in
which the cochineal insect is reared. Along the rivers of
the great plain turtles are numerous; and their fat, called
manteca butter, forms a considerable article of trade. Fish-
in" is carried on to some extent along the coasts, and a
good deal of salt-fish is prepared. A murex is also found
which yields a juice used in dyeing purple.
Ecuador is less rich in minerals, especially in the precious
metals, than any other of the South American states. There
are indeed several mines of gold and silver, but the yearly
produce is inconsiderable. In some places are found lead
and quicksilver, but the latter is found, as usual, in com¬
bination with sulphur, in the form of cinnabar. Near
Azogue, 15 miles N.E. by E. of Cuenca, the ore is found
in an immensely thick bed of quartzose sandstone, contain¬
ing fossil wood and asphalt. Sulphur is prepared in con¬
siderable quantities ; gold has been washed from the sands
of some of the rivers; and salt is obtained from sea-water
along the coasts.
The settled population is composed of Spanish creoles of
pure descent, meztisos, mulattoes, and negroes, the greater
part of them being agriculturists, graziers, and growers of
cocoa. These form about a half of the population. The
other half are native Indians, of whom those that live among
the mountains are mostly agriculturists, cultivating their
lands with much care, and making for themselves coarse
stuffs of wool and cotton. The Indians who inhabit the
eastern plains are in a much lower degree of civilization.
They cultivate only small patches of ground, and apply
themselves chiefly to hunting and fishing. Three-fourths
of the population dwell in the western or mountainous part
of the state ; and the total number is now estimated at
about 800,000.
The manufactures are unimportant, consisting chiefly of
coarse woollen and cotton cloths and other necessary articles.
The foreign trade is almost confined to Guayaquil, and is
so trifling as scarcely to deserve notice.
Till 1812 Ecuador remained a portion of the Spanish
empire of the Indies. It then threw off the yoke of Spain,
and in 1821 became a part of the newly constituted republic
of Columbia. This union, however, lasted only till 1831,
when Ecuador became an independent state. It has gone
through several revolutions ; and by the last (1852—3) the
democratic party has gained the ascendency, and shown a
tendency to adopt the United States of North America as
their political model. The state has in consequence received
a new and more liberal constitution ; the Jesuits have been
expelled; and laws have been made for the abolition of
slavery. The government is vested in a president, with a
vice-president and two chambers, all elective ; but the con¬
stitution is still notably complicated by what has always
been its principal characteristic, a predominating mixture
of military despotism, the president being always the master
of the state. More, perhaps, than any other country of
South America, Ecuador has been slow in the development
of her resources and national industry. Frequent revolu¬
tions have paralysed its trade, and prevented the regulation
of its finances. No interest has been paid on its public
debt since 1826. It is emphatically the country of natural
convulsions and political revolutions.
For adminstrative purposes the state is divided into the
three departments of Ecuador, Guayaquil, and Assuay ;
and these are subdivided into the seven provinces of Quito,
lliobamba, Ibarra, Guayaquil, Babahoyo, Cuenca, Loja,
or Loxa (Loh-ha), and Jaen de Bracamor. I he state
likewise claims the sovereignty of the Islas de los Gala¬
pagos, or islands of land turtles, lying under the equator at a
E D D
distance of 700 to 900 miles.from the mainland. The chief
towns are, Quito, with from 50,000 to 80,000 inhabitants;
Guayaquil, 25,000 ; Cuenca, 20,000; Riobamba, 15,000;
Loja, Babahoyo, and Ibarra, about 10,000 each. Quito
is beautifully situated in the elevated plain to which it gives
its name ; and Guayaquil on the banks of a navigable river,
opening into the spacious bay to which it gives its name.
EDDA, a system of the ancient Icelandic or Runic my¬
thology, containing many curious particulars of the theology,
philosophy, and manners of the northern nations of Europe ;
or of the Scandinavians who had migrated from Asia, and
from whom our Saxon ancestors were descended. Mallet
was of opinion that it was originally compiled soon after
the Pagan religion was abolished, as a course of poetical
lectures, for the use of such young Icelanders as devoted
themselves to the profession of scald or poet. It consists
of two principal parts; the first containing a brief system
of mythology, properly called the Edda; and the second
being a kind of art of poetry, and called Scalda or poetics.
The most ancient Edda was compiled by Soemund Sigfus-
son, surnamed the Learned, who was born in Iceland about
1057. This was abridged, and rendered more easy and
intelligible, about 120 years afterwards, by Snorro Sturle-
son, who was supreme judge of Iceland from 1215 to 1222 ;
and it was published in the form of a dialogue. The latter
added also the second part in the form of a dialogue, which
is a detail of different events connected with the heathen
divinities. The only three pieces which are known to re¬
main of the more ancient Edda of Soemund are the Vol-
upsa, the Havamaal, and the Runic chapter. The Volupsa,
or prophecy of Vola, or Fola, appears to be the text on
which the Edda is the comment. It contains, in two or
three hundred lines, the whole system of mythology dis¬
closed in the Edda; and may be compared to the Sibylline
verses, on account of its laconic yet bold style, and its ima¬
gery and obscurity. It is professedly a revelation of the
decrees of the father of nature, and the actions and opera¬
tions of the gods. It describes the chaos, the formation of
the world with its various inhabitants, the functions of the
gods, their most signal adventures, their quarrels with Loke
their great adversary, and the vengeance that ensued; and
it concludes with a long description of the final state of the
universe, its dissolution and conflagration, the battle of the
inferior deities and the evil beings, the renovation of the
world, the happy lot of the good, and the punishment of
the wicked. The Havamaal, or Sublime Discourse, is at¬
tributed to the god Odin, or Woden, who is supposed to
have given these precepts of wisdom to mankind. It is
comprised in about 120 stanzas, and resembles the book of
Proverbs. Mallet has given several extracts from this trea¬
tise in his Northern Antiquities. The Runic chapter contains
a short system of ancient magic, especially of the enchant¬
ments wrought by the operation of Runic characters, of
which a specimen is also given. A manuscript copy of the
Edda of Snorro is preserved in the library of the university
of Upsal: the first part of it was published with a Swedish
and Latin version by M. Goranson. The Latin version is
printed as a supplement to Mallet’s Northern Antiquities.
The first edition of the Edda was published by Resenius,
professoral Copenhagen, in the year 1665, in a large quarto
volume, containing the text of the Edda, a Latin transla¬
tion by an Icelandic priest, a Danish version, and various
readings from different manuscripts. Mallet has also given
an English translation of the first part, accompanied with
remarks ; from which w'e learn, that the Edda teaches the
doctrine of the Supreme, called the Universal Father, and
Odin, who lives for ever, governs all his kingdom, and
directs the great things as well as the small ; who formed
the heaven, earth, and air; who made man, and gave him
a spirit or soul, which will live after the body shall have
mouldered away : then all the just shall dwell with him in a
Edda.
E D E
Edematous place called Gimle or Yin golf, the palace of friendship; but
wicked men shall go to Hela, or death, and thence to Nifl-
Edessa. ]jejm) or jhg abode of the wicked, which is below in the
ninth world. It inculcates also the belief of several inferior
gods and goddesses, the chief of whom is Friga or Frea,
'* that is, lad//, meaning thereby the earth, who was the spouse
of Odin or the Supreme God ; and hence we may infer
that, according to the opinion of these ancient philosophers,
this Odin was the active principle or soul of the world,
which, uniting itself with matter, had thereby put it in a
condition to produce the intelligences or inferior gods, and
men, with all other creatures. The Edda likewise teaches
the existence of an evil being called Loke, the calumniator
of the gods, and the artificer of fraud, who surpasses all
other beings in cunning and perfidy. It teaches the crea¬
tion of all things out of an abyss or chaos; the final destruc¬
tion of the world by fire; the absorption of the inferior
divinities, both good and bad, into the bosom of the grand
divinity, from whom all things proceeded as emanations of
his essence, and who will survive all things ; and, lastly, the
renovation of the earth in an improved state.
EDEMATOUS, or Edematose, (olfy/ia, a swelling
tumour,) filled with a serous humour; dropsical.
EDEN, the country and garden in which Adam and
Eve were placed by God himself. The term denotes plea¬
sure or delight. The garden is also called Paradise—a
term of Persic original, signifying a garden. In regard to
its locality, it is generally agreed that we ought to look for
it in the south of Armenia. See Paradise.
Eden, a river of England. See Cumberland.
EDENDERRY, a market-town of King’s County, Ire¬
land, at the N.E. extremity of the bog of Allen, 33 miles
W. of Dublin. It is a neat, clean, and comparatively pros¬
perous town ; and has a considerable trade in corn. Pop.
(1851) 1804, besides 1023 in the Union workhouse.
EDENTATA, Cuvier’s sixth order of mammiferous
animals, characterized by the absence of fore-teeth. See
Mammalia.
EDER, a town of Hindustan, province of Guzerat, and
the principal place of the rajpoot state of the same name.
The town contains 1200 houses, with a population of about
10,000. The petty state of Eder was founded in the early
part of the eighteenth century by Anund Sing and Race
Sing, sons of the celebrated Ajeet Sing, rajah of Joudpore ;
the territory having been assigned to them by their elder
brother the viceroy of Guzerat. The annual revenue is
estimated at about L.24,000 ; of which L.3300 is paid as
tribute to the Guieowar. The political connection of the
British government with this state commenced in 1820 in
the arrangement with the Guicowar, under which that prince
stipulated to withdraw his troops from the district, and the
British government engaged to collect the Guicowar’s dues
free of all deduction. Upon the election in 1841 of Tukht
Sing, the rajah of Ahmednuggur, to the throne of Joudpore,
his possessions in Guzerat were claimed by the ruler of Eder
as the feudal superior; and the claim having been recognised
by the British government, the possessions of Ahmednuggur
thenceforward merged into those of Eder. The town of
Eder is in Eat. 23. 50., Long. 73. 3. (e. x.)
EDESSA, a later name of the ancient Mgje, the capital
of Macedonia, was situated in the very centre of that king¬
dom, at the head of a defile commanding the approaches
from the sea-coast to the interior of the country. Its lofty
and commanding position, and the magnificent surround¬
ing scenery, combined with its historical interest, caused
it to be regarded by the Macedonians with peculiar vene¬
ration, more especially as from it sprang the dynasty of
their kings. Even after the seat of government was re¬
moved to the more accessible Pella, Edessa continued to
he the burial-place of the royal family. It was at this town
that Philip fell by the hand of his murderer Pausanias ; and
EDO 389
it was originally intended that the remains of the great Edessa
Alexander should here repose beside the ashes of his an- il
cestors, though the scheming Ptolemy contrived that they ^dgewerth.
should be interred at Memphis. When Pyrrhus and his
Epirotes overran the country, they opened the tombs of the
Macedonian kings, in the vain hope of bringing to light
some buried treasures of great value. The site of Edessa
is occupied by the modern Vodhena, where a few unim¬
portant remains of the ancient town may still be seen.
Edessa, or Callirrhoe, a city in the north of Mesopo¬
tamia, in the province of Osrhoene, on the banks of the
small river Scirtus, a tributary of the Euphrates. The time
and manner of the foundation of this city are very variously
given by different authors: by some writers its origin is
even referred to Nimrod; and though this account may be
very safely rejected, yet the extreme antiquity of the place
is undeniable. Its very position is also variously given by
the ancient geographers. Strabo, for instance, confounding
it with Hierapolis, places it in Syria, while Pliny makes
mention of it as being in Arabia.
It was not till the Christian era that Edessa began to
play a part in history. In the wars between the Eastern
empire and the Persians, and in the early history of the
church, the name of Edessa very frequently occurs. One
of the most important theological schools of the primitive
church had its seat in this city, and distinguished itself by
the zeal with which it maintained the Nestorian heresy.
This zeal ultimately proved the ruin of the school, whose
professors were banished from Edessa by the orthodox
bishop Martyrus, while the building in which they had
taught was pulled down by order of the emperor Zeno, to¬
wards the end of the fifth century.
In the wars with the Persians, Edessa frequently suffered
great damage ; and though this was immediately repaired,
yet the destructive inundations of the Scirtus on more than
one occasion threatened to endanger the very existence of
the town. In 718 Edessa was nearly destroyed by an earth¬
quake ; and in 1184 it fell into the hands of the Saracens,
under whose rule its prosperity rapidly declined. Under
the name of Orfah, Edessa lias recovered to a certain ex¬
tent its ancient greatness, as it stands on the great route
between Kurdistan and Aleppo, and has consequently be
come a place of very considerable commercial importance.
EDF U, a village of Upper Egypt, remarkable for its two
temples. See Architecture, vol. iii., p. 458 ; and Egypt.
EDGEWARE, a village of Middlesex, 10 miles W.N.W.
from London. It was formerly noted for the magnificent
palace of the Duke of Chandos ; the site of which is now
occupied by a villa constructed out of the materials of the
former palace.
EDGEWORTH, Richard Lovell, a distinguished
essayist, was born at Bath in 1744. He received his edu¬
cation at Oxford, and in his after-life devoted himself to
literary pursuits. His name is honourably known from his
efforts in the cause of education and agricultural science.
Fie is also said to have been the originator of several in¬
genious inventions, and some have claimed for him the in¬
vention of the telegraph. Most of his works were written
in conjunction with his daughter; and she has also published
a continuation of his “ Memoirs.” Mr Edgeworth was a
member of the Irish House of Commons about 1794. He
was four times married ; and died at Edgeworth’s Town in
June 1817.
Edgeworth, Maria, an eminent English novelist, and
daughter of the preceding by his first wife, was born in
Berkshire, Jan. 1, 1767. She removed to Ireland when
her father succeeded to the family estate in 1782, and there
she spent the greater part of her life. Her literary career
began with the publication of Castle Rackrent in 1801 ;
and this was soon followed by the Moral Tales, Belinda,
Leonora, Tales of Fashionable Life, Patronage, Barring-
390 EDI
Edinburgh./o/j and Ormond, and other works. It was the hutnoui,
^ tenderness, and tact displayed in her admirable delineations
of Irish character that first suggested to Sir Walter Scott
the design afterwards carried into effect in the Waverley
Novels. Parallel with this series of works of fiction, Miss
Edgeworth directed her literary efforts to the cause of edu¬
cation. Her essays on Practical Education were published
so early as 1798, and her latest work was the child’s story
of Orlandino, which appeared in 1834. The Parent's
Assistant, and numerous other educational works, fill up the
intervening period. Among the wrorks to which her father’s
name is attached along with her own, the most famous is
the Essay on Irish Pulls, published in 1803. 1 he latter
part of Miss Edgeworth’s life was spent in peaceful retire-
EDI
ment at Edgeworth’s Town, whence, with the exception of Edhiling
a trip to the Continent and a short residence at Clifton, ||
she had scarcely ever removed, and where she died in May Edinburgh.
1849‘ „ . „ .
EDHILING, Edhilingus, an ancient appellation of the
nobility among the Anglo-Saxons. It is sometimes written
atheling or cetheling; which appellation properly pertained
to the presumptive heir of the crown.
EDICT {edicere, to publish), that which is uttered or
proclaimed by authority as a rule of action ; as an order or
ordinance issued by a prince to his subjects, either as a
temporary regulation or as a permanent law. Strictly speak¬
ing, edicts cannot exist in Britain, since the power of enact¬
ing laws is lodged not in the sovereign but in the parliament.
E D I N B
Situation. Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland, and chief town of
Mid-Lothian, or Edinburghshire, is situated within two
miles of the south shore of the Firth of Forth, at the dis¬
tance of about 392 miles north from London, in N. Lat. 55.
57. 20.; and W. Long. 3. 10. 30. The situation of this
ancient city is pre-eminently romantic. It occupies a con¬
geries of hills and elevated grounds, rising gradually from
the shore of the Forth, and attaining in some parts to a
considerable height above the level of the sea. I he cen¬
tral elevation, which has been aptly compared to a wedge
lying flat upon the ground, is terminated at its highest or
western extremity by a mass of rock, seven acres in super¬
ficies at top, and about 250 feet above the surrounding
country ; on which stands Edinburgh Castle, the nucleus of
the city. From the castle, along the slope towards the east,
and for a mile in length, the Old Town was built, with a
spacious street in the centre, and narrow alleys or closes
diverging down the north and the south sides of the ridge.
In later times the city, by means of bridges, was extended
to the grounds on the south and north.
Origin and The etymology of the name Edinburgh has been sup-
name. posed to be found in the history of its origin. It is said
that subsequently to the year 449, or the era of Anglo-
Saxon dominion in Lothian, the castle became the occa¬
sional residence of the chiefs of the Northumbrian dynasty;
and from Edwin, the potent king of the territory, the ap¬
pellation Edwin’s burgh was introduced and afterwards
retained. At a period coeval with or preceding the era of
Edwin, the name applied to the fort was Mai-din in British,
or Magh-dun in Gaelic, which may either signify the forti¬
fied mount in the plain, or the good fort; but when the
English language came into use, the Maiden Castle gave oc¬
casion to fanciful etymologists to connect the title it obtains
in old writings—that of Castrum Puellarum, the Castle of
Maidens—with the fable that it had been the residence of
the daughters of the British kings. The origin of Edinburgh
can now with tolerable accuracy be traced to the beginning
of the seventh century, or the era of Edwin, from which
period it gradually though slowly increased in size. In the
year 856 it is described as a considerable village; and, with
the castle, it was often the object of contest in the wars
which took place between its Anglo-Saxon possessors and
the natives of Scotland. From the period of the cession of
Lothian to the Scots in 1020, the castle continued to be
the frequent residence of their monarchs ; and here the
widowed consort of Malcolm Ceanmore, the pious and worthy
Margaret, died in the year 1093. In the reign of David I.
the castle continued a royal residence, and the town increased
so much as to be considered one of the four chief burghs in
the kingdom. Soon after his accession, the munificent
David founded the Abbey of Holyrood on the plain at the
eastern extremity of the rising ground on which Edinburgh
was built. On the canons of this abbey he conferred the pri-
U E O H.
vilege of building a suburb westward from their church, along
the ridge, in order to meet the burgh; and the new town thus
reared by the monks received the name of Vicus Canoni-
corum, or popularly Canongate, which title the eastern part
of the old city still retains. For a considerable period after
the reign of David, the houses of Edinburgh were all thatched
with straw ; but the town nevertheless rose into importance,
and in the twelfth century it was constituted a royal burgh
by William I., surnamed the Lion.
The death of Alexander, king of Scotland, proved dis¬
astrous to Edinburgh. In June 1291 the town and castle
vvere surrendered to Edward I.; but in 1313 they were re¬
covered by assault, under the conduct of Randolph earl of
Moray, and the castle was destroyed. The English again
took and repaired the castle under Edward III., who resided
there and placed a strong garrison in it. In 1337 the castle,
still in the custody of the English, was besieged by Sir An¬
drew Moray, the guardian of Scotland, though without suc¬
cess ; and it was only by an ingenious stratagem, employed
by Sir William Douglas, in 1361, that the fortress was secured
by the Scottish patriots.
From the era of the murder of James I. at Perth, in
1436-37, the origin of Edinburgh as a national capital may
be dated. Neither Perth nor Scone, Stirling nor Dun¬
fermline, being able to secure royalty against the designs
of the nobility, Edinburgh and its castle were selected as
the only places of safety for the royal household and the
functionaries of government. The infant sovereign was
crowned in the chapel of Holyrood, in which sat the first
parliament of his reign. .lames II. was particularly attached
to Edinburgh, and bestowed on it a variety of grants as to
the holding of fairs and markets, the levying of customs, and
also rights to property. Besides, in 1450, he sanctioned the
erection of walls and bulwarks for its defence. Edinburgh
was the seat of the court and regular parliament through¬
out the turbulent reign of James III., who conferred
additional immunities upon the city, and granted to tlm
magistrates, town-council, and community, the office of
heritable sheriff of the burgh. On account of the loyalty
of the people in assisting him against Edward IV. he
moreover granted the inhabitants a banner, with power to
display the same in defence of their king, their country,
and their own rights. This flag, which is still esteemed a
sort of palladium of the city, is called from its colour the
Plue Blanket, and remains in the custody of the Convener
of the Trades. In 1497, Edinburgh was visited by a loath¬
some distemper imported from abroad, and the king by a
proclamation ordered the magistracy to put out ol the town
all infected persons, who, in order to free the city, were
transported by boats to the island of Inchkeith in the Fifth
of Forth, which thus served as a lazar-house for the time.
James IIL, in his latter years, made Edinburgh castle the
repository of his treasure, valuable effects, and ordnance. In
E D I N B
Edinburgh. 1488, when this prince was murdered near Stirling, the
whole fell into the hands of his rebellious subjects.
The first parliament of James IV. was held at Edin¬
burgh; and in 1503, on the marriage of this prince with
Margaret, the eldest daughter of Henry VII. of England, the
capital was the scene of a gorgeous pageant, which is fully
recorded by the historians of the time. In 1508 the king
empowered the town to feu the grounds of the Boroughmuir
on the south ; but the citizens were no sooner in possession
of this grant, than they set about clearing the ground of
its wood, and so many trees were cut down that they could
not be disposed of; wherefore the magistrates enacted, that
whosoever should buy as many trees as would form a new
front to a house, might extend the same seven feet farther
into the street. The consequence of this was, that Edinburgh
was in a short time filled with houses of wood, and the prin¬
cipal street was reduced fourteen feet in breadth. The year
1513 was the epoch of a dreadful plague ; and also of that
great national calamity, the defeat at Flodden. With James
perished the magistrates and many of the burgesses; the
privy-council removed to Stirling for safety ; the Cowgate
and Grassmarket, at that time southern suburbs of the town,
were inclosed with a wall; and at the same time the corpora¬
tion of the burgh raised the civic military corps called the
town-guard, which was not finally disbanded till the year 1817.
Throughout the minority of James V. the capital was the
constant scene of tumults. One especially, between the
Hamiltons or Arran’s party and the Douglases or party
of Angus, is known in history by the name of Clear the
Causeway. May 1532 is the era of the greatest event in
the annals of the Scottish metropolis. This was the esta¬
blishment of the College of Justice, or series of supreme
courts and their functionaries. The city now became a
place of resort from all parts of the kingdom, and the ma¬
gistrates for the first time had the High Street repaired and
paved, and gave orders to the citizens to light it. In 1538
the town was the scene of rejoicings, on the entrance of
James with his wife Mary of Guise.
In 1544, on the refusal of the regency to ally the young
Queen Mary to the son of Henry VIII., an English fleet
and army were sent to ravage Scotland ; and in prosecution
of this object the earl of Hertford landed with a force near
Leith, and set fire to the city in several places. In 1548
Edinburgh was garrisoned by French troops under D’Esse,
who prevented the English from committing any further
serious damage.
Disturbances consequent on the change of religion in
Scotland broke out in 1556, at which time a concourse of
people assembled to protect John Knox from the violence
of the ecclesiastical judicatory. During the struggle which
ensued in effecting the Reformation, Edinburgh formed the
chief position of the Reformers, as Leith was that of the
French and Catholic party. By the assistance of a Protestant
army sent by Queen Elizabeth the Reformers were finally
triumphant, and the first assembly of the Reformed kirk
met at Edinburgh on the 15th of January 1560.
A new object of excitement soon appeared in the per¬
son of Mary, the young queen of Scots, who on the 9th of
August 1561 arrived at Leith from France. On the 1st
of September she made her public entry into the city.
Darnley was proclaimed king at the market-cross in July
1565, and next morning was married to the queen in the
chapel of Holyrood. In June following the queen was de¬
livered of a son, afterwards James VI.; and in February
1567 Darnley was blown up by gunpowder in a house at
the Kirk of the Field, on the site of which the university
now stands. Mary’s marriage with Bothwell occasioned
fresh disturbances in Edinburgh ; and during the period of
the irregular warfare which ensued between the king’s and
queen’s parties the city suffered very severely. At length
the young king himself entered upon public life, and on the
URGE. 391
17th of October 1579 arrived in the metropolis with a ca-Edinburgh,
valcade of 2000 horse, and held his first parliament in per-
son. In the year following the Earl of Morton was be¬
headed in Edinburgh, by an instrument called the Maiden,
which it has been said he had himself introduced, and which
is now preserved in the Museum of the Society of Antiquaries.
The character of the city was about this period greatly im¬
proved by the erection of the college, which was commenced
in 1581, and to which the first professor was appointed in
1583. The infant institution was warmly patronized by
King James, who, on the occasion of a temporary visit
which he made to Scotland in 1617, desired that it should
thenceforth be called King James’ College. In 1585-86
the city was visited by the plague, and suffered severely
from that disease. In 1591 the inhabitants were alarmed
by an attempt of Francis Stewart Earl of Bothwell to seize
upon the person of the king in Holyrood Palace. The
attempt, however, was defeated by the promptitude and
vigour of the citizens. Bothwell himself escaped, but eight
of his followers were taken and put to death on the follow¬
ing day. In 1596 the clergy and citizens united in tumult¬
uary resistance to an attempt made by the king to control
the language of the pulpit. Unable to subdue or restrain
the insurrectionary spirit which he had excited, James with¬
drew from the town, and ordered all the public courts to
be removed from it. A reconciliation, however, soon after¬
wards took place, and the offended monarch returned peace¬
ably to his capital. In 1599 the first regular dramatic actors
appeared in Edinburgh. They came from England, and
there is some reason to suppose that the immortal Shak-
speare was amongst the number.
Three years later the regal dignity of Scotland be¬
came extinct, or rather merged in that of England. On
the 24th of March 1603 James was called to the throne of
the sister kingdom. Two days before his departure he
addressed the citizens in St Giles’ Church; promising them
a continuation of his countenance, and expressing the re¬
gret which he felt at leaving them. Among the marks
of royal favour w ith which James visited Scotland after his
accession to the throne of England, was his empowering the
magistrates of Edinburgh, in 1609, to have a sword of state
carried before them, and to wear gowns. This, it is believed,
was the earliest appearance of magisterial robes in Scot¬
land. In 1617 James paid a long-promised visit to his na¬
tive country. He entered Edinburgh by the West Port,
and was conducted through the city with great pomp, and
every demonstration of rejoicing. On the 28th of June he
convened his twenty-second parliament at Edinburgh. In
this assembly there were several remarkable acts passed,
including one for the restitution of archbishops, bishops,
and chapters. Four years after this, namely, in 1621, an
act of the estates and town-council was passed for coping
houses with lead, slates, or tiles, instead of thatch, which
had hitherto been the covering commonly employed. In
the same year water was introduced by pipes into the
city ; and three new bells were imported from Campvere
in Zealand, two for St Giles’ Church, and one for the
Netherbow Port. The casting of bells for churches, how¬
ever, is much more ancient in Scotland. On one of four
fine bells in the ancient cathedral of Kirkwall in Orkney
there is an inscription—“ Robert Borthwik made me in the
castel of Edinbrugh in the year of grace mdxxv.”
Edinburgh seems to have enjoyed uninterrupted tran¬
quillity during the remaining period of King James’s reign.
When he died, in 1625, the ministers of the city eulogized
him as the “ most religious and peaceable prince that ever
was in this unworthy world.” After the accession of Charles
to the throne, which was proclaimed at the cross by the
officers of state, a convention was held ; and the town-
council, in consequence of certain ships of war being wanted,
and forts for securing the coasts, not only agreed to advance
r
Lil
392 £ D I N B
Edinburgh, the assessment when called upon, but also to contribute to-
. i Wards the maintenance of 10,000 men. Some time after¬
wards, a subsidy for four years having, at the king’s desire,
been granted by parliament, the inhabitants of Edinburgh
generously advanced at once their quota, amounting to
L.40,000 Scots. For these acts of kindness His Majesty
expressed his gratitude by sending a sword and gown to
be worn by the provost in the manner appointed by his
father. Like his father, too, Charles resolved to visit his
native country, and though prevented for some years from
fulfilling his design, he at last accomplished it in 1633. He
was received by the inhabitants with much pomp, and the
(celebrated Drummond of Hawthornden was appointed to
address him on his arrival, which he did with all the cha¬
racteristic poetical embellishment peculiar to the times. On
the 18th of June, Charles was crowned in the Abbey
Church of Holyrood, and on the 20th he assembled his
first Scottish parliament in the Parliament House. During
his residence in the city on this occasion, Charles erected
the bishopric of Edinburgh, a measure which was by no mea.ns
popular, and gave rise throughout the country to a series
of civil disturbances, the principal focus of which seems to
have been Edinburgh. During the civil war in 1640, the
magistrates fortified the town against the castle, and disci¬
plined the citizens. The governor, on perceiving these
demonstrations of hostility, fired upon the city; but being
soon afterwards besieged by General Leslie, he was com¬
pelled to surrender from want of provisions.
Charles visited the city a second time in 1641, and was
received and entertained by the magistrates with the ut¬
most deference and respect. A parliament met on the
15th of July, the result of whose proceedings was an entire
change in the government, Charles retaining only the name
of king, and the kingdom only the appearance of a monarchy.
He agreed to an act of oblivion, by which his opponents
were pardoned at the expense of his friends; and after a
residence of four months in the northern metropolis, he re¬
turned to London, having intrusted his Scottish affairs to
a committee of the estates. Two years after this, in the
month of July, the Solemn League and Covenant for the
extirpation of prelacy was signed in the High Church ; and
shortly afterwards the city raised and supported a regiment
of 1200 men, to assist the English parliamentary forces
against Charles, at a cost of L.60,000 Scottish money.
For this and several other acts of hostility to the king, the
town was in 1645 threatened with a visit from the Marquis
of Montrose ; but it was saved from this disaster by the
breaking out of the plague, which committed great ravages
amongst its population. This was, however, the last visit
which this dreadful scourge paid to the metropolis. Shortly
after this the city borrowed L.40,000 Scots to raise troops
for the national engagement in favour of Charles; which
debt they afterwards refused to pay, on the plea that it was
contracted in an unlawful cause. The impartial justice of
Cromwell, however, subsequently compelled them in 1652
to repay the money. In May 1650 the Marquis of Mon¬
trose was conveyed a prisoner into Edinburgh. Three days
afterwards he was brought to trial, condemned to death,
and suffered on a gallows erected at the cross. Two months
subsequently Charles II. was proclaimed on the same spot;
and in the end of September following, the town was in the
possession of Cromwell. On this occasion the magistrates
fled to Stirling, then the headquarters of the king’s forces.
The town was thus left without any other civic rulers than
that of a body of 30 citizens, chosen by the inhabitants to
discharge in part the functions of the magistracy, who ab¬
sented themselves from the 2d of September to the 5th of
December 1651. About this period the town-council granted
liberty to one Adam Woodcock to establish a stage-coach
between Edinburgh and Leith; which is amongst the first
notices of a public conveyance of the kind in Scotland.
U R G XI.
On the 11th of May 1660, the magistrates sent the town- Edinburgh,
clerk to Charles, who was at Breda, expressing their con- x—
currence in his meditated restoration, already agreed to by
both houses of parliament in England, and their joy at the
prospect of such an event. Their messenger “had a most
gracious reception and, in the name of the burgh, pre¬
sented “a poor myte of L.1000, which he did graciously
accept, as though it had been a greater business.” The
feelings of delight which the arrival of the king in England
excited in Edinburgh, were expressed in the customary mode
of costly feasting, a sumptuous banquet having been served
up by the town-council at the cross. This attachment on
the part of the citizens was ill requited by Charles, who, in
settling the affairs of the kingdom, re-established episcopacy
in Scotland, in opposition to the oath and obligation of hon¬
our by which he was bound. It is not surprising, there¬
fore, that the Scottish people, so attached to Presbyterian¬
ism, should have expressed their indignation at his conduct
in the most open manner. But when the liberty of the
press, and freedom in matters of religion, were in conse¬
quence also speedily infringed upon, the whole country rose
in arms, particularly the western counties. The attempt,
however, which was made upon the life of Archbishop Sharp
in the streets of Edinburgh, led to those milder measures
which were soon afterwards adopted by government. In
1679, James, then Duke of York, came to reside in Edin¬
burgh, and took up his abode in the palace of Holyrood,
where he remained till May 1682. During this period he
rendered himself extremely odious by his opposition to the
Covenanters, and by his attempting the revival of the
drama, and encomraging other amusements to which the
people were exceedingly averse.
Two years after this, the magistrates set up tor the first
time a regular state carriage; and were so much pleased
with the accommodation and conveniency of this novelty,
that they ordered two coaches from London for their own
especial use, with the addition of four horses. On the de¬
mise of Charles II. in 1685, the towm-council erected an
equestrian statue to him in the Parliament Square, as a proof
of their gratitude to and affection for that monarch. Soon
after James’s accession, the unfortunate Earl of Argyll was
brought a prisoner to Edinburgh; and after being igno-
miniously paraded through the streets, his head was struck
off by the Maiden, this being the last time, it is believed,
that the instrument was employed. After a series of dis¬
turbances and tumultuary proceedings, occasioned by the
attempts of James VII. to restore the Roman Catholic re¬
ligion, a convention of estates was held at Edinburgh, in
which it was declared that James had forfeited the crown ;
and in March 1689 it was offered to William and Mary.
In 1696 Edinburgh was deeply interested in the cele¬
brated Darien expedition, and was full of the high antici¬
pations which this speculation had diffused throughout
Scotland. About L.400,000 sterling were subscribed in
the country. Six ships of considerable force and burthen,
and laden with various commodities, sailed from the Firth
of Forth; and in 1699, when intelligence arrived of the
settlement being formed, the rejoicings in Edinburgh were
unbounded. On the other hand, the disappointment ex¬
cited on learning in the following year of its failure, filled
the streets for several days with tumult and riot; and the
city altogether presented such a scene of lawless anarchy,
that the commissioner and officers of state deemed it ne¬
cessary, for their personal safety, to retire until the popular
fury had somewhat abated.
In 1704, on the occasion of a Captain Green and two
of the crew of the Worcester, connected with the East India
trade, being convicted, on circumstantial and insufficient evi¬
dence, of piracy and murder on the high seas, a commotion
was excited by an apprehension on the part of the populace
that they were to be permitted to escape the consummation
E D X N B
Edinburgh, of their sentence through the connivance of the authorities.
The lord chancellor, in passing from the privy-council in
his coach, was attacked at the Tron Church, the glasses
were broken, and he himself was dragged from the carriage.
He was rescued by some of his friends; but it was found
necessary to sacrifice the seamen to the resentment of the
populace. The year 1703 had been distinguished by its
presenting the last exhibition of the ancient Scottish na¬
tional pageant called the Riding of the Parliament, which
took place on the 6th of May: in 1704 the inhabitants of
Edinburgh were gratified by another ceremony quite in
accordance with the spirit of the age, when, under the au¬
thority oi an act of the privy-council, a large quantity of
vestments, beads, chalices, crucifixes, and other appur¬
tenances of Catholic worship, were brought to the cross,
and there publicly burnt before the eyes of a delighted
populace.
The tumults to which the city had been so frequently
subject were revived in 1706, on the occasion of the pro¬
posed union of the kingdoms. This, as is well known, was
at first vehemently opposed by the Jacobites and ultra
Covenanters in Scotland, and gave rise to a series of the
most violent and outrageous proceedings on the part of the
mob, in order to intimidate those members of the Scottish
parliament who were favourable to the measure. The deed,
however, was finally accomplished, though not without great
danger to the lives of its most active promoters. On the
6th of March 1707, the act I’eceived the royal assent in
the House of Lords.
In the civil war of 1715 an unsuccessful attempt was
made by the Jacobites to surprise the Castle. About
this period the provost received a regular salary of L.300
per annum in order to defray his expenses ; and in 1718 the
scheme which had for some time been framed of extending
the pier and building docks at Leith was in part executed;
the town’s debts, which even then amounted to L.25,000,
being thereby, in the space of five years, nearly doubled.
The celebrated tumult designated the Porteous Mob took
place in September 1736. The accounts of this remarkable
affair are so numerous, so easily accessible, and withal in
general so full, that it is deemed unnecessary to give more
than a mere outline in this place. Porteous, whose name dis¬
tinguishes the transaction, was captain of the city guard.
At the execution of a criminal of the name of Wilson,
whose fate had excited an extraordinary sympathy, Por¬
teous, dreading a rescue by the mob, who suddenly became
tumultuary, ordered the guard to fire on them. Six people
were killed by the discharge, and eleven wounded. For this
Porteous was tried and condemned to death; but he was
afterwards reprieved by Queen Caroline, then regent. Re¬
solved however that he should not thus escape the fate which
they conceived he merited, the mob, on the evening of the
day previous to that on which he was to have been executed,
broke into the jail in which he was confined, and having
dragged him out, led him to the Grassmarket, the usual place
of execution at that period, and there hanged him by torch
light on a dyer’s pole.
On the 17th September 1745, a party of the Highlanders
having made themselves masters of the Netherbow Port,
Edinburgh was taken possession of by the rebels under
Prince Charles Edward. The main body of the rebel army
arrived shortly afterwards at the King’s Park, headed by
the Chevalier in person, who took up his residence in Holy-
rood, where he held open court, and was visited by great
numbers of the inhabitants. The city remained on this oc¬
casion in the hands of the rebels till the 31st of October,
when, finding it impossible to reduce the castle, they pro¬
ceeded on their march towards England.
The public transactions of an historical nature which oc¬
curred in the metropolis after these events, are not, except
in a few instances, such as.to require a particular descrip-
VOL. VIII.
U R G IT. 393
tion. On the 2d of February 1779, an infuriated mob, Edinburgh,
under the influence of religious fanaticism, burnt one Ro-
man Catholic chapel and plundered another. Twelve years
later, on the outbreaking of the revolution in France, a con¬
siderable body of the inhabitants manifested their admira¬
tion of the new political principles which were then brought
so prominently forward, by forming themselves into asso¬
ciations for supporting the cause of political regeneration.
These societies, the members of which received the appella¬
tion of Friends of the People, atlength drew down upon them¬
selves the notice and vengeance of government. Several
persons accused of having been concerned in spreading se¬
dition, and engaged in treasonable practices, were arrested
and brought to trial. One of them, named Watt, was con¬
demned and beheaded, whilst others were transported.
Subsequently, during the war with France, the citizens
showed great zeal in support of the government, by form¬
ing themselves into regiments of volunteers, consisting of
yeomanry, artillery, and several corps of infantry. On the
last night of the year 1811, being the season devoted to
innocent festivity, the streets of Edinburgh were disgraced
by a series of riots, outrages, and robberies, hitherto un¬
paralleled. During almost the whole night, after eleven
o’clock, a gang, principally composed of young men, armed
with bludgeons and other weapons, infested some of the
principal streets of the metropolis, and knocked down, robbed,
and otherwise wantonly maltreated almost every person who
had the misfortune to fall in their wray. In the dreadful
tumult and scuffles which ensued, one officer of police was
killed and many persons dangerously wounded, some of
whom died in consequence, whilst a great number received
severe contusions. Several rioters were seized, and being
brought to trial, three were condemned and hanged, whilst
some others were transported. This fearful outbreaking of
juvenile delinquency led to the adoption of several benefi¬
cial plans for the better instruction of the lower classes, the
benefits of which still continue to be felt.
George IV. visited Scotland in 1822, and spent upwards
of a fortnight in the metropolis, inspecting its public insti¬
tutions, and receiving the congratulations of his Scottish
subjects.
In 1824 the city suffered from a series of conflagrations
of a most destructive and appalling description. The first
of these commenced on the 24th of June, when some of the
private dwellings in the Parliament Square, with a part of
the High Street, and several closes, were consumed. The
second and the most extensive began on the evening of the
15th November, and continued for three days, destroying
an immense number of houses, chiefly between the High
Street and Cowgate, also several fronting the High Street
at the Cross, another portion of the Parliament Square, and
likewise the spire of the Tron Church, which had acciden¬
tally caught fire from the flying brands.
In no part of the United Kingdom was the passing of the
Reform bill hailed with more heartfelt demonstrations of
joy than in Edinburgh. The first election of members of
parliament by the citizens took place at the cross on the 21st
of December 1832.
The only important event of interest in the subsequent
history of Edinburgh is the “ Disruption” of the Church of
Scotland, which formally took place at the General Assem¬
bly convened in St Andrew’s Church, George Street, May
18, 1843.
Edinburgh is surrounded on all sides excepting on the The city:
north, where the ground slopes gently towards the Firth of its posi-
Forth, by lofty hills. On the east, in the immediate vicinity tioa*
of the city, are the abrupt and rocky elevations of Arthur’s
Seat, Salisbury Crags, and the Calton Hill, the first of which
rises to the height of 822 feet above the level of the sea.
On the south are the Braid and Pentland Hills, and on the
west is the hill of Corstorphine. Salisbury Crags form a con-
3 D
394
E DIN B
Edinburgh, tinued range of naked and perpendicular cliffs, whicli rise
like a mural crown from the summit of the hill, and at a
distance have a singularly wild and romantic appearance,
the interest of which is heightened by the contrast of the
splendid city over which they tower majestically. The town
stands on high and uneven ground, being built on three
eminences, which run parallel to one another from east to
west. The most elevated of these, on which the city was
originally built, is terminated abruptly on the west by a
precipitous rock surmounted by the castle, whilst to the east
it gradually inclines to the plain from which rises the lofty
elevation of Arthur’s Seat. The valley to the north of this
ridge, which was formerly filled with water, has been of late
years drained, and is now laid out in public gardens.
Rise and ' Till the middle of the eighteenth century, Edinburgh con-
progress of tinued to occupy little more than the same space of ground
the city, which it had covered in the reigns of James III. and James
IV., namely, the ridge between the Castle on the west and
Holyrood House on the east, with the hollow called the
Cowgate on the south, and part of the rising ground be¬
yond. This was surrounded by a wall with several gates,
or ports as they were called, a considerable part of which is
still to be seen in the Vennel, leading from Lauriston
Place into the Grassmarket. In a great proportion of this
Old Town the buildings are crowded and irregular, and the
houses in some parts rise to the unusual height of eleven
stories. The principal, or High Street, which is somewhat
more than a mile in length, and is in some parts ninety feet
in breadth, occupies the centre of the ridge, and extends,
under different designations, nearly in a straight line from
the Castle on the western extremity to the Palace of Holy-
rood on the eastern. Both sides of the ridge occupied by
this street are covered with buildings crowded together in
the closest array, and descending from the High Street,
chiefly in narrow lanes, or closes as they are termed, which
are seldom broader than six feet, and which, consisting of
high houses on either side, are inhabited by numerous fami¬
lies, with little regard either to health or cleanliness. A
proposal in the reign of Charles II. to extend the town over
the lands to the north, beyond the hollow called the North
Loch, having been frustrated, nothing was done till 1751,
when an old building having fallen, by which one person
was killed, a strong feeling regarding the inconvenience and
decayed condition of the houses began to be expressed.
The first decided step towards extending the city was taken
by Provost Drummond, on the 21st of October 1763, when
he laid the foundation-stone of what is now styled the North
Bridge, in order to connect the town with the properties
on the north. This edifice consists of three great arches,
each 72 feet in width and 68 in height, with small side
arches, making the total length 310 feet. In 1767, whilst
this work was proceeding, an act for extending the royalty
was obtained; and a plan for the New Town being then
formed by Mr Craig, architect, the foundation of the first
house was laid on the 20th of October the same year. By
this plan the chief streets of the New Town of Edinburgh
were disposed in three parallel lines from east to west, inter¬
sected by cross streets at right angles from north to south.
Princes Street, on the south side, is formed like a terrace,
facing the Old Town; a similar street, facing the north, is
called Queen Street; while George Street is in the centre.
Charlotte Square, at the west end of George Street, cor¬
responds with another at its eastern extremity, designated
St Andrew Square. Coeval with the erection of these, a
spacious street was opened from the extremity of the North
Bridge and Princes Street, towards Leith Walk, or main
road to Leith, opening an excellent communication with
that seaport. The whole of the new edifices, according
to Mr Craig’s plan, were completed about the year 1815,
but the greater part much earlier.
Such was the success attending the building of the New
URGE.
Town, that in time a second extension of the same nature Edinburgh,
was projected, still farther towrards the north, beyond an open
area in front of Queen Street. The design of this second
town intimately resembled that of its predecessor, consisting
of a terrace in front and rear, a large central street, with
two intermediate narrow ones, and cross streets in con¬
tinuation of those in the former New Town. This vast
and splendid addition to Edinburgh was commenced in 1801,
and was nearly finished in the year 1826.
About the time when the second New Town approached
its completion, a series of superb edifices began to be erected
on its north-western confines, between Charlotte Square and
the Water of Leith, on the Earl of Moray’s property of
Drumsheugh. This magnificent part of Edinburgh was
erected during the years 1823, 1824, and 1825. This quar¬
ter of the town was greatly improved by the erection, in 1832,
of the Dean Bridge, consisting of four arches, stretching
across the deep dell or ravine at the bottom of which flows
the Water of Leith.
The extension of the New Town to the north and west
absorbed public attention till about the year 1813, when the
idea was started of opening an entrance from the east. The
foundation-stone of the Regent Bridge, to form a connec¬
tion with the Calton Hill, was laid in September 1815,
and the work was completed in 1819. The arch of this
structure is 50 feet wide, by about the same in height.
On the top of the ledges of the bridge are arches and orna¬
mental pillars of the Corinthian order, which on both sides
are connected with the houses in the line of street formed
at the same time. The street, or Waterloo Place as it has
been designated, is composed of very superb houses of four
stories, and each is terminated at Princes Street by a pedi¬
ment and columns above the lower story. From Waterloo
Place, the new road by which most of the vehicles and pas¬
sengers from the east enter the city, proceeds by a sweep
round the southern face of the Calton Hill. The entrance
by this thoroughfare is not less commanding and beautiful
than that by the west; and the houses in segments of circles,
forming the Royal and Regent Terraces, erected on the
slope of the hill, have a very striking effect.
Some years prior to the foundation of the New Town,
certain private proprietors began to build lines of houses, of
a good style of architecture, on the grounds to the south
of the Old Town ; and in this way George Square, Argyle
Square, and Brown Square were opened for the reception
of the higher class of citizens. The erection of these and
other edifices soon suggested the necessity of a proper com¬
munication between them and the High Street, on the plan
of the North Bridge ; and on the 1st of August 1785, the
foundation-stone of a bridge crossing the Cowgate, styled
the South Bridge, was laid, and the thoroughfare opened
for passengers in March 1788. The South Bridge consists
of twenty-two arches, all of which are concealed by the
buildings along its sides, with the exception of one at the
centre spanning the Cowgate. The formation of the Union
Canal, to serve as a water communication with Glasgow,
by joining the Forth and Clyde Canal, took place in virtue
of an act of parliament procured in 1817 by a joint-stock
company. Its eastern termination is about half a mile S.W.
from the Castle, near the present terminus of the Caledonian
railway. This locality was greatly improved by the forma¬
tion of the New West approach and Castle Terrace. The
greatest recent improvement in Edinburgh has been the
construction of the four railways that leave it on each side;
the Edinburgh and Glasgow on the west, the North British
on the east, the Caledonian on the south, and the Edinburgh,
Perth, and Dundee on the north. With the exception of
the Caledonian, the stations are concentrated at Waverley
Bridge, a most convenient locality, situated in the hollow
between Princes Street and the Old Town.
At the present day the city extends about two miles in
EDINBURGH.
Edinburgh, length and the same in breadth; but with Leith, and the
suburbs of Newington, Morningside, Inverleith Row, and
Trinity, about 2| miles by 3^ miles.
Public The Castle, as has already been stated, owes its origin
buildings as a regular place of defence to the Anglo-Saxon dynasty,
and insti- near ^]ie ent| 0f (.]ie century . j-jut fortifications ap-
tutions. pear to be of comparatively modern date. The rock, sur¬
mounted by battlements, lofty barracks, and other buildings,
rises to a height of 300 feet, and is precipitous on all sides
except the east, on which it is connected with the town by
an open glacis or esplanade. In a small apartment on the
ground floor of the palace erected by Queen Mary, that
princess was delivered of her son, James VI., on the 19th
of June 1566. In the same part of the edifice is situated
the crown room, where the regalia of Scotland were lodged
in 1707, and found in 1818, after being lost sight of for
upwards of one hundred years. These regalia consist of a
crown, sceptre, sword of state, and lord treasurer’s rod: the
former is supposed to be even more ancient than the time
of Robert Bruce, though it has undergone several changes
since that period ; the sword was a present from Pope Julius
II. to James IV. The arsenal or storehouse of the Castle
is capable of containing 30,000 stand of arms, and the whole
buildings about 2000 men. In March 1829 an addition was
made to the curiosities of the castle by the restoration of
an ancient piece of ordnance called Mons Meg, which had
been removed from the fortress and carried into England
in 1 754. This immense cannon, for it is of an unusual size,
was fabricated In the year 1498, and is curious from its struc¬
ture, being formed of bars bound together with rings. It was
employed at the siege of Norham Castle, but was rent in
1682, when firing a salute in honour of James Duke of York.
Holyrood.—The charter of foundation of the Abbey of
Holyrood has no date—the Abbey however was founded
about the year 1128. It was largely endowed by the
founder David I., and was considered as one of the wealthiest
ecclesiastical establishments in Scotland. In 1544 it was
sacked, and in part destroyed, by the Earl of Hertford when
he invaded Scotland; and again in 1547. The nave used
as a chapel was desecrated and dismantled by the mob in
1688; and in 1768 the roof fell in, and it was left in the
ruined condition in which it now stands. Within this chapel
were interred, amongst others, David II., James II., James
V., his queen Magdalen, and Darnley. The royal palace is
contiguous. It is not known at what time a palace was first
erected on this spot. The more ancient parts of that which
is now in existence were built by James V.; but it has since
undergone many changes, and little if any of the original
building remains. It was burnt by the soldiers of Crom¬
well, and was rebuilt after the Restoration by Charles II.
The architect on this occasion was Sir William Bruce, and
the builder who carried his designs into execution was Robert
Mylne. The edifice is of a quadrangular figure, with an open
court in the centre, surrounded with piazzas. Amongst the
curiosities exhibited in the Palace of Holyrood is the cham¬
ber of Queen Mary, in which may still be seen, though in a
decayed state, the bed of that unfortunate princess. I n a hall
or gallery 150 feet in length, 27| in breadth, and 18 in
height, containing 106 mythical portraits of Scottish mon-
archs, the election of representative peers for Scotland takes
place. The most remarkable circumstance connected with
Holyrood House is its privilege of affording a sanctuary to
debtors. The limit of this privileged territory is marked in
the direction of the town by a channel or gutter at the foot of
the Canongate, and at the distance of about 100 yards from
the palace. Altogether the sanctuary describes a circle of
about five miles, including Salisbury Crags and Arthur’s
Seat. The immunities of the sanctuary have existed since
the date of the monastery. Considerable improvements
were made on the exterior walls of the palace during 1832,
and some years previously. The locality has also been
395
greatly improved recently by the removal of many of the Edinburgh,
surrounding old houses, which, with the numerous additional
repairs and alterations in the palace that have been made
lately, render it an agreeable residence for her present
Majesty Queen Victoria.
Courts of Laic.—Edinburgh is now chiefly distinguished
as a capital by being the seat of the Scottish supreme courts
or College of Justice, which, as has already been mentioned,
was constituted in 1532 by James V. This body consists
of persons intimately connected with the various supreme
courts, and comprehends the judges or senators, the faculty
of advocates, writers to the signet, solicitors in the supreme
courts, advocates’ first clerks, clerks to the judges, extrac¬
tors, keepers of the different departments, &c. This influen¬
tial body at one time possessed some valuable privileges, the
chief of which now remaining is exemption from certain
local taxes.
The Parliament House.—The edifice, which has been ap¬
propriated since the Union as the place of meeting of the
supreme courts, is the old Parliament House of Scotland,
situated in the centre of the Old Town, and separated from
the High Street by the cathedral of St Giles. This struc¬
ture was erected between the years 1632 and 1640, at an
expense of L.l 1,600 sterling to the civic corporation. In
recent times, however, with the exception of the great hall,
it has been almost totally renewed. It stands on the southern
and western sides of the inclosure called the Parliament
Square, a place formerly surrounded with the shops of trades¬
men, but entirely remodelled since the destructive fires of
1824. These improvements, which extend over the front
of the old parliament house, or present court-house, have
been executed chiefly by government at a great expense.
The entrance to the courts is at the south-west angle of
the square : the great hall is 122 feet by 49, and has a lofty
roof of carved oak, arched and trussed in an admirable
style of carpentry. This hall is the waiting-room of the
advocates and other practitioners in the Supreme Courts;
and the floor during session is the daily resort of all persons
connected with them. The Lords Ordinary sit in small
court-rooms at the south end of the hall. On a pedestal
near the south end of the hall is a statue in white marble
by Chantrey of Henry Viscount Melville, who died in 1811 ;
and in recesses in the walls other statues have been placed,
including those of Duncan Forbes of Culloden, erected in
1752, five years after his death, of Robert Dundas of Ar-
niston, who died in 1819, and of Robert Blair of Avontoun,
who died in 1811 ; the last also by Chantrey. More re¬
cently additional niches have been prepared for the recep¬
tion of the statues of Lord Jeffrey and President Boyle.
Adjoining the Parliament House are certain spacious
apartments fitted up as libraries for the Faculty of Advo¬
cates, the Writers to the Signet, and the Solicitors of the
Supreme Courts. The Advocates’ Library was founded in
1682, at the instance of Sir George Mackenzie, then Dean
of Faculty. The collection is now the largest and most va¬
luable in Scotland, and is in every sense one of the noblest
national libraries. It is one of the five libraries entitled by
act of parliament to a copy of every work printed in Bri¬
tain ; and, with the sums annually disbursed in the purchase
of useful and rare books, it is rapidly increasing. The li¬
brary is under the charge of six curators, a librarian, and
assistants.
The Library of the Society of Writers to the Signet oc¬
cupies a modern erection of two stories, in the Roman style
of architecture, extending westward from the north-west
corner of the Parliament House, and having a front to the
Lawnmarket. This edifice contains two large and beauti¬
ful apartments, decorated in front of the book-presses with
rows of columns. These noble apartments have cost the
society L.25,000. The library, like that of the Advocates,
is under the charge of curators, a librarian, and assistants.
396
Edinburgh.
E D I N B
Ifcc/islcT House*—The Scottish Supreme Courts possess
accommodations for their records, and the functional ies con¬
nected therewith, in a building styled the General Register
House of Scotland, one of the most remarkable national
edifices in the metropolis. It stands at the eastern extre¬
mity of Princes Street, fronting the thoroughfare of the
North Bridge. The foundation was laid on the 17th of June
1776, and L.1200 were given by George III. out of the
money arising from the sale of the forfeited estates, to assist
in its erection. It was fully completed in 1822, at a very
great expense, which has been defrayed by an accumulation
of fees paid by persons searching the records, and for writs
in the chancery office. The building, which was planned by
Mr Robert Adam, forms a square, with a quadrangular
court in the centre, containing a circular edifice or dome
fifty feet in diameter, which joins the sides of the court, leav¬
ing' spaces at the angles for the admission of light Viewed
from the street, it presents a compact building of 200 feet
in length, by a breadth of 120. Each of the corners is sur¬
mounted by a small turret, and the central tower is crowned
with a dome. The interior consists principally of small fire¬
proof chambers, in which are deposited state papers, copies
or records of all the title-deeds of property, and of all legal
contracts, mortgages, &c.; also records of all suits at law
from an early period. In front of it is an equestrian statue
of the Duke of Wellington in bronze by Steele.
Royal Institution.—In looking along the noble line of
Princes Street, the eye is arrested by two structures upon
the Earthen Mound—the Royal Institution and the Na¬
tional Gallery—both of which were designed and executed
by Mr W. H. Playfair. The Royal Institution was origi¬
nally founded in 1823, but was enlarged, by an extension
towards the south, in the year 1832, which was completed
in 1836. It is of the Grecian Doric order, of the era of
Pericles, and is designed upon the theme of a peristylar
temple. The great projection of the north portico surrounded
and filled with columns, and the long ranges of pillars upon
each flank, preserve the columnar richness of the original;
while the necessary departure from the simple parallelo¬
gram, caused by the necessities of the plan, is compensated
by the introduction of small side porticos of classic design.
A statue of the Queen in stone by Mr John Steele, R.S.A.,
is placed on an attic immediately behind the northern
portico. The building, which fronts the opening of Han¬
over Street, is the property of the Board of Trustees for
Manufactures in Scotland; and besides furnishing official
apartments for the Board and galleries for the School of
Design under their charge, is appropriated by them for the
accommodation of the following institutions:—The Board
of British White-Herring Fishery; The Incorporation of
the Royal Institution for the Encouragement of the Fine
Arts in Scotland; and the Royal Society; to which will be
added the Society of Antiquaries as soon as the adjoining
building of the National Gallery is completed.
The interior accommodations consist below of a large
central gallery for exhibitions, the ends of which are formed
into octagons of some size. On both sides oi this gallery
is a range of smaller apartments, those on the east side be¬
ing reserved as offices for the Board of Trustees and for the
Board of Fishery, and those on the west being tenanted by the
Royal Society. Above is another spacious gallery in which
is a noble collection of casts from the best ancient works of
sculpture, with some of modern date. This gallery, along
with the adjoining apartments, is occupied by the School ol
Design. In one of the apartments is contained the admir¬
able set of busts of celebrated Greeks arrd^Romans, known
by the name of the Albacini Collection.. In the picture
gallery is deposited a small but valuable collection of works
by ancient and modern masters, among which are some very
fine specimens of Vandyck, and in the modern section some
masterly paintings by Etty. The collection since its first
U R G H.
formation has been enlarged by the addition of the pictures, Edinburgh,
bronzes, and marbles belonging to the late Sir James Ers-
kine of Torrie, who bequeathed them to the college at Edin¬
burgh, for the purpose of laying a foundation for a gallery for
the encouragement ol the fine arts ; and in the yeai 1845,
with the consent of the Senatus Academicus, an agreement
was entered into between the trustees of Sir James Ers-
kine’s will and the Board of Trustees for Manufactures, that
the collection should be placed in the Royal Institution for
public exhibition, where it passes under the name of ‘'The
Torrie Collection.” The whole of the collections are in¬
creased from time to time by gifts or purchases of works of
art, or by their temporary deposit in charge of the Board
for the purpose of exhibition. 1 he galleries are opened gra¬
tuitously to the public; the statue gallery for five days in
the week, and the picture gallery for two. On other days
the picture gallery is reserved for the use of artists and
students. . .
The Board of Trustees for Manufactures owes its origin
to the 15th article of the Treaty of Union between England
and Scotland, by which, amongst other provisions by way
of equivalent for the increase of the duties of excise and
customs then imposed on Scotland, it was agreed that out
of certain funds therein mentioned, L.2000 per annum
should be applied towards the encouraging and promoting
of the fisheries, and such manufactures and improvements
in Scotland, as might most conduce to the general good of
the United Kingdom ; which grant was afterwards made
payable out of the customs and excise in Scotland. The
Board itself, however, was not constituted until the year
1727, when letters patent were issued by King George II.
empowering it to administer this grant upon which accumu¬
lations had arisen in previous years so as to form a reseive
fund. By the original letters patent the Board was made to
consist of 21 trustees : these were afterwards increased to 28
by the act 48 Geo. III., cap. 110. I hey are chiefly gen¬
tlemen of distinction and property, judges of the supieme
courts, &c.; and at the present moment three membeis of
the Royal Scottish Academy have seats at the Board. Va¬
cancies are filled up by the crown; five members foim a
quorum; and meetings are held periodically throughout the
year. For many years the Board made specific appiopiia-
tions of the monies at its disposal, half being usually allotted
to the improvement of the fisheries until a separate Fishery
Board was established in 1809, the other half to premiums
and other measures for the encouragement of the linen and
hempen manufactures. Ultimately this system was aban¬
doned, and the funds have now for a long while been al¬
most entirely appropriated to the maintenance of a School
of Design, which is justly regarded as the most effective
method of permanently improving the arts and manufac¬
tures of the country.
This school had its commencement in 1 < 60, when a draw¬
ing academy on a small scale was formed, and placed under
the direction of M. Delacour, a French artist. He was suc¬
ceeded in 1768 by M. Pavilion, another trench artist. Kun-
ciman, an eminent Scottish artist, was appointed in 1 i < 2;
who, in 1786, was succeeded by David Allan, a Scottish
artist of great genius. Under his successor John Graham
were brought up Wilkie, Burnet, the late Sir W illiam Allan,
and the present President of the Royal Scottish Academy,
Sir John Watson Gordon. The sphere of the school has been
enlarged of late years, so as to be converted from a drawing
academy into a School of Design, embracing, besides the
study of the antique, the art of manufacturing design and
of architectural and general ornament. In this stage, it has
been successively superintended by Andrew W ilson, Sir \\ il¬
liam Allan, William Dyce, and Thomas Duncan, and is
now (1855) directed in architecture and ornament by Alex¬
ander Christie, A.R.S.A., and in the antique by Robert
Scott Lauder, R.S.A.
EDINB
Edinburgh. In the department of architecture and ornament this
school gives instruction in drawing, painting, and modelling,
and in architectural and ornamental design of every kind;
and in the department of the antique, in drawing, painting,
and modelling from the antique; and also from the living
model. There are upwards of 180 students attending the
school, who are divided into separate male and female classes.
Among these, besides the ordinary students, are several
schoolmasters and schoolmistresses and pupil teachers ; so
that the establishment has the character of a normal insti¬
tution for drawing and painting, as well as that of a school
for art. The Board of Scottish White and Herring Fish¬
eries has also apartments in this building. See Scotland,
and Fisheries.
The National Gallery, the foundation stone of which was
laid by Prince Albert in August 18d0, was finished exter¬
nally in 1854. It is of the Greek Ionic order, and has a cen¬
tral mass with large hexastyle porticos to the east and west.
At each side of this central portion, stretching to the north
and south, ranges of antse are terminated by smaller tetra-
style porticos which form the north and south fronts of
the building—two porticos separated by a recessed por¬
tico being upon each front. The absence of windows on the
flanks increases the classic aspect of the entire building. It
was erected at the joint expense of the Board of Trustees
for Manufactures and of the Government, under arrange¬
ments made with the Lords Commissioners of Her Majesty’s
Treasury, and confirmed by act of parliament. The Govern¬
ment have mad? a grant of L.25,000 towards the building,
and the Board of rl rustees have undertaken to furnish other
L.15,000. Its objects are the giving of suitable accommo¬
dation for the annual exhibitions of the Royal Scottish
Academy, for the extension of the School of Design, and
for the institution of a Scottish National Gallery of Painting
and Sculpture, and thus to promote the successful progress
of the fine arts in Scotland, and afford facilities to the public
for viewing exhibitions and collections of modern and ancient
art. The site was purchased in part from the city of Edin¬
burgh and in part from the Free Church. By the act 13th
and 14th Victoria, cap. 86, the whole of the property and
buildings have been vested by parliament in the Board of
Trustees, who are appointed to determine and regulate the
appropriation thereofj subject to the approbation of the
Lords Commissioners of the Treasury.
Royal Institution for the Encouragement of the Fine
Arts.—This Institution had its origin in the year 1819
as a private association formed for the encouragement of
the fine arts in Scotland, on the model of the British In¬
stitution of London. It was not an association of artists,
but of noblemen and gentlemen admirers of art, who were
desirous by their united pecuniary contributions and'per¬
sonal influence to diffuse a taste for art among their coun¬
trymen. The first aim of the institution was.,tp/furnish
exhibitions of the pictures of ancient masters, d^wn from
the private collections of members and their frietids, and
to which, at the same time, professional artists should
have private access for the purposes of study. Exhibitions
of this nature accordingly took place in the years 1819 and
1820. In 1821 it was suggested that an exhibition of the
works of living artists should for that year be substituted,
and the exhibitions of modern paintings were continued
during the years 1821, 1822, 1824, and 1825. The institu¬
tion had found great difficulty in procuring commodious
rooms for the purposes of exhibition; and when it was sub¬
sequently arranged that a building should be erected at
the expense of the Board of Trustees for Scottish Manufac¬
tures, and that other public societies should become their
tenants, the Royal Institution obtained under this arrange¬
ment the galleries which were first opened in the year 1826.
In March 1827 the institution was incorporated by royal
charter from the crown by the name and title of the Royal
U R G IL
397
Institution for the Encouragement of the Fine Arts in Scot- Edinburgh,
land. The charter contains the following provision in regard
to the application of the funds:—“ The ordinary direc¬
tors shall be entitled to apply the funds of the institution
for the purpose of acquiring such property and buildings as
may appear to them necessary and proper for the objects of
the institution, and in the purchase of the works of art and
books for the institution, and, generally, in such manner as
they may consider to be expedient for the encouragement
of the arts in Scotland.”
1 he management of the Royal Institution is vested in
governors and extraordinary and ordinary directors, a secre¬
tary, treasurer, and manager. The directors are likewise
trustees for the Spalding Fund for the purpose of providing
annuities for decayed and superannuated artists.
This fund was left by the late Peter Spalding, Esq., by
his will dated 12th June 1826, and the directors of the Royal
Institution were intrusted with its management as trustees.
The fund is a limited one, and from the annual proceeds,
which amount to about L.200 a-year, annuities are granted
to artists rendered incapable, by sickness or age, of main¬
taining themselves.
The Royal Scottish Academy of Painting, Sculpture, and
Architecture was instituted in 1826, and incorporated by
royal charter in 1838. It was formed, with some modifica¬
tions, on the plan of the Royal Academy in London, and its
success has been very remarkable, as, besides considerable
funds, it has accumulated a valuable collection of pictures,
which are made available to the public gratuitously. As
yet the academy has received no assistance from govern¬
ment, but its efforts have been favourably recognised, and
it is to be placed in Scotland in a position analogous to that
held by the Royal Academy in England. The Royal Scot¬
tish Academy is not merely the only successful fine-art body
in Scotland, but there is no other society in the whole king¬
dom, out of London, that possesses sufficient vigour within
itself to be able to place before the public an exhibition of
works, almost all of which are contributed by its own mem¬
bers or artists who have enrolled themselves as candidates
for membership.
The Royal Association for the Promotion of the Fine
Arts in Scotland.—The first of the societies now generally
known in this country under the name of “Art Unions,”
was founded in the year 1834, and was incorporated by
royal charter in 1847.
The association is composed of annual subscribers of one
guinea and upwards, and the funds are appropriated to the
purchase of modern works of art in painting, drawing, or
statuary, and to the execution or purchase of engravings,
bronzes, bas-reliefs, models, or other productions of art,
for distribution among the subscribers, by lots publicly
drawn at an annual general meeting which is held in July
for that purpose. A portion of the funds is also devoted
to the production of an engraving which is annually given
to each subscribe!*, and to the acquisition of modern works
of art, towards the formation of a National Gallery.
Eminent success has attended the association since its
commencement; and to its animating influence must mainly
be attributed the improved condition of art and artists in
Scotland.
The Royal Society of Edinburgh was incorporated by
royal charter in 1783, for the purpose of encouraging phi¬
losophical inquiry and discussing matters connected with
nature and art. Its meetings take place on the evenings
of the first and third Mondays of each month during winter
and spring; and-if has published twenty volumes of trans¬
actions. It is gqv€rned by a president, six vice-presidents,
and twelve councillors. It possesses apartments, an ex¬
tensive library, and a small museum, in the Royal Institu¬
tion buildings.
The Society of Antiquaries of Scotland originated in
H
398
Edinturgh.
Ecclesiasti¬
cal institu¬
tions and
buildings.
EDINBURGH.
1780, and was incorporated by letters under the great seal
in 1783. Their museum, or collection of antiquities, in the
apartments No. 24 George Street, is open to visitors two
days in the week on the most liberal terms ; and by some
arrangements recently made it will, upon the completion
of the National Gallery, be transferred to the Royal Institu¬
tion buildings as national property, but remaining under the
custody of the society. The meetings are usually held on
the second and fourth Mondays from December to May
inclusive ; and the proceedings are now printed annually
for the use of the members.
The Highland and Agricultural Society of Scotland
was the first institution of the kind in the United King¬
dom, and the parent of the very numerous bodies which
now devote special attention to the advancement of agricul¬
ture. The society’s chambers are in Albyn Place, where
also is the secretary’s official residence. The museum and
hall for public meetings are on George IV. Bridge; the
former being open to the public free every day, except
Monday, fro«n eleven o’clock to three. (For particulars
of this Society see Scotland.)
During the reign of episcopacy in Scotland, Edinburgh
was the seat of a bishop. It is now the place of meeting
of the General Assembly of the Church, and the seat of a
synod and presbytery. Ecclesiastically, the ancient and
extended royalty comprehend thirteen parochial divisions,
eight of which have one clergyman each, and five are double
or collegiate charges. That portion of the town which
is not within these divisions belongs to one or other of the
parishes of St Cuthbert’s, Canongate, and South Leith.
Originally the city consisted of only one parish, of which the
ancient church of St Giles was the place of worship.
The fifteen city churches are the charge of the civic cor¬
poration, who appoint the ministers. The clergy, eighteen
in number, are supported by an assessment, called annuity-
tax, levied within the ancient and extended royalty on all
houses and shops, with the exception of the dwelling-houses
of the members of the College of Justice. This tax is six
per cent, on the rental of the city, and has been levied for
more than two centuries. During the last 100 years the sum
so raised has exceeded L.400,000, which, it was urged in a
statement of the lord provost, magistrates, and council,
unanimously adopted 26th May 1851, should have been pro¬
vided out of the proper ecclesiastical funds of the nation.
This tax has long been a source of strife and heart-burning
among the citizens, and many attempts have been made to
get it abolished or equitably adjusted, but without effect.
The following statement (from tlie Report of Select Com¬
mittee ordered by House of Commons to be printed July
1851—No. 617) shows the free proceeds of the annuity-
tax and other revenues belonging to the ministers of Edin¬
burgh, after deducting all the expenses of survey and col¬
lection payable in the collector’s department; but without
deducting the salary paid to the factor for the ministers,
law expenses not recovered from parties prosecuted, and
general law and miscellaneous expenditure in the depart¬
ment of the factor and law agent, on an average of seven
years from Whitsunday 1844 to 1850:—
Average amount of assessment  L.11,168 7 5
Average amount of the annuity-tax collected, in¬
cluding arrears 
Average expenses of survey and collection 
Average net proceeds of the annuity-tax
net^proceeds of the Leith revt
and 30th March 1850, including supplementary grants and Edinburgh,
sums received from the Sustentation Fund, to have been as
follows :—1849, L.280, 18s.; 1850, L.289, 18s. od.
The following table, from the religious census of 1851,
gives the statistics of the several sects in Edinburgh and Leith:
revenue and
Average
Lady Tester’s fund 
Average total revenues belonging to the ministers
Average stipend to each minister, subject to the
deductions above mentioned 
8,811 6 2
580 15 4
8,230 10 10
2,008 6
10,238 17
568 16 6
Another statement from the same report, made up from
the published accounts of the Free Church of Scotland,
shows the average stipends of the 25 Free Church minis¬
ters of Edinburgh, for the years ended 31st March 1849,
Religions Denomination.
Established 
Free 
United Presbyterian 
Episcopal 
Roman Catholics 
Independent 
Relief Presbyterian 
Original Seceders 
Baptists 
Friends  
Unitarians 
Wesleyan s 
Primitive 
Glassites 
New Church 
Evangelical 
Isolated 
Catholic and Apostolic
Church 
Latter Day Saints 
Jews 
Population of
Parishes, . 193,929.
Burghs, 191,221.
. i Attend-
P1 aces of sitting3- ants Morn-
Worship. 6 ing>
Total.
26
29
20
10
4
6
1
1
7
1
1
4
1
1
1
123
19,994
20,830
20,465
3,796
1,500
5,610
540
900
3,096
430
750
1,865
250
260
150
1,070
300
67
8,674
15,315
12,792
3,052
2,454
2,376
317
250
1,654
47
110
682
150
50
750
185
28
81,873 48,886
Attend-
ants After¬
noon.
6,887
15,922
15,235
1,630
2,068
2,799
360
350
1,265
58
75
179
50
180
155
14
47,227
The evening attendance in the churches of Edinburgh
was 11,319. And with regard to Edinburgh it is stated
that the number of sittings is not returned for 17 places of
worship—3 Established Church, 2 United Presbyterian, 3
Free Church, 3 Episcopalian, 1 Baptist, 2 Roman Catholic,
and 3 isolated congregations; and returns are altogether
wanting for 16 other places of worship—8 belonging to the
Established Church, 2 Original Secession, 1 United Pres¬
byterian, 1 Free Church, 1 Episcopalian, 1 Roman Catholic,
1 Evangelical Union, and 1 isolated congregation.
St Giles.—This venerable fabric, which occupies a pro¬
minent situation in the centre of the Old Town, on the south
side of the High Street, is of unknown origin and date. It
has been presumed that a church existed on its site as early
as the year 854 ; but the first certain intelligence regarding
it occurs in 1359, when a charter was granted by David II.
bestowing some land on a chaplain who officiated at one of
its altars. The building, previously to certain alterations
which were made upon it, was cruciform, and of Gothic
architecture, but rather substantial than elegant. From the
centre of the whole there rises a square tower, the top of
which is encircled with open figured stone work, whilst from
each corner of the tower springs an arch, and the four
meeting together produce the appearance of an imperial
crown. These arches are highly ornamented with small
pinnacles, and from the apex rises an equally ornamented
short spire. This elegant object is prominent above the
whole of the town ; and being 161 feet in height, it may be
seen at a great distance. After the Reformation, the church
was divided by internal walls into separate places of worship.
By these and other subsequent alterations, the choir or east¬
ern division formed the High Church; the one occupying
the centre of the building was styled the Old Church ; an¬
other, entering from the south-west corner, the Tolbooth
Church; and one at the north-west corner was named the
New North Church. Between the years 1829—33 this ex¬
tensive edifice was remodelled by an entire casing of new
walls, and fitted for the accommodation of three churches,
on a plan by William Burn.
Trinity College Church, which was next in point of anti-
Si
EDINBURGH.
Edinburgh, quity to St Giles, was removed from the low ground east
from the North Bridge, by virtue of an act of parliament,
procured by the North British Kailway Company in 1846.
It was founded in 1462 by Mary of Gueldres, widow
of James II.; and in 1502 James IV. invested it with
some additional revenues. At the period of the Reforma¬
tion it shared the fate of the other ecclesiastical establish¬
ments of the kingdom. In 1567 the Regent Murray gave
it to the town-council to “ be ane hospital for the poor, to
be biggit and uphaldane be the gude toun,” and the council
soon afterwards founded within its precincts the Trinity
Hospital. When the building was taken down, the body
of its royal foundress was disinterred from beneath the aisle
on the north side of the church, and deposited in Holyrood
Abbey ; within its walls were likewise the remains of many
persons celebrated in Scottish history. As this church was
by far the finest specimen of ecclesiastical architecture in
Edinburgh, being a noble fragment of the second-pointed
style, arrangements were made when it was taken down for
restoring it on a new site; and it is hoped that this design
may be carried out, so as to continue a valuable architec¬
tural ornament to the city.
The Old Greyfriars Church was built in 1612, but it
was not constituted a parish church till 1722. Previously
to this, in May 1718, its spire was blown up by gunpowder,
which had been lodged in it by the town authorities for se¬
curity. It was destroyed by fire in 1845; but arrangements
are in contemplation tor its re-erection in uniformity with
the New Greyfriars Church, to which it is contiguous. The
New Greyfriars Church was built in 1721. Both of these
buildings, which were separated only by a wall, were erect¬
ed on what was formerly the garden ground of the monas¬
tery of Greyfriars, in the south part of the town, and which,
on the demolition of the friary in 1559, was conferred by
Queen Mary on the town, to be used as a public cemetery.
The Old Greyfriars Church was remarkable as being the
place where the National Covenant was begun to be signed
in 1638, and as including amongst its ministers Robertson,
the celebrated historian of Charles V.
The Assembly Hall, or Victoria Hall as it is sometimes
called, was erected in 1843, as a place of meeting for the
General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, and also to be
used as one of the city churches. The spire is 241 feet high,
and, from its elevated position, forms an elegant and con¬
spicuous object from almost every point of view. The de¬
sign is by Gillespie Graham; and the spire is one of the
best specimens of modern Gothic architecture in the
kingdom.
St Johris, situated at the west end of Princes Street, is
the most elegant Episcopal church. It was founded in
1816, and finished in two years at an expense of L.15,000.
It is of the florid Gothic style, from a design by Mr Burn,
measures 113 feet in length by 62 in breadth, and is termi¬
nated at the western extremity by a beautiful square ton er,
rising to a height of 120 feet. Another Episcopal chapel,
of tasteful Gothic architecture, is that of St Paul’s in York
Place. It was designed by Mr Elliot, founded in 1816,
and finished in 1818, at an expense of about L.12,000. It
measures 122 feet by 73, and from each corner there rises
a small circular turret. St Paul’s Chapel, Carrubber’s
Close, is the oldest Episcopal chapel in Edinburgh, having
been erected about the end of the seventeenth century.
— The University,—Edinburgh has long derived celebrity
stitutions ^rom *ts educational establishments, the chief of which is the
University. This institution was founded by James VI., by
charter dated 24th April 1582, and the first professor was
appointed in 1583. About the year 1660, by means of bene¬
factions from public bodies and from private individuals, the
establishment had attained a respectable rank among similar
institutions. As a school of medicine it first rose into repute
under Dr Alexander Monro, who became professor of ana¬
399
tomy in 1720; and in this branch of science it afterwards Edinburgh,
attained a distinguished pre-eminence, from possessing pro-
lessors remarkable for their abilities and success as teach¬
ers. In the other branches of knowledge, its reputation
was gradually exalted to the highest pitch by Maclaurin,
Black, Fergusson, Stewart, Robertson, and other eminent
men. The decay and insufficiency of the old buildings had
long been complained of; and at length, in 1789, the foun¬
dation was laid of a new and extensive structure, the plan
of which had been furnished by Mr Robert Adam. But this
plan, after it had been partly carried into execution, was
altered and modified; and the building has been finished
in conformity with a very skilful and tasteful design fur¬
nished by W. H. Playfair. This edifice forms a parallelo¬
gram, inclosing an open court which is occupied with the
class-rooms, the museum, and the library.
The number of professorships is thirty-two, and these are
divided into four faculties, viz., theology, law, medicine,
and arts. The latter includes all the chairs devoted to
literature and general science. The principal and professors
constitute the Senatus Academicus.
The magistrates and town-council are the patrons of the
university, and have the nomination to the greater number
of the chairs; the others are under the patronage of the
crown, except three, the patronage of which is shared by
the faculty of advocates, the writers to the signet, and the
town-council. The degrees it bestows are the same as in
the other Scottish colleges, namely, those of doctor of di¬
vinity, doctor of laws, doctor of medicine, and master of
arts. The winter session commences on the 1st of Novem¬
ber and closes at the end of April, and the summer session
begins on the first Monday of May and terminates at the
end of June. During the latter term the lectures given
are confined to botany, natural history, medical jurisprudence,
histology, and clinical lectures on medicine and surgery.
Those who wish to qualify for a degree in arts are required
to attend the classes of humanity, Greek, logic, mathe¬
matics, moral philosophy, natural philosophy, and rhetoric.
There are 34 foundations for bursaries, of the aggregate
value of L.1172 per annum, for the benefit of 80 students.
The number of students who matriculated in 1853-4 was
808, of whom 453 joined literary classes, 298 attended the
medical faculty, and 57 were students of law.
The College Museum is particularly rich in objects of
natural history, amongst which are specimens of from eight
to nine thousand birds, foreign and British. The mammi-
fera amount to about 950 specimens. The mineral and
geological collections are of immense extent; but can only
be partially exhibited for want of sufficient accommodation.
The Museum occupies two large rooms, each ninety feet by
thirty, besides minor apartments.
Her Majesty’s government having resolved to establish in
Edinburgh a National Industrial Museum, a first parliamen¬
tary grant was obtained for the purpose last session (1854),
and a suitable site has been obtained adjoining the west end
of the college.
The College Library consists of about 100,000 vo¬
lumes. It is supported from a fund formed by the contri¬
bution of one pound exigible from every student who ma¬
triculates, five pounds payable by every professor on his
admission, and a portion of the fees of graduates both in
medicine and arts. It was besides entitled, along with the
other libraries belonging to the Scottish universities, to a
copy of every work published in Great Britain, instead ol
which it now receives an annual grant of L.575. There is
also an excellent collection of books on theology and church
history connected with the class of divinity, and which is
supported by certain annual fees paid by the students at¬
tending the class. The principal apartment, called the
Library Hall, is 198 feet in length by 50 in width.
The Botanic Garden, which is connected with the chair
400
E D I N B
Edinburgh.
of botany in the university, may be traced as fai back as
about 1670. It was founded by Sir Andrew Balfour and
Sir Robert Sibbald, who enriched it in part with plants
from the garden of Patrick Murray, baron of Livingstone.
The garden was first confined to a small spot near Holy-
rood ; it was afterwards transferred to the vicinity of Trinity
Hospital, occupying the ground long known as the Physic
Gardens, and now covered by railway buildings. In 1767
it was transferred to Leith Walk, and in 1822 it wa,s re¬
moved to its present locality in Inverleith Row. It is the
only Royal Botanic Garden in Scotland, and is maintained
bv government. It contains a large collection of plants,
an extensive range of houses, including a palm house, and
a museum of economic botany, d he professor of botany
in the university lectures in the class-room at the garden
during the summer months.
The Royal Observatory, presided over by the Astro¬
nomer Royal for Scotland, who also holds the conjoint office
of professor of practical astronomy in the university, is si¬
tuated on the Calton Hill, in N. Lat. 55° 57 23'2 , and
W. Long. 0h 12m 43-05 of time, or 3° 10' 45" of space, of the
meridian of Greenwich. It is the property of government,
who contribute an annual grant of L.100 toward its main¬
tenance. Its principal objects are the provision of suitable
instruments for the pursuit of the study of practical astio-
nomy, and also to enable the Astronomer Royal to make
those observations and calculations which are regularly pub¬
lished for comparison with those of sister observatories in
this and foreign countries.
Besides his duties at the observatory, and the laborious
reduction of a vast mass of important astronomical observa¬
tions with the aid of a single assistant, the Astronomex
Royal annually delivers regular courses of lectures on prac¬
tical astronomy.
The Royal College of Surgeons.—The celebrity of Edin¬
burgh as a place of education has been in some measure de¬
rived from the schools of a number of extramural lecturei s
of eminence in their several departments of science, particu¬
larly in medicine. These lecturers are chiefly members of
the Royal College of Surgeons. This body, which was in¬
corporated by charter in 1505, confers the same privileges
on medical students as the University, that of doctor of me¬
dicine excepted. The College possesses a beautiful edifice
in Nicolson Street, from a design by Playfair. Towards the
street it is adorned with a lofty portico, which has a striking
effect; and the details, though elaborate, are exquisitely
finished, and in admirable harmony with the design. It
cost the Royal College L.19,060, and forms several splendid
halls for the accommodation of the members and the pa¬
thological museums. These museums, enriched by the col¬
lections of the late Dr Barclay and others, exhibit a valu¬
able repository of preparations and objects calculated to
advance the study of surgical science.
The Royal College of Physicians was established in 1681,
by a charter of Charles II.; and the number of its fellows,
resident and non-resident, is now about a hundred and sixty.
The meetings of the body take place in the Physicians’
Hall, a handsome edifice in Queen Street. It contains a
good library, and very valuable museum of materia medica.
The New or Free-Church College was instituted in 1843,
for the benefit of students qualifying themselves for the minis¬
try. The session commences on first Tuesday of November
and closes early in April. The classes consisi of divinity,
church history, Hebrew and Oriental langu^es,»exegetical
theology, apologetics, and pastoral theology, natural science,
logie,^nd metaphysics. There are six profejsors, one of whom
is principal. It forms one of the schemes of the Tree Church
of Scotland, and is supported by that body. I he building, part
of which forms the Free High Church, is plain but hand¬
some, and was designed by W. H. Playfair. It stands at the
head of the Mound.
U R G II.
The High School is one of the two chief seminaries in Edinburgh.
Edinburgh for classical education, and has long maintained
an eminent place amongst similar establishments. Its origin
may be traced to an early period in the sixteenth century; but
it has been greatly extended and improved in recent times.
The building now occupies a site on the south side of
the Calton Hill, facing the road that sweeps round that
eminence. The design was furnished by Thomas Ha¬
milton, and the foundation-stone was laid on the 28th of
July 1825. The main building extends about 270 feet in
front, and in the centre of the edifice is a magnificent hexa-
gtyle Doric portico. On each side of the portico there is a
corridor, the entablature of which is supported by six Doric
columns. The apartments, which aie enteied through a
spacious play-ground, consist of a large hall of 75 by 43
feet, and rooms for the accommodation of the various classes
taught in the establishment. 1 he cost of this extensive
building was about L.30,000, which was partly raised by
subscription. The patronage of the High School is vested
in the town-council of the city. The curriculum of study
extends over six years, and embraces tne Latin, Greek,
French, and German languages; history, geography, and the
elements of natural science; with writing, arithmetic, algebra
and geometry, drawing, fencing and gymnastics. Each class
in the classical department is taught by the same master fbi.
the first four years, after which it passes into the charge of
the rector. Connected with the school is a library of /000
volumes, comprising many of the most important works in
ancient and modern literature, to which the pupils have
access. The vacation is during the months of August and
September. The quarterly fees are: Rectoi s class, L.l,
5s.; four junior classes, L.l, Is.; writing and arithmetic,
7s. 6d. each; the other classes, 10s. 6d. each, attendance
on the last seven branches being optional. The system of
education is divided into two departments—Classical and
English, and Commercial; and the whole is conducted by
a rector and four classical masters, with teacheis fbi the
other branches. The usual number of pupils is fiom three
to four hundred.
The Edinburgh Academy is a similar institution with tire
High School, but its fees are higher. It was begun a few
years ago by a society with a capital of L.l2,900, which
may be augmented to L. 16,000, raised by proprietary shares
of L.50 each. The superintendence of the establishment
is vested in fifteen directors, chosen by the proprietors from
their own bodv. The system of education is nearly the
same as that pursued in the High School. There are here
also a rector, four classical masters, besides masters of mo¬
dern languages and literature, mathematics, elocution, writ¬
ing, fencing, and drawing. The complete course extends
over seven years.
Besides the High School and Academy, there are a
number of excellent private academies, many on very mo¬
derate scales of charges, and numerous free schools.
Free Schools.—The principal of these are the Heriot
Foundation Schools, erected from the surplus revenues of
Heriot’s Hospital, in accordance writh an act of parliament
obtained in 1836, for educating within the royalty of the
city free of expense poor children of burgesses and freemen
deceased, or who are unable to provide for their support, or
the children of poor citizens and inhabitants of Edinburgh re¬
siding within the royalty. There are twelve of these schools,
eight for juveniles and four for infants, attended by about
3000 children; and this number is supposed, according to
the census of 1851, to form about one-half of all the children
belonging to the poorer classes within the royalty of the city
of Edinburgh, from which alone the children are admissible.
In the juvenile schools there are Sabbath-morning classes.
Hr Bell’s Schools (tovo in number), under the patronage
of the lord provost and magistrates and council, are also
noted for the admirable way in which they are conducted.
EDINBURGH.
401
Edinburgh. In each of them upwards of 300 children, who pay small
fees, are instructed in English, grammar, etymology, geo¬
graphy, arithmetic, writing, the principles of the Christian
religion, See. There are attached to the schools eight ap¬
prentices, who receive fixed wages, and are indentured for
assisting in the business of the school, and being trained as
teachers.
Besides these, there are the Local Day Institution founded
by Dr Andrew Thomson, the Canongate Burgh School,
the Sessional School of Canongate, the Lancasterian School,
the Apprentice Schools, and various others.
There are two Normal Schools, one in connection with
the Established, and the other with the Free Church, and
two Ragged or Industrial Schools.
The following table is taken from a parliamentary paper
published in 1854, and, so far as it may be relied on, gives
a brief view of the state of education in the city. It is,
however, explained in that paper, that, in large towns espe¬
cially, some schools have been overlooked, which is clearly
the case in regard to Edinburgh, particularly as regards
private schools not denominational:—
Denomination-.
Established Church.
Free Church 
United Presbyterian
Scottish Episcopal...
Roman CathcFo 
No Denomination..
20
22
10
5
4
31
92 405
61
98
17
13
33
183
3,271
3,918
1,293
919
970
6,743
17,114
Number
Educated
gratui¬
tously.
841
176 |
159 |
177
500
3,299
5,152
£2,372 15 0
3,367 5 3
609 10 0
465 0 0
739 0 0
13,661 16 8
£21,215 6 11
HenoCs Hospital.—The founder, George Heriot, was born
in the parish of Gladsmuir, and in the year 1597 he was ap¬
pointed goldsmith and jeweller to Janies VI. He died in
London (whither he had removed on the accession of James
to the English throne) on the 12th of February 1624, leav¬
ing a fortune, it is supposed, of not less than L.50,000. Of
this sum L.23,625, 10s. 3^d. were, by his bequest, appro¬
priated to the founding and endowing of the hospital which
bears his name, for the maintenance and education of chil¬
dren, the sons of burgesses of the city “ who are not able to
maintain them.” The magistrates, town-council, and minis¬
ters of the town, were nominated the governors ; and cer¬
tain trustees were appointed to superintend the execution of
the will. The building of the hospital was begun in 1628,
and, after some interruptions, completed in 1650, at an ex¬
pense altogether of L.30,000. It was not however opened
for its legitimate purpose till 1659, when 30 boys only were
admitted. There are now 180 in the establishment, all of
whom are comfortably lodged, fed, and clothed; and all pains
are bestowed upon their education, which comprehends
Greek, Latin, English, writing, arithmetic, book-keeping,
mathematics, and geography. On leaving the hospital they
are furnished with a liberal supply of articles of dress of their
own choosing ; and such of them as are apprenticed to trades
receive an apprentice fee of L.50, besides an allowance of
clothing at the expiration of their indentures. Boys who
distinguish themselves by their literary attainments, and who
are qualified to enter the university with a view to the learned
professions, receive bursaries of L.30 per annum for four
years. Ten other bursaries of L.20 each, for the same
period, are bestowed upon young men unconnected with
the hospital who give proofs of superior talents. Boys are
not admitted under seven years of age, and generally leave
it at fourteen. As already mentioned under that head, the
Free Schools in connection with this hospital form now a
most important branch of its operations.
The hospital is situated in the southern part of the town,
and is one of the most remarkable buildings connected with
the city. It is three stories in height in the central parts,
* VOL. vin.
and four stories at the corners, with an interior quadrangle Edinburgh
or court. It has been traditionally said to have been de-
signed by Inigo Jones, and though no direct evidence can
be produced lor this, yet it seems highly probable. The
character of the architecture is supposed to be an improve¬
ment on the common turreted Scottish style of the day; and
the names of two Scotsmen have been brought forward,
V'illiam Wallace and William Aytoun, both at different
times called “ master masons ” of the work, to one or other
of whom the design has also been supposed to be due. In
1832—33 this beautiful structure received some external
repairs, and a lodge, which is a miniature of the hospital,
was erected at the principal entrance.
Donaldson's Hospital was founded by James Donald¬
son of Broughton Hall, a printer in Edinburgh, who died in
1830, and bequeathed by his will, dated 4th July 1828, the
greater part of his property, amounting to nearly L.200,000,
to certain trustees for the endowment and erection of an
hospital for the maintenance of poor boys and girls after the
plan of the Orphan Hospital and John Watson’s Institution.
Poor children of the name of Donaldson or Marshall have a
preference. The management is vested in trustees appointed
in conformity with the deed of constitution. The build¬
ing, commenced in 1842 and finished in 1850, is a struc¬
ture of large dimensions, exceeding those of any building
in the city excepting the university. The length of its
south or principal front is 270 feet, and its depth (exclu¬
sive of the chapel which projects 90 feet from the north
front) is 260 feet. The size of the quadrangle within is
175 x 163 feet, being greater than the external dimensions
of Heriot’s Hospital, which is 160 feet square. The style
of architecture employed in the design is that which arose
in Britain in the sixteenth century, when, upon mediaeval
architecture (which had been verging from ecclesiastical
into civic and domestic application) were engrafted many
features of modern Italian buildings ; resulting in combi¬
nations which assumed a marked and individual style,
eminently expressive of a high condition of social refine¬
ment and grandeur. On the centre of the south front a
tower 49 feet square, with lofty central oriel corbelled
above the entrance doorway, and with bold enriched cor¬
nices, embattled parapets, and perforated chimney-shafts,
rises to the height of 120 feet; at each angle of which are
attached octagonal towers pierced with mullioned windows,
enriched with multiplied panellings, armorial bearings, de¬
vices and ornaments, and finished with ogee leaded roofs
surmounted by richly carved stone lanterns and finials
The four corners of the building have each a tow er 43 fee)
square, and 92 feet high, with attached square towers ter¬
minated by lead roofs and finials, the main tower having
oriels, battlements, and chimney-shafts. These corner
towers are connected with each other and with the large
central tower of the south front by intermediate stretches of
building, having mullioned and labelled windows and but¬
tresses surmounted by little curved pediments with angels’
heads and terminal ornaments, the whole being crowned by
a corbelled cornice and parapet with shields and devices,
and terminal shafts above each buttress. The chapel, pro¬
jecting to the north, partakes of the same general charac¬
ter of detail which obtains throughout the main building,
but resumes somewhat of an ecclesiastical aspect by the
introduction of archedm ullioned, and transomed windows,
which, with a lintelled oriel to the north, serve to mark the
idea of a domestic or baronial chapel. The interior, roofed
with corbelled%eams and panelling and having the walls
lined all round wjth massive panelling and the windows
filled with richly stained glass, sustains and enhances
the effect of the exterior. The entire structure was de¬
signed and carried into execution by W. H. Playfair. It
stands on a piece of ground about a mile to the westward of
the city, on the line of the Edinburgh and Glasgow road.
3 E
402
EDINBURGH.
Table showing the number of Hospitals in Edinburgh.
Name of
Hospital.
Trinity.
Heriot's.
Merchant
Maiden.
Trades Maiden.
George
son’s.
Wat-
Cauvin’s.
Stewart’s.
Chalmers’.
Fettes’.
For maintenance and
education of
Orphan.
John Watson’s.
Gillespie’s.
Donaldson’s.
Age of admission.
Number
admitted
or main¬
tained.
Burgesses, their wives,
or children not married,
nor under 50 years of age
Sons of burgesses and
freemen of Edinburgh.
Daughters and grand¬
daughters of merchant
burgesses of city, or of
ministers of city and
suburbs, or of those
who have been gover¬
nors or benefactors to
the hospital.
36 daughters and grand¬
daughters of decayed
craftsmen in Edin¬
burgh, and the rest from
any part of Scotland.
Sonsand grandsonsof de¬
cayed merchants, bur¬
gesses,or guild-brothers
of Edinburgh, with a
preference to the Mer¬
chant Company.
Boys and girls from any
part of Scotland.
Destitute boys and girls.
Old men and women,
and
Poor boys.
Poor boys and girls, es¬
pecially of the names
of Donaldson and Mar¬
shall, from any part of
Scotland (of those al¬
ready admitted a third
are deaf and dumb).
Sons of poor teachers and
farmers, whom failing,
of printers, booksellers,
or agricult ural servants.
Poor sons of honest and
industrious parents.
Sick and hurt.
Young people whose pa¬
rents have fallen into
adverse circumstances.
Above 50.
7 to 10, leaving
at 14.
7 and under 11,
leaving at 17.
7 to 11, leav¬
ing at 17.
7 and under 10,
7 and not above
10.
5 and under 8,
leaving at 14.
Fees on leaving.
108
180
100
48
86
Governors or Directors.
Apprentice fee of L.50, ac¬
cording to circumstances,
and allowance of clothes,
or L.30 for 4 years for
those who receive a col¬
lege education.
L.9, 6s. 8d.
up-
55 and
wards.
6 to 12, and re¬
tained for 3
years.
6 to 9, leaving
at 14.
6 to 8, and re¬
tained for 6
years.
100
120
40'
200,
300
26
Apprentice fee L.10 for 5
years, and on attaining
25 years of age, if unmar¬
ried and able to show tes¬
timonials of good beha¬
viour, a premium of LAO.
Boys preferring a college
education receive L.20
per annum for 6 years.
Such sum of moneyor other
assistance during appren¬
ticeship or otherwise, as
governors think advis¬
able.
Building not yet erected.
Do. do.
Magistrates and Town-Council.
Magistrates, Town-Council,
City Ministers.
and
Fivemembers of the Town-Council,
master and 3 assistants of Mer¬
chant Company, 3 clergymen of
city or suburbs, Earl of Mar, and
9 persons elected by the Mer¬
chant Company.
Convener of Trades, and deacons
of 13 incorporations, 2 trades
councillors, 2 persons of name
of Erskine, president of Society
of Barbers, and 9 persons elected
by the other governors.
Master, 12 assistants of Merchant
Company, 5 of the Town-Council,
and minister of the Old Church.
Date of
Bequest.
Variable, and appointed by Trus¬
tees.
The Lord Clerk-Register and De-
pute-Keeper of the Signet, the
treasurer of the fund, and 12
commissioners of the Writers to
the Signet.
Master, treasurer, and 12 assistants
of Merchant Company, 5 of
Town-Council, and ministers of
Tolbooth and St Stephen.
The Lord Justice-General, Lord
Clerk-Register, Lord Advocate,
Lord Provost, Lord-lieutenant
of county, Principal of the Uni¬
versity, senior minister of Esta¬
blished Church, Edinburgh, 2
ministers of St Cuthbert’s Parish,
preses of College of Physicians,
treasurer and secretary of the
Bank of Scotland, and 14 other
gentlemen, 3 of whom go out an¬
nually by rotation, their succes¬
sors being appointed by the re¬
maining managers.
The Lord Provost, the Principal of
the University and Professor of
Humanity, Rector of HighSchool,
ministers of Duddingston, Lib-
berton, and Newton, and others.
Trustees.
Dean and Faculty of Advocates.
Trustees.
1567
1623
1695
1704
1723
1727
1759
1796
1828
1825
1814
1836
1836
EDINB
Edinturgh. Although not itself an extensive trading or commercial
town, Edinburgh may be said to have contributed in an im-
Commer- portant degree to the vast progress which trade and com-
cial institu- merce have made in Scotland, no less than in the other
tions. parts of the empire. By means of its banking institutions,
capital has been diffused over every district of the country ;
and thus a beneficial influence has been exerted upon all
branches of industry, commercial and agricultural.
Banks.—There are ten banks and branches of banks in
Edinburgh, all joint-stock companies. Five are properly
Edinburgh institutions, originating and having their princi¬
pal establishments there. These possess an aggregate ca¬
pital of L.5,600,000 sterling. Of the other five, two may
be considered as partly Edinburgh and partly Glasgow esta¬
blishments, having head offices and directors in both cities.
These have each a capital of one million. The remaining
three are branches of Glasgow banks.
The oldest bank in Edinburgh is the Bank of Scotland,
which was established in 1695 by an act of the Scottish
Parliament. The capital of the company was originally
L.1,200,000 Scots (L.100,000 sterling), raised by shares of
L.1000 Scots (L.83, 6s. 8d. sterling). This capital is now
increased to one million sterling, and the shares have been
converted into stock. The establishment is situated in
Bank Street, near the head of the Earthen Mound.
The Royal Bank of Scotland was instituted in 1727 by
royal charter. Its capital stock was originally L. 111,000
sterling. This was raised in 1738 to L.151,000, and by
various subsequent additions to two millions. The Royal
Bank is in St Andrew Square.
The British Linen Company was erected into a bank in
1746, with a capital of L.100,000, which has now been raised
to one million. This bank is also incorporated by royal
charter. Its premises, lately rebuilt, are handsome and
commodious ; they are also in St Andrew Square.
The Commercial Bank of Scotland was established in
1810, and has a capital of L.600,000. It is incorporated,
but its charter reserves the liability of its partners. It oc¬
cupies a splendid new edifice in George Street, on the
former site of the Physicians’ Hall.
The National Bank of Scotland was instituted in 1825 ;
capital one million. This bank is also incorporated, its
charter containing a similar provision with that of the Com¬
mercial Bank. The bank is in St Andrew Square.
The other banks in Edinburgh are the Union Bank of
Scotland, Parliament Square, an establishment which was
originally the private banking-house of Sir William Forbes
and Co., and joined the Union Bank in 1843 ; the Edin¬
burgh and Glasgow Bank, George Street, established 1838;
Branch of the Western Bank of Scotland (1832), St Andrew
Square ; Branch of the Clydesdale Bank (1838), Royal Ex¬
change ; and Branch of the City of Glasgow Bank (1839),
Hanover Street.
There is also a National Security Savings Bank in Edin¬
burgh, instituted in 1836. It occupies premises in North
Bank Street.
The Merchants of Edinburgh form a body, called the
Merchant Company, incorporated by a charter of Charles
II. in 1681. This company is entrusted with the manage¬
ment of several charitable institutions, and is active in super¬
intending measures connected with the commercial interests
of the city. Its business is conducted by a master, trea¬
surer, and twelve assistants, and their hall of meeting is a
spacious apartment in Hunter Square.
Literature.—Edinburgh is distinguished as a mart of
literature, and its inhabitants enjoy a reputation for culti¬
vated tastes and habits. This character, however, is not of
much older date than the latter part of the eighteenth cen¬
tury. Thirty years after Caxton had set up his press at
Westminster, Walter Chapman and Andro Myllar, by a
royal privilege of James IV., granted in 1507, established
U R G H. 403
here the first printing-press in Scotland. From this only Edinburgh,
two publications are known to have issued;—one (in 1508),
a collection of pamphlets, chiefly metrical romances and
ballads, of which an imperfect copy is preserved in the
Advocates’ Library; and the other (in 1509 and 1510),
the Scottish Service Book, including the Legends of the
Scottish Saints, commonly called the Breviary of Aber¬
deen, in two volumes 8vo, printed in red and black letter,
a copy of which is preserved in the University Library.
The next work was published about the year 1506, and
consisted of a black-letter folio volume, entitled “ The His¬
tory and Croniklis of Scotland, compilit and newly correckit
be the Reuerend and Noble Clerke, Maister Hector Boece.
Translatit laitly be Maister Johne Bellenden. Imprentit in
Edinburgh be Thomas Davidson, dwelling foment the Frere
Wynd.” The whole works of Sir David Lindsay were also
printed by Davidson in 1540. Davidson was succeeded by
Lekprevik, Vautrollier, Hart, Young, and others; but the
press of Edinburgh did not become distinguished until the
appearance of Thomas Ruddiman, the well-known philolo¬
gist, born in 1674, and Allan Ramsay the poet, born in 1686.
The numerous classical works which issued from the press
under the editorship or authorship of Ruddiman were then
models of typographical accuracy and beauty, while the
general excellence of his Rudiments of the Latin tongue,
which appeared in 1714 and is well known to every school¬
boy in Scotland, is still acknowledged. The long practice
he had acquired in superintending the press during the
publication of his own works, induced him, in 1715, to esta¬
blish a printing-press on his own account; and while pro¬
prietor of the Caledonian Mercury newspaper, he received
the honourable appointment of librarian to the Faculty of
Advocates.
Contemporaneously with Ruddiman, Allan Ramsay, the
poet and bookseller, was engaged in the publication of se¬
veral works of his own, among which the Gentle Shepherd,
a pastoral comedy in the Scottish dialect, which appeared
in 1735, then acquired and still retains great popularity.
Previously to this, in 1721, Ruddiman had printed, in a
handsome quarto volume, a collected edition of his minor
poems and ballads, which Ramsay published in the suc¬
ceeding year at the sign of the Mercury, opposite the head
of Niddry’s Wynd, and by which he is said to have realized
four hundred guineas.
It was thus in the beginning of the eighteenth century
that these two men first imparted to Edinburgh that literary
character which it still enjoys, and which was the precursor
of the era of a new system of publishing commencing with
the establishment of the Edinburgh Review in the year 1802,
and the publication of such large works as the early editions of
the Encyclopaedia Britannica. The person to whom Edin¬
burgh is most indebted for an increase of its literary repu¬
tation is Sir Walter Scott, whose poetical productions ap¬
peared at intervals from 1802 till 1812, and whose novels
and tales began to be published in 1814. The principal liter¬
ary men whose names have generally been associated with
Edinburgh, are David Hume (died 1776); Henry Home,
Lord Kaimes (1782); Robert Henry (1790); David Dal-
rymple, Lord Hailes (1792) ; W. Robertson (1793) ; Hugh
Blair (1800); John Home (1808) ; Adam Ferguson (1816);
Malcolm Laing (1819); John Playfair (1819); Thomas
Brown (1820); Dugald Stewart (1828); H. Mackenzie
(1831); Sir John Leslie (1832); Sir James Mackintosh
(1832) ; T. M‘Crie (1835) ; Sir Charles Bell (1842); John
Abercrombie (1844); Thomas Chalmers (1847); P. F.
Tytler (1849) ; Francis Jeffrey (1850) ; D. M. Moir (1851);
and John Wilson (1854).
The principal newspapers published in Edinburgh are
the Scotsman, the Witness, Caledonian Mercury, Edin¬
burgh Evening Courant, Edinburgh Advertiser, Scottish
Press, and Evening Post, some of which are published
404
EDINBURGH.
Edinburgh, twice, and some thrice a-week. There are two weekly
v—•' papers, the Guardian and the News; also a paper solely
devoted to advertisements, and distributed gratis, on Satur¬
day, called the North British Advertiser.
Civic insti. The Corporation.—The ancient civic establishment of
tutions. Edinburgh was remodelled in 1833 by the act of parliament
for reforming the royal burghs of Scotland. The manage¬
ment of the general municipal affairs within the royalty is
vested in a town-council, consisting of thirty-one members
chosen by the parliamentary electors of the five different
wards, andrenewed by one-third annually. To these are added
one of the deacons of the ancient incorporated trades, elected
annually as their convener by his brother deacons and trades’
councillors, and the Dean of Guild elected by the guild
brethren of the city. The council, thus composed of thirty-
three members, elects out of their own number a chief ma¬
gistrate, with the title of Lord Provost, and four bailies,
who together form the magistracy of the city. Besides the
ordinary powers of magistrates of royal burghs, the magis¬
trates of Edinburgh are also, by virtue of ancient charters,
sheriffs, coroners, and justices of peace, within the city and
liberties, and possess and exercise all the powers, privileges,
and jurisdictions competent to such officers. The city and
liberties form a county of itself, and the Lord Provost is
vested with the office of Lord Lieutenant. The magistrates
are likewise admirals of Leith and the road thereof, but de¬
legate their powers of holding admiralty courts to the ma¬
gistrates of the burgh of Leith. The revenue of the Cor¬
poration of Edinburgh proper for the period from 2d August
1853 to 1st August 1854 was L.24,000, 14s. By the par¬
liamentary reform act of 1832, Edinburgh and the adjoining
districts and suburbs were formed into a parliamentary dis¬
trict, 9^ miles in circumference, which returns two mem¬
bers to~parliament. The number of parliamentary electors
on the roll in November 1854 was 7713, and the number
within the municipal district 4229.
The Dean of Guild Court consists of the Dean of Guild
(an office resembling that of the Roman Edile), and five guild
councillors, with the dean of the previous year. The powers
of this court were formerly far more extensive than they
are at present, having relation to causes between merchant
and mariner, as well as to those between merchant and mer¬
chant. The institution, however, of the Admiralty Court,
by the act 1681, cap. 16, superseded its interference with
maritime affairs. The Dean of Guild is chosen yearly, and
with his council has power to regulate the buildings within
the burgh, agreeably to law. He alone is competent to grant
authority, by his warrants, or jedges as they are called, for
pulling down or erecting houses within the burgh and liber¬
ties. The provost and bailies have no power to review the
decrees of the Dean of Guild, redress being only competent
in the Court of Session ; as is the case also with the deci¬
sions of the bailie court. The public business connected
with the civic establishment or corporation is conducted in
the Royal Exchange Buildings. The public business of the
county, and the sittings of the sheriff and justices, take
place in the County Hall, adjacent to the Parliament
House, and erected in 1819, at an expense of L.15,000.
The superiority of the Canongate jurisdiction, which for¬
merly belonged to the abbot of Holyrood, was purchased
by the town of Edinburgh from the Earl of Roxburghe, into
whose hands it had fallen, in the year 1636. Since that
period the burgh of Canongate has been governed by baron
bailies appointed by the town-council from their own body,
and by two resident bailies, also appointed by the same
authority on the recommendation of the parliamentary elec¬
tors. In a similar manner bailies are appointed to the sub¬
ordinate districts of Easter and Wester Portsburgh.
Police.—Till the year 1805 the city was protected only by
a feeble body of old men in the garb of soldiers, entitled the
City Guard, which constituted the remains of a civic defen¬
sive force originally raised in 1514, after the battle of Plod- Edinburgh,
den. In 1805 a regular police establishment was formed,
and the city guard was finally dissolved in 1817. The police
establishment was remodelled by specific acts of parliament
in 1812, 1822, and 1832, and latterly in 1848 and 1854. The
establishment consists of 32 general commissioners elected
by the inhabitants of the same number of wards, qualified
to vote by paying an annual rent of L.10. The body
of general commissioners is increased by eight ex officio
members, the lord provost, four bailies, the sheriff ot the
county, and his substitutes. Under this body there is an
executive police, with a superintendent; and a criminal
court is held daily on the plan of that at Bow Street in
London. In it a town bailie officiates as magistrate or
judge in all cases which occur within the ancient and ex¬
tended royalty ; whilst cases originating in that portion of
the city included between the exterior limits of the royalty
and the general police boundary fall under the cognizance
of the sheriff. Edinburgh is now in all its parts well watched,
lighted, and cleaned; and the expenditure for these pur¬
poses amounted in the year ending at Whitsunday 1854, to
L.38,746, Is. 5d. An assessment on the inhabitants, of
about Is. 2d. per pound on the rental, the produce of street
manure, and the surplus of general fines, supply the revenue
of the establishment. The head police-office is a large
building in the High Street, with one ot its sides to Par¬
liament Square ; and the number of the police force is 327.
Edinburgh Police Statistics for 1853.
Persons apprehended by the City Police and remitted to a higher
Court consisting of the Sheriff and Bailies—285 males, 194 females,
and 59 juveniles.
Persons tried in the Police Court for thefts, &c., 707 males, and
487 females. Of these there were under 14 years of age, 294
males and 83 females.
Males.
Results of these trials:—
Imprisoned (for periods under 60 days) 210
Whipped (males under 14 years of age) 140
Ordered to find caution  66
Dismissed with an admonition  131
Fined  5
Females.
187
40
98
Total number convicted  552
„ „ not proven    25
„ „ in which diet was de¬
serted  130
325
22
140
Persons tried in the Police Court for
assaults, Jkc., 5401 males and 5443 females.
Results of these trials :—
Imprisoned  345
Whipped  43
Fined  2504
Ordered to find caution  528
Dismissed with an admonition  1579
Total number convicted*   4999
„ „ not proven  98
and contraventions,
diet deserted 
remitted as insane.
296
8
697
1796
577
2099
5169
87
184
3
* Of these there were for contravening cleaning regulations, 2159.
Prisons.—After the removal of the Old 1 olbooth in the
High Street, an extensive building situated on the Calton
Hill, fronting the road which sweeps round that eminence,
was provided for the city and county prison. T he centre divi¬
sion of the range, called the prison of Edinburgh since the
passing of the prison act for Scotland in 1839, was formerly
the city bridewell, so called from having been built on the
same principle as the St Brideswell prison in London. It
was constructed in 1791, in the Panopticon form, after a
plan by Robert Adam.
The west wing of the prison was erected in 1817, after
a plan by Archibald Elliot—it was this part of the pri¬
son which was erected in lieu of the Old I olbooth; and
EDINBURGH.
405
Edinburgh, tbe east wing was erected in 1847, after a plan by Ro-
^ bert Brown. The buildings are in the castellated style of
architecture, and have a fine appearance from whatever point
they are viewed. The prison contains about 430 cells and
rooms, and affords accommodation for both civil and cri¬
minal prisoners. The expenses of the establishment are
defrayed chiefly by assessments, and partly by the labour of
the inmates. A small lock-up-house adjoins the County
Hall, and is used for prisoners under examination and be¬
fore committal for trial. Since the passing of the present
police act, prisoners remanded for further examination, and
prisoners under sentence of three days’ imprisonment from
the police court, may be kept in the cells of the new police
office in the High Street. The Canongate jail, an old-fa¬
shioned plain edifice of the time of James VI., and used
for debtors, was discontinued as a prison after the erection
of the east wing of the prison of Edinburgh in 1847.
The Poor.—-Edinburgh, as regards poor-rates, is divided
into three districts, the City parish (or ancient and extended
royalty), the parish of St Cuthbert’s, and the Canongate, each
of which has a house for the reception of paupers, with dis¬
tinct funds and a separate board of management. A portion of
the eastern part of the city is in South Leith parish, for which
there is no workhouse. The principal resource for the sup¬
port of the poor is an assessment. The amount of money
collected for this purpose in 1833 was L.13,479, 19s. 4d.,
whereas in 1814 it was only L.6943, 19s. lOd.
1 he following table shows the amount of accommodation
available in the pnor-houses of Edinburgh, and the number
of inmates in each house on 1st of July, in each of the years
1850 to 1853, with the population of the parish, according
to the census of 1851:—
Pop. 1851,
C anongate of ]
Edinburgh j
Edinburgh j
City Parish !
St Cuthbert’s '
Parish 
Totals.
10,801
66,608
82,479
159,888
Accommodation.
Number of Inmates
1st July
1850.
163
691
686
1540
1851.
163
895
691
1852.
160
909
661
1850.
107
627
554
1851. I 1852.
121
627
551
117
549
599
1749,1730 128811299 1265
1853.
100
615
619
oia |
1334
In the city parishes of Edinburgh and St Cuthbert’s, the
orphans and deserted children that become chargeable, in-
stead of being collected in the poor-house, are dispersed in
the surrounding rural districts, where they are boarded in
houses of the working-classes, and regularly visited by an
assistant inspector appointed to that duty.
The income from the assessment (for 1853) was as fol¬
lows :—
*City parish   L.21,056 13 8
St Cuthbert’s do  18,059 6
Canongate do  2,’946 4 3f
L.42,062 4 llj
The average amount of cost of house inmates in the city
parish poor-house for the last year was L.8, 10s., and for
children at nurse L.7, 12s.
The number of permanent and outdoor poor and children
at nurse, in 1853 was as follows :—
City parish, permanent  2000
Do. children at nurse   325
St Cuthbert’s   1776
Do. children at nurse  493
Canongate 
4599
Besides these public institutions for the relief of the poor,
there are numerous other charitable associations of a public
and private nature.
Markets.—There are three market-days, Tuesday, Thurs¬
day, and Saturday, each week, for the sale of butcher-meat Edinburgh,
and vegetables ; but on Wednesday only are held the mar-
kets for the sale of horses, cattle, sheep, corn, and other agri¬
cultural produce. The spacious street called the Grass-
market used to be the place where these Wednesday mar¬
kets were held ; but being found to be too small and incon¬
venient, a place for the cattle and sheep market was pro¬
cured in the neighbourhood, and fitted up for the purpose
in 1844, at the cost of L.8000. In 1849 a spacious corn-
market was erected on the south side of the Grassmarket
at the cost of L.17,500. It is a handsome building, with a
front of three stories, in the Italian style, and a campanile
or belfry at the west end. The covered market-place be¬
hind is 156 feet 6 in. in length by 97 feet in width, and is
lighted from the roof. The butcher meat, fish, and veget¬
able markets are situate in the centre of the city, and con¬
sist of a series of descending open areas, connected by
flights of steps from the back of the High Street to Market
Street, below the North Bridge. They are well supplied
with provisions ; but a great part of the business formerly
transacted in them is now carried on in private shops
throughout the city. A public market for the sale of the
same kind of provisions was erected about thirty years ago in
Nicolson Street, a second in Old Broughton, and a third,
on a large and expensive scale, costing upwards of L.20,000,
at Stockbridge ; but these speculations of private companies
have proved almost complete failures. In 1852 an exten¬
sive range of slaughter-houses was erected by the town-
council on an area of four acres purchased by them at
Lochrin, in the south-west quarter of the city, at the cost
of L.22,163 ; but they have been found already too small
for the trade, and will require a speedy enlargement. These
slaughter-houses and the corn market were erected from
designs by David Cousin, architect, the city’s superinten¬
dent of public works.
Edinburgh has the privilege of holding two yearly fairs,
called the Trinity and the Hallow fairs ; the former on the
Monday after Trinity Sunday, and the latter in the first
week of November, following the feast of All-Hallows, or
All-Saints. The former, however, has long since fallen into
disuse ; but the latter is still held, and is a well-frequented
market for the sale of cattle, horses, and sheep. It is held in
such fields as can be hiredfor the purpose in the vicinity of the
city. There is also a great market for sheep and lambs held
on the first and second Mondays of April yearly, at the
House of Muir, about 7 miles south of the city, the privi¬
lege of holding which was acquired by the magistrates and
council from the Lord Abernethy of Saltoun in 1612.
Supply of Water.—Edinburgh seems to have been an¬
ciently supplied with water chiefly from wells within the
burgh ; but about the year 1680 a supply was brought in by
a leaden pipe from the Tod’s Well, on the estate of Comi-
ston, a distance of four miles. An addition was subsequently
procured from Bonaly ; but the supply proving quite inade¬
quate for the wants of the inhabitants, the town-council,
being unable to raise money for the purpose themselves,
surrendered their rights for L.30,000 to a water company,
which was incorporated by act of parliament in 1819. This
company expected to derive a sufficient supply of water from
the Crawley spring, a feeder of the North Esk in Glencorse
parish, and expended nearly L.200,000 in their works for
bringing it into town. In the course of years this supply
likewise proved utterly inadequate, and the company were
forced at last, by public clamour, and the threatened rivalry
of new companies, to take measures for increasing the sup¬
ply. This they have effected by collecting the rain water
that falls on the Pentland Hills into great ponds or reser¬
voirs formed in the valleys of the Logan water, and the
Bavelaw Burn ; and their capital has been fixed by act of
parliament (in 1853) at L.322,000. Still the supply is not
overabundant, being only about 25 gallons a-day to each per-
406 E D I N B
Edinburgh, son in the district supplied, which, besides the city of Edin-
burgh, includes likewise the towns and villages of Leith,
Portobello, Newhaven, and Granton. The company are
empowered to levy certain rates upon the rental of the city ;
but the maximum of their dividends is fixed at 6^ per cent,
per annum.
Gas-light.—Edinburgh is lighted with gas supplied by
two companies, namely, the Edinburgh Gas-light Com¬
pany, whose works are situated in the Canongate, and the
Edinburgh and Leith Gas-light Company, whose works are
situated in Leith.
Places of The Theatre Royal was built in 1768, shortly after the
amuse- commencement of the New Town, and acquired great re-
ment, and putation under the successive managements of Henry Sid-
pleasure- anc} bis brother-in-law W. H. Murray. Previously
grounds. to perjot} t]ie theatrical performances of the city were
exhibited in the Canongate, where a play-house was erected
in 1746, in opposition to a rival establishment in the Cow-
gate. The present house accommodates about 1500 people,
and although externally of plain appearance, in internal ar¬
rangements it is neat and comfortable ; and the company of
actors has generally been considered as one of the best out
of London. Recently during the winter months it has been
used with much success for the representation of operas.
It is situated at the east end of Princes Street. 1 here is
also a Minor or Summer Theatre, called the Adelphi, at the
head of Leith Walk.
The Assembly Rooms, George Street, where public as¬
semblies, balls, and concerts, are held, are plain and un¬
pretending in their external appearance, and were erected
in 1787. The Music Hall, a recent addition to the original
edifice, forms the largest of the apartments : it is seated for
1486, exclusive of the orchestra, which measures 108 feet
long by 91 broad and accommodates 200 people. It con¬
tains a large organ, and is well adapted for concerts and
public meetings. The ball-room is 92 feet long, 42 feet
wide, and 40 feet high.
Princes Street Gardens.—Perhaps the most beautiful
feature of Edinburgh in its modern state consists in the
highly ornamental pleasure-grounds which occupy the open
spaces between the Old and New Towns, as well as between
the parallel ranges of Queen Street and Heriot Row. I he
low grounds to the east and west of the Earthen Mound con¬
tinued for about fifty years after the commencement of the
New Town in a very marshy and unprofitable condition.
At length, in 1821, under the authority of an act of parlia¬
ment, the ground on the west was drained, inclosed, laid
out, planted, and highly beautified with walks, and has since
been opened to the proprietors or tenants of property in
Princes Street, or others, on payment of an annual fee. In
1832-33 the ground on the east was similarly inclosed ; but
having been recently purchased by the town, it has, under
the superintendence of the city architect, been greatly im¬
proved and ornamented, and is now open to the public.
Since the year 1820 the greater part of the ground north
of Queen Street was inclosed and laid out in gardens or
promenades in the same tasteful and pleasing style.
The Colton Hill (350 feet above the level of the sea)
is the higher portion of one of those heights upon which part
of the town is built, and forms one of the principal public
parks or promenades. From its position, and the number
of monuments with which it is covered, it confers great pic¬
turesque beauty on the town, and has been compared to the
Acropolis of Athens. The principal access to it is from Wa¬
terloo Place, nearly opposite the prison, and convenient and
well-made roads for pedestrians are carried over and around
the hill in various directions, affording panoramic views of
the town and surrounding country.
On the north are the lines of streets of the New Town,
constructed of white sandstone, gradually extending with
a moderate descent towards the flat ornamental grounds
URGH.
adjacent to the sea. Westwards we have the vista of Princes Edinburcrh.
Street, nearly a mile in length; and on the opposite side of
the Princes Street pleasure-grounds the huge unbroken
line of tall structures forming the Old Town, terminated by
the towers of the Castle. Towards the south the town is
seen to spread out in lines of streets and detached houses,
till arrested by the Braid and Pentland Hills, or on the east
by Arthur’s Seat and Salisbury Crags. The view from the
Calton Hill in a northerly direction beyond the town is
also remarkably fine, comprehending a prospect of the whole
Firth of Forth and the hills of Fifeshire.
Arthurs Seat and the Queen’s Park (surrounding Holy-
rood Palace) are now rendered additionally attractive by the
formation of the Queen’s Drive, an excellent road round
the hill, made recently in the most perfect style by the
Commissioners of Woods and Forests, and affording the finest
view's of Edinburgh and its neighbourhood. The hill itself
is a noble object, presenting bold pieces of rocky scenery,
the principal of which are Salisbury Crags and Samson’s
Ribs. The summit is 822 feet above the level of the sea.
The Meadows.—In the year 1722 a marshy ground,
anciently called the Burrowloch Boroughmuir, in the
southern environs of the city, was inclosed, drained, planted
with trees, and traversed by extensive, broad walks, for
the accommodation of the citizens. These public grounds,
which receive the appellation of the Meadows, and bear
some resemblance to the Green Park in London, are bor¬
dered on the south-west side with extensive open downs,
called Bruntsfield Links, which are also open to the public,
and form a place of agreeable recreation for youth, as well
as an excellent golfing ground.
The National Monument occupies a prominent situation Morm¬
on the Calton Hill. It was begun by a body of subscribers merits,
in 1822, and was intended to be an exact model of the Par¬
thenon at Athens. Its object was to commemorate those
Scotchmen who had fallen in the different engagements by
sea and land during the wars consequent on the French re¬
volution ; but it has been arrested in its progress for want
of funds, and only twelve massive pillars of exquisite work¬
manship have as yet been completed.
A monument of a singularly elegant description, designed
by Mr Playfair, and which is a reproduction, with some varia¬
tions, of the choragic monument of Lysicrates, was erected
in 1830-31 on a prominent situation on the Calton Hill.
It is commemorative of the late Dugald Stewart, profes¬
sor of moral philosophy in the University of Edinburgh.
A monumental erection, commemorative of Professor Play¬
fair, is also placed on the Calton Hill, at the corner of the
inclosure of the Royal Observatory ; and more recently an¬
other to the memory of Robert Burns, from the street of the
Tripods, has been raised on an isolated eminence fronting
the new High School. David Hume’s Monument, after
the model of an ancient Roman tomb, stands within the old
Calton Hill burying-ground.
Lord Melville’s Monument, an elegant fluted column, in
the centre of St Andrew Square, was finished in 1828. It
was raised by subscriptions chiefly among gentlemen con¬
nected with the royal navy. On the summit is a colossal
figure of the above nobleman, cut in freestone. This beau¬
tiful column rises to the height of 136 feet, is modelled af¬
ter Trajan’s pillar at Rome, but without the sculptures, and
forms altogether a very prominent and striking object.
The monument to Sir Walter Scott is situated in the
East Princes Street Garden, opposite the foot of St David
Street. It was designed by George M. Kemp, a young
man of humble condition, who died before the structure
w'as completed. The foundation was laid in 1840, and the
building completed in 1844, at a cost of L. 15,650. A stair
conducts to the top of the monument, which is 200 feet
high. A marble statue of Scott by Steele, for which the
sculptor received L.2000, is placed underneath the princi-
Edinburgh, pal arch, and several sculptural impersonations of characters
portrayed in the writings of Sir Walter occupy some of
the larger niches.
The equestrian statue of Charles II. (Parliament Square),
in vigour of design and general effect, maintains its rank as
one of the best specimens of metal statuary in the city. It
was cast in Holland, and is composed of lead.
The fine equestrian statue of the Duke of Wellington,
by Steele, occupies a prominent position in front of the Re¬
gister Office. The statue is fully 13 feet in height, and con¬
tains about 12 tons of metal. The pedestal, of Aberdeen
granite, is 12^ feet high. The different parts were con¬
nected by fusion—a novel operation, attended with con¬
siderable labour and difficulty. The ceremony of its inau¬
guration took place in 1852. A statue of Burns, by Flax-
man, is in the hall of the University Library. The eques¬
trian statue of John Fourth Earl of Hopetoun, in bronze,
stands in front of the Royal Bank, St Andrew Square.
There are two statues of Queen Victoria; one, by Steele,
on the top of the Royal Institution, and another in front
of Holyrood Palace, by A. H. Ritchie. In George Street,
at the crossing of Planover Street, stands a pedestal sur¬
mounted by a bronze figure of George IV., erected in
1832, in commemoration of the visit of His Majesty to Scot¬
land in 1822. A statue of Pitt, on a similar pedestal, was
erected in George Street, at the crossing of Frederick Street,
in 1833. Both statues are by Chantrey. There is a
bronze statue of Frederick Duke of York on the Castle
Hill; and a statue of Watt, in freestone, by Sclater, is placed
in front of the School of Arts, Adam Square.
In 1755, shortly before the commencement of the New
Town, Edinburgh had a population amounting to 57,195 ;
in 1775 it was computed at 70,430; and in 1791 it had
risen to about 80,000. In 1801, by parliamentary census,
the amount was 82,560; in 1811 it was 102,987; in 1821
it was 138,235 ; but in these latter enumerations the popu¬
lation of Leith was included.
Statistics of Population, extracted, from Mr Thorburn’s
Analysis of the Census qf 1851.
Population of the Ancient and Extended Royalty.
EDINBURG H.
Population of the Parliamentary Burgh}
407
Edinburgh.
Popuk'
tion.
Divisions and Parishes.
I. Old Town.
1. Greyfriars' (New) Church
Parish 
2. Greyfriars’ (Old) do.
3. High do.
4. Lady Tester’s do.
5. New North do.
6. Old do.
7. St John’s do.
8. Tolbooth do.
9. Trinity College do.
10. Tron do.
II. New Town.
1. Greenside Church Parish
2. St Andrew’s do.
3. St George’s do.
4. St Mary’s do.
5. St Stephen’s do.
III. Public Institutions,
Recapitulation.
1. Old Town  
2. New Town  
3. Public Institutions  
1,340
1,445
1,581
1,075
1,530
2,029
1,486
1,123
1,518
1,723
14,850
1,613
2,078
3,607
2,854
2,975
13,127
1,149
14,850
13,127
1,149
Females.
1,382
1 605
1,737
1,200
1,660
2,208
1,580
1,194
1,641
1,799
16,007
1,953
2,724
5,643
5,029
4,832
20,181
1,294
Total.
2,722
3,050
3,318
2,275
3,190
4,237
3,067
2,317
3,159
3,522
30,857
3,566
4,802
9,250
7,883
7,807
33,308
2,443
16,007
20,181
1,294
Total  129,126j 37,482 66,608! 56,336110,272
30,857
33,308
2,443
Total, Increase
1841. in 1851
2,481
2,580
2,785
1,800
2,627
2,949
2,140
2.216
2,314
2,498'
24,390
3,105
4,941
8,064
6,724
6,754
29,588
2,358
24,390
29,588
2,358
241
470
533
475
563
1,288
927
101
845
1,024
6,467
6,467
3,720
85
Divisions of the
Parliamentary Burgh.
1. The City Proper, or ;
Royal Burgh 
2. Part of St Cuth-
bert's Parish 
3. Canongate Parish...,
4. Edinburgh Castle...,
5. Part of South Leith ;
Parish 
Total..
16,929
2,334
714
12,691 29,126
34,943
4,851
568
1,548
37,482
43,647
5,729
149
2,041
32,668; 71,036, 89,048
66,608
78,590
10,580
717
3,589
160,084
Total
1841.
56,336
68,390
8,922
1,022
3,229
137,899
10,272
10,200
1,658
305
360
22,185
Progress of the Population of the Ancient and Extended Royalties,
1801 to 1851.
1801
1811
1821
1831
1841
1851
Increase
in 50
Years.
Increase in
past 10 Years.
. . Rate
Actual, of.per
Cent.
20,658!   10,573
23,355 2,697 13'1 12,841
35,920 12,565 53 7 15,848
28,196! 7,724 21 1 26,796
24,390 3,806 13 8 29,588
30,857 6,467; 267 33,308
Increase in
past 10 Years.
2,268
3,007
11,188
2,552
3,720
10,179; 49-2!
Bate
of, per
Cent.
2P4
23-4
68-5
31,231
36,196
41,768
54,992
1P4 56,336
12-8 66,608
22,735 215-0
Increase in
past 10 Years.
4.965
5,572
13,124
1,344
10,272
35,367
Ptate
of, per
Cent.
15-8
126
347
2-4
17-8
113
Increase.—The population, which between the census
of 1831 and that of 1841 had been almost stationary, has
during the last ten years received a very considerable aug¬
mentation. The increase is 10,477 or 18 percent., while,
taking the Old Town separately, the increase is 6467 or
27 per cent., demonstrating generally the prosperity of the
city during the last ten years.
In the absence of extended commercial transactions and
manufactures, which have caused such a large accession to
the population of Glasgow, and in England to that of the
metropolis, Liverpool, Manchester, and other manufactur¬
ing towns, the increase in the Old Town may perhaps be
ascribed to the construction of the railways communicating
with the city, which, since the date of the last census,
had, in consideration of the high wages, induced many of
the natives of Ireland to leave their own country and set¬
tle in Edinburgh. Again, by the operation of the acts for
extending the royalty, Leith Street Terrace, the greater
part of Leith Street, part of East Register Street, East
Broughton Place, and part of Broughton Place, containing
collectively a population of about 1200 persons, have, since
the census of 1841, been disjoined from St Cuthbert’s Parish,
and annexed to the extended royalty. Another cause has
tended in some degree to augment the population. The
census, which in 1851 was taken on the 30th of March, was
in 1841 taken on the 6th June, at which time considerable
numbers of the population generally retire to the countrv.
Against these “accidental” causes of increase must be placed
the dislodgment of the population residing in Canal Street
and its immediate neighbourhood, removed since 1841 to
make room for the various railway stations.
Old Church Parish is pre-eminent in the department of Features of
“ Increase.” That of the males amounts to 50 per cent, parishes.
The females show an increase of 32 per cent.: the ave¬
rage of both sexes is 44 per cent.
and
- For the information of such as may not be resident in Edinburgh, it may be proper to
Ancient and Extended Royalty,” are synonymous terms. “ Old Town” and “ New Town ”
1,1 “Extended Royalty,” respectively.
state, that “City,” “Royal Burgh,” and
again, correspond with '‘Ancient Royalty”
Edinburgh- St Mary's Parish exhibits strikingly the disparity of
shire. tiie sexes, which forms so remarkable a feature in the New
Town; while the male population numbers 2854, the fe¬
males amount to 5029, or nearly double. If we exclude
the juvenile portion of the population, the results are still
more extraordinary; for, while the male population above
15 years of age amounts to 1804, the females of the same
class are 3970—being considerably more than double the
male population. The solution of this remarkable fact is
to be found in the number of female servants in this parish. Edinburgh-
Of these there are 2254 above 15 years of age—a number shire,
considerably above half of the entire adult female popu-
lation.
Bental.—The gross amount of the rental of dwelling-
houses, shops, warehouses, &c., producing above five pounds
of rent, within the bounds of police, for the year ending at
Whitsunday 1833, was L.406,484. In the year 1853 this sum
had risen to L.479,051, and in 1854 to L.484,563.
EDINBURGHSHIRE, or, as it is often called, Mid¬
lothian, is the seat of the metropolis of Scotland. It is
situated between N. Eat., 55. 39. and 50. 59., and Long. \\ .
of Greenwich, 2. 36. and 3. 33. Its boundaries are the F irth
of Forth on the N., Linlithgowshire or West-Lothian on
the N.W., Lanarkshire S.W., Peebles and Selkirkshire on
the S., and Roxburgh, Berwick, and Haddington shires on
the E. In form it is very irregular, being narrowest to the
Forth, and spreading out towards Lanark and Roxburgh
shires. The area comprises 360 square miles, or 230,400
acres ; whereof 99,275 acres are under regular cultivation,
26,657^- acres permanent pasture, 831f irrigated mea¬
dow, 4177|called waste, 732If in wood; the remaining area
is occupied by towns, villages, sheep-walks, roads, &c.
The surface of this county presents a great variety of
scenery. Within the space of a few miles the stately
grandeur of the metropolis, the trim elegance of the sub¬
urban villa, and the desolate loneliness of a highland glen
may be seen. Bounded by the Firth of Forth from Mus¬
selburgh to Cramond, the land everywhere rises towards the
base of the Pentland Hills, which advance boldly from the
S.W. to within five miles of the sea at their eastern extre¬
mity. S. and E. of these hills the surface is flat but broken,
and again rises to the Lammermoors, the mountains at the
head of the Gala, and the Moorfoot-hills. Of the low districts
comparatively a small portion is flat. The occasional outbursts
of trap, and frequent undulations, diversify its surface, while
the woods surrounding the residences of the proprietors
beautify and enrich a scene possessing much natural gran¬
deur and loveliness. One cannot travel along a mile or
two of road, but some eminence brings into view the ever-
changing sea, with the Lomonds, Ochil Hills, and the Gram¬
pian Mountains in the distance ; while Arthur Seat, the
Castle Rock, the Braid, Craiglockhart, and Corstorphine
Hills, and the more lofty sweeps of the Pentlands, contrast
finely with the rich and beautiful plains around.
Many memorials of the ancient inhabitants of this district
have been found, or may still be seen. At Cramond various
objects of Roman art have been got; and it is believed that
that place was once their principal seaport on the east of
Scotland. Along the banks of the Almond, which falls into
the sea there, and upwards to where it passes into West-
Lothian in Livingston parish, numerous burial places have
been discovered; the chief of which is at Old Liston, having
the form of a circular mound rising in the centre of a flat
field, in the middle of which field stand three large upright
stones, like giant guards over the ashes of the dead. Not
far off there is another rough pillar; while at the Briggs farm
stands the “ Cat-Stane,” with a Roman inscription upon it.
In Ratho parish there is also an upright pillar and an altar
stone. Above Comiston and near Morton, a similar upright
stone exists, while more of these Standing Stones, as they
are called, described in the local traditions as the battle-
stones of the Piets, are seen in other situations. On various
heights, such as Dalmahoy Hill, are shown what are said to
have been the camps of the invaders at the time when the
bow and tbe sling formed the arms of the warriors.
On the North Esk several traces of the early people who
dwelt there also exist, but the valley of that stream is more
enriched with the remains of a more advanced period of
history; of which the chapel of Roslin, founded by the St
Clairs in 1446, and Hawthornden, the seat of the poet
Drummond, attract many to its banks. Further south Borth-
wick and Crichton Castles stand as records of the age be¬
fore gunpowder was known. Dalhousie Castle and Dal¬
keith Palace keep up the connection between the past and
the present, which Craigmillar, associated with the name of
Mary Queen of Scots, has long ceased to do. Merchiston
Castle, where dwelt Napier the inventor of logarithms, is
seen to the S. of the city; while many a modern pile
has since been raised between Whitehill and Barnton. On
the S.E. brow of the Pentlands, at a place called Bullion
Green, the Covenanters gave battle to the king’s troops.
Of the several streams rising in the hilly ranges, the Gala
flows southwards to the Tweed—in the district which bears
its name. The Tyne, rising above Crichton, runs N.E. into
Haddingtonshire. There is also the Esk, whereof the south¬
ern branch flows from the Moorfoot Hills, the northern from
the southern slopes of the Pentlands. The Water of Leith
also rises in the north-western side of the same hills. The
Almond risesin Lanarkshire, andforms the boundary between
West-Lothian for a considerable space. Rising in an ele¬
vated district, the course of these streams, though short, af¬
fords a large amount of water-power, considering their vo¬
lume. The only loch of any extent is that at Duddingstone,
near Edinburgh. The Edinburgh Water Company have con¬
structed several large reservoirs—the first, called the Com¬
pensation Pond, between two hills at Logan House; and
several others on the northern side of the Pentlands, at Bo-
naly and Bavelaw ; while the reservoir for the supply of the
Union Canal at Cobbinshaw covers several hundred acres.
The natural history of the county affords a wide field for
interesting investigation. Hutton first brought the rocks into
notice ; and since then the fossil fishes in Burdiehouse lime-
quarries, and the fossil trees at Craigleith, are conspicuous.
Of the various rocks which are found, none can surpass the
Craigleith freestone for building purposes; and a vast exca¬
vation has been made for the supply of this material for the
city. The cost both of quarrying and hewing the rock has
caused recourse to be had to cheaper substitutes; and from
Redhall and Hailes much stone is taken. This last forms
coarse pavement and excellent steps for stairs, and is largely
wrought. Many valuable greenstone or whinstone quarries
exist: that at Barnton Mount supplies blocks of large size,
which have been sent to England for docks, and even to
Russia for fortifications. The causeway stones for the streets
of Edinburgh are now procured from the whin quarries at
Ratho, whence they are conveyed by the Union Canal. Ma¬
terials of this sort for roads abound in every quarter.
Coal occupies two situations. The extensive deposits in
the basin lying between the Pentlands, Inveresk, and
Crichton, is the source from which a large supply is taken
to the city. As many as 33 seams are enumerated, of va¬
rious thickness and quality, including gas as well as house¬
hold coal. The history of the working of these various
seams, and its results on the fortunes of their proprietors, or
those interested in them, has been of a very chequered na¬
ture ; large sums having been lost in a fruitless search, or
in too sanguine expectations as to the richness of the beds \
to be reached. Along the northern side of the Pentlands,
EDINBURGHSHIRE. 409
Uinburgh- from the city to the western extremity, a distance of 18
shire, miles, no coal is wrought; but close on the borders of West
Lothian, at Muirhouse-dykes, Wood-Muir, and Longford,
a supply is procured for the wants of the district.
Limestone is of frequent occurrence, and is wrought in
many situations where coal is not to be had : at Esperston in
the south; at Cousland, Crichton, Burdiehouse, and Gilmer-
ton, near Edinburgh ; at the Camps in Kirknewton parish;
at Muireston and Levenseat still further west. Less is now
used for agricultural purposes than formerly, but for smelt¬
ing iron a large supply is quarried.
Although no blast furnaces have been erected in this
county, nor any of those large works which have changed
cold barren moorlands into populous districts, and added so
largely to the wealth of the country, still ironstone has been
wrought for a long period ; first to supply the Wilsonton
works, and more lately, and now at Muldron in West Cal-
der parish, for the Shotts Company.
Numerous beds of clays are found, and when tile-draining
became so prevalent about 1835, many works were erected.
The demand having fallen off, they now only are found
where a good local demand, fine clay, and plenty of coal are
combined; or at Portobello with a large brick trade; at which
place and at Edmonstone, fire-clay also is manufactured into
th^ various articles for which it is now used.
To paper-works and corn-mills the water-power of the
district is chiefly applied. The quantity of paper made on
the Esk and Water of Leith is very great: the process of
manufacture is curious and interesting, and forms a strik¬
ing criterion of the progiess of art and civilization. Large
quantities of flour are made, and also pot-barley ; while much
of the oatmeal, which forms the food of the manufacturing
districts, is made here. The art of milling is here thoroughly
understood, and the article commands the highest price
in the market. There are fewer distilleries than formerly.
There are carpet-works at Lasswade, gunpowder mills at
Stobbs and lloslin, iron-works at Cramond, potteries and
salt-pans in Inveresk parish, sailcloth-yarn mills at Balerno.
The climate varies exceedingly; along the low flat eastern
portion less rain falls than westwards, while the air is drier.
At Inveresk, 90 feet above the sea level, during seven years
ending 1853, the average fall was 24*8 inches. In Ra-
tho parish, at 350 feet, 28-8 inches was the fall during the
same period. In the earlier editions ol this work 25'75
inches is stated as the average fall for the eight years end¬
ing 1792 near Edinburgh, and 460,57 was the mean tem¬
perature. At the sea level at Leith 480,36 is the recent
average, while at Bonaly, 1100 feet above the sea, 44°-21
is found to be the mean.
The prevailing winds are from the south-west, north, and
north-east. This last, save on the coast side, never rises so
high as the south-west, but its effects are far more pernicious
on men and animals. In few other counties is the effect of
altitude so distinctly traceable, or so sudden. On the shores
of the Firth, up the Almond and Esk, and in several of the
rich flats, the grain crops ripen fully earlier than in most
counties ; while a couple of miles nearer the hills, and 200
feet higher, the harvest is ten days later ; and still further up
at an elevation of 600 feet, another week at least intervenes;
and in some spots the crops are as late as any in Scotland.
It has often been a subject of remark that the fiars prices
of grain for a county so placed as this is are lower than
others not so favourably situated. The cause is the va¬
riety of climate. So long has this been known, that from
time immemorial, in fixing these prices, it has been the
practice to divide the county into three districts, the Low,
the Middle, and the High, examine from each an equal
number of witnesses, strike the average from their sales, and
take that as the Jiars price. As the agriculture of these dis¬
tricts is very dissimilar, we can follow no better division
than that referred to.
VOL. VIII.
The low district extends from the coast-side inwards by Edinburgh-
Dalkeith, Slateford, and Ratho. Here are grown those crops shne.
which supply the wants of the city. Potatoes, turnip, clover
grass, hay, straw, are all carried there, as well as grain ;
manure is brought back; and cattle are either reared or fat¬
tened. Several dairies send milk fresh to town, and their
number is increasing. A few fields are pastured, but in
general the only grass land is around the houses of the land¬
lords. The farms contain from 50 to 400 acres, and are let on
19 years’ leases at rents from L.3 to L.6 per acre, one-half of
which is payable at Candlemas, the other at Whitsunday or
Lammas, in the year succeeding that on which the crop is
grow n; and which usually varies with the price of grain. The
labour is performed by married men who live in cottages on
the farm. Three are required for each 100 acres, and one
horse for every 20 or 30 acres, according to situation. Wo¬
men and boys, some of whom come from the city, do the barn
work, weeding and cleaning, and other light labour. The
harvest work is chiefly performed by Irish reapers, and some
few scythemen. Reaping machines have also been tried, but
the heavy tangled crops are too much for them. The land
for potatoes is either manured in autumn, or in the drill when
planting. From 24 to 34 tons is allowed of horse and cow
dung per acre. When the lesser quantity is given, guano
also at the rate of from 2 to 6 cwt. accompanies it. But
guano is no favourite so near the city. The time of planting
is March and April; seed per acre, 10 cwt. • produce, 5 to 8
tons. Wheat succeeds, and is sown in November, either
broadcast or in drill. Hunter’s and Fenton’s are the kinds
mostly sown ; but Spalding’s and Talavera are also grown.
Either barley or turnips succeed the wheat. If barley, it has
15 tons of dung ploughed in autumn, or an equivalent of
guano in spring, to be followed by turnip. The turnips in
either case receive rather less manure than the potatoes, and
are all carted off the ground ; being sold to cowfeeders, who
pay from L.12 to L.20 per acre for them. Barley or spring
wheat again succeeds, to be followred by clover grass, which
is sold green. Oats follow again, to be succeeded by
potatoes or beans. The grain grown in this district is of
the finest quality, and commands the highest price for seed
corn, for which there is a considerable demand. A small
part of this district is naturally dry, and the soil over the
whole has been much altered with repeated heavy manur-
ings, and it is now mostly of a free open texture, the heavy
clayey portion having become so. Elkington’s system of
draining was early introduced, and tile-draining more re¬
cently has been extensively followed, first at two feet deep,
and of late at four, and from 18 to 36 feet apart. Steam-
engines for thrashing the crops have been in use since 1830.
They are non-condensing, and from four to ten horse power.
Fences are chiefly thorn hedges; but stone walls surround
the pleasure-grounds of the gentry. The capital required
for farming purposes amounts to about L.10 per acre.
The farm buildings are not extensive. They are either-
slated or tiled. Improvements have taken place in the new
cottages, but there is still much to be done in this respect.
The bothy system is unknown here. The ploughmen are
a steady, regular class, hired by the year, partly in money,
and partly in meal and potatoes,—the wages for 1854 being
about 12s. 6d. per week, the various items being calculated
at fiars prices.
There are about 200 acres of irrigated meadows, east and
west of the city. Those to the west, from the liquid not
being so rich, have never produced such large quantities
of grass as those eastwards, where the most of them lie.
The old meadows at Lochend Farm extended only to
15 acres; but a large increase has taken place between
these and the sea, wherever the water could be raised,
either by levels or steam power; and a large barren waste
on the sea-coast between Portobello and Leith, now carries
luxuriant crops of grass. From four to five cuttings are
3 F
r
410
EDINBURGHSHIRE.
Edinburgh-yearly obtained. Each acre lets lor the season at horn L.15
shire. to L.35. The grass is entirely consumed by cows (it hav-
ing valuable milk-producing properties), and, along with
brewers’ grains, forms their summer food. Of all the present
applications of sewerage-manure water, that by gravitation
forms the most profitable ; and when it can be applied with¬
out detriment to the health of the inhabitants, it is cei-
tainly very deserving of being so, for it supplies a large
quantity of milk-producing food, in close proximity to the
place where it is most required.
The nursery grounds are very extensive, and supply a
variety and quantity of plants, shrubs, and foiest tiees,
equal to any in Britain.
In one parish in the vicinity of the town the average
produce of wheat per acre for the four years ending 1854 has
been estimated at 48 bushels, barley 57^ do., oats 64^ do.,
turnips 24 tons, potatoes tons per acre; which rcay
be compared with a similar estimate from a high parish of
25§ bushels wheat, 25|- barley, 20f oats, HgV tons tm nip,
and 2^ tons potatoes: showing the increase which high
cultivation, plenty of manure, and fine climate, confers on
a soil originally not of the finest quality.
The middle district comprehends the space lying beyond
the forementioned line, but does not approach to the hill
sides or moorland tract. It covers a larger space than the
former, and the same system of farming prevails as in the
most improved counties removed from cities, b ew pota¬
toes are grown, and turnips are all consumed on the faim
with the straw. Save where railways pass, distance pre¬
vents town manure being carted; but the canal towards the
west takes off a considerable quantity. The rents range
between L.l, 10s. and L.3 per acre. The farms are larger,
fewer hands are employed, and also fewer horses kept.
The crops are not so large, nor the quality of grain so
fine. Guano is largely used, in conjunction with farm¬
yard dung. The farm offices are commodious, but in many
cases old. The rearing and feeding of cattle is here prac¬
tised. Byres, boxes, and yards, are all in use. Save the
harvest labourers, all the people reside on the farm. Drain¬
ing with tiles and small stones began about 1830, and was
very generally practised, the distance apart of the diains
being about 36 feet. Since 1845 deeper drains have
been put into the intermediate furrows, with pipes and
collars. There are considerably more dairy farms here. A
large portion of land is pasture, the best part of which is
grazed with sheep, which are sold fat. 1 he soil varies irom
the free open soil lying on trap, to the stiff, heavyish clays.^
Most of it is of an intermediate quality ; and the system of
fallowing having given place to turnip husbandry, in tex¬
ture it has become much more free, and on part of it the
turnips are eaten off with sheep. I he cattle fed are chiefly
bought for that purpose: they were formerly all of the
Angus or Aberdeen horned breeds, but now they are either
Irish or English one and two year olds. From the quan¬
tity of stock kept, fully L.10 per acre is required as capi¬
tal, as the high farming system increases the amount of
capital required. The leases here are also for nineteen
years, and, as a rule, the old tenants have always the first
offer of their farms before the expiry of the existing con¬
tracts. Many of the properties being of moderate size, the
proprietors are as often changed as the tenants. On one
estate we know, which has been held by eight different
owners during the last fifty years, a tenant has continued
to hold the same farm under all of them.
The high district includes all the moorland tracts and
hill-sides where corn is grown. As it reaches an elevation of
more than 800 feet, almost no wheat is grown, and oats are
the chief corn crop. To the S.E. sheep are reared and fed,
while to the W. the dairy is most common—indeed, on
every farm from 10 to 40 cows are kept. The milk is
churned, and butter and milk carted to the city, often 16 or
18 miles: brewers’ grains or distillers’ refuse being taken back Edinburgh,
in return. The cows are partly bred on the farm, and are of shire,
the Ayrshire breed, or crosses between it and the short-horn.
The churns are wrought with horse-power. The rents
vary between 15s. and L.2 per acre. The farms are often
larger than in the other districts, but of course less valu¬
able. Improvements have proceeded somewhat slowly here;
and there is still a large portion of land to drain, which is
now being done with drains 3^ or 4 feet deep.
The accommodation both for the tenants, their labourers,
and cattle, is somewhat poor. A large space is occupied
with the Pentlands, Moorfoot, and other hills; on these
both Cheviot and blackfaced sheep are grazed. This last
breed predominates on the higher heathy hills, while the
Cheviots occupy the lower greener heights. On each hold¬
ing there are from 30 to 80 scores kept; one shepherd attends
to° upwards of 30 scores. Lowland farmers hold many
of these farms, and are non-resident. Improvements have
been going on here also. Many years ago what were called
sheep drains were cut; in several places these are giving
place to deeper drains, fitted with pipe and collar. Among
the hills bordering on the Gala, where the subsoil is dry,
guano has been extensively used for raising turnips. These
are eaten off with sheep, and a crop of barley raised, or they
are at once sown for pasture, by which means the herbage
has been doubled. Very great improvements have been
effected on many farms along the Gala by inclosures, since
the railway passed through that district.
There are twm weekly grain markets held in the county
 in Edinburgh on Wednesday, and Dalkeith on Thursday.
The latter, since the railways have been opened, has fallen
from the position it was wont to hold, of the first in Scot¬
land—Edinburgh now taking that place. There were sold
in that market in 1854 of Quarters.
Wheat    41,764
Barley  50,967
Oats.    47,705
Beans    5,596
Of course, these quantities do not include the whole sales,
but only those passing through the market books. _ The grain
is either brought in by carts or by railway, and is paid for
immediately after the sale.
There is also a weekly sheep and cattle market on Wed¬
nesday, when from 3000 to 6000 sheep, and from 600 to
1000 cattle are offered for sale. On the second Tuesday
of November Hallow Fair is held, when from 10,000 to
15,000 cattle are exhibited, and a horse market thereafter.
There is a sheep fair also on the first Monday in Apiil
for lambing ewes at House of Muir, with a show of
about 10,000 head of stock. A cattle and horse fair is
held in October in Dalkeith; and two hiring fairs at Mid-
Calder, where both cattle and horses are exposed for sale in
March and October.
The valuation of Edinburghshire taken in 1649 is
L.l91,054, 3s. 9d. Scots. In 1811 the real rental of houses
and lands, according to the property-tax, was L.677,832,
4s, 7d. In 1849, from the prisons assessment, L.l,389,111
was the valuation; and in 1855, at the previous rate of in¬
crease, it will reach one and a half millions sterling. In
the county there are 30 parishes, with part of Fala ana
Kirkliston. Five parishes are included in Edinburgh and
Leith, with a population in all, by the census of 1851, of
259,493, including Fala, but not part of Kirkliston^ Ex¬
cluding both of these and the five city parishes, the 25 land¬
ward ones contained 64,493 in 1851, all of which are now
assessed for the poor, on whom L.l5,902, 6s. 8fd. was ex¬
pended in 1853. A police force also exists in the county,
with a superintendent, assistants, and 22 district officers.
Portobello and Granton, since the opening of the rai-
ways, may be said to form part of the metropolis. Da -
keith is the largest landward town, or burgh of barony
E D R
E D R
411
Sdmonton Musselburgh, Lasswade, Gilmerton, Loanhead, Cramond,
|| Corstorphine, Mid-Calder, Ratho, and Currie, do not ex-
Edrisi. ceed the size of large villages.
The Union Canal, which was opened in 1822, runs for
10 miles through the count}', and conveys stones, coal, See.,
to the city, and manure from it, but no passengers or goods.
The Dalkeith Railway was laid in 1836, but merely as a
horse-way. Since then the Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway
has been constructed, passing through the county for about
10 miles; the Caledonian for 18; the North British, in its
various lines, for fully 30 miles ; and the Edinburgh, Perth,
and Dundee, to Granton and Leith.
There are in the county 423 miles of turnpike roads, from
which L.22,210 was collected in 1850 from the five district
trusts. The traffic on the various roads has now greatly
changed, the most of it consisting of short journeys to the
railway stations ; and several of the finest roads, such as the
one to Queensferry, are now in little use.
There are ten noblemen holding property in the county,
the most of whom have residences in it; also nine baronets,
and ten families who have held their estates for a very long
period. The rest of the land in the county has frequently
changed owners.
Edinburghshire sends four members to parliament; two
from the city; one from Leith, Portobello, and Musselburgh;
and one from the county, the constituency of which
amounted to 2133 in 1854.
Agricultural Statistics of the County Crop 1854.
(Total number of imperial acres returned 211,147J.)
Number of acres imperial in tillage.
Wheat  8,128
Barley   11,212|
Oats  22,852
Bere    50J
Beans  1,551
Pease.,  185 J
Vetches  1,0804
Turnips    14,288J
Potatoes  5,518|
Mangold  77
Carrots  62
Cabbages    89J
Flax  16
Turnip seed   155
Bare fallow   635f
Number of acres in grass, roads, and woods.
Grass in rotation of farm  33,373J
Permanent pasture  26,6574
Irrigated meadows  83if
Sheep walks    69,284f
Houses, roads, fences  3,598f
Waste  4,1774
Woods  7,3214
Average produce per imperial acre of following crops.
Bushels. Pecks.
Wheat  32 1
Barley  40 2
Oats  38 0
Bere or bigg   31 2
Beans  31 1
Tons. Cwts.
Turnips  17 4
Potatoes  4 15
Edrisi.
Gross produce of following crops.
Bushels.
Wheat  262,128
Barley     454,116
Oats  868,376
Bere or bigg  1,582
Beans  48,468
Tons.
Turnips  245,762
Potatoes   26,212
Total number of stock kept, 1854.
Horses    4,582
Milk cows  5,430
Other cattle  7,784
Calves  2,540
Ewes, gimmers, ewe hogs  83,395
Tups, wethers, wether hogs  26,148
Swine  6,403
The above returns are taken from the report furnished
to the Board of Trade by the Highland Society. The
entire extent of the county is not accounted for, as many
of the hill farmers do not know the number of acres they
hold. The produce of wheat, as given, may be considered
about two bushels per acre above an average, and that of
oats and barley slightly above it. The number of farmers
is said by the last census (1851) to amount to 534.
EDMONTON, a village in the county of Middlesex, 8
miles north of London, on the London and Cambridge rail¬
way. It has an ancient parish church and numerous villas.
This is the place referred to in Cowper’s humorous poem
of John Gilpin.
EDOM. See Idumea.
EDRISI, or Aldrisi, the most eminent of the geogra¬
phers who have written in the Arabic language. There is
no individual of equal eminence over whose life there hangs
a deeper veil of mystery, the various parts of it affording
rather subjects of controversy to the learned than of precise
information to the biographer. The place, and even the
country in which he was born, compose the first subject of
disputation. Sionita and Hezronita, who published a Latin
translation of his work at Paris, make him a Nubian, and
gave to their work the title of Geographia Nubiensis, the
Nubian Geography. They proceeded upon the expression
there used, namely, “the Nile of Egypt, which cuts our
land.” Hartmann was at once led to suspect the correct¬
ness of this inference, by observing that Nubia was one of
the countries of which Edrisi gives the most meagre and
imperfect account; and his suspicions were confirmed by
learning that Ockley, on examining two manuscripts in the
Bodleian Library, had found in both “ that land,” instead
of “ our land.” It seems now generally agreed, therefore,
that there is no reason to suppose him of Nubian origin.
Others have assigned him an Egyptian one, which seems
more probable, yet rests solely upon the erroneous reading
above referred to. In 1663, Bochart stated that he had
found in a manuscript of Leo Africanus, that Edrisi was
born at Mazara, in Sicily, in 1098. Next year, however,
the manuscript was edited by Hottinger, in an appendix to
his work entitled Bibliothecarius Quadripartibus, when it
appeared that the person supposed to be Edrisi was there
named Esseriff Essachalli. Esseriff, or Scheriff, is indeed
an usual appellation of Edrisi, but it is common to many,
and is rather a title than a name. The rest of the name, and
the date of birth, are materially different, so that there seems
very little reason to doubt that Bochart was here mistaken.
The most positive statement on the subject is that of
Casiri, who says (Bibliotheca, Arabico-Hispanica, ii. 9),
that if Edrisi, as appeared probable, were the person desig¬
nated by the Mohammedan writers under the long appella¬
tion of Abu Abdallah Mohamad Ben Mohamad Ben Ab¬
dallah Ben Edris, he was born at Septa, or Ceuta, on the
coast of Morocco, in the year of the Hegira 493 (a.l>. 1099).
Casiri not only qualifies his statement with this condition,
but he does not state the authorities from which it is de¬
rived ; so that it rests only upon the confidence reposed in
his learning and accuracy. Edrisi was long a mighty name
in Northern Africa; but in 919 the dynasty was subverted
by Mahedi Abdallah, and the proscribed wrecks of the fa-
412 E D H
Edrisi. mily, according to D’Herbelot, afterwards sought refuge
V—^ in Sicily. This certainly tends to strengthen the Sicilian
origin of our author, though it is not probable that many
would seek refuge by concealment in their native country.
If we may trust the information of Casiri, Edrisi pursued
his studies at Cordova, and from the accurate description
he has given of Spain, it is probable that he had travelled
through a great part of that country. Various circum¬
stances prove that he removed to Sicily, and began to
compose his great work under the patronage, and indeed
at the express desire, of Roger II. king of that island. It
was completed about the year of the Hegira 548, a.d.
1153.
It has been a subject of pretty warm controversy among
the learned whether Edrisi was a Mohammedan or a
Christian. Sionita, who adopts the latter opinion, observes
that he calls our Saviour the Lord, and also speaks with
profound respect of the holy Virgin, and of various saints.
These arguments are strenuously repelled by Hartmann,
who lays much stress on the circumstance that Edrisi,
amongst his numerous names, bears that of Mohammed;
but though this may imply that he was a Mohammedan
by birth, it does not authorize us to infer that he may not
have become a convert to the opposite faith. Although he
writes in a style from which no positive inference can be
drawn, yet considering how high religious differences ran
in that age, it does not appear very probable that he could
have resided in Sicily, or been in such high favour with
Roger, without adopting the religion of the monarch and
country.
Bochart has fixed the date of his death in the year 1122 ;
but this date clearly proves that he had some quite different
person in view; since it appears by the preface to Edrisi s
own work that its completion took place in the year 1153.
No other notice, nor even conjecture, relative to the time
or manner of his death, is to be found in any author.
His work has appeared under various titles. 1 he first
and fullest appears to have been, The going out of a Curi¬
ous Man to explore the Regions of the Globe, its Provinces,
Islands, Cities, and their Dimensions and Situation. This
is sometimes abbreviated. Sionita published it under tlm
name of Relaxation of the Curious Mind; but the title of
Nubian Geography, which he and his comnanion imposed
upon it, is altogether arbitrary.
The work contains a full description of the wrhole world,
as far as it was known to the author, with its countries,
cities, and all its features, physical and political. The world
is divided into seven climates, commencing at the equinoc¬
tial line, and extending northwards to the limit at which
the earth is supposed to be rendered uninhabitable by cold.
Each climate is then divided by perpendicular lines into
eleven equal parts, beginning with the western coast^ of
Africa, and ending with the eastern coast of Asia. 1 he
whole world is thus formed into 77 equal square compart¬
ments, resembling those upon a chess-board, or those formed
upon a plane map, by the intersecting lines of latitude and
longitude. The geographer begins with the first part of
the first climate, including the western part of Central
Africa, and proceeds eastward through the different divi¬
sions of this climate, till he finds its termination in the Sea
of China. He then returns to the first part of the second
climate, and so proceeds till he reaches the eleventh part of
the seventh climate, which terminates in the north-eastern
extremity of Asia. The inconveniences of such an arrange¬
ment must be abundantly obvious.
The only valuable unpublished manuscripts of Edrisi
which now exist in Europe are two which are preserved in
the Bodleian Library. The first, which was brought over
from Egypt by Greaves, is written in the Arabic character
peculiar to Northern Africa. It is illustrated by a map of
the known world, and by 33 other maps, containing each
E D W
part of a climate, so that there are maps only for the first Education
three climates. The second manuscript, brought by Po- ||
cocke from Syria, is written in the Arabic character, as used Edwards,
in that country, and bears the date of 906 of the Hegira,
or a.d. 1500. It consists of 320 leaves, and is illustrated
by one general and 77 particular maps, the last consequently
including all the parts of every climate. The general map
has been published by Dr Vincent in his Periplus of the
Erythrcean Sea.
There is a manuscript (Cod. dlxxx) in the Royal Li¬
brary at Paris, which professes to be the production of
Edrisi; but D’Herbelot, it appears, has not made use of it
as such; and De Guignes expresses positive disbelief on
the subject. Hartmann, however, found it to coincide in
many particulars with the geography of Edrisi. A copy of
our author’s work was contained at one time in the library
of the Escurial, but it was destroyed by a great fire in
1671.
The geography of Edrisi, in the original Arabic, was
printed at Rome in 1592, at the Medicean press, from a
manuscript preserved in the grand-ducal library at Florence.
Both the paper and printing are exceedingly neat, but the
volume swarms with typographical errors, and forms only a
clumsy epitome of the original work. 1 he description of
Mecca, which is unaccountably omitted, has been supplied
by Pococke from his manuscript. Hartmann, D’Herbe-
lot, and Casiri justly remark the imperfections of this edi¬
tion. In most bibliographical works, this impression has
been characterized as one of the rarest of books; but
Adler, in a visit to Florence, found in the palace there
1129 copies, which were publicly exposed to sale at a mo¬
derate rate.
In 1619, two oriental scholars, Gabriel Sionita and John
Hezronita, published at Paris a Latin translation of Edrisi’s
work, bearing the title of Geographia Nubiensis ; but it is
not executed with all that accuracy which might have been
expected, particularly in regard to the proper names.
George Hieronymus Velschius, an eminent German scho¬
lar, had prepared a copy of the Arabic original, with a Latin
translation, which he intended to have illustrated with notes ;
but death prevented the execution of this design, and his
manuscript remains deposited in the library of the university
of Jena. Casiri (Bibliotheca Arabico-Hispanica, ii. 13)
mentions that, at the request of many friends, he had de¬
termined to re-edit this work, but he appears never to have
executed this intention. The part relating to Africa, pre¬
eminent certainly in point of importance, has been very ably
edited by Hartmann, who has collected together all the
notices relating to each particular country, and has annexed^
the statements of the countrymen and contemporaries of
Edrisi, so that his work forms nearly a complete body of
Arabian geography, as far as relates to Africa. (h.m.)
EDUCATION. See National Education, and Uni¬
versities.
EDULCORATION (low Lat. edulco, from dulcis,
siveet), is used in chemistry to signify the rendering sub¬
stances more mild, by freeing them from acids and salts, or
other soluble impurities, by washing until the water comes
off quite pure and insipid.
EDWARD, the name of several kings of England. See
England.
EDWARDS, George, fellow of the Royal and Anti¬
quarian Societies, was born at Stratford, a hamlet belong¬
ing to Westhamin Essex, on the 3d of April 1693. After
having spent some time at school, he was put as appren¬
tice to a tradesman in Fenchurch Street. His master, who
was eminent both for his piety and skill in the languages,
treated him with very great kindness ; but about the middle
of his apprenticeship an accident happened which totally
put a stop to the hopes of young Edwards advancing
himself in the way of trade. Dr Nicolas, a person of emi-
EDWARDS, 413
Edwards, nence in the physical world, and a relation of his rnas-
George. ter’s, happened to die. The doctor’s books were removed
to an apartment occupied hy Edwards, who eagerly em¬
ployed all his leisure hours, both during the day and great
part of the night, in perusing those which treated of natu¬
ral history, sculpture, painting, astronomy, and antiquities.
The reading of these books entirely deprived him of any
inclination which he might have formerly had for mercantile
business, and he resolved to travel into foreign countries.
In 1716 he visited most of the principal towns in Hol¬
land, and in about a month returned to England. Two
years afterwards he took a voyage to Norway, at the invi¬
tation of a gentleman wrho was disposed to be his friend,
and who was nephew to the master of the ship in which
he embarked. At this time Charles XII. was besieging
Frederickshall, an operation which prevented our young
naturalist from making such excursions into the country
as he would otherwise have done, for the Swedes were
very careful to intercept such strangers as could not give
a good account of themselves. But notwithstanding all
his precaution he was confined by the Danish guard, who
supposed him to be a spy employed by the enemy to pro¬
cure intelligence of their designs. However, by obtain¬
ing testimonials of his innocence, a release was granted.
In 1718 he returned to England, and next year he visit¬
ed Paris by the way of Dieppe* During his stay in
France he made two journeys of one hundred miles each,
the first to Chalons in Champagne, in May 1720, and the
second on foot to Orleans and Blois ; but an edict hap¬
pening at that time to be issued for securing vagrants, in
order to transport them to America, as the banks of the
Mississippi wanted population, our author narrowly es¬
caped a western voyage. On his arrival in England, Mr
Edwards closely pursued his favourite study of natural
history, applying himself to drawing and colouring such
animals as fell under his notice. In this pursuit he paid a
strict attention to natural rather than to picturesque beau¬
ty. Birds first engaged his particular attention ; and hav¬
ing purchased some of the best pictures of them, he was
induced to make a few drawings of his own, which were
admired by the curious, who encouraged the young na¬
turalist to proceed, by paying a good price for his early
labours. Amongst his first patrons and benefactors may
be mentioned Mr James Theobalds of Lambeth, a gentle¬
man zealous for the promotion of science. Being thus
unexpected^ encouraged, he increased in skill and assi¬
duity, and, by application to his favourite pursuit, pro¬
cured a decent subsistence and a large acquaintance.
However, he remitted his industry in 1731, when, in com¬
pany with two of his relations, he made an excursion to
Holland and Brabant, where he collected several scarce
books and prints, and had an opportunity of examining
the original pictures of several great masters at Antwerp,
Brussels, Utrecht, and other cities. In December 1733,
by the recommendation of Sir Hans Sloane, then presi¬
dent of the College of Physicians, he was chosen libra¬
rian to that body, and had apartments assigned him in
the college. This office was peculiarly agreeable to his
taste and inclination, as he had the opportunity of a con¬
stant recourse to a valuable library filled with scarce and
curious books on the subject of natural history, which he
so assiduously studied. By degrees he became one of the
most eminent ornithologists in this or in any other coun¬
try. His merit in this respect is too well known to render
it necessary to pronounce any eulogium on his perform¬
ances ; but it may be observed, that he never trusted to
others what he could perform himself, and he often found
it so difficult to satisfy his own mind, that he frequently
made three or four drawings in order to delineate the ob¬
ject in its most lively character, attitude, and representa¬
tion. In the year 1743, the first volume of the History of Edwards,
Z&Vy/s was published in quarto. As the number of his sub- Bryan,
scribers exceeded even his most sanguine expectations,
a second volume appeared in 1747. The third volume
was published in 1750; and in 1751 appeared the fourth
volume. This being the last which he intended to pub¬
lish at that time, he seems to have considered it as the
most perfect of his productions in natural history ; and
therefore devoutly offered it up to the great God of na¬
ture, in humble gratitude for all the good things which he
had received from Him in this world. Our author, in 1758,
continued his labours under a new title, that of Gleanings
of Natural History. A second volume of the Gleanings
was published in 1760. The third part, which formed
the seventh and last volume of his works, appeared in
1764. Thus our author, after a long series of years, the
most studious application, and the most extensive corre¬
spondence in every quarter of the world, concluded a
work which contains engravings and descriptions of more
than six hundred subjects in natural history not before
described or delineated. He likewise added a general
index in French and English, which was afterwards per¬
fected with the Linnaean names, by Linnaeus himself, who
frequently honoured him with his friendship and corre¬
spondence. Some time after Mr Edwards had been ap¬
pointed librarian to the Royal College of Physicians, he
was, on St Andrew’s Day, in the year 1750, presented by
the president and council of the Royal Society with the
gold medal, the donation of Sir Godfrey Copley, annually
given on that day to the author of any new discovery in
art or nature, in consideration of his natural history just
then completed. A copy of this medal he had afterwards
engraved, and placed under the title in the first volume
of his history. He wras a few years afterwards elected
fellow of the Royal Society and of the Society of Anti¬
quaries, London, and also a member of many of the aca¬
demies of sciences and learning in different parts of Eu¬
rope. In return for these honorary distinctions from
learned bodies, he presented elegantly-coloured copies of
all his works to the Royal College of Physicians, the Royal
Society, the Society of Antiquaries, and to the British
Museum; and also to the Academy of Sciences at Paris,
from which he received a very polite and obliging letter
of thanks by their then secretary M. Defouchy. His
collection of drawings, which amounted to upwards of
nine hundred, were purchased by the Earl of Bute. They
contain a great number of British as well as foreign birds,
and other animals hitherto not accurately delineated or
described. After the publication of the last work, having
arrived at his seventieth year, he found his sight beginning
to fail, and his hand losing its wonted steadiness. He re¬
tired from public employment to a little house which he
had purchased at Plaistow, previously to which he disposed
of all the copies as well as plates of his works. The con¬
versation of a few select friends, and the perusal of a few
select books, were the amusement of the evening of his
life; and now and then he made an excursion to some of
the principal cities in England, particularly to Bristol,
Bath, Exeter, and Norwich. Some years before his death,
the alarming depredation of a cancer, which baffled all the
efforts of medical skill, deprived him of the sight of one
of his eyes; and he also suffered much from the stone, to
which at different periods of his life he had been subject;
but in the severest paroxysms of pain he was scarcely
known to utter a single complaint. Having completed
his eightieth year, emaciated with age and sickness, he
died, deservedly lamented, on the 23d of July 1773.
Edwards, Bryan, the well-known historian of the
West Indies, was born at Westbury, in Wiltshire, on the
21st of May 1743. His father had a small paternal estate ;
414
E D WARD S.
Edwards, but as this did not exceed L.100 per annum, he found it
Bryan, insufficient for the maintenance of a numerous family, and
v—endeavoured to improve his circumstances by dealing in
corn and malt. This hazardous trade proved, as it often
does, only a means of more deeply involving his affairs ;
and he died in 1756, leaving a widow and six children in
a very distressed situation. Mrs Edwards, however, had
two opulent brothers in the West Indies, the eldest of
whom, Zachary Bayly, possessing a princely fortune, and
being of a very amiable and generous disposition, under¬
took the support and education of young Edwards. He
had already been placed by his father at the school of Mr
Foot, a dissenting clergyman at Bristol, where he had
been taught the elementary branches of education; but,
for some reason which he never was able to divine, that
person was strictly prohibited from initiating him in any
branches of classical learning. He gave a species of in¬
struction, however, not usual in schools, and from which
his pupil probably derived the greatest benefit. He was
accustomed to make the boys write letters, or rather essays,
on various subjects, such as the beauty and dignity of truth,
the obligations to a religious life, the benefits of good edu¬
cation, and the like, giving them, where it appeared ne¬
cessary, an outline of the arguments which might be em¬
ployed on the subject. When the papers were given in,
he made such observations as appeared proper, insisting at
least that they should be correct in point of grammar and
orthography. These exercises gave occasion to display
the superior talents of Edwards, whose powers of elegant
composition already began to appear. He soon became
the favourite of his master, who liberally praised these
youthful performances, and often transmitted them for the
gratification of his parents. They were entirely satisfied ;
but when the care of his education devolved on his uncle,
the agent employed by him at Bristol was much surprised
to find an entire deficiency in classical knowledge, and, im¬
puting the blame to the master, removed him immediate¬
ly to a French boarding school in the same city. It is not
said that he acquired here any great portion of Greek and
Latin, but he became master of the French language, and
having access to an extensive circulating library, cultivat¬
ed a taste for reading which adhered to him throughout
the whole of his future life.
In 1759, another uncle, the younger brother of him un¬
der whose care he had hitherto been, arrived in England-
He, too, was possessed of an ample fortune, became mem¬
ber of parliament, first for Abingdon, and afterwards for
his native town, and set up a splendid establishment in
London. He appeared quite disposed to befriend young
Edwards, and even took the latter to reside with him ; but
the nephew observes, that, after enumerating his external
advantages, he had nothing else to say in favour of his un¬
cle. What the bad qualities were which drew forth so un¬
favourable a sentence we are not informed; but in a few
months they separated, and Edwards went out to his other
uncle. In this friend he seems to have found every thing
he could desire; the most enlightened mind, the sweetest
temper, and the most generous disposition. To this was
added a truly paternal regard for himself, which was re¬
turned with all the warmth of filial affection. His uncle,
finding him possessed of literary talents, but deficient in
classical acquirements, engaged a Mr Teale, a clergyman,
and formerly master of a free grammar-school, to reside
in his house, and give him the instruction of which he
stood in need. This choice proved most acceptable to
Edwards; he found in Mr Teale a man of extensive in¬
formation, and one, too, possessing considerable taste in
poetry. He viewed him, therefore, as a companion rather
than as a teacher; but this relation between the tutor and
pupil, however agreeable to both, was not favourable for
instillins the dry principles of grammar and prosody. . A Edwards,
much larger proportion of their time was spent in tasting
the beauties of Dryden and Pope, and in laughing at the
comic sallies of Moliere. Mr Edwards, upon the whole,
acquired, during this period, small Latin and less Greek ;
but he continued to practise composition, both in prose
and verse; and the two companions sent occasional pieces
to the colonial newspapers.
The time was now coming when Mr Edwards’ talents
were to be exercised in a wider sphere. His uncle dying,
bequeathed to him his property ; and in 1773 he became
heir to the much larger estate of Mr Hume, also of Ja¬
maica. His wealth and talents united, now entitled him
to take a lead in the political concerns of the island. In
1784 he published Thoughts on the Proceedings of Govern¬
ment respecting the Trade of the West India Islands with
the United States of America. This was followed by a
speech delivered at a free conference between the Coun¬
cil and Assembly at Jamaica, held on the 25th of Novem¬
ber 1789, on the subject of Mr Wilberforce’s propositions
in the House of Commons concerning the slave trade. It
was in 1793, however, that he published his great work,
on which he had been many years engaged, entitled His¬
tory, Civil and Commercial, of the British Colonies in the
West Indies, 2 vols. 4to. He begins the work by giving
a view of the original inhabitants of the West Indies, their
manners, institutions, and the means by which they have
been so entirely exterminated. This was followed by a
sketch of the revolutions through which these islands have
passed since the first European invasion. He gives next
a geographical and statistical description of each particu¬
lar island. He treats finally, at great length, of the go¬
vernment, the social state, and above all the commerce, of
this remarkable region. In the course of the discussion,
he enters fully into its relations with the African coast
and the negro slave trade. Mr Edwards, as a great and
long resident proprietor, was almost inevitably led to be a
supporter of this traffic. He reasons, however, in a libe¬
ral and candid manner on the question, and does not even
attempt to deny the extent of the evils with which it was
accompanied. He only insists that these evils have been
overrated ; and that Great Britain, by renouncing it whilst
it was still prosecuted by the other nations of Europe,
would ruin her own colonies, without doing any thing to
improve the condition of the Africans. In 1796 he pub¬
lished, in one volume quarto, a History of St Domingo, an
island which had excited a deep interest, in consequence
of the insurrection of the slaves, and the consequent esta¬
blishment of an independent negro government. In 1801
a new edition of both these works was published, in three
vols. 8vo, under the general title of History of the West
Indies. A fifth edition issued from the press in the year
1819. When Park returned from his celebrated jour¬
ney, Mr Edwards, from his oral information, drew up a
report of it, which was submitted to the African Society,
and published in their Transactions. Mr Park afterwards
incorporated the greater part of this into the general nar¬
rative of his Travels, in preparing which he availed him¬
self much of the assistance and suggestions of Mr Edwards.
It has been currently said that this narrative was entire¬
ly written by Mr Edwards; but as this assertion has been
pointedly contradicted by Park, who has elsewhere shown
respectable talents for composition, it can only be under¬
stood in the limited sense which has now been stated. It
appears, however, that Mr Park was induced, by Mr Ed¬
wards’ influence, to give rather a more favourable view
of the trade in slaves than reflection afterwards led him
to sanction.
Mr Edwards, after his removal to England, took up his
residence at Polvs'on, near Southampton; and in 1796 he
EDWARD S.
Edwards, became member of parliament for the borough of Gram-
Jonathan. pound, which he continued to represent till his death,
which took place on the 15th of July 1800. He left a short
narrative of his life, which was prefixed to the edition of
his history published in 1801. (h.m.)
Edwards, Jonathan, a celebrated American metaphy¬
sician and divine, was born on the 5th of October 1703,
at Windsor, in the province of Connecticut. His family
had originally emigrated from England in the reign of
Queen Elizabeth. His father, Mr Timothy Edwards, was
a clergyman of great piety and respectability, and by his
mother he was grandson of Mr Solomon Stoddard, a noted
and zealous divine of Northampton. Jonathan was ac¬
cordingly reared in the bosom of Puritanism, and all his
ideas were early imbued with the cast of thought which
was native to the stock from which he had sprung. There
was something indeed not a little singular in the prevail¬
ing character of religion in America in those days. A con¬
version seems to have been a regular era in a man’s life,
which could be fixed down to a date, as much as his
coming of age or his being married. A very curious docu¬
ment remains of Jonathan’s conversion, the whole steps and
progress of which he has detailed for the behoof of his chil¬
dren; and it is a document which, even amidst all its fre¬
quent weakness and extravagance, impresses us with a high
sense of the genius and of the worth of this remarkable
roan. We cannot avoid giving our readers a little insight
into it, especially as it contains some passages of deep
feeling and sensibility, which form a striking contrast to
the controversial hardness of his other writings. It is
full of bursts of tenderness ; and even whilst the subjects
of his earliest meditations were the same dark doctrines,
in their most tremendous form, which he afterwards de¬
fended so ably by the help of his mature reason, amidst
all the gloom which naturally surrounds them, they seem
to have left upon his mind no sentiments but those of
gentleness and chaiity. At the same tune, this document
affords us a distinct proof that such doctrines take their
origin, in a great measure, in peculiar circumstances of
society, or of the individual mind ; and since they were
quite as fully impressed upon Edwards before he was ca¬
pable of any profound reasoning concerning them, as after¬
wards, the presumption is, that his early prepossessions
came strongly in aid of his later conclusions.
It was in the midst of these youthful musings that he
acquired a full and firm persuasion of tenets which we will
own scarcely seem to us to be either so lovely, or of so
good report, as the more natural sentiments of his un¬
converted state, which he gave up in exchange for them.
“ I had a variety,” says he “ of concerns and exercises
about my soul from my childhood ; but had two more re¬
markable seasons of awakening before I met with that
change by which I was brought to those new dispositions,
and that new sense of things, that I have since had. The
first time was when I was a boy, some years before I went
to college, at a time of icmarkable awakening in my fa¬
ther’s congregation. I was then very much affected for
many months, and concerned about the things of religion.”
I his state of mind, however, appears to have passed off;
but, in his last yeai at college, he was visited by a severe
sickness, which made him form many wise and holy reso¬
lutions, which he was afterwards for the most part enabled
to keep. So far it was well; but now follows the grand
proof of his conversion. “ From my childhood up,” he says,
“ my mind had been wont to be full of objections against
the doctrine of God’s sovereignty in choosing whom he
would to eternal life, and rejecting whom he pleased, leav¬
ing them eternally to perish, and be everlastingly tor¬
mented in hell. It used to appear like a horrible doctrine
to me. But I remember very well when I seemed to be
415
convinced and fully satisfied as to this sovereignty of God, Edwards,
and his justice in thus eternally disposing of men ac- Jonathan,
cording to his sovereign pleasure. But I never could give
an account how or by what means I w’as thus convinced,
not in the least imagining in the time of it, nor a long
tinm niter, that there was any extraordinary influence of
God s Spirit in it, but only that now I saw farther, and my
reason apprehended the justice and reasonableness of it.
However, my mind rested in it, and it put an end to all
those cavils and objections that had till then abode with
me all the preceding part of my life. And there has been
a wonderful alteration in my mind with respect to God’s
soveieignty from that day to this, so that I scarce ever
have, found so much as the rising of an objection against
God s sovereignty in the most absolute sense, in showing
mercy to whom he will show mercy, and hardening and
eternally damning whom he will. God’s absolute sove-
reignty and justice, with respect to salvation and damna¬
tion, is what my mind seems to rest assured of as much as
of any thing that I see with my eyes.” This doctrine conti¬
nued throughout Mr Edwards’ life in peculiar favour with
him ; and he employs the whole resources of his dialectics
to support it, with a full conviction that he was thereby
glorifying God, and performing an important service to
mankind.
In this document of Mr Edwards’ early opinions, we
have said that, amidst all the horrors of his creed, there are
many intimations of the natural fineness and sensibility of
his spirit. The following passages are remarkably beauti¬
ful, and have about them a tone of pastoral or rather scrip¬
tural poetry. “ Not long after I first began to experience
these things, I gave an account to my father of some
things that had passed in my mind. I was pretty much
affected by the discourse we had together ; and when the
discourse was ended, I walked abroad alone in a solitary
place in my father’s pasture for contemplation. And as
I was walking there, and looked up on the sky and clouds,
there came into my mind so sweet a sense of the glorious
majesty and grace of God that I know not how to express
it....God’s excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love,
seemed to appear in every thing; in the sun, moon, and
stars; in the clouds and blue sky; in the grass, flowers,
trees; in the wrater and all nature, which used greatly to
fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for
a long time, and so in the day time spent much time in
viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of
God in these things; in the mean time singing forth with
a loud voice my contemplations of the Creator and Re¬
deemer...! used to be a person uncommonly terrified with
thunder; and it used to strike me with terror when I saw
a thunder-storm rising; but now, on the contrary, it rejoiced
me. I felt God at the first appearance of a thunder-storm,
and used to take an opportunity at such times to fix my¬
self to view the clouds, and see the lightnings play, and
hear the majestic and awful voice of GodVs thunder.” These
confessions have let us already into the inside of Edwards’
mind, and there is no need to return upon them whilst we
pursue the account of his studies, life, and writings. There
is a poetry and grandeur in some of his passages of this
sort which show a moral sublimity of genius in the midst
of enthusiastic reveries, often, in inferior minds, more pro¬
ductive of dark and disorderly sentiments than of sound
and elevated piety. When he comes, however, to reason
on his theological or philosophical tenets, he is no longer
either an enthusiast or a poet; for he then proceeds with
all the pertinacity and ingenuity of a hard-headed dialecti¬
cian, determined neither to tolerate nor employ any wea¬
pon but stern argument. J
He went young to Yale College, and as early as his
thirteenth year had read Locke On the Human Under-
416
EDWARD S.
Edwards, standing with great delight and profit. He had a great
Jonathan, taste for natural philosophy, but the moral and divine
sciences were his chief object; and after a long residence
at college, during which time he_ prepared himself assi¬
duously for the ministry, he was in due form licensed to
preach. In August 1722 he was invited to preach to the
English Presbyterians at New York, where he continued
with approbation above eight months; but as this society
was too small to maintain a preacher, he returned in the
year 1723 to his father’s house at Connecticut, where, for
some time, he applied to his studies with much industry
and perseverance; and this severe application became ha¬
bitual to him, although he was of a delicate constitution.
In the spring of 1724, having taken his master’s degree,
he was appointed tutor of Yale College, being then in his
twenty-first year ; an office which, notwithstanding his
youth, he filled for two years with great success and re¬
putation. In September 1726 he received an invitation
from the people of Northampton in Connecticut, to be¬
come assistant to his mother’s father, Mr Stoddard, to
whom he was ordained colleague in his twenty-fourth
year, and continued as pastor of this congregation till the
year 1750. During this time he married, had many chil¬
dren, and wrote several pious and useful treatises, chiefly
suggested by the events of the times, such as his Faith¬
ful Narrative of the Surprising Work of God, in t ie
Conversion of many Hundred Souls in Northampton f\or
these, as his biographer1 tells us, were remarkable times
for the out-pouring of God’s Spirit); but particulaily a
sensible and useful treatise on Religious Affections, in
which he endeavoured to restrain the extravagance and
fanaticism into which, under these strong impressions, the
relio-ion of his flock was but too apt to degenerate. He
was& a most faithful and conscientious minister, but at
last fell under the displeasure of his people, from no other
cause except his anxiety for their spiritual interests. 1 hey
appear, indeed, to have been a very stiff-necked genera¬
tion, full of absurd whimsical vagaries on the subject of
religion, but at the same time evincing little of its spirit
in their lives and conversations. They had all a voice in
the election and continuance of their clergyman, and they
were very ready to seize any opportunity to show their
power. Mr Edwards discovered that some licentious
books had got among the youth of his congregation, a
fact as to which he wished some investigation to take
place ; and this was the first point upon which his people
flew off from him. There arose afterwards another point
about the administration of the holy communion. His
grandfather Mr Stoddard had, it seems, a notion that the
administration of the sacrament was a moment which the
Divine Spirit was much disposed to seize for the conver¬
sion of sinners; and that, therefore, the most notoiious
sinners were almost without scruple to be admitted to
that holy ordinance, in the hope that this conversion would
fall upon them. The result of this precious notion was,
that the utmost licentiousness, mingled as it was with wild
religious fancies floating in every brain, began to prevail
amongst the people. When Mr Edwards, on his giand-
father’s death, obtained the entire charge, he endeavoui-
ed to make a change in this particular; but the outciy
against him was loud and overbearing. Even his brethren
of the clergy tamely gave way to a clamour which they
condemned; and this excellent, able, and pious clergy¬
man was thus driven away by the misguided flock, tor
whom he had laboured assiduously during twenty-four
years ; and at an advanced period of life, with a wife and Edwards,
a large family, he was thrown upon the world and the care
of providence.
His next position was at Stockbridge, in the western
part of Massachusetts Bay, where he was put at the head
of a mission for converting the Indians. He was not ena¬
bled to do much as a missionary; but here he had a great
deal of leisure, which he employed in writing his principal
works. It was now he completed his chief treatise on
the subject of free will; a work concerning the rapid exe¬
cution of which we have the following information in Sir
Henry Moncreiff Wellwood’s able and interesting Life
of Dr Erskine. “ It was not till the month of July 1752,
that he appears to have resumed his studies on the sub¬
ject of free will; for on the 7th of that month he writes
Dr Erskine, that ‘ he hoped soon to be at leisure to re¬
sume his design;’ and gives him another sketch of the
plan of his book, in which, though there be nothing new,
there is more detail than in that which he had foimerly
sent him. Whatever opinion,” continues this able writer,
“ may be held with regard to Mr Edwards’ argument, it
must appear astonishing to those who are capable of ap¬
preciating the difficulty of his subject, that, in nine months
from the date of this letter, on the 14th of April 1753,
he could write Dr Erskine, that he had almost finished
the first draught of what he originally intended; though
he was under the necessity of delaying the publication
till he knew the result of proposals which he had circu¬
lated for printing his book by subscription. His book
was published in 1754, and, though he had made some
progress in preparing his materials before he left North¬
ampton, was certainly written, and nearly completed,
within the time ascertained by the two letters referred
to, and must be admitted to convey a very striking idea,
both of his mental resources and of his literary ardour.
In 1757, on the death of Mr Aaron Burr, xMr Edwards
was chosen president of New Jersey College. He had only
been here, however, a very short time, when he was car¬
ried off on the 22d of March 1758, in the fifty-fifth yeai
of his age, by the small-pox. 1 his disease was at that
time raging in the neighbourhood. Mr Edwaids, who
had never had it, proposed to be inoculated, which his
physicians approved of. He had the disease favourably,
but a secondary fever set in, and by reason of a number
of pustules in his throat, the obstruction became such that
he could not swallow the necessary medicines, and the fatal
result was what we have stated. I he character of Mr
Edwards is that of a very primitive, self-mortified, simple,
and amiable man, and affords a strong proof of the power
of genuine Christian piety upon the heart, in spite of the
most gloomy and repulsive tenets. He was solely occu¬
pied with his professional duties and his theological stu¬
dies, insomuch that, as is mentioned with inimitable sim¬
plicity by the author of his life, “ he was less acquainted
with most of his temporal affairs than many of his neigh¬
bours, and seldom knew when and by whom his forage
for winter was gathered in, or how many milk-kine he
had; whence his table was furnished,” or by what means
his wants were provided for. Mrs Edwards, however, a
most valuable and sensible woman, fully supplied his de¬
fects in these particulars. We must quote another pas¬
sage from this piece of biography, which is equal in sim¬
plicity, though by no means in any thing else, to some of
the exquisite biographies of Isaac Walton. After being
informed that he did not permit dancing, against which
1 This primitive piece of biography, from which
Mr Edwards’ death. Its author is not mentioned,
dine, 1799.
all our quotations are taken, is prefixed to a volume of sermons published after
The edition from which we quote is printed at Edinburgh, by Alexander Jar-
E D W E G E 417
Edwards, amusement, indeed, he wrote a sermon, we are told that
Jonathan. “ he allowed not his children to be from home after nine
'“■'"Y'*-'' o’clock at night, when they went abroad to see their
friends and companions; neither were they allowed to sit
up much after that time, in his own house, when any came
to make them a visit. If any gentleman desired acquaint-
tance with his daughters, after handsomely introducing
himself, by properly consulting the parents, he was al¬
lowed all proper opportunity for it, and a room and fire,
if needed; but must not intrude on the proper hours of
rest and sleep, nor the religion and order of the family.”
Mr Edwards comes nearer Bishop Butler as a philoso¬
phical divine than any other theologian with whom we
are acquainted. His style, like Butler’s, is very much
that of a man thinking aloud. In both these authors the
train of thinking in their own minds is more clearly exhi¬
bited to us than perhaps by any other writer, whilst they
show us with great truth and distinctness what their no¬
tions are, and how they came by them, with very little
concern about the form of expression in which they are
brought out. Butler, however, had a larger mind than
Edwards, and was by no means so much of a mere dia¬
lectician. If, therefore, he be less acute than the Ame-
,, rican, he is more comprehensive, and gives fairer play to
every opposing argument. We do not mean here to enter
into any of Edwards’ speculations. Both on the subject of
original sin, and on the freedom of the will, he seems
to us to unite a great deal too closely the views which
originated, as we have seen, in no small degree, amidst
his early reveries, with the infallible discoveries of divine
revelation. Our notion is, that in all discussions on such
subjects which have hitherto appeared, the speculatists
have forgotten how little a part either of the history or
the nature of man we are in fact acquainted with; and
how ready we ever are, in laying the foundations of our
theories, to place a tortoise beneath the elephant. The
whole difficulty, for instance, on the freedom of the will,
turns upon a puzzle in the idea of cause and effect. Per¬
haps this idea is far from being precise in our minds (Mr
Edwards uses it very loosely in his speculations); yet we
do not scruple, in our reasonings upon it, to draw the
most positive inferences from the assumptions with which
we set out. We suspect, indeed, that the true and accu¬
rate notion of causation always involves the idea of voli¬
tion ; and, on that supposition, to ask for the cause of voli¬
tion itself is absurd. It may be very true that we can¬
not will to do any thing without previous thought or mo¬
tive; neither can we think without previous existence.
But is our existence the cause of our thinking? Just as
much as our thinking is the cause of our willing. We are
far, however, from wishing to add our own crude concep¬
tions to those which have been piled up on this subject
from the beginning of time to the present hour, without,
we believe, doing the slightest service to the cause of mo¬
ral and religious truth, or accomplishing any thing, in short,
beyond affording an exercise for ingenuity, and too often
a handle for uncharitable rancour and presumptuous ab¬
surdity. Mr Edwards, with all his great powers, has ac¬
cordingly, we apprehend, done but little good to the
world, we mean as a philosopher; for he did much good
in his own day, whilst he was living the life of a zealous
and faithful Christian minister. But it is “ thus we play
the fools with the time; and the spirits of the wise sit
in the clouds and mock us.” Exalted above all the folly
of human wisdom, the spirit of this truly good and pious
man is now, it may be, disposed to regard with some such
sentiment many of his own most severe and laborious spe¬
culations, which were carried on in the serious belief,
that if “ the knots of Calvinism were trimmed off, or its
doctrines, in the whole length and breadth of them, were
VOL. VIII.
not rigidly maintained, a man could nowhere set his foot Eecloo
down with consistency and safety, short of Deism, or even II
Atheism itself, or rather universal Scepticism.” Eger.
Edwards’ works consist of several volumes of sermons,
printed at various times, and often reprinted in this coun¬
try as well as in America. Besides these, he wrote, 1. A
Treatise concerning Religious Affections, 1746, 8vo; 2.
An Account of the Life of the Reverend David Brainerd,
1749, 8vo ; 3. An Inquiry into the Qualifications for full
Communion in the Visible Church, 1749, intended as a
vindication of his principles in the matter which occa¬
sioned his dismission from Northampton ; 4. A careful
and strict Inquiry into the Modern Notion of that Freedom
of Will which is supposed to be essential to Moral Agency,
1754 ; 5. The Great Christian Doctrine of Original Sin
defended, containing a Reply to the Objections of Dr John
Taylor, 1758; 6. A History of Redemption; 7. Miscel¬
laneous Observations on Important Theological Subjects,
London, 1793 ; 8. Remarks on Important Theological
Controversies, ibid. 1796. Some of these were posthu¬
mous, as were a few other tracts of less importance writ¬
ten by mm. (r. m.)
EECLOO, a town of Belgium, province of East Flan¬
ders, situated on the high road between Ghent and Bruges,
12 miles N.E. of the former. Pop. (1851), 8884. The
town is generally well-built, and has an ancient convent, a
town-hall, prison, several churches, and numerous schools
Manufactures—woollen and cotton goods, soap, tobacco, cho¬
colate, and hats; besides distilleries, tanneries, salt refineries,
and oil mills. A large weekly market for grain, cattle, &c.
is held here.
EEL. See Ichthyology.
EFFENDI, a Turkish word signifying master, frequently
subjoined as a title of respect to the names of persons, par¬
ticularly to those of ecclesiastics and learned men. The
grand chancellor of the empire is called Reis Effendi, ab¬
breviated from Reis-al-Kottdb, which signifies “ the chief
of secretaries or writers.”
EFFERVESCENCE. When an acid is added to a
carbonate, the phenomena of bubbles, vapours, and small
jets ot liquid, attended with a hissing noise, are occasioned
by the disengagement of gas; and this species of intestine
motion is termed effervescence. Sometimes also efferves¬
cence is accompanied with a great degree of heat, from the
decomposition of some substances and the formation of new
compounds.
EFFIGY (effigies), the portrait, image, or representa¬
tion of a person. It also denotes the impression of a coin,
representing the head of the prince who struck the coin. To
hang, or burn in effigy, is to burn or hang an image or pic¬
ture of the person intended to be executed or degraded. In
France, this was formerly done in the case of any criminal
who could not be apprehended—his image or picture being
hung on a gibbet, below which was written his sentence of
condemnation.
EFFLORESCENCE, in Chemistry, the formation of a
kind of mealy powder on the surface of certain bodies. It
is occasioned either by decomposition or by drying. The
efflorescence which happens to cobalt and martial pyrites is
of the former kind; and that observed on the crystals of
soda, Glauber’s salt, &c., is of the latter kind. An efflores¬
cence is sometimes also a species of crystallization, such as
the beautiful vegetations which shoot up from different
saline substances. See Crystallization.
The term is used in botany to denote the time of flowering.
EFFLUVIUM, a term used to express the minute par¬
ticles which exhale from most, if not all, terrestrial bodies,
in the form of sensible vapours.
EGER, (Boh. Cheb), a frontier town of Bohemia, capi¬
tal of a cognominal circle, situated on a rocky eminence on
3 G
418 EGG
Egeria the right bank of the Eger, 94 miles west of Prague. Pop.
II about°10,000. It was formerly strongly fortified, but its
ESg- walls are now almost destroyed, and the ditches have been
filled up. There are several handsome buildings in the
town, including a fine parish church, and a spacious town-
hall. At the east end of the market-place is the burgo¬
master’s house, in a bed-room of which Wallenstein was
assassinated in 1634. Situated in an angle of the fortifica¬
tions, on a rock, are the ruins of the imperial castle, con¬
taining an ancient square tower built of massive blocks of
volcanic tuff, and regarded by some as a work of the Ro¬
mans. The double chapel is an interesting specimen of
Gothic architecture ;—the lower story which existed in
1213 is supported by granite pillars, with ancient capitals ;
the upper story rests on four slender marble columns with
pointed arches, and singularly carved capitals bearing gnos¬
tic and other symbols. Adjoining the chapel is the castle-
hall where the friends of Wallenstein were treacherously,
murdered previous to his own assassination. Eger has ma¬
nufactures of cotton and woollen stuffs, chintz, leather,
soap, &c. An avenue nearly three miles in length, leads
from this town to Tranzensbad, or Tranzensbrann, cele¬
brated for its mineral springs.
EGERIA, or Algeria, in Homan Mythology, a nymph
of Aricia in Italy, from whom Numa is said to have received
instructions respecting the laws and regulations which he
introduced at Rome. According to the legend, they had
frequent interviews by night in the Lucus Camenarum a
grove near the Porta Capena, in the valley now called La
Caparella. When Numa died, the disconsolate Egeria re¬
tired to the grove of Aricia, on the borders of the Lacus
Nemorensis (Nemi); and by her tears and lamentations so
frequently interrupted the worship of Diana, that the god¬
dess, in commiseration, transformed her into a fountain.
Egeria was regarded as a prophetic divinity ; and, as pre¬
siding over childbirth, she was invoked by pregnant women.
Hence by some she has been identified with Lucina (Liv.,
i. 19.; Ovid, Met. xv. 431, &c.; Virg., JEneid, vii. 761), &c.
EGG, in Physiology, a body formed in certain females,
in which is contained an embryo or foetus of the same spe¬
cies, under a cortical surface or shell. The exterior part
of an egg is a shell, which in a hen, for instance, is a white,
thin, and friable cortex, including all the other parts. The
shell becomes more brittle by being exposed to a dry heat.
It is lined everywhere with a very thin but pretty tough
membrane, which dividing at or very near the obtuse end
of the egg, forms a small bag, where only air is contained.
In new-laid eggs this follicle appears very little, but be¬
comes larger when the egg is kept. Within this are con¬
tained the albumen or white, and the vitellus or yolk ; each
of which has its different virtues. The albumen is a vis¬
cous, white liquor in the egg, different in its consistence
in its different parts. It is observed, that there are two
distinct albumens, each of which is inclosed in its proper
membrane. Of these, one is very thin and liquid, the
other is more dense and viscous, and of a somewhat whiter
colour, but, in old and stale eggs, after some days’ incuba¬
tion, inclining to a yellow. As this second albumen covers
the yolk on all sides, so it is itself surrounded by the other
external liquid. The albumen of a fecundated egg is as
sweet and free from corruption during the whole tirne of
incubation as it is in new laid eggs; and so is also the
vitellus. The eggs of hens consist of two liquors separated
one from another, and distinguished by two branches of um¬
bilical veins, one of which goes to the vitellus, and the other
to the albumen. When the vitellus grows warm with incu¬
bation, it becomes more humid, resembling melting wax or
fat; and hence it occupies more space. For as the foetus
increases, the albumen insensibly wastes away and conden¬
ses : the vitellus, on the contrary, seems to lose little or
nothing of its bulk when the foetus is perfected, and only
E G li
appears more liquid and humid when the abdomen of the Egham
foetus begins to be formed. The chick in the egg is first ||
nourished by the albumen, and, when this is consumed, by I,jgret.
the vitellus, as with milk. If we compare the chalazce to
the extremities of an axis passing through the vitellus,
which is of a spherical form, this sphere will be composed
of two unequal portions, its axis not passing through its cen¬
tre ; consequently, since it is heavier than the white, its
smaller portion must always be uppermost in all positions
of the egg. The yellowish-white round spot, called cica-
tricula, is placed on the middle of the smaller portion of
the yolk; and therefore, according to what has been said
above, must always appear on the superior part of the vitel¬
lus. Not long before the exclusion of the chick, the whole
yolk is taken into its abdomen; and the shell, at the ob¬
tuse end of the egg, frequently appears cracked some time
before the exclusion of the chick. The chick is sometimes
observed to perforate the shell with its beak. After exclu¬
sion, the yolk is gradually wasted, being conveyed into the
intestines by a small duct.
Eggs differ very much, according to the birds which lay
them, as to their colour, form, size, age, and the different
ways of dressing them. Those most used in food are hens’
eggs. As to the preservation of eggs, it is observed that
the egg is always quite full when it is first laid by the hen ;
but from that time it gradually becomes less and less so,
till its decay ; and, however compact and close its shell may
appear, it is nevertheless perforated with a multitude of
small holes, though too minute to be discerned by the naked
eye, the effect of which is a daily decrease of matter within
the egg, from the time of its being laid. This perspiration
is much quicker in hot weather than in cold. To preserve
the egg fresh there needs no more than to preserve it full,
and stop its transpiration ; the method of doing which is,
by stopping up those pores with matter which is not soluble
in watery fluids ; and on this principle it is that all kinds of
varnish, prepared with spirit of wine, will preserve eggs
fresh for a long time, if it be carefully rubbed all over the
shell. Butter, or mutton fat, is also good for this purpose.
EGHAM, a village of Surrey, 18 miles W. of London,
on the Thames, and connected with Staines on the oppo¬
site side of the river by an iron bridge. In the vicinity is
Runnymede, famous in English history as the scene of the
conference between King John and his barons, which
ended in the signing of the Magna Charta, a.d. 1215 ; and
Cooper’s Hill, celebrated by Denham and Pope.
EGINHARD. See TEginhard.
EGNATIA, or Gnatia, a city of Peucetia, a province
of Apulia, situated on the coast, the inhabitants of which are
ridiculed by Horace for exciting the wonder of the igno¬
rant multitude by burning incense on an altar without the
process of ignition. This city gave name to the Via Egna-
tia, which passed from Brundusium through Egnatia to
Canusium. Its ruins are found at the Torre d'Agnazzo,
where the inhabitants still pretend to show the temple al¬
luded to by Horace.
EGREMONT, a small market-town of England, county
of Cumberland, on the Ehen, 2^ miles from the coast. The
parish church, St Mary’s, is an ancient edifice. The ruins
of Egremont castle stand on an eminence near the town.
Large quantities of iron ore are excavated in the neighbour¬
hood. Market-day Saturday. Pop. of parish 2049.
EGLANTINE, a name of the sweet-briar, Rosa rubi-
ginosa, so frequently alluded to by our old poets. Warton
justly observes—that Milton in the Allegro has applied the
word improperly to the honeysuchle.
Then to come, in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good-morrow,
Through the sweet-briar or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine.
EGRET. See index to Ornithology.
419
EGYPT.
SECTION I.
PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY, PRODUCTIONS, AND INHABITANTS.
Egypt. Egypt, a country situate at the north-eastern extremity
of Africa, between N. Lat. 31. 37. and 24. 1., and E. Long.
27. 13. and 34. 12. bounded on the N. by the Medi¬
terranean Sea, on the S. by Nubia, on the E. by Palestine,
Arabia, and the Red Sea, and on the W. by the Great
Desert.
Names of In the hieroglyphic inscriptions the proper name of Egypt
Egypt. is Kem, and it was therefore thus called by its ancient in¬
habitants. The pronunciation of this name cannot be re¬
garded as perfectly certain, since the first consonant may
perhaps be “ ch,”1 2 and the vowel is not expressed. The
Coptic form is x1?/2-1 or XaP7 to the Memphite dialect, and
Krjfjie or kyj/it] in the Theban. The name signifies, both
in Egyptian3 and in Coptic, “ black,” and is said to have
been given to the country by reason of the blackness of its
cultivable soil.4 * The other names of Egypt in its ancient
language appear to be appellations of a poetical character.
Egypt is usually called in the Hebrew Scriptures
Mizraim. In the enumeration of the descendants of Noah,
we find Mizraim among the sons of Ham,3 and it has been
hence concluded this is the name of an individual as well
as of Egypt. In the Old Testament, however, men are
called the fathers of tribes and of cities ;6 and the name
Mizraim, although used as a singular, being dual in form,
is manifestly applicable to a country naturally divided into
two regions, and so divided by its ancient inhabitants. This
name in the singular form Mazor, is sometimes given
to Egypt in the Bible. The latter is the same as the
o
Arabic name Misr, pronounced in the vulgar dialect
Masr, and signifying “ red mud.” By red (ahmar),
the Arabs mean both red and reddish brown; and the
Egyptian Kem signifies either a dark colour generally, or
particularly (and this is more probable) that of the tail
of the crocodile, the first hieroglyphic of the group (which
is read Kem), which varies, in different individuals, from
a slaty to a reddish brown.7 The ordinary Hebrew and
Arabic name of Egypt is therefore of the same signifi¬
cation as the hieroglyphic one. We also find Egypt called
in the Old Testament “ the land of Ham,” DH,8 and
mention is made therein of “ the tabernacles of Ham.”9
This may refer to the patriarch or to the Egyptian name; and Egypt,
as the patriarch’s namesignifies in Hebrew “hot” or “warm,”
and we find in Arabic, a sister language, a cognate word
hama, fetid black mud,10 * the two may be regarded as iden¬
tical with each other and with Mazor. Since the name of
the patriarch is so appropriate to Egypt, it is most reason¬
able to suppose that it was given him prophetically as the
progenitor of the sun-burnt inhabitants of this and neigh¬
bouring lands ; and it must be borne in mind, that both
Noah and Japhet, and probably Shem also, were so named.
Besides the biblical names of Egypt above mentioned, there
is also nrn Rahab, signifying “ the Proud.”
The Arabic name of Egypt, Misr, is given to that coun¬
try by its modern inhabitants. It first occurs, as far as
is known, in the Kur-an, as in the following passage, “And
Pharaoh proclaimed among his people, saying, O my peo¬
ple, doth not the government of Misr belong to me ?”u
where Misr signifies Egypt.12
The name of Egypt, written Misr, is stated by Colonel Raw-
linson to be found in the cuneiform inscriptions of Assyria.
The etymology of the common Greek name of Egypt,
AtyvTTTos, whence ours is derived, has occasioned much dis¬
cussion. The most probable derivation is ala “ land,” and
rWro? a proper name. This “ Guptos” seems equivalent
to Coptos, the Coptic Kefira), Kenro, KeTrroj, xe/r, and Arabic
CIaKuft, a town in Upper Egypt, radically the same
as the name of the Egyptian Christians, Copts. In hiero¬
glyphics Coptos is called Kebt-hor,13 which is clearly the
same as the biblical Caphtor; and since Kebt-hor is identical
with Coptos, Caphtor may be with “ Guptos.” In the enu¬
meration of the sons of Mizraim we find the Caphtorim,14
and elsewhere the country called Caphtor is mentioned.
In the book of Jeremiah, "llriDD ’N “ Iy-Caphtor”15 that
is, “ the island” or “ coast” (whether bordering on a sea or
river) “ of Caphtor” is spoken of; and this expression seems
to be the very origin of AtyvTrros. A historical inquiry, for
which there is not space in the present article, lends addi¬
tional weight to the probability of this etymology.16
By the Greeks and their contemporaries Egypt w'as gene- Geographi-
rally held to be a country of Asia, though some assigned it cal posi-
to Libya,17 that is, Africa. The reason of this difference ti°n-
1 These limits are those of the northern coast.
2 Certain letters of the Egyptain alphabet had a double pronunciation, either in the language generally, according to their position, or in
different dialects. That rendered “k” is probably one of these, and sometimes held a middle place between the simple “h” and the
rough “ kh,” being a “ch” (^) or “hh.”
3 Champollion, Dictionnaire Egyptienne, s. v. 4 Plutarch, Be hide et Osiride, c. 33, p. 364. 6 Gen. x. 6.
6 See Gen. x. 15, et seqq., where it is said that “Canaan begat Sidon, his first-born [not necessarily the city so called], and Heth, and
the Jebusite, and the Amorite,” as well as other tribes. In 1 Chron. we find mention of “ Shobal the father of Kirjath-jearim, Salma
the father of Beth-lehem, Hareph the father of Beth-gader” (ii. 50, 51); and a little farther occur these words, “The sons of Salma,
Beth-lehem, and the Netophathites” (TcL 54.)
7 Comp. Horapollo Nilous TZhotiis Si Xeyovri;, x^oKoSt'iXov ovgav icreidt) oix ciXXtas us xcc'i ivcoXuav o x/ioxobuXos £«v
Xafinra.! Z,c!ioVy u p,ri 7-jj olfiq. rti icairou ^la.wXvxr'Hrus utowov [or arovov] TO.^Kirxsvaa'U. if tovtm yu/) ru u.Bgu fl tov x^oxo^iiXou lO’^bs xtxt t&ftiau'x vsrda^si.
Ed. Cory., 1. i., c. Ixx., p. 87. It is to be observed that the facts stated by Horapollo are usually much more reliable than his explana¬
tions of them, or those of his translator Philip, to whom we may ascribe much of the contents of the work. In selecting symbols
the ancient Egyptians seem to have chosen those representing as obviously as possible the idea which they were desirous to embody, but
the philosophical interpreters of their system sought to explain those symbols in an abstruse manner.
8 Ps. cv. 23, 27; cvi. 22. 9 Ps. Ixxviii. 51.
10 Black mud, according to the lexicon called the Sihah (MS.); or black fetid mud, according to the Kamoos. 11 Kur-dn, c. xliii. 50.
12 The same name is applied in Arabic to several of the successive capitals of Egypt. See below, section iii.
13 MS. notes of Sir Gardner Wilkinson, who believes that Mr Harris of Alexandria first ascertained the true reading.
14 Gen. x. 14; 1 Chron. i. 12. is jer- 4#
36 The Bible relates that the Philistines came out of Caphtor, and as well as the Egyptian monuments, shows that the Philistines and
Cretans were most probably kindred peoples, and thus the name A’iyvXTos, if the same as “ ly-Caphtor,” would be traceable to thfe mari¬
time Greeks, who were at all times connected with Egypt.
17 “ Egypt, according to some, is of Asia, and according to others, of Libya.”—Scholiast on Apollonius Rhodius (iv. 1571).
420
EGYPT.
Egypt, seems to have been twofold, partly because Egypt was so-
cially Asiatic but by position African, and partly because
the Nile, which intersects the country, was fixed upon as
the boundary of Asia and Libya, so that half Egypt, or at
least some part of it, would have been assigned to each of
these continents. From this cause arose the opinion of the
lonians, which Herodotus mentions,1 that what others have
called Egypt, except the Delta, was half an Arabian country
and half a Libyan; so that the Delta, their Egypt, should
have been, as the historian remarks, reckoned a fourth di¬
vision of the world by the lonians, since they assigned it to
neither Asia nor Libya.
Extent. In ancient times Egypt was held to be the country over¬
flowed by the Nile north of the First Cataract, and the Ara¬
bian and Libyan deserts and mountains which border that
tract on the east and west were not considered part of it.
Thus Herodotus relates that “ they of the city of Mareaand
of Apis, who inhabit the parts of Egypt bordering on Libya,
thinking themselves to be Libyans and not Egyptians, and
being discontented at the usage concerning victims, de¬
siring not to abstain from [eating the flesh of] cows, sent
to [the oracle of] Ammon, saying that nothing was common
to them and to the Egyptians, for they dwelt without the
Delta, and did not speak the same language with them, and
that they wished it might be allowed to them to eat all
things: but the god did not permit them to do thus, say¬
ing, that Egypt was that [tract] which the Nile passing
over waters, and the Egyptians those who, dwelling below
the city Elephantine, drink of this river. Thus these things
were replied by the oracle to them. Now the Nile reaches,
when it swells, not alone the Delta, but also some part of
the tract which is said to be Libyan, and of that which [is
said to be] Arabian, even for a two days’ journey on both
sides, and [sometimes] yet more than this or less.”2 No
more accurate description could be given of the Egypt of
the ancients than this reply of the oracle of Jupiter Ammon.
By the modern inhabitants, and by the Arabs, Egypt Pro¬
per is the same tract, but they differ from the ancients in
calling the deserts those of Egypt, instead of assigning them
to the adjoining countries. Modern European geographers,
however (the Turks excepted), understand Egypt to com¬
prehend the Eastern Desert to the Red Sea, and the
Western as far as a little beyond the neighbouring oases,
excepting that of Seewah, anciently that of Jupiter Ammon.
The countx-y watered by the Nile north of the First Cataract,
and the deserts which bound it, have been always distinct
naturally and politically, inhabited by two or more different
races, a settled people, and a nomad, often at war with one
another; and it has been easier to distinguish these tracts
than to determine how much of either desert should be as¬
signed to the inundated tract as part of Egypt, so that the
ancient definition of that country seems by far the more
reasonable of the two. That of the modern geographers is,
however, now so generally received, that it is unadvisable
to attempt to disturb it.
The political advantages of the situation of Egypt, and of
its natural strength, as well as resources, can scarcely be over¬
estimated. It lies in the very route of the trade between
the East and the West. Not only has the commerce of
Arabia and India in almost all ages passed through it, but its
great river and caravans of camels have brought from Cen¬
tral Africa ivory and gold and negroes, since the patriarchal
times. It has natural harbours on the coast of the Red
Sea and that of the Mediterranean, the selection and im¬
provement of the most important of which has been re¬
garded as the wisest act of Alexander the Great, and cer¬
tainly was that by which he most benefited posterity, if
indeed he did so directly by any other.3 The plain of
Lower Egypt is hard to approach by land, and by reason of
its intersection by the branches of the Nile and by canals,
as well as the possibility of sometimes laying great portions
of it under water, difficult to subdue, while the narrow
valley of the Sa’eed, or Upper Egypt (otherwise called Middle
and Upper) is made almost impregnable by the mountains
and deserts which closely hem it in. The whole country is
rendered independent of neighbouring lands by its extreme
fertility, which makes its defence the easier. The ancient
wealth and power of Egypt need therefore occasion us no
wonder, and while we trace the causes of their decay, these
natural advantages of position raise a hope for the future.
In the great French work on Egypt, there is an excel¬
lent memoir on the superficies of that country by Col. Ja-
cotin,4 which is both fuller and from a higher authority than
anything else on the same subject: from this memoir the
following remarks are taken:—M. Jacotin observes that
Egypt, according to the maps of the best geographers, par¬
ticularly of D’Anville, is situate between the meridians 26.
30., and 32. 20. E. Long, (that is from the meridian of
London, or rather Greenwich, 28. 50. and 34. 40. E. Long.),
and the parallels 24. 1. 25., and 31. 37. 0. N. Lat. The
surface contained within these limits may be computed to
be 20,000 square leagues, or 115,200 square geographical
miles.5 This must be considered as a very approximative
calculation, since the limits of Egypt, when the deserts are
included, are necessarily extremely vague. The space
which the Nile does or can water and fertilize, including
its bed, north of the First Cataract, is only 9582’3936 square
miles, or about a twelfth of the whole superficies, and of
this but 5626,5984 square miles, inclusive of the islands of
the river, are either in a state of cultivation, or fit for cul¬
tivation. The space actually under cultivation was found by
M. Esteve, according to M. Jacotin, to be 5469‘8688 square
miles; but the latter gentleman calculates that anciently
2735’0784 square miles more may have been cultivable,
whereof much might still be reclaimed. Flis most impor¬
tant results are contained in the following table, which he
gives in various measures of space, of which the square
leagues of 25 to the degree of latitude are only here re¬
tained, while a column is added with the same sums in
square geographical miles.
Nature of the Surface.
Square Square
Leagues of 25 Geographical
to the Degree. Miles.
]. Towns, villages, &c  21‘93 126-3168
2. Cultivated land, and land fit for cultivation 965-85 5563-2960
3. Uncultivated land which might be cultivated 224'87 1295-2512
4. Islands in the river '.  10-99 63-3024
5. Canals, with their banks, dikes, roads, &c. 36"19 208-4544
6. Ruins and rubbish, of ancient towns and
monuments  4-89 28-1664
7. The river when at its height  47-71 274-8096
8. The lakes, ponds, and marshes, during the
inundation.  283-00 1630-0800
9. Sandy tracts, sea-shore, and hills, within the
part of Egypt which can be inundated by
the river, and distinct from the deserts.... 68-18 392-7168
Total  1663-61 9582-3936
Egypt.
Superficies,
In addition to these various kinds of surface, M. Jacotin
estimates the desert tract between the limits of the fertile
a mu rod-’ ii->15> 16- 2 ld-> «•> 18.
The Emperor Napoleon I., who was not the man to underrate military glory, held this opinion : “ ‘ Alexandre,’ a dit Napoleon, ‘ s’est
plus illustre^ en fondant Alexandrie et en meditant d'y transporter le siege de son empire, que par ses plus eclatantes victoires. Cette
vi e devait etre la capitale du monde. Elle est situee entre EAsie et I’Afrique, a portee des Indes et de I’Europe. Son port est le seul
moui lage de cinq cents lieues de cotes qui s’etendent depuis Tunis, ou 1’ancienne Carthage, jusqu’a Alexandrette ; il est a 1’une des an-
eicnnes embouchures du Nil. Toutes les escadres de 1’univers pourraient y mouiller, et, dans le vieux port, elles sont a I’abri des vents
6 6 attd^u?' Clot-Bey, Aperqu G&ntral, tom. i., p. 188. 4 Description de VEgypte, 2de edit. tom. 18, ii., p. 101, et seqq.
e square miles mentioned in these remarks are always geographical, whether this is specified or not.
EGYPT.
421
Egypt, soil and the foot of the mountains on either side of the Nile
's—-sy-w' as equal to about 52 square leagues, or 299*52 square miles.
Mr Lane calculated the extent of the cultivated land in
Egypt to be equal to 5500 square geographical miles, or
rather more than one square degree and a half. “ He made
this calculation,” says Mrs Poole, “ from a list of all the
towns and villages in Egypt, and the extent of cultivated
land belonging to each. This list is appended to De Sacy’s
‘Abd Allatif.’ It was made in the year of the Flight 777
(a.d. 1375-6); and may be rather underrated than the re¬
verse. The estimate of M. Mengin shows that in 1821 the
extent of the cultivated land was much less ; but since that
period, considerable tracts of waste land have been ren¬
dered fertile.”1 The near agreement of Mr Lane’s calcula¬
tion with those of M. Esteve and Col. Jacotin, affords satis¬
factory evidence of the accuracy of the writer last mentioned.
Mrs Poole’s work was published in 1844, since which time
the extent of the cultivable land can have varied but little.
Ancient In the hieroglyphic inscriptions mention is made of “ the
divisions, two regions” of Egypt, and the kings of the whole land wear
the crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt, although the country
had been divided into more than two monarchies; all which
shows that among its ancient inhabitants, in the earliest
times, the natural division obtained. The upper country,
or Upper Egypt, commenced above Memphis, comprising
the narrow valley as far as the First Cataract; while the
lower country, or Lower Egypt, was the plain containing
the Delta, the cultivable land on each side thereof, and the
few miles of territory which intervened between the point
of the Delta and the southern part of Memphis. Near
Memphis the mountains begin to recede, and the valley to
open into the plain; and the commencement of the Delta
was not anciently so far north of that city as it is at present
north of its site. For the lesser divisions of Egypt under
the Pharaohs, we must depend upon the statements of
ancient writers, since satisfactory evidence has not been
adduced on this matter from the hieroglyphic inscriptions.
The first step, however, has recently been taken by Mr A.
C. Harris of Alexandria, who has collected and published
the hieroglyphical standards representing districts (whether
nomes or toparchies), and ascertained that these standards
have a geographical import.2
Diodorus Siculus relates that a king Sesostris, whom he
calls Sesoosis, first divided Egypt into nomes, 36 in num¬
ber ;3 and Strabo says that such was the ancient number of
these provinces.4 It will be seen, however, that the name
Sesostris was applied by the Greeks to more than one king,
without any distinction ; so that, if we admit that Diodorus
is accurate, we cannot determine to which of the Pharaohs
this relates ; nor, since certain of these kings who were thus
confounded reigned at distant periods, can we ascertain ap-
proximatively the time when nomes were instituted. It is
not therefore possible to come to any certain conclusion as
to the period before that of ttie Greek geographers. The
following is a list of the more important nomes from Ptolemy,
Pliny, Strabo, and the coins. In consequence of the changes
that were occasioned by the increase in their number, and
the confusion that is caused by different names having been
applied to the same nome, no complete list could be given
without large commits as to the disputed points. In the
Delta and the rest of Lower Egypt, were the Mareotic nome,
the Alexandrian, the Metelite, the Cabasite, the Saite, the
Prosopite, the Sebennyte (which w'as separated latterly into
two nomes), the Xoite, the Athribite, the Mendesian, the Egypt-
Busirite, the Leontopolite, the Tanite, the Sethroite, the
Arabian, the Bubastite, and the Heliopolite. The nomes
of the Heptanomis were the Memphite, the Heracleopolite,
the Arsinoite, or Crocodilopolite, the Aphroditopolite, t! e
Oxyrhynchite, the Cynopolite, the Hermopolite, and theAn-
tinoite. Of the Theba'is the chief nomes were the Lycopo-
lite, the Hypselite, the Aphroditopolite, the Antaeopolite, the
Panopolite, the Thinite, the Diospolite, the Tentyrite, the
Coptite, the Theban, the Hermonthite, the Apollinopolite,
and the Ombite. The Oasis of Jupiter Ammon forms a
separate nome in Pliny’s list, and the other two oases, the
“Great” and “Little,’’were included in the Antinoite nome,
according to Ptolemy. Strabo assigns ten nomes to the Delta,
the same number to the Thebais, and sixteen to the inter¬
mediate space ; but it is not clear that he refers to his own
times, and the text seems inaccurate, and the number six¬
teen should rather be assigned to the nomes of the Delta.
Ptolemy enumerates 44 nomes, and Pliny 46. Subsequently,
however, they increased to about 58 or 56, 35 or 33 in
Lower Egypt, 8 in the Heptanomis, and 15 in the Thebais.5
The whole country in the time of the earlier Caesars was
divided into the Delta, Heptanomis, and Thebais. The
first of these comprehended nothing beyond its natural
limits, excepting certain portions of land to the east and
west; the second, called Heptanomis, because it originally
comprised seven nomes, commenced at the point of the
Delta and extended southwards to the Thebaica Phylace;
and the third, the Thebais, reached thence to the First
Cataract. About the close of the fourth century Lower
Egypt was further divided into four provinces, Augustamnica
Prima and Secunda, and iEgyptus Prima and Secunda, and
the Heptanomis was called Arcadia from the Emperor
Arcadius, while Upper Egypt was divided into Upper and
Lower Thebais.
The following is a list of the modern divisions and pro- Modern
vinces :—El-Akaleem El-Bahreeyeh, or the northern pro- divisions,
vinces, comprehending the Gharbeeyeh, the province of
Er-Rasheed, or Rosetta, the Boheyreh, the province of El-
Mansooreh, the Manoofeeyeh, the province of Ed-Dimyat,
or Damietta, the Sharkeeyeh, the Kalyoobeeyeh, and the
province of El-Geezeh. El-Akaleem El-Wustaneeyeh, or
the middle provinces, containing the province of Atfeeh,
the Feiyoom, the province of Benee-Suweyf, and that of
El-Minyeh. El-Akaleem El-Kibleeyeh, or the southern
provinces, having three divisions, the province of Asyoot,
that of Girgeh, and that of Kine. This is the manner in
which the country was officially divided at the time of the
French invasion, and the same division popularly obtains at
the present day. Under the Memlook Sultans of the
Bahree Dynasty, we find Egypt divided into somewhat
smaller provinces, whereof the less important were after¬
wards merged in those adjoining them, and the later system
was thus formed. By Mohammad ’Alee Pasha a new divi¬
sion was organized into mudeerliks, or districts governed by
a mudeer, of which Lower Egypt, including a small portion
of Middle Egypt, contained four, and Middle and Upper
Egypt three.6 In consequence of these circumstances it
will be easily understood that much confusion prevails re¬
specting the modern divisions of the country.
The general appearance of Egypt is remarkably uniform. General
The Delta is a level plain richly cultivated, and varied alone appear-
by the lofty dark-brown mounds of ancient cities, and the ance*
1 Englishwoman in Egypt, vol. i., p. 85. M. Jomard in the Description de VEgypte (ix., p. 110), calculates the land mentioned in the
list given by De Sacy, to be 952-1 square leagues, or 5592-96 square miles. Mr Lane has preferred giving a round sum, for the reason
doubtless that accuracy is not to be expected in a list of the kind.
2 !< Hieroglyphical Standards representing places in Egypt supposed to be its Nomes and Toparchies, collected by A. C. Harris of
Alexandria, M.R.S.L., London.” 3 Lib. i., 54. 4 Lib. xvii., 5.
6 Wilkinson’s Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol, i., p. 420-1 ; and ii. 3, 4, 5. Becker’s Handbuch der Rdmischen Altherthiimer, continued
by Marquardt, vol. iii. pt. 1, p. 213. See also Eckhei Doctrina Numorum Veterum, vol. iv., p. 99, et seqq.
6 See Mengin, Histoire Sommaire, 237, et seqq.
422
EGYPT.
Egypt, villages in groves of palm-trees, standing on mounds often
^ if not always ancient. We sometimes see groves of palm-
trees besides those around the villages, but other trees are,
except in some parts, rare. In Upper Egypt the valley is
in as rich a state of cultivation, but very narrow and bounded
bv mountains of no great height, which hem it into a con¬
fined space. The mountains seem like cliffs from the river,
but are rarely very steep. They constitute the edge of the
desert on either side of the valley, which appears as though it
had been cut through a rocky table-land, for they rarely
take the form of peaks. Sometimes they approach the river
in bold promontories, and at others are divided by a valley
with the bed of a torrent that flows only at very distant in¬
tervals. The features of the country therefore vary very
little, nor is there great difference in the colour. The
bright green of the fields, however, the reddish-brown or
dull green colour of the great river, the tints of the bare
yellow rocks, and the deep blue of the sky, always form a
pleasant view, and often one of great beauty.
Climate The climate of Egypt, being remarkably equable, is
and me- healthy1 to those who can bear great heat, and who avoid
teorology. t]le unwholesome tracts of the country. Europeans, exclu¬
sive of the Turks, generally hold a contrary opinion to this ;
but it should be remembered that Alexandria, where most
of them reside, is situate on a salt marsh, and that those born
in cold climates are generally found to be unfit to support
great heat, more especially if they persist in a mode of life
which, though not prejudicial in a cold climate, is the
surest means of destroying the constitution in a hot one.
The English physician at Cairo, Dr Abbott, who has re¬
sided in Egypt several years, but is also acquainted w ith
many other countries, considers that the climate is the finest
in the world ; and he does not stand alone in thinking thus.
The atmosphere is remarkably dry and clear, except on
the sea-coast; and even the humidity, which is the inevitable
consequence of the spreading of the inundation, is scarcely
felt except in its usually rendering the heat more oppres¬
sive. Sometimes a white fog very dense and cold rises
from the river in the morning, but it is of rare occur¬
rence and short duration. The heat is extreme during a
great part of the year, but it is chiefly felt when accompanied
by the hot winds of spring, and the sultry calm of autumn,
after the Nile has overspread the lands. The winter is
often comparatively severe in its cold, especially as the do¬
mestic architecture is calculated to protect rather from heat
than cold. “ The general height of the thermometer in the
depth of winter in Lower Egypt, in the afternoon and in
the shade, is from 50° to 60°: in the hottest season it is from
90° to 100°; and about ten degrees higher in the southern
parts of Upper Egypt.”2
On the coast of the Mediterranean rain is frequent, but
in other parts of Egypt very unusual. At Cairo there is
generally one heavy storm in the winter, and a shower or
two besides, while at Thebes a storm occurs but once in
about four years, and light rain almost as rarely.
The wind most frequently blows from the north-west,
north, or north-east, but particularly from the first direction.
The proportionate prevalence of these winds to those from
all the other quarters, in the year, is about 8 to 3; but to
those from the south, south-east, and south-west, about 6 to 1.3
1 he northerly winds are the famous Etesian winds of the
ancients, which enable boats constantly to ascend the Nile
against its strong and rapid current. They also cool the
temperature during the summer months. The southerly
winds are often very violent,4 and in the spring and sum¬
mer, especially in April and May, hot sand-winds sometimes Egypt,
blow from the south, greatly raising the temperature, and
causing especial suffering to Europeans. 1 he famous
Simoom, properly called Samoom, is a much more violent
hot sand-wind, which is more usual in the desert than in
the cultivated tracts, but in either, occurring only at long in¬
tervals. It is a kind of hurricane, most painful to experi¬
ence, and injurious in its effects.5 The Zuba’ah is a com¬
mon but remarkable phenomenon. It is a very lofty whirl¬
wind of sand resembling a pillar, which moves with great
velocity, and when crossing the Nile frequently capsizes
any boat which may be in its way, and of which the main
sheet is tied, through the carelessness of the boatmen, in¬
stead of being held. Mr Lane measured some with a sex¬
tant and found them to be between five and seven hundred
feet in height, and one to have an altitude of seven hundred
and fifty feet.6
One of the most interesting phenomena of Egypt is the
mirage, which is frequently witnessed both in the desert
and in the waste tracts of uncultivated soil near the Mediter¬
ranean ; and it is often so truthful in its appearance that
one finds it difficult to recognise the illusion.
Notwithstanding the fineness of the climate, the stranger Diseases,
who visits Egypt is struck by the signs which he sees every¬
where of the prevalence of many serious diseases, while he
may be a witness of calamitous visits of the plague or the
cholera. Yet he should remember the poverty of the great
mass of the inhabitants, and their insufficient food, the igno¬
rance of the native medical practitioners, the false system of
many of the foreigners established in the country, and the
reluctance of the natives to take medical advice. Ophthal¬
mia is frequently followed by blindness if not treated, and
dysentery, without the aid of physic, still oftener terminates
fatally; so that there is no reason to wonder at one’s fre¬
quently meeting blind persons, and hearing of deaths from
dysentery.
The plague may be regarded as the most remarkable
disease of Egypt. Plagues are recorded by Manetho to
have occurred in the reigns of two of the most ancient
kings,7 and this malady is evidently alluded to in the Bible
as peculiarly Egyptian.8 It has not, however, broken out
since the year 1843, when there was a plague of a compaVa-
tively insignificant character so far as the mortality was
concerned. In 1835 there was a plague of extreme seve¬
rity, by which there died of the inhabitants of Cairo a num¬
ber equal to the whole adult male population.9 There hav¬
ing been no outbreak since 1843, whereas ordinarily there
would have been several before the present year (1855), has
been attributed to the sanitary measures of the Egyptian
government. That government doubtless deserves great
credit for its exertions in this matter ; but all such efforts
would have as yet produced but little result were it not
for the constant extreme dryness of the climate, and the
powerful heat of the sun duriftg a great part of the year.
The plague is not confined to Egypt, but appears on the
east and south coasts of the Mediterranean, and part of the
north coast, and sometimes pursues a similar course to the
cholera in advancing steadily from place to place. In
Egypt it usually first appears at Alexandria in the winter
or spring, and if the earliest cases ocpur towards the close
of the year, one may be sure of a plague of great severity
and long continuance. At first the cases are generally few,
but they gradually increase, and in the hottest weather at¬
tain their maximum. The disease is not long in travelling
from Alexandria to Cairo, but it rarely ascends much higher
4 Ijane’s Modern Egyptians, Introduction. 2 Id., ibid. 3 Clot-Bey’s Apergu General sur VEgypte, tom. i., p. 30.
In Stephens’s Incidents of Travel in Egypt, &c., chap, iv., there is an excellent description of the effects of a gale from the south. Any
one who has witnessed the scene which that author describes on the Nile, will be struck by the truthfulness of the picture which he
1 g"6’ _ 6 Englishwoman in Egypt, vol. i., pp. 96, 97.
g c ■> Modern Egyptians, chap. x. 7 Cory’s Ancient Fragments, 2d edit., p. 96.
ec . xiv. 18. 9 Modern Egyptians, Introduction.
EGYPT. 423
Egypt, up the river, and has seldom been known at Thebes in
modern times. Many medical writers have denied the
contagious character of the plague ; in particular, Clot-Bey,
a French physician, who was long chief medical officer of
the Egyptian government, and who published a treatise on
this disease j1 yet it is impossible to deny the positive evi¬
dence of the senses, showing not only that the plague is
contagious, but that it is so in the highest degree. The
efficacy of quarantine is alone a strong argument in favour
of those who believe in its contagious character; but the
distinct fact, for example, of persons having taken the dis¬
ease after wearing the clothes of those who had died of it, in
circumstances the most conclusive, can hardly be rejected.
Dysentery is an extremely common malady, and causes
very considerable mortality. It may usually be traced to
a careless course of diet, and especially to the eating of
crude vegetables, and unripe or unwholesome food, and
the drinking brackish water. Mr Lane (in the Modern
Egyptians') has made public a mode of treatment which
has been attended with extraordinary success.2
Asiatic cholera has visited Egypt in its westward course
on the occasions in which it has appeared in Europe, except¬
ing the last visitation; and it is remarkable that after each
of the two former occasions, the epidemic appeared a second
time, but with far less destructive results. At each of these
times the mortality was considerable, nearly 200,000 hav¬
ing perished in all Egypt, according to the government re¬
ports, which were probably below the truth, in 1848.
Among the diseases most dreaded by the European re¬
sidents, or, to use the expression of the natives, the Franks,
is the liver-complaint. Those, however, who are moderate
in the use of intoxicating drinks, or who abstain from them
altogether, either escape this disease, or suffer from it in a
comparatively mild form. Haemorrhoids and herniae are
among the most ordinary maladies.
Cutaneous disorders have been esteemed from ancient
times among the curses of Egypt. Leprosy is well known
but not common, unlike elephantiasis, which in more than
one form has numerous victims. Smallpox was formerly
very severe, but its virulence has been checked by the
use of vaccination. There are various other diseases of
lesser importance, the most remarkable being the so-
called guinea-worm, which, however, is perhaps not in¬
digenous.
Of the diseases of the eye, ophthalmia is the most formid¬
able from its prevalence and malignant character ; yet per¬
haps no malady is more amenable to treatment if promptly
commenced. Where the predisposition exists, a slight
cause, such as the irritation caused by a grain of dust or
sand, is sufficient to produce an inflammation, which, if al¬
lowed to increase, inflicts a lasting injury if it do not pro¬
duce blindness. For this disease also Mr Lane has published
a very efficacious mode of treatment.3
Clot-Bey affirms that pulmonary consumption is extremely
rare among the native inhabitants;4 yet another physician of
ability has asserted, though not in print, that he had met
with not a few cases in a short practice. The opinion of the
former is corroborated primd facie, by the circumstance
that the Romans sent their consumptive patients to Egypt,
and that modern European physicians have adopted the
same course; yet the ill success of this change argues un¬
favourably for the climate of Egypt for persons thus afflict¬
ed. Its effect is not that of the climate of Madeira, and the Egypt-
patient rarely improves. A residence in the desert, how-
ever, a mile or two from Cairo, under canvas, would pro¬
bably have a beneficial result in cases of incipient consump¬
tion. Asthma and bronchitis are among the common dis¬
orders.
The occurrence of coup-de-soleil is not unusual, but it is
rarely attended with fatal results. Madness is common, but
it generally assumes the milder form of idiocy. Maniacs
alone are confined : idiots are regarded with much respect
as saints, and it is probable that some persons feign idiocy
to become objects of popular veneration, supported by alms
given ungrudgingly. One of the Memlook Sultans, Kala-
oon, after the example of Salah-ed-Deen or Saladin,6founded
a madhouse or nmristan at Cairo, which yet remains,6 but in
a grievously neglected state. Of late it has been found ne¬
cessary to remove the patients thence to a modern hospital.
Nervous affections are uncommon, probably owing to the
calm life which the inhabitants lead. Rheumatism is of
more usual occunence ; but gout is, according to Clot-Bey,
unknown.7 It is very remarkable that hydrophobia is also
unknown in Egypt. Although ownerless dogs are very
numerous in Cairo and the smaller towns, and the heat
of summer is so great, there is no recorded instance of
rabies; yet Clot-Bey is probably in error when he says that
it has not been observed at any period in that country,8 for
the formularies of the Coptic church contain a prayer to
be used for a person afflicted with hydrophobia,9 and such
a prayer is not likely to have been derived from a foreign
source.10
In considering the geology of Egypt, its deserts claim Geology,
our first notice. By a desert is generally understood a
wide plain of shifting sand; but this is usually an erroneous
description of such a tract, and especially inapplicable to
the deserts which border the valley of the Nile. These
are raised mountain regions, the surface of which is often
covered with sand, debris, and pebbles, intersected by val¬
leys, and diversified, in the case of the western desert, by
some oases.
On both sides of the Nile the mountains are limestone,
until a little above Thebes, where the sandstone commences.
At the First Cataract red granite and other primitive rocks
burst through the sandstone beneath the bed of the Nile, and
for a considerable space on the east, obstructing the course of
the river by numerous small islands and rocks, and thus form¬
ing the rapids. In several places, chiefly on the eastern side,
bold promontories or steep mountains approach the river,
and sometimes reach it. They are always utterly devoid
of vegetation, and, except the granite, generally of a yel¬
lowish or reddish colour, though in some places they
are greyish. Near the cataracts the sandstone moun¬
tains are partially covered with a bright yellow sand in drifts.
The mountains on both sides near the river are usually
about 300 feet in height, and rarely much loftier. The
highest point on the western bank at Thebes is four times
that altitude. If one leaves the river and ascends the moun¬
tains, he finds a great rocky tract before him, the only easy
paths through which are along valleys often very winding.
The eastern desert gradually rises until about midway be¬
tween the Nile and the Red Sea, where primitive rocks
burst through the later formation, and the loftiest of them,
a granite mountain called Gebel-Ghareb (cir. Lat. 28.) at-
1 Clot-Bey, De la Peste, Paris. 2 j\f0(iern Egyptians, App. E. 3 Id., ibid.
* Clot-Bey, Aperqu General, tom. ii., p. 372. 6 Abulfedae Annales Muslemici, ed. Reiske, Hafn., 1789-1794, tom. iv., pp. 30, 31.
Englishwoman in Egypt, vol. i., p. 166. 7 Clot-Bey, Aperqu General, tom. ii., p. 377. 8 Id., tom. ii., p.’378.
This is stated on the authority of the Rev. J. R. T. Lieder of Cairo, who has been long engaged in endeavouring to educate the
Copts, and has succeeded in removing many of their prejudices, especially against Protestants. While occupied in this labour, he has
collected a valuable amount of information respecting the ancient and remarkable church to which this remnant of the old inhabitants of
Egypt belong.
10 Eor an account of the diseases of Egypt, see Clot-Bey’s two works Aperqu General and De la Peste, and Dese. de VEgypte, tom. xiii..
K l\i>
EGYPT.
;ypt. tains the height of about 6000 feet. In this portion of the
v-—^ desert are porphyry, breccia, and basalt rocks, which were
much prized by the ancient inhabitants for purposes of
architecture and sculpture. The western desert is of a
lower elevation, and is principally remarkable for its oases,
which are deep valleys containing alluvial soil, but they are
little productive except in dates. Their beauty and fertility
lias been much, though naturally, exaggerated. Notwith¬
standing the inequalities of their surface, it is evident that
these deserts gradually rise towards the Red Sea, attaining
their greatest height in the peninsula of Sinai, which is but
a continuation of the same tract.
The most remarkable geological change which has been
observed to have taken place in Egypt, and which is still
in operation, is the depression of the northern shore and the
corresponding elevation of the southern part of the isthmus
of Suez. The consequence of this change of level has been
the ruin of places on the shore of the Mediterranean, and
the extension of the salt-marshes, and at the same time the
drying up of a considerable part of the northernmost portion
of the Gulf of Suez. It is very interesting to find this
latter result predicted in the Scriptures at a time when it
could not have been humanly foreseen. Thus Isaiah pro¬
phesied, “ The waters shall fail from the sea, and the river
shall be wasted and dried up j”1 and, in another place, “ The
Lord shall utterly destroy the tongue of the Egyptain sea;
and with his mighty wind shall he shake his hand over the
river, and shall smite it in the seven streams, and make
[men] go over dryshod” [Heb., in shoes~\. In the latter
passage,2 “the river” may mean Euphrates, and instead of
“ in the seven streams,” we may read “ into seven streams;”3
but the former passage, as well as another,4 are sufficient to
show that a diminution of the streams of the Nile was also
prophesied, which likewise has been remarkably fulfilled.
The bed of the Red Sea may be traced for a course of
several miles north of Suez, which now stands at the head
of its western gulf; and places considerably north of
that town were on the coast within the historical period.
Indeed, the change appears to have occurred chiefly, if not
wholly, during that time.
The form of the plain and valley inclosed by the deserts
and mountains is remarkably regular. In Lower Egypt
the cultivable land little exceeds the limits of the ancient
Delta, but considerably those of the space between the two
remaining branches of the Nile. The northern coast is
protected by shoals and a low range of sand-hills. To the
south of these are extensive salt-marshes and lakes, or
waste tracts, and then the cultivable land commences.
The form of the valley, or Upper Egypt, may be more ac¬
curately described. For the first 70 miles above Cairo,
by the course of the river, the valley is nearly north and
south, until it takes a westerly direction, which it main¬
tains for about the same distance. It then bends in an
easterly course for a few miles, and again runs north and
south for a longer distance, until, about 60 miles higher
than the point where it turned towards the east, it again
takes that direction, which is first E.S.E., then S.E., then
due E., and at last a little to the N. of E. After this
easterly course of near 200 miles, the valley becomes N.
and S. for about 30 miles; it then turns to the W. for
about 20 miles, and to the E. for about 50, when it again
assumes a southerly direction for the remaining 60 miles
below the First Cataract, the boundary of the country. The
mountains and desert on the western side throughout Upper
Egypt (or Middle and Upper), that is above Cairo, are gene¬
rally further from the river than those on the eastern, which
frequently reach to the water’s edge. The difference is
most remarkable as far as the town of Farshoot, which is Egypt,
by the course of the river about 350 miles above Cairo, and
about 70 miles below Thebes. Near Farshoot commences
a continuous series of canals, which flow parallel to the Nile,
and near the Libyan chain, until they terminate in Lower
Egypt, not far north of Cairo. South of Farshoot, the west ern
mountains gradually approach the Nile, until, halfway be¬
tween Thebes and the First Cataract, the cultivable soil
is equally narrow on each bank ; for, with the exception of
a tract about 70 miles in length, commencing a little above
Farshoot, and terminating a little above Thebes, the moun¬
tains and deserts on the eastern bank are very near the river
throughout Upper Egypt. The greatest breadth of the culti¬
vable land, all of which is not now cultivated, on the western
bank seldom exceeds about 8 or 10 miles, and on the east¬
ern bank, about 3 miles, but it is usually much narrower.
There is in Upper Egypt one striking deviation from the
uniform character of the country. About 70 miles above
Cairo, by the course of the Nile, an opening in the Libyan
range leads to a kind of oasis, the Feiyoom, a fertile tract,
lying in a hollow of the desert, and having at its further ex¬
tremity a considerable lake of brackish water.
In the hieroglyphic inscriptions, the Nile receives the jiamos of
name of Hapimou, or the “abyss of wraters,”5 under which Nile,
it was worshipped as a god. This divinity is represented
as a stout man having woman’s breasts, and sometimes
painted red, but at others blue, to indicate the river at the
season of its rise and during the rest of the year, or High
and Low Nile.6 The names of the Nile in Coptic are
cfiLapo or “ the river,” which wyas probably likewise an ancient
Egyptain name, and its variations, and Tricumys. Other
supposed Coptic names rest upon doubtful authority.
We find in the Bible three names of the Nile. It is
frequently called D’“lVP "IlO, or “ the river of Egypt.”7
The appellation or “UU, and its plural, is similar to
this, and is probably of Egyptian origin. ^ The Nile also
receives the name of ^m, or onp bn: —that is,
if the word bn: be a proper name—Nahal, and Nahal-
Mizraim; or, if it bear its ordinary Hebrew signification, “the
brook,” and “the brook of Egypt.” Hence a difference of opi¬
nion has obtained respecting this name, some maintaining that
it was a name of the Nile, while others concluded that it ap¬
plied to a mountain torrent, which is usually dry, on the bor¬
der of Egypt and Palestine, sometimes called the river of
Egypt. In parallel passages, however, “ the river of Egypt
and “the Nahal of Egypt ” are used synonymously,8 and al¬
most cei’tainly, also, the latter and the name Shihor, which is
undoubtedly a name of the Nile.9 It becomes a question, then,
whether Nahal is to be taken in its ordinary Hebrew signi¬
fication, or as a proper name of the river, and the origin of
the Greek NeiA.os. " That it usually signifies a brook when
applied to a stream cannot be denied, but its proper and
first meaning is a valley, and thence a mountain-torrent.
The Arabs, in like manner, have often used the word
“w'adee,” properly signifying “a valley,” to designate rivers,
because mountain-torrents in the valleys ot Arabia are
the streams to which the natives are accustomed: hence
the names of several Spanish rivers commence with this
word, as the Guadalquivir, a corruption of the Arab name,
El-Wadee el-Kebeer, or “ the great river.” It is not
unreasonable, therefore, to suppose Nahal not to be a pro¬
per name. On the other hand, it may be argued that it
is scarcely likely that two such similar appellations as
Nehar-Mizraim and Nahal-Mizraim would be employed to
designate the same stream, particularly as they ordinarily
1 Is. xix. 5. 2 js. xi. 15.
6 Bunsen’s Egypt's Place, vol. i., p. 499.
7 Gen. xv. 18, &c.
3 Gesenii Lexicon, s. v. “iHJ 4 Ez. xxx. 12.
6 Ancient Egypitians, second series, vol. ii., p. 56 seqq. PI. 56, 57.
8 Gen. xv. 1.8; Num. xxxiv. 5. 9 Josh. xiii. 3.
EGYPT.
425
Egypt, bear different significations; that the Arabs have the pa-
rallel appellation, Neel-Misr, or the Nile of Egypt; and
that Nahal bears a resemblance to NeiXos which can hardly
be accidental. The name Shihor, which occurs
in the Bible, as already noticed, is derived from “ to
be black,” and signifies turbid and black.
The proper name of this river in Greek is NeTAos, by
which it is known among the Arabs, who call it JvaaI \ En-
o "
Neel, the Nile, or jko.* Neel-Misr, the Nile of
Egypt. A famous Arab lexicographer gives the following
explanation of this word :—“ J aXI \ is the river (lit. the
inundation) of Egypt: Es-Saghanee says—£ But as to the
J, J [indigo] with which one dyes, it is an Indian word
\
Source.
Change in
level.
Arabicised.’ ” 1 As the Hebrew word Shihor signifies black
or turbid—and, with that signification, properly applies to
the river during the inundation—it is very remarkable to
find a name properly signifying the Nile during the inun¬
dation, to be the same as that of the dye indigo. It should
be remembered also that the Low Nile was painted blue
by the ancient Egyptians. The river is turbid and reddish
throughout the year, and turns green about the time when
the signs of rising commence, but not long afterwards be¬
comes red and particularly turbid. Not to extend these
remarks further, and to show' more clearly the connection
between the different names of the Nile mentioned above
and others, a comparative list is here appended.
Hebrew.
Nahar-Mizraim
Nahal-Mizraim
Nahal
Shihor
Neel-Misr
Neel
Bahr (Sea)
Greek.
hiyvitTos •XOTOtft.os
Nsrxof
’O*s«vof ?
Latin.
Nil us
Melo
The Gihon, which is mentioned as one of the four rivers
which arose in Eden, has been supposed by early com¬
mentators, as well as by certain modern critics, to be
identical with the Nile. This opinion, however, is irrecon¬
cilable with the position of the other rivers, two of which
are indubitably the Tigris and the Euphrates, and the third,
probably the Phasis.
The present article is not the place in which to examine
the various opinions which have obtained respecting the
source of the Nile. It is enough to say, that the interesting
discoveries by Dr Krapf and Mr Rebmann, the missionaries
stationed at Mombas, leave no room to doubt that the
Bahr el-Abyad, or White Nile, flows from snowy moun¬
tains south of the equator. These must be the Mountain
or Mountains of the Moon spoken of by Ptolemy and the
Arabian geographers, and so called, according to Aristotle,
from their whiteness.2 The Arabs generally have placed the
source of the river considerably south of the equator; and the
errors of our modern European geographers must be as¬
cribed to the Greeks. Forfurther details, see the article Nile.
A remarkable change has been ascertained to have oc¬
curred in the level of the Nile above Gebel-es-Silsileh (the
ancient Silsilis, more than 80 miles south of Thebes), and
throughout a considerable portion of Nubia. Indications
of this change were first observed by Dr Lepsius, who
discovered hieroglyphic inscriptions on rocks at Semneh,
not far above the Second Cataract, showing that the river
attained a much higher level about 2000 years before the
Christian era than it does now. Sir Gardner Wilkinson Egypt,
pursued the inquiry in a paper read before the Royal So-
ciety of Literature, and published in their Transactions,3
wherein he argues that the cause of this alteration must
have been the bursting through of a barrier at Silsilis, where
the low mountains confine the river to a narrow channel.
1 here must have been at this place, therefore, an ancient
fall of far more importance than the First Cataract, and those
above it throughout Nubia; and from it may have arisen the
accounts in classic writers of the greatness of the cataracts
of the Nile, which are wholly inapplicable to the present
First Cataract. This change seems to have been already
complete about the beginning of the fourteenth century be¬
fore our era, and we cannot tell if it had not been effected
considerably earlier. All that is known for certain is, that
it took place after the middle of the twentieth century b.c.,
and before the later date first mentioned. Its result has been
to place the cultivable soil of a great portion of Nubia be¬
yond the reach of the inundation, so that it is irrigated
alone by water-wheels.
The water of the Nile differs considerably in appearance Water and
and purity at various seasons of the year. A little after deposits,
midsummer it becomes very turbid, and not long afterwards
it assumes a green colour for more than a fortnight, owing to
the quantity of vegetable matter which it brings down from
its upper course. It then resumes its turbid character for
the period of the rise, and retains it, though in a less degree,
for the remaining portion of the year, until the following mid¬
summer. The water is extremely sweet, particularly if drunk
in its turbid state, and is easily filtered through porous jars
manufactured in the country. Too careful a filtration de¬
stroys its peculiar flavour, and diminishes its excellence.
It is very wholesome, except during the short period at
which it is green ; and the inhabitants of Egypt hold it in
such high esteem, that they say, that he who has once drunk
of the water of the Nile must return to drink of it again.
Its turbid appearance, particularly during the rise and inun¬
dation, is owdng to the presence of large quantities of earthy
matter, which are annually deposited. The deposit, or mud of
the Nile, has been thus analysed by M. Regnault.4 The speci¬
men was dry, and taken from a canal which conducted the
waters of the inundation. He obtained the following results :
Water ’ll
Carbon -09
Oxide of iron     '06
Silica    -04
Carbonate of magnesia -04
Carbonate of lime -IS
Alumen -48
1-00
M. Regnault remarks that the quantities of silica and
alumen vary according to the places whence the mud is
taken. “ On the banks of the Nile the mud contains much
sand ; and, when it is carried by the waters of the inunda¬
tion to distant tracts, it loses on the way a quantity of sand
proportionate to its distance from the river; so that, when
this distance is very considerable, one finds the argillaceous
matter almost pure: thus the soil of Egypt presents argil¬
laceous matter in those different states of purity which the
arts require.” 5
The Nile shows the first signs of rising in Egypt about Rise and
the time of the summer solstice. At Khartoom, where the inundation.
White River and the Blue River join, the commencement
of the increase is observed early in April.6 The slowness
of the rise at first causes this difference. Usually the regular
increase does not commence in Egypt until some days after
1 The Misbah of El-Feiyoomee.
• *nci^enta] allusion in Aristotle is very valuable, if referring to these mountains, since it has been suggested that the mention
in I tolemy is an interpolation, because it was supposed to be unsupported by any other ancient writer. May not the story Herodotus
tells of the source of the Nile from two mountains be an incorrect version of a true statement ? (ii. 28).
Transactions of Royal Society of Literature, vol. iv., new series. 4 Description de VEgypte, tom. xx., p. 163.
Description de VEgypte, tom. xx., pp. 163-4. 6 Clot-Bey, tom, i., pp. 36, 37
VOL. VIII. ^ o TT
426
Egypt.
EGYPT.
Current
and volume
of water.
the summer solstice, and the inundation begins about two
months after that solstice. The river attains its greatest
height at, or not long after, the autumnal equinox, and then,
fallmo- more slowly than it had risen, sinks to its lowest
point at the end of nine months, when it remains stationary
for a few days, until it begins again to increase. The in¬
undation continues rather longer than it naturally would do,
because the waters are retained for some time upon the
lands by closing the mouths of the canals.1 The river s
banks being a little higher than the rest of the cultivable
soil, the water is conveyed by canals or cuttings, and does
not pour over the banks.
The inundations vary considerably, and, by either failing
or rising to too great a height, cause much damage and dis¬
tress. In the great French Description of Egypt, there is a
table of sixty-six inundations, whereof eleven were very
high, thirty good, sixteen feeble, and nine insufficient.
This table was taken from the official records of the Nilo-
meter on the Island of Er-R6dah, near Cairo, and compre¬
hends the inundations of the years a.h. 1150-1215, that is,
a.d. 1737-1 BOO.2 , ^ .
The Nile rises about 40 feet at the First Cataract, about
36 at Thebes, about 25 at Cairo, and about 4 at the Ro¬
setta and Damietta mouths of the Nile, during a good
inundation.3 When it is said, however, that the river has
attained to a certain height in feet or cubits, die height at
the Nilometer of Er-R6dah above-mentioned is meant; and
by ancient writers, that of the river at Memphis, which was
situated on the western bank, a little higher than Er- Rodah.
If the river do not attain a greater height than 18 or 20 feet,
the rise is scanty ; if only 2 or 4 feet more, insufficient; if
it attain to 24 feet, or a greater height, not exceeding 27
feet, the inundation is good; but a higher rise must be
characterized as a destructive flood.4 Sometimes the inun¬
dation has failed altogether; as for seven years (a.h.
457) in the reign of the Fatimee Ehaleefeh El-Mustansir
bi-llah, when there was a seven-years famine;5 and low in¬
undations always cause dearths. Excessive inundations, on
the other hand, produce, or at least foster, the plague and
murrain ; so that a variation of a few feet is productive of
the most serious consequences.
The current, when at the lowest, has been estimated at
about 2 feet a second, or a mile and a third in the hour, and
at about 3 miles an hour during its height. The volume
of water which the Nile pours into the Mediterranean in
24 hours, is as follows, according to M. Linant, an engineer
in the employ of the Egyptian government :G—
Cubic Metres.
f by the Rosetta Branch, 79,532,551,728
During the Low Nile, j ^ Damietta Branch, 71,033,840,640
150,566,392,368
f by the Rosetta Branch, 478,317,838,960
During the High Nile, | the Damietta Branch, 227,196,828,480
705,514,667,440
Increase of Although the water is so abundantly charged with allu-
soil by de- vium throughout the year, and especially during the inun-
posit. dation, the annual deposit by the river, except under
ordinary circumstances, is very much smaller than would be
conjectured by any one unacquainted with researches into
subjects of this nature. Various opinions have obtained
as to the exact deposit left in a century on the land, but the in¬
quirers have not usually differed in their results above an inch.
If, however, we compare the quantity of deposit on certain
very ancient structures, whereof we know the date, we shall
find that the amount has materially diffeied in various Egypt,
places. Such differences are the natural results of irregu-
larities in the river’s course, of the strength or weakness of
the current at particular places, of the nature of the country,
and many other disturbing causes, from which we might
have expected even greater variations. The ordinary aver¬
age rate of the increase of the soil of Egypt may however
be stated as about four inches and a half in a century.
The cultivable land of Egypt must be regarded as wholly
the deposit of the Nile, but it is vain to attempt a calcula¬
tion of the period at which this process commenced, since
we cannot conclude that the same ratio has always obtained,
and we must suppose that the causes then in operation
were very different from those which now regulate the
Pl1 Fromrthe^able of the superficies of Egypt, it will be seen Cultivable
that the cultivable soil occupies only 5626^square miles, and 801 •
that which might be cultivated only 1295 square miles, al¬
together 6921 square miles, or somewhat more than two-
thirds of the whole space included between the deserts;^ but
the quantitv actually under cultivation does not exceed 5469
or 5500 square miles, or six-elevenths of the entire surface.
This was not always so, and the deficiency of the popula¬
tion is the principal cause that near one-half of the soil
which might possibly be brought into a state of culture is
left uncultivated.
Throughout Egypt the cultivable soil does not present
any very great difference, being always the deposit of the
river ; it contains, however, more sand near the river than
at a distance from it. Towards the Mediterranean, its qua¬
lity is injured by the salt with which the air is impregnated,
and therefore it is not so favourable to vegetation. This,
however, does not usually extend far south of the sea or the
salt-marshes which intervene for the most part between it
and the land. In Lower Egypt we find the greater portion
of the neglected tracts principally to the E. and W. of the
modern Delta, and in its northern portion. In Upper Egypt
the ■ narrowness of the valley, and the more numerous po¬
pulation, preserve the country in a better state of cultiva¬
tion, and the soil is somewhat richer. The largest uncul-
tivated tracts lie on the western bank, where the valley is
broadest, and in places where the great canal running parallel
to the Nile has fallen into a neglected condition. It may not
be uninteresting to endeavour to trace the causes which
have produced this change in Egypt. Ancient
Although some of the accounts of classic writers may be erity
deemed exaggerated when they speak of the population an of- Egypt,
prosperity of Egypt in ancient times, we cannot accuse an^ ;tg
them of errors, except in the numbers of cities and villages, decline,
and of the inhabitants of the country; for the monuments
show us how rich was Egypt under native rulers, and indi¬
cate to what causes this condition may reasonably be as¬
signed. From the time at which the Great Pyramid was
built, to the Persian invasion, a period of not much less than
2000 years, the population of Egypt and its extent of cul¬
tivated land far exceeded what they are in the present day.
The country does not seem to have been over-populated;
and many causes conduced to prevent this, such as the sei ions
wars in which the Pharaohs engaged, the formation of co¬
lonies, and the like. The conquest by Gambyses, and the
subsequent long and desolating struggle with the Persian:.,
inflicted a severe blow on the interests of the countiy.
Under the Macedonians it recovered much of its former
prosperity ; and when the Romans held Egypt, it was
one of their most productive provinces, and the granaiy
1 See the table in Description de VEgypte, tom. xviii., L, p. 630, et seqq. Horce ^Egyptiacce, pp. 4, 5.
2 Description de VEgypte, tom. xviii., i., p. 626, et seqq. ^ ^ _
3 Englishwoman in Egypt, vol. i., p. 89. Description de VEgypte, tom. xviii., i., pp. 576-7.
4 Description de VEgvpte, tom. xviii., i., p. 616. 6 ®ee below, section ii. Fn'o-lish
7 This is Mr Lane’s calculation. M. Girard, in the Description de VEgypte, it “ very nearly 126 millimetres, that is in Lng
nches 4 96071954. For a remarkable instance of rapid deposit see the Englishwoman in Egypt, vol. i-, p.
6 Clot-Bey, tom. i., p. 41.
EGYPT.
427
Egypt, of the empire. During the period of their rule, or for nearly
—1 seven centuries, various causes contributed to the decline
of the population, but they were all of a political character.
The chief of these were the contests of rival emperors, the
occasional attempts of the natives to regain their indepen¬
dence, the incursions of savage tribes whom the Romans
often had not power enough to repulse, notwithstanding
that Egypt was in part protected by German mercenaries,
until they had inflicted much loss on the inhabitants; and
lastly, the religious struggles, first the persecutions of the
Christians by the idolaters, and then the differences of
Christian sects. After the Muslim conquest, this decay con¬
tinued almost uninterruptedly until the accession of the
Fatimees; but from that time until the Turkish invasion,
although foreign wars certainly diminished the population,
the kings of that and the succeeding independent dynasties
generally governed the country with a regard for its best
interests, and cannot be accused of the tyranny and misrule
of which the Turkish pashas have been guilty To them
must be attributed the present miserable condition of Egypt.
The great evil then is an insufficient population, and their
consequent inability to cultivate the whole of the land fit
for culture.
Physical causes have been assigned to account for what
is in the main simply traceable to political ones. The geolo¬
gical change producing the elevation of the tract north of the
head of the Gulf of Suez, and the depression of the north
coast of Egypt has considerably diminished the cultivable
soil in the Delta, by increasing the salt lakes and marshes
which occupy its southern portion. There is, however, no
greater fallacy than to suppose that the sands of the deserts
have done injury by encroaching on the alluvial tracts, and
that once fertile regions are buried beneath them. In some
places they have undoubtedly encroached upon the valley
or plain ; but the deposit of the Nile has been constantly,
and in almost every part of the country, encroaching upon
the deserts, and thus diminishing their extent. It is neglect
which might easily be remedied, that has permitted the
sands thus to cover the soil where there have been no la¬
bourers to cultivate it. Above Gebel-es-Silsileh (Silsilis),
in Upper Egypt, the change in the level of the Nile has
placed fertile tracts almost wholly beyond the reach of the
inundation, and thus made agriculture very laborious, but
this is only for the space of about 40 miles in Egypt, where
the extent of cultivated soil must always have been small
on account of the narrowness of the valley. The failure of
five of the seven branches of the Nile is partly to be charged
to the neglect of the inhabitants, since all might have been
maintained as constantly running canals; and the decay of
the great canal which runs parallel to the Nile through¬
out the chief part of Upper Egypt is traceable to the same
cause.
Projects for Various projects have been undertaken of late to better
restoring the condition of Egypt. The most promising of these was
Us pro- construction of a barrage across both branches of the
spenty. ^ p0int of the Delta, in order to regulate the inun¬
dation, and thus to render the country more fertile and easy
of cultivation. This great engineering work was commenced
under the government of Mohammad ’Alee, and continued
under that of Ibraheem Pasha. Abbas Pasha ordered it
to cease ; but it is said that Sa’eed Pasha, the present
governor (Jan. 1855), intends to complete it. There is no
doubt that, if successful, this barrage would produce the
most happy results; but many other changes must take
place before we can hope that Egypt will begin to recover
anything of its ancient prosperity. A better government,
and the placing the commerce of the country in native
hands, would do much to effect this desirable result; but as
far as wre can judge, such a reform is unlikely. The pashalic
will cease at the expiration of the present treaty with the
Porte to be hereditary, and the governors will have no de¬
sire but to extract as much wealth as they can from their
unfortunate province. The destiny of Egypt may indeed
be different, but this is not the place in which to discuss
the Oriental Question.
Egypt.
Under the Pharaohs Egypt w-as an agricultural country, Agricul-
and both commerce and manufactures were comparatively tare un-
unimportant. They judged rightly, that the main energies pharaohs
of the people should be expended in turning to the best ac- arao s'
count a soil of unexcelled richness, annually watered and
renewed by the river. From the sculptures and paintings
of the tombs, we form a clear idea of the agriculture of the
ancient Egyptians, while the Scriptures and the classical
writers give us information respecting the tenure of land,
and the laws affecting the cultivators.
From the representations on the walls of the tombs, wre
learn what especial attention the great proprietors of land
paid to the processes of agriculture. We see them con¬
stantly overseeing the labourers, and thus watching the
interests of their lands ; and this indicates one of the causes
of the national prosperity of those times. The Egyptians
were especially anxious to have a sufficient supply of water,
both to draw the waters of the Nile upon those tracts which
were not abote their level at different periods, and to raise
them by manual labour to the higher portions of the land.
To effect the former object, they displayed great mechani¬
cal skill, as well as in the construction of dams and dikes,
to retain the waters upon the lands; but for the latter they
seem to have been contented with the rudest contrivances.
Indeed, we know of but two methods that were employed
in raising water, the use of the simple machine called in the
present day the shadoof, and buckets carried by men. The
shadoof is still employed, and is of the same form as that
used by the ancient Egyptians. It consists of a pole rest¬
ing upon a beam placed across two columns of brick or
mud, and having at one extremity a weight, and at the other
a rude bowl-shaped bucket suspended by a stick.1 A man
stands beneath it, and pulling down the bucket to the water,
raises it again, assisted by the weight.
Immediately after the water of the inundation had sub¬
sided, the land was ploughed or broken up by the hoe, and
sown, the seed being sometimes trodden in by goats driven
over the field for the purpose.2 Wheat being the most im¬
portant of the field produce, we find the various agricultu¬
ral processes connected with it frequently represented. Be¬
sides the ploughing and sowing, the harvest is depicted, the
reapers cutting the wheat just below the ear, the ears being
carried in nets or baskets by men or on asses to the thrash¬
ing-floor, where they were thrashed by oxen or cows.3
Sometimes the wheat was bound in sheaves.4 The same or
similar processes with reference to other kinds of grain are
pourtrayed in the tombs, wherein we find also curious re¬
presentations of the vineyards and gardens. The vineyard
was not the least valuable part of an estate when Egypt was
famous for its wines in the days of the Greeks and Romans;
and it is evident that wine must have been highly prized in
earlier times from several kinds being enumerated in the
inscriptions, and from its always being seen at the feasts.
Besides the vine, other fruit-trees were cultivated, and espe¬
cially the palm-tree. These will be afterwards mentioned
in speaking of the productions of Egypt, which are now, for
the most part, the same as in early times. The gardens
were often extensive, and laid out with great formality (partly
the result of their being watered in the same manner as the
fields generally), and containing tanks for fish as well as for
purposes of inundation.5 The Egyptians paid great atten-
1 For the ancient form of the shadoof, see Ancient Egyptians, vol. ii., p. 4 ; and for the modern, Modern Egyptians, chap. xiv.
2 Wilkinson’s Ancient Egyptians, vol. iv., p. 38. 3 Id., p. 86, 87, 90, 94. 4 Id., p. 93. 6 Lepsius’s Denlcmdler, abth. in., bl. 95.
1
428
EGYPT.
Egypt- tion to preserving fish, and the product of the fisheries of culture of cotton was introduced by Mohammad ’Alee with Egypt.
's—V—^ one "reat artificial lake, that of Moeris, formed an important a view to promote his manufacturing schemes, and the
branch of the revenue. There were also tracts left to reeds, Turkish grandees have found it a source of temporary pro-
which, if not planted, were at least carefully maintained, on fit. The necessity, however, of constructing dams to ex¬
account of their value for manufactures, and as covers for elude the Nile water from the cotton-growing fields has
wild-fowl. rendered the inundations destructive, and the specula-
The agricultural labourers, like the herdsmen, were re- tion seems on the whole to have injured the welfare of
garded as a degraded class, and seem not to have possessed Egypt. .
land of their own, except in very early times. Indeed, it is The agricultural implements of the modern Egyptians
stated in the Bible that Joseph purchased the whole of the are rude in construction, and similar to those anciently em-
land of the Egyptians for Pharaoh, and gave the people seed ployed in the country. One of these, however, was not
to sow it, claiming a fifth of the produce as the king’s right, known to the earlier inhabitants. This is the noiag, a
The land of the priests alone was not purchased.1 Dio- machine “ in the form of a chair, which moves upon small
dorus Siculus relates that anciently the land was the pro- iron wheels or thin circular plates, generally eleven, fixed
perty of the priests, of the king, and of the military class,2 to three thick axle-trees, four to the foremost, the same
and the monuments leave little room to doubt that such number to the hindmost, and three to the intei mediate axle-
was generally the case. The two accounts are reconciled by tree. This machine is drawn in a circle by a pair of cows
supposing that the military class soon regained their land. or bulls over the corn.” It is employed to separate the grain
Modern The agriculture of the modern Egyptians differs little of wheat, barley, See., and to cut the straw, which is used
agr.cul- from that of the ancient inhabitants. In one respect it is for fodder.5 I he ancient Egyptians, as before remarked,
ture' the converse of the old culture, for while the ancients ex- generally cut the wheat near the ear.
celled in the management of dikes and dams, and neglected An Egyptian garden is in some respects a miniature
the raising of water except by a simple and rude machine, of Egypt. It is intersected by numerous small channels
or the still simpler method of carrying it in buckets, the which are filled by one or more water-wheels. By these
moderns, while they have paid less attention to the great channels the water is spread over the garden, divided by
canals, and the means by which they were regulated, have them into many square compartments, edged with ridges of
employed far more ingenious means of artificial irrigation, earth. This system of course makes it very difficult to
The deficiency of population has partly caused the decay of keep a garden in good order, and no great variety of flowers
many of the canals, and the neglect of many of the dams is cultivated.
and dikes, and has at the same time necessitated the econo- Though Mohammad ’Alee Pasha was very desirous to
mizing of human labour, for which that of oxen has been encourage European manufactures, he did not sufficiently
substituted in a great measure. endeavour to apply modern science to the improvement of
Of the machines the most common is the shadoof, already the native agriculture. Ibraheem Pasha, however, who suc-
described, but there are also two kinds of water-wheels, ceeded him, always maintained that the country should be
The more usual of these is that called the sakiyeh, which agricultural rather than manufacturing, and introduced im-
is composed of a horizontal wheel turned by oxen, and con- portant improvements during his father’s government. In
nected with a vertical wheel which is on the same axis as particular, he watered large tracts by means of powerful
another around which are earthen pots in which the water engines, and his estates were always noted for the ex-
is raised and poured into a trough. The taboot is a similar ceilence of their culture. But the shortness of his rule
machine, which differs from the sakiyeh principally in hav- did not permit him to extend these plans, and they ill
ing a hollow wheel instead of the wheel with pots, in the suited the oriental apathy of Abbas Pasha. Whether the
jaunts or fellies of which the water is conveyed. Sometimes present governor will adopt a wiser policy than his prede-
a katweh is employed, which is a bucket like that of the cessor cannot yet be perceived, but his abolition of certain
shadoof, having four cords by which two men dip it into government monopolies augurs well for the future. 1 he
the river or canal and raise the water.3 first popular acts of a new ruler do not, however, always
“The ‘rei’ lands (or those which are naturally inun- indicate the course he will pursue,
dated) are, with some exceptions, cultivated but once dur- Before the time of Mohammad ’Alee a kind of feudal ^'en'ire
ing the year. After the waters have retired, about the system prevailed, and much of the land was possessed by ldn •
end of October or beginning of November, they are sown small proprietors under the protection of the great emeers.
with wheat, barley, lentils, beans, lupins, chick-peas, &c. By the massacre of the Memlooks, the pasha destroyed
This is called the ‘shitawee’ (or winter) season. But the feudalism, and by arbitrarily seizing almost all the landed
‘ sharakee ’ lands (or those which are too high to be subject property, rendered private tenure of land a most rare con-
to the natural inundation), and some parts of the rei, by ar- dition. He allotted to those whom he thus unjustly dis-
tificial irrigation are made to produce three crops every year; possessed annual pensions for life, as the only compensa-
though not all the sharakee lands are thus cultivated. The tion for an act of tyranny to which even the history of Egypt
lands artificially irrigated produce, first, their shitawee crops, scarcely affords a parallel.6 But this cruelty was carried
being sown at the same period as the rei lands, generally still farther, and those whose lands were not confiscated,
with wheat or barley. Secondly, in what is called the through fear yielded them up, so to speak, voluntarily, and
‘ seyfee,’ or in the southern part of Egypt the ‘keydee’ or buried their title-deeds, which are yet so concealed. A
1 geydee ’ (that is, the summer) season, commencing about system of government which suffers the supreme authority
the vernal equinox, or a little later, they are sown with to overlook such acts, and subordinate governors to perpe-
millet (‘durah seyfee’), or with indigo or cotton, See. trate them, in defiance of the Muslim code and Arab juris-
Thirdly, in the ‘ demeereh’ season, or period of the rise of prudence, demands the most thorough and searching reform,
the Nile, commencing about or soon after the summer sol- Egypt has always been famous for its lakes, which have Lakes of
slice, they are sown with millet again, or with maize (‘ durah either aided commerce or supplied the inhabitants of the Egypt-
shamee’), &c., and thus crowned with a third harvest. Sugar country with fish and wild fowl, or with some valuable pro-
is cultivated throughout a large portion of Upper Egypt; duction, or assisted in regulating the effects of the inunda-
and rice in the low lands near the Mediterranean.”4 The tion. All have enriched the land in some one of these
1 Gen. xlvii. 18-26.
4 Id., ch. xiv.
2 Lib. i., ch. 73.
6 Modern Egyptians, ch. xiv.
3 Modern Egyptians, ch. xiv.
6 Id., ch. iv.
EGYPT.
429
Egypt.
Lake
Mareotis.
Lake of
Aboo-
Keer.
Lake of
Atkoo.
ways, and thus they have been important sources of its
natural wealth.
Commencing: our examination at the north-western ex¬
tremity of Egypt, we first observe the lake now called
Boheyret-Maryoot,1 and anciently Lake Mareotis. This is
an extensive salt marsh rather than a lake, excepting dur¬
ing the inundation, when its contents are augmented by
filtration. Its shape is that of an irregular right-angled
triangle, whereof the hypotenuse extends from east to west
for a space of about forty miles. At its eastern extremity
the lake is of little breadth, and separated by only a narrow
strip of land from the sea. It scarcely widens for about
half its length, and then suddenly becomes very broad
to the south of Alexandria. Not far beyond that city its
shore changes in direction, and the distance from the sea for
the first time becomes greater. The eastern side, which is
the shortest, has a south-easterly direction, and the lake is
here of considerable breadth. Anciently Lake Mareotis
was navigable, and thus contributed to the commercial im¬
portance of Alexandria. The country around was culti¬
vated, and produced the famous Mareotic wine. The
relations of various travellers show that it was still a lake
during the fifteenth and sixteenth, and as late as towards
the close of the seventeenth century after the Christian
era; and one of these writers, Villamont (in 1590), men¬
tions that in his time the fisheries produced a consider¬
able sum.2 When, however, the French army conquered
and occupied Egypt (1798-1801) they found its basin to
be “ a sandy plain, of which the lower portion retained the
rain-water, which remained there for a great part of winter.”
It probably had dried up towards the close of the seven¬
teenth century or beginning of the eighteenth.3 On the
4th of April 1801 the English army, which was co-operat¬
ing with that of the Grand Vezeer against the French gar¬
rison of Alexandria, cut the dikes of the canal of that city,
and thus admitted the waters of the Lake of Aboo-Keer into
the ancient bed of Lake Mareotis, in order to cut oft" the
water supply of the besieged.4 The basin of the lake being,
however, partially inhabited, some loss of life and property
was the result of this act, which has been much called in
question, and not without reason. The unhealthiness of
Alexandria is also traceable to the formation of this marsh.
The precedent thus set has been twice imitated, first by
the Turks in 1803, and a second time by the English army
under General Fraser in 1807.6 At the present day the
lake or marsh is unprofitable, and its shores are uncultivated
and uninhabited, the whole wearing the most dreary and
melancholy aspect.
To the north of Lake Mareotis is situate that of Aboo-
Keer, called by the modern Egyptians Boheyret-Aboo-
Keer. It is simply the.northernmost portion of the former
lake, from which it is separated by the Mahmoodeeyeh
Canal (which here occupies the site of the older Canal of
Alexandria), and the embankments or dikes which form its
banks. It is very small, nowhere measuring ten miles
across ; and extremely shallow, usually not exceeding three
feet in depth. The water is salt, being chiefly derived
from the sea, from which it is separated by a narrow strip
of land on the western side, and on the eastern by a similar
strip of far Jess breadth, the shore of the ever memorable
Bay of Aboo-Keer.
To the east of the lake of Aboo-Keer is that of Atkco, or
Boheyret-Atkoo. It spreads when full nearly to the town
of Rosetta, and is separated from the sea by a narrow neck
of land on which stands the large village of Atkoo. Its ex¬
tent varies according to the quantity of water which it re- Egypt,
ceives from the inundation.6 V'-—^
The great lake of El-Burullus commences a little to the Lake of
eastward of the Rosetta branch of the Nile, and stretches E1-Burul‘
to somewhat beyond where the canal which was ancientlylus*
the Sebennytic branch enters it, and passing through it
reaches the sea. Like the other northern lakes, it is sepa¬
rated from the Mediterranean by a narrow strip ofland, and its
shore on that side is similar in direction to the coast of Egypt.
For two-thirds of its extent from its western end it takes a
north-easterly direction, and then turns towards the south¬
east. Its southern shore is extremely irregular, and not far
from it are most of the numerous islands which diversify
its surface. The greatest extent of the lake, measured in a
line from the eastern to the western extremity, exceeds forty
miles, and it is throughout very shallow.7 It is chiefly known
for its water-melons, which are yellow within instead of be¬
ing red or pink, and come into season after those grown
on the banks of the Nile.
The easternmost of the lakes of Egypt is Boheyret-el-Lake of
Menzeleh, which greatly exceeds the others in size. ItEl-Men-
extends from very near the Damietta branch of the Nilezeleh'
to the mouth of the old Tanitic branch, which is now
called the canal of El-Mo’izz, and passes through this lake to
the sea. It also receives the waters of the canals which were
once the Mendesian and Pelusiac branches. The northern
shore is separated from the sea by an extremely narrow strip
of land, and slopes from the west in a south-easterly direc¬
tion, and the southern shore is very irregular, although its
distance from the northern generally does not vary much. At
its south-eastern extremity is a long marshy creek extending
into the desert. Its average length is about forty miles,
and its average breadth about fifteen. Its depth is greater
than that of the other lakes, and the water is salt, though
mixed with fresh, and therefore not pure sea-water. Up¬
on the surface are numerous islands, and the whole lake
abounds in reeds of various kinds. It supports a consider¬
able population of rude fishermen, who dwell in villages on
the shore and islands, and live upon the fish of the lake.
This fishery was a government monopoly, and probably is
so still unless Sa’eed Pasha has abolished it with the other
monopolies. The reeds are cover for water-fowl of various
kinds which the traveller sees in great numbers, and wild
boars are found in the marshes to the south.8
The Lake Serbonis, so well known in ancient times as Lake
having swallowed up those passing over its marshes con- Serbonis.
cealed by shifting sands, is now dry, and little danger is to
be feared by those who cross it. It cannot indeed be any
longer included in the list of the lakes of Egypt.
Besides the lakes above mentioned are those called the Bitter
Bitter Lakes, which should rather be termed marshes, oc- Lakes,
cupying part of the ancient bed of the Red Sea between
Suez and Lake Menzeleh, and the Natron Lakes. The Natron
latter are very small, and situate in a valley of the western Lakes,
desert, not very far from the river; this valley will be no¬
ticed in a future place.
In Upper Egypt there is but one lake of sufficient im-Lake of
portance to claim a separate notice. It is the Birket-el-El-Karn.
Karn or Lake of El-Karn, at the extremity of the Feiyoom,
which is, as already mentioned, an oasis on the western side
of the river, to which an opening in the mountains leads.
It is about 35 miles long, and its widest part a little exceeds
7 miles, according to Sir Gardner Wilkinson, while in several
places it is considerably narrower. About the middle is a
single island. The depth is not great, and the same author,
1 “ Boheyreh” (pi onounced “ Boheyret ” when followed by a genitive), signifies “ a little sea,” being the diminutive of “ bahr” a “ sea,”
and is applied to large lakes, smaller ones receiving the appellation “ birkeh.” The distinction is however not always maintained, and
the great lake of the Feiyoom is called Birket-el-Karn, although from its size it should be called a boheyreh.
2 Description de VEgypte, tom. xvi., p. 201. 3 jd, pp_ 200, 201. 4 Id., 201, 202. 6 gee section n.
6 Description de VEgypte, tom. xvi., p. 204. 7 Id., p. 205. 8 Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. i., p. 446!
430
EGYPT.
Egypt.
Lake
Mceris.
Canals of
Egypt.
Mahmoo-
deeyeh
Canal.
Canal of
Manoof.
Canal of
El-Mo’izz.
Canal of
Abu-1-
Munegga.
Canal ofthe
Red Sea.
who “sounded in several places,” “ found what is considered
the deepest part to be only 28-2 feet. Its level is consi¬
derably below that of the Nile, as the bank of the river at
Benee-Suweyf, which is at the entrance of the valley leading
to the Feiyoom, is upwards of a hundred feet higher than
the water of the lake.2 The shores are barren or unculti¬
vated ; the northern is desert and bounded by sandy moun¬
tains ; the southern was in ancient times partly cultivated.
The water is brackish and unwholesome, though the fisher¬
men, of whom there are a few, drink it habitually.
The famous Lake Mceris lay between the Feiyoom and
the Nile, and not far from the river. It was an artificial
work executed by an ancient Pharaoh, whose name it bore,
and may rather be described as having been a broad canal
than a lake. The irrigation of neighbouring tracts was
regulated by Lake Mceris, and its fisheries, as before^ men¬
tioned, formed an important part of the revenue. Subse¬
quently to the subjugation of Egypt by the Romans its dikes
were neglected, and by degrees it became ruined. Until
lately its position and extent were considered doubtful, but
M. Linant’s excellent memoir, published by the Egyptian
Society of Cairo, has established these points most satisfacto¬
rily from the remains of its basin, which are yet traceable.
The canals of Egypt deserve especial attention from their
great importance in extending the beneficial influence of
the inundation. In Lower Egypt we find, beginning from
the east, first the Mahmoodeeyeh Canal, which connects
Alexandria with the Rosetta branch of the Nile, taking a
similar direction to that of the ancient canal which it has
succeeded. It was dug by the orders of Mohammad ’Alee,
and although not quite 50 miles in length, and not 100 feet
broad, about 12,000 labourers are said to have died in ten
months while the work was in progress.3 This is well known
to be a tolerably accurate statement of the losses experienced
by the unfortunate workmen, and is only one of the many
instances which the history of our own times affords of that
reckless disregard of human life, which is one of the worst
traits of Turkish character, and strikingly distinguishes the
cruel ’Osmanlee from the humane Arab.4
Between the Rosetta and Damietta branches of the Nile
are several canals, some of which are of importance, parti¬
cularly the short canal of Manoof connecting the two
branches not far from the point of the Delta. To the east
of the Damietta branch are others, whereof the most remark¬
able occupy the beds of the Tanitic and Pelusiac branches,
which have been cleared to a sufficient extent to form canals.
The former of these, which lies to the westward of the
other, is called the Canal of El-Mo’izz, the first Fatimee
khaleefeh who ruledin Egypt, having been dug by his orders,
and the latter bears the name of the Canal of Abu-l-Munegga,
a Jew who executed this work, under the Khaleefeh El -’Amir,
in order to water the province called the Sharkeeyeh. 1 he
last-mentioned canal is connected with the remains of that
which anciently joined the Nile and the Red Sea. Of this
important work the greater part has been destroyed through
neglect, but it might be restored without a very great ex¬
penditure. It was of the Pharaonic times—having been
commenced according to ancient writers by Sesostiis or Egypt,
by Neco II.; most probably by the former, since Rameses
IL, who is generally intended by the Sesostris of the Greeks,
has left a record of his reign in its vicinity.6 It was con¬
tinued by Darius Hystaspis, and at length finished by
Ptolemy Philadelphus. The reopening of this canal, or
the cutting of another from the Mediterranean to the Red
Sea, has been proposed in our own times, but both projects
have o-iven way to that of a railway, which is now in course
of construction. A ship canal joining the Mediterranean
and the Red Sea is now (January 1855), however, con¬
templated, but it is generally believed that it will not be
carried out.
The extent and character of the great canal called the Bahr-
Bahr-Yoosuf or River of Joseph, which runs parallel with Yoosuf.
the Nile on its western side, from a little below Cairo to
near Farshoot, a distance by the river of about 350 miles,
render it the most important work of the kind in Egypt. It
is a continuous series of canals rather than one canal. Al¬
though the Joseph whence it takes its name is the celebrated
SaEh-ed-deen, the Saladin of our historians, yet it is related
that he merely repaired it, and it is not doubted to be of a
much earlier period. Most probably it was executed under
the Pharaohs; and there would seem somereason in the Arab
tradition that it was the work of the patriarch Joseph, weie
it not for the circumstance that such a story would natu¬
rally arise from its name. In the present day it is not na¬
vigable except during the season of the inundation, and at
other times is dry in various places. Fo restore it would not
be a work of extreme difficulty, and would greatly benefit
the commerce and agriculture of the country, perhaps more
than any other undertaking of the kind.
Egypt differs from most other countries in having neither Botany,
woods nor forests. Besides the palm groves, we rarely see
even a grove of trees, except in Lower Egypt. The largest
common trees are acacias, sycamore-fig-trees, and mulberry-
trees, all of which are frequently planted on each side of the
great roads near Cairo ; and the most beautiful trees aie the
date-palm and the banana. 1 he beauty of the palm is, how¬
ever, in a great measure owing to art; for its lowest blanches
are annually cut, which causes it to grow high, and rendeis
its head of elegant form. On this account the ancient
Egyptians adopted a palm branch as the symbol of the yeai.
When wild, this tree has a far inferior appearance, being
low, and having long ragged branches reaching to the
ground; and its dates are small and poor in flavour. The
Theban palm is a very different tree, having two great
branches, each of which divides into two other blanches, a
subdivision which continues still farther. I he weeping-
willow, myrtle, elm, and cypress, are found in the gardens
and plantations, with various trees bearing the fruits to be
next mentioned; and the tamarisk is to be seen every¬
where.
The more common of the fruits are dates of various kinds;
which are sold half-ripe, ripe, dried, and pressed in their
fresh moist state in mats or skins. Many different sorts
are enumerated as known in Egypt. The dependencies,
* ttn careful to disting^Aetvkish and ArabSonaTcharacter^d’the formjr has thus
had the advantage of the virtues of the latter, which has received in return the stigma of the other s vices. The remarkable chaiac-
teristics of Arab character are high honour, generous *■“> “ s.rondv
cm ow uucii religion, which is now giving way    . ,, -,,r ,
darker vices unknown to them, which have rendered the Turkish name a bye-word in the East, as well as in the West. The conquests
of the Arabs were not marked by desolation ; their rule has preserved and even improved the philosophy of Greece, which was welcome
at the court of Baghdad when unknown in Europe: architecture among them attained an excellence scarcely rivalled elsewhere
in modern times. The rule of the Turks is traced by ruined cities, and whole provinces laid waste; literature has forsaken its most
famous seats, Constantinople, Athens, Alexandria, and Antioch ; the arts have decayed. Until they held Egypt and Mesopotamia, tnese
were the richest countries of the world, now they are half deserts. All these are facts which can be proved.
6 Aristot. Meteor, i, 14 ; Str. i. and xvii.; Plin. Hist. Nat., vi. 29 ; Herod, ii. 158 ; Diod. i. 33. on
6 Materia Hieroglyphica, appendix No. 4. 7 H°rcB HUgyptiacce, p. 9-1 •
EGYPT. 431
Egypt, however, and not Egypt, produce the finest of these dates.
The hotter and drier climates of the Oases and Lower Nubia
best suit the date-palm ; and the pressed dates of Seewah,
the ancient Oasis of Jupiter Ammon, are among the most
esteemed. The dates of Mount Sinai are generally poor,
but the good monks of the convent of St Catherine make of
them an excellent conserve, taking out the stones and placing
almonds in their stead, and then pressing them together and
packing them in gazelle-skins. The grape is a common
fruit, but wine is not made from it on account of the prohi¬
bition of Mohammed. The Feiyoom is celebrated for its
grapes, and chiefly supplies the market of Cairo. The most
common kind of grape is the white, of which there is a small
kind far superior to the ordinary sort. The black grapes are
large, but comparatively tasteless. The vines are trailed on
trelliswork, and form agreeable avenues in the gardens of
Cairo ; but little attention is paid to their culture, the com¬
mon fault of Egyptian agriculture and gardening, resulting
from the generosity of nature and the indolence of the in¬
habitants.
The best known fruits, besides dates and grapes, are figs,
sycamore-figs, and pomegranates, apricots and peaches,
oranges and citrons, lemons and limes, bananas, which are
believed to be or the fruits of Paradise (being always in
season), different kinds of melons (including some of aro¬
matic flavour, and the refreshing water-melon), mulberries,
and Indian figs, or prickly pears, the fruit of the lote-tree,
and olives. Many of these are excellent, especially the figs
and melons. The trees and plants which produce most
of them are chiefly confined to the gardens. The cactus
bearing the Indian fig is extremely common, and forms
the hedges of gardens and plantations.
The general plan of an Egyptian garden has been already
described. Although seldom in good order, such a garden
is often picturesque ; having a few date-palms and bananas,
and perhaps overlooked by a house of the old style of archi¬
tecture. No great variety of flowers is cultivated. Among
the more usual are the rose (which has ever been a favourite
among the Arabs), the jasmine, narcissus, lily, oleander,
chrysanthemum, convolvulus, geranium, dahlia, basil, the
hinne plant (or Egyptian privet, which is said to be a flower
of Paradise), the helianthus, and the violet.
The vegetables, &c. are very common and of various kinds,
so that we cannot wonder that the Children of Israel longed
for them in the desert. The principal are beans, peas,
vetches, lentils (whereof a pottage is made, which is the
common food of the Nile boatmen), lupins, chick-peas, the
lubia {Dolichos lubia), fenugreek, mallows, the bamiyeh (Hi¬
biscus esculentus), spinach, purslain, melookheeyeh {Cor-
chorus olitorius), leeks, onions, garlic, celery, parsley, chi¬
cory, cress, radishes, carrots, turnips, colocasium. lettuce,
cabbage, fennel, gourds and cucumbers (both of several
kinds), the tomata, the egg-fruit or badingan (black and
white), caraway, coriander, cumin, aniseed, and red pepper.
The chief field-produce is wheat (which is more grown
than any other kind of corn), barley, several sorts of millet,
maize, rice, oats, clover, peas, the sugar-cane, roses, two
species of the tobacco-plant, and cotton. The sugar-cane
is extensively cultivated, and excellent sugar is manufac¬
tured from it. There are fields of roses in the Feiyoom,
which supply the market with rose-water. The tobacco
produced in Egypt is coarse and strong compared with that
which is used by the middle and upper classes, and imported
from Syria and Turkey. That of Syria is considered the
best. Of textile plants, the principal are hemp, cotton,
and flax; and of plants used for dyeing, bastard saffron,
madder, woad, and the indigo plant. The intoxicating
1 Modern-Egypt and Thebes, vol. i., p. 441.
2 “ Gy per us papyrus, Linn.—Arab, berdy, Damiatas.” Description
125-6, and 130-2 of the same volume.
3 Comp. Desmoulins, Mem. lu a 1’Institut, 28 Juin 1823.
hasheesh—which some smoke in a kind of water-pipe formed Egypt,
of a cocoa-nut, two tubes, and a bowl, seldom used for any
other narcotic—is not, as has been erroneously supposed,
opium, but hemp. The effect is most baneful. The leaves
of the hinne plant, already mentioned, are used to tinge of
a bright red colour the palms of the hands, the soles of the
feet, and the nails of both hands and feet, of women and
children, the hair of old ladies, and the tails of horses. Indigo
is very extensively employed to dye the shirts of the natives
of the poorer classes, and is, when very dark, the colour of
mourning ; therefore, women at funerals, and generally after
a death, smear themselves with it. Oil is extracted from
the seeds of the cotton plant, hemp, colewort, the poppy,
the castor-oil plant, sesame, and flax. The high coarse grass
called halfeh (Poa cynosuroides) grows in great quantity in
waste places and among ancient ruins.
Many kinds of reeds are found in Egypt, though, if we
compare the representations in the tombs of the ancient
Egyptians with what we see in the present day, it is evident
that they were anciently much more common. That they
should lie wasted away, was prophesied by Isaiah (xix. 6,
7). The famous byblus or papyrus, from which paper was
manufactured in old times, appears to be nearly, if not quite
extinct, since Sir Gardner Wilkinson has never seen it.1
M. Delile, in his excellent account of the Egyptian flora,
merely mentions it by name in his list as the Cyperuspapy¬
rus, called in Arabic berdy, and found at Damietta,2 but
gives no figure of it. The lotus, so prized for its flowers
by the ancient inhabitants, is still found in Egypt, though
it is not common. The French naturalist above mentioned
enumerates three species which formerly grew in that coun¬
try—one with white flowers, another with blue, and a third
with rose-coloured, the last of which is now extinct there.
The zoology of Egypt is not of remarkable interest, al- Zoology,
though it contains some very curious points. The absence
of jungle and of forests, and the little shelter thus afforded
to beasts of prey, as well as other wild animals, partly causes
this; and we observe few birds of beautiful plumage for
the same reason. Such an open country is rather fitted for
birds which will not be so easily remarked as would be the
brilliant ones of the forests of India and Brazil.
One of the most characteristic of the beasts is the camel,
which is more at home in the dry climate of Egypt than
elsewhere out of its native deserts. It has been remarked,
however, that the camel, like his master the Arab, degene¬
rates when removed into a city or a cultivated tract—that
the former commonly becomes mangy, and the latter ex¬
periences a physical and moral degradation. The Egyptian
camel is of the one-humped kind, which has been errone¬
ously called the dromedary, whereas the dromedary is
merely a swift camel standing in the same relation to the
ordinary camel that our saddle-horse does to our cart-horse.
Camel’s flesh is for the most part eaten only by the peasants
and the Arabs of the desert; by the Copts it is considered
unlawful food.
It is very remarkable that no representation of the camel
has been found in the sculptures and paintings of the
Egyptian monuments, among the very numerous figures of
the animals of Egypt both tame and wild, and of those
brought from foreign lands as presents. It does not ap¬
pear to have been introduced into other African countries,
until after the Christian era ;3 but it must have been known
to the Egyptians, although it is by no means certain that it
was one of their domestic beasts. Two passages in the
Bible which speak of camels in the possession of Pharaohs,4
refer to the time at which the foreign tribes called Shep¬
herds were in Egypt; and it is almost certain that those
de VEgypte, tom. xix., p. 71. Other Cyperi are described at pp.
4 Gen. xii. 16; Ex. ix. 3.
EGYPT.
very Pharaohs were of the Shepherd races. Perhaps the
camel was peculiarly the animal of one or all of those races,
and therefore omitted in the representations of the monu¬
ments as an ill-omened and hateful beast.
To modern Egypt the camel is very valuable, since the
traffic with Syria, Arabia, Western Africa, and Ethiopia,
is mainly carried on by caravans. But the ancient Egyptians
appear to have derived their wealth more from tributary
presents than from commerce, to have allowed their land
commerce to be much in the hands of foreign merchants,
like those who brought Joseph into Egypt, and to have left
even their sea commerce partly at least in foreign hands.
In old times the horses of Egypt were famous, and the
armies of the Pharaohs were noted for their war chariots.
From Egypt Solomon, and in his time all the kings of the
Hittites and the kings of Syria, had horses and chariots.1
And long after, when first the kingdom of Israel and then
that of Judah endeavoured to throw off the yoke of the
great kings of the East and made alliance with Egypt, they
put their trust in Pharaoh’s horses.2 In the representations
of battles fought by the kings of the Eighteenth and Nine¬
teenth Dynasties we see no Egyptian cavalry, but only cha¬
riots, called cavalry in the inscriptions. At later times they
may have had cavalry, properly speaking, of their own, and
perhaps at all times among the mercenary or auxiliary forces.
In the present day the horses of Egypt are of a very in¬
different breed, and the best that one sees in that country
have been brought from Arabia and Syria, but these are
seldom of great excellence. It is indeed surprising to find
so few really good horses in a country bordering on Arabia ;
and not many years ago this was still more remarkable,
though not during the existence of the Memlooks. The
finest Arabs, however, are kept in the background by their
possessors, partly for fear of the “evil eye,” and partly, in
the case of all but the highest personages, to avoid their
forcible seizure by those of greater rank and power.
The Egyptian ass holds a middle place between that of
Great Britain and the wild ass, which is more swift of foot
than the horse. It is tall and handsome, docile, and hav¬
ing excellent paces, particularly a quick and easy amble.
Thus it is well suited to the narrow streets of the metro¬
polis, and of the other towns of Egypt, and is therefore
commonly used for riding by persons of the middle and
lower classes. Although asses are generally much cheaper
than horses, the price of a fine ass exceeds that of an ordi¬
nary saddle-horse. The mules are handsome, but noted for
vice, and what is very remarkable, for not being sure-footed.
The neat cattle are short-horned, rather small, and, as of
old, very beautiful, speaking artistically. They are exceed¬
ingly quiet in disposition, and much valued for agricultural
labour by the people, who therefore very rarely slaughter
them for meat, and then only for the Franks. Buffaloes of
an uncouth appearance and of a dark slaty colour, strik¬
ingly contrasting with the neat cattle, abound in Egypt.
When voyaging on the Nile, one often sees them standing
or lying in the river by herds. They are perfectly mild,
and the little children of the villagers often ride them to or
from the river. They are sometimes slaughtered, but their
flesh is tough and coarse. Sheep (of which the greater
number are “ black”) and goats are abundant in Egypt,
and the flesh of the former is the ordinary butcher’s meat.
Swine are very rarely kept, and then almost wholly for the
Franks ; the Copts generally abstain from eating their meat.
It appears that the ancient Egyptians, though they were
not forbidden this flesh, in like manner rarely eat it, perhaps
because it is so extremely unwholesome in a hot climate.
1 he Muslims consider dogs unclean, and therefore those
of Cairo and most of the towns are half-wild and without
masters, living upon offal, and upon food thrown to them
by charitable persons. In the villages, however, and parti- Egypt,
cularly in the Thebais, their case is better, for they are
kept as guards to protect live-stock from thieves, and from
hyenas and other wild animals, which come down from the
mountains and deserts by night in quest of prey. The
common dog of Egypt is generally of a sandy colour and
strong, though not remarkable for courage; but in Up¬
per Egypt, about Thebes, there is a fierce breed of dogs
with wiry hair, generally black, and much esteemed for
courage by their masters. Cats are as numerous in Cairo
as dogs, and many of them are as homeless. They are,
however*, regarded with favour by the natives, who assign
as their reason that the prophet Mohammad was fond of
cats. This may perhaps be regarded as a relic of the
veneration in which they were held by the ancient Egyp¬
tians. By them the cat was considered one of the sacred
animals, and more highly reverenced than was perhaps any
other. It was the emblem of the goddess Pasht, whom
the Greeks called Bubastis. Diodorus Siculus relates an
anecdote which shows to what an extent the veneration for
this animal was carried. He tell us, that when he was in
Egypt he was an eye-witness of the popular vengeance on.
a lloman who had accidentally killed a cat. Although the
people were most anxious to conciliate the Romans, and
were in great fear of them, neither this fear nor the inter¬
ference of the king, prevented the unintentional culprit
losing his life through their rage.3 It is not a little curious,
that there is at Cairo a royal foundation for the support of
destitute cats. The author of this charity was the famous
Memlook Sultan, Edh-Dhahir Beybars, whose humane in¬
tentions have of late years been sadly neglected by the
trustees.
The wolf, fox, jackal, and hyena, chiefly inhabit the
deserts and waste places of Egypt, and lurk in the ancient
tombs and deserted quarries. The wild cat is also found
in that country, though it is not common. 1 he weasel
abounds in Cairo, and is proverbial for its mischievous and
revengeful disposition, and rats and mice are not among
the least of the plagues. The ichneumon, jerboa, hare,
and hyrax, are likewise natives of Egypt or its deserts, and
the tame rabbit is kept for food.
The beasts of the chase which inhabit the deserts on
either side of the Nile are antelopes of various kinds, and
the wild ass esteemed by the Arabs and Persians to be the
prince of game. It is found in the southern part of the
Eastern Desert. The most beautiful of the antelopes is the
gazelle, which is often tamed and kept in the large courts
of the houses of Cairo. In Lower Egypt, principally in
the desolate marshes near the Mediterranean, the wild
boar is found and occasionally hunted. It is however a
timid and rare animal, so that the sport is not, like the boar¬
hunting of other countries, exciting and dangerous.
From the representations in the tombs of the ancient
Egyptians we see that in old times the hippopotamus was
one of the wild beasts of the country. It has now retreated
above the First Cataract, the southern boundary of Egypt,
and is rarely observed below the Second Cataract. I he
crocodile has retreated in the same manner, and instead of
being found throughout the Nile in Egypt, is rarely seen
by one who is ascending the river, until he is many miles
south of Cairo. The name of the island of Elephantine,
situate a little to the north of the First Cataract, bearing
the same signification in hieroglyphics as in Greek, makes
it probable that at some remote period elephants were found
in Upper Egypt, though now they are not seen north of
Abyssinia.
In exploring the tombs and dark parts of the temples the
traveller is annoved by crowds of bats, which extinguish
his candle, fly into his face, and cling to his clothes, some-
1 1 Kings x. 28, 29.
2 Isaiah xxxi. 1.
3 Lib. i., cap. 83.
EGYPT.
433
Egypt, times rendering examination impossible without a lantern.
J One species is very large, but the common one is small.
Birds of prey are numerous in Egypt, and of many kinds.
Of the most remarkable are three species of large naked¬
necked vultures, the Arabian {Vultur monachus), the so¬
ciable ( Otogi/ps auricular is, G. R. Gray—Vultur nubicus,
Ham. Smith), and the fulvous {Gyps vulgaris, Sav.); as well
as the smaller species called the aquiline vulture {Nephron
percnopterus). The aquiline vulture has a feathered neck,
and when standing is by no means a handsome bird, but it
is much to be admired when on the wing from the contrast
of the black and white of its plumage, and the steady man¬
ner in which it soars in circles. Perhaps the bearded vul¬
ture breeds in the most lofty parts of the desolate mountains
of the desert between the Nile and the Red Sea; for when
the French army was in Egypt, one of these birds was
killed. It was of extraordinary size, for M. Larrey states
that it measured more than fourteen Parisian feet, that is,
more than fifteen English, from point to point of its expanded
wings. Several species of eagles and falcons, two kinds of
hawks, the common buzzard, and the moor-harrier, live in
Egypt, or visit that country, according as they are migra¬
tory, erratic, or sedentary.
The common kite abounds at Cairo, and is one of the
chief scavengers of the city; the others being the crow,
the aquiline vulture, the half-wild dog, and the cat. The
ruins and tombs of Egypt, and the modern houses, scarcely
ever in perfect repair, shelter owls of various kinds.
The Spanish sparrow, which differs little from that of
Britain, the wrater-wagtail, linnets, and larks, are among the
birds of Egypt. The kind of kingfisher which is commonly
seen on the Nile, perched on some eminence, and darting
suddenly to seize a fish, is very inferior in its plumage, which
is speckled, black and white, to the common kingfisher,
which is also occasionally seen. The beautiful hoopoe is
among the least rare birds, and there are also three spe¬
cies of bee-eaters. The hoopoe may be often seen in
Cairo, where it is not only unmolested, but regarded with a
sort of reverence, as the bird of Solomon ; for the Muslims
believe that there existed friendship between it and the
wise king of Israel. Crows of the kind which we call the
Royston crow are very numerous at Cairo. Birds of the
swallow tribe, the woodpecker and the cuckoo, are also
known in Egypt.
In the metropolis, in the towns and villages, and in the
fields, no bird is more common than the pigeon, tame or
wild. Pigeon-fancying is a favourite amusement of all
classes at Cairo, and in the villages the pigeon-houses are
often loftier than the huts upon which they are raised. Wild
turtle-doves build in the courts of the houses of the capital.
These courts often serve for the purpose of poultry-yards, in
which fowls wander about without any care being taken of
them, except that food is occasionally thrown to them. They
are consequently meagre, and produce very small eggs.
Turkeys, ducks, and geese are kept in the same manner.
Quails migrate to Egypt in great numbers, and sand-
grouse, called by the natives kata, from their cry, «ve com¬
mon in the deserts. There also the Arabs, like the ancient
Egyptians, hunt the ostrich. A kind of red-legged partridge
is likewise found in Egypt.
The islands of the Nile, the sand-banks which appear
when the river is low, some of the lakes and marshes, the
sheets of water caused by the inundation, and the mountains
near the river, are the favourite resorts of many kinds of
wading and of web-footed birds.
Of the waders the most interesting would be the sacred
ibis of the ancient Egyptians, if that bird be really found in
Egypt at the present day. But it does not appear certain
that but one species was anciently held sacred ; nor, if we Egypt,
admit that but one was revered, does it seem clear that this
is the Ibis religiosa of Cuvier which is now known in Egypt.
I he Egyptian plover is famous on account of the story,
which modern observation has confirmed, related by Hero¬
dotus respecting it and the crocodile.
Among the most common waders are the spur-winged
plover, the snow-white egret, which has been erroneously
called the ibis, and the pelican. The cormorant, too, is often
seen, as are wild geese and ducks, both of several kinds.
Of the many reptiles the crocodile deservedly occupies
the first place. It is seldom observed in the present day
far north of Asyoot, the capital of Upper Egypt. Several
crocodiles are generally seen basking in the sun in the heat
of the day on a sand-bank: at the approach of a boat they
quickly plunge into the stream. They rarely attack a hu¬
man being, but it is unwise to bathe in the river at places
where they are reputed to be fierce, and to bathe at any
distance from a boat in the part of Upper Egypt where they
are found. It is said that the crocodile’s common mode of
attacking a person on shore who is near the river’s edge, is
to approach stealthily and sweep him into the stream by a
blow of his tail, the great weapon of all the lizard-tribe.
The smaller saurians are found in great numbers: of these
a species of chameleon may be particularized.
Serpents and snakes are among the most common reptiles,
and of various kinds, including the deadly cerastes and
cobra di capello. The house snakes, however, which are so
numerous at Cairo, are perfectly harmless.
Fishes abound in the Nile and in the Lake Menzeleh.
The modern inhabitants of the country are partial to fish as
food, but they say that only those fishes which have scales
are w'holesome. The fishes of the Nile are generally insi¬
pid in comparison to those of the sea; though a few of
them, particularly the bultee {Labrus niloticus, Linn.), the
kishr {Perea niloticd), and the binnee {Cyprinus bynni,
Arted.), are of a delicate flavour.
One of the commonest insects is the dangerous scorpion.
Its sting is very painful, and if no remedy is applied, some¬
times fatal, particularly if a person is stung in the heel.1
Large spiders are abundant, including more than one spe¬
cies of solpuga, incorrectly called tarantulas by the Euro¬
peans, and believed by the natives to be very venomous,
but this is most likely an error. Egypt has ever been famous
for what may be termed insect-plagues, but not to the ex¬
tent that has been asserted by some modern travellers. Cau¬
tion will enable one partially to escape the attacks of fleas
and bugs, and altogether to avoid the more dreaded insect
which is usually spoken of with them. Beetles of various kinds
arefound, includingthatwhich was anciently held sacred—the
scarabaeus. Locusts are seldom seen at all, and very rarely
in large numbers. When, however, such is the case, they
commit great havoc in the fields and gardens, reminding
the beholder of the description of the plague of locusts
which preceded the Exodus. Sometimes they merely cross
the valley of Upper Egypt, and leave the mark of their pas¬
sage in desolated fields, entirely stripped of verdure; and
at other times they spread themselves for days, or even
weeks, over the cultivated lands, committing far more ex¬
tensive mischief. On an occasion of this sort, the govern¬
ment offered rewards for locusts killed and brought to the
officials by the villagers.
Bees are kept in Egypt, and their honey is much prized by
the inhabitants, who usually eat it in the clarified state. It
is inferior to that of England, and also to the famous Greek
honey. Butterflies and moths of many kinds are observed
in the fields. There are plantations of mulberry-trees in
the eastern part of Lower Egypt, for the rearing of silk-
. 1 \ tittle ipecacuanha, made into a paste with water and applied externally to the place stung, has produced, in the many instances
m which the writer has seen it used, almost instant relief.
VOL. VIII. q T
434
Egypt.
Ancient in¬
habitants.
Personal
character¬
istics.
Dress.
EGYPT.
worms. The manufacture of silks was a government mono¬
poly, but has probably lately ceased to be so. The silks of
Egypt are generally inferior to those of Syria and other
eastern countries, though some have been produced of great
excellence. Among the other insects may be mentioned the
common fly, rightly deserving a place among the plagues of
Egypt, as does also the mosquito, which, however, is not
found throughout the country.
In the following remarks on the ancient Egyptians great
assistance has been derived from the valuable work of Sir
Gardner Wilkinson on their manners and customs, which
has made us better acquainted with them than we are with
any other people of antiquity. From the representations of
their monuments, and from the mummies which have been
unrolled, we are enabled to form an accurate idea of the
personal characteristics of the ancient Egyptians. In con¬
sequence of a misconception of a passage in Herodotus
(ii. 104), and confused notions respecting the inhabitants
of Africa, it has been often supposed that the Egyptians
were very nearly allied to the negro race. A careful exa¬
mination of the most distinct data in our possession has,
however, produced a far different result; and it is now ac¬
knowledged that they were more related to the Caucasian
than to the negro type. It has also been shown that most
of the modern inhabitants have preserved many of the
characteristics of their ancient predecessors, and that it is,
therefore, erroneous to suppose that the former are chiefly
of Arab origin, although the intermixture of Arab as well
as other blood has so much changed the national type, that
it would not be safe to describe the earlier people from the
appearance of the present. Nevertheless, one is often
struck, among the remains of ancient monuments, by the
similarity of an early representation to some one of the
natives standing by, priding himself upon an Arab origin,
and repudiating the stigma that he is of the race of Pharaoh.1
Judging, then, from the monuments and mummies, the
countenance of the ancient Egyptians was oval, and nar¬
rower in the case of the men than of the women. The
forehead was small and somewhat retiring, but well-shaped ;
the eyes large, long, and generally black; the nose rather
long, and with a slight bridge; the mouth expressive, with
rather full lips, and white and regular teeth ; the chin small
and round, and the cheek-bones a little prominent. The
hair was long, full, crisp, and somewhat harsh, and almost
always of a black colour. The men had black beards, but
they wore them in so artificial a mode that one cannot judge
whether they were full or not. The skin of the men was
of a dark brown, that of the women varied from olive to
pink flesh-colour in different persons. The colour of the
women was natural, and the darker hue of the men the re¬
sult of exposure to the sun, and the scantiness of their
clothing explains why their faces were not darker than the
rest of their bodies.
The dress of the ancient Egyptians did not much vary at
different periods. At the time of the building of the Great
Pyramid it was, however, simpler than under the rule of the
Eighteenth and Nineteenth Dynasties, about a thousand
years later. As the period last mentioned is that of which
most sculptured and painted monuments remain, it will be
best to describe what was then the dress of the inhabitants,
and this description will apply, in its main particulars, to the
preceding and subsequent times of their ancient history.
The men of all classes either had shaven heads, with
skull-caps, or wore their own hair, or wigs, very full, and in
numerous plaits or curls, falling to the shoulders, but some¬
times much shorter and in the form of a bag; there is, in- v,
deed, reason to suppose that the practice of shaving the
head was universal, except among the soldiers.2 All the hair
of the face was also shaven, except in the cases of kings and
great persons, who had a small formal beard beneath the chin.
The king was distinguished from his subjects by the
richness of his apparel. His head-dress was sometimes his
own hair, or the wig, alone, in various forms, but not much
differing in length; and at others he wore the high crowns
of Upper and Lower Egypt—the former being a kind of
conical helmet, and the latter, a short cap with a tall point
behind, worn outside the other. He is also occasionally
represented with another form of high cap.3 The king often
had the figure of an asp, the emblem of royalty, tied just
above his forehead. His beard was about three inches
long, and one inch broad and deep, and formally plaited.
The simplest royal dress was a kilt, usually reaching
nearly to the knees, rather full in front, having a girdle
above, from which hung before a broad band, richly orna¬
mented, and peculiar to the king, like the lion’s tail (natural
or artificial) which was attached to it behind, and reached.
nearly to the ground. Sometimes a large and full shirt was
worn over the kilt, descending almost to the ankles, and
having wide sleeves reaching to the elbow : this outer dress
is occasionally simply a skirt. Both these dresses were
usually of white linen, and the upper dress was apparently
very fine and transparent. Sandals were worn on the feet,
and the ornaments were armlets, bracelets, both flat and
broad, and deep necklaces, besides those above mentioned.4
The ordinary costume of men of the upper and middle
classes was the same as that of the king—the short kilt,
with sometimes the long shirt or skirt of fine linen above it,
tied in various forms. Their beards were very short,
scarcely exceeding an inch in length, and of a formal
square shape, and they wore the full hair or wig, or a skull¬
cap.5 They generally went barefooted, but sometimes used
sandals. The priest was occasionally clad in a leopard’s
skin, either tied or thrown over the shoulder, or worn as a
shirt, the fore-legs forming sleeves.6 Military personages
are often represented with helmets, and sometimes with
short coats or corslets of plate-mail.7 1 he royal princes
were distinguished by a side-lock of curiously-plaited hair.6
The men of the lower class wore the kilt and girdle alone,9
or, especially when engaged in laborious work, went altogether
naked. They shaved the head and face, and had no head¬
covering but the skull-cap. The soldiers had kilts of differ¬
ent kinds, coats or corslets of plate-mail, and either wore
full hair or helmets.10
The dress of the queen differed from that of other ladies
alone in certain royal ornaments. It consisted of a tight
skirt, supported by shoulder-straps, and bound at the waist
by a girdle or sash, with long ends falling in front, and de¬
scended to the ankles. Over this was usually worn a full
shirt of fine linen, with wide sleeves reaching below the
elbows, and having a broad skirt falling to the ground. It
much resembles the upper dress of the king, or of men of
the better classes. The queen was distinguished by her
head-dress, which wras in the form of a vulture with out¬
spread wings, the bird’s head projecting over the fore¬
head, and the wings falling on either side, while the tail
extended behind.11 Sometimes the queen is also known
by the uraeus or royal asp above her forehead, and at other
times she is represented with various forms of head-dress.
Egypt.
1 “ Gins Fara’oon,” or “ Race of Pharaoh,” is a common form of reproach addressed by the Turks to the Egyptians; the latter retort
by calling their oppressors “ Gins Nemrood,” or “ Race of Nimrod.” “ Pharaoh” and “ Nimrod,” as described in the Kur-an, may be re¬
garded as impersonations of both tyranny and ungodliness, and they are therefore objects of especial hatred to all good Muslims.
2 Ancient Egyptians, vol. iii., p. 357. 3 Id., vol. iii., pp. 351-354. 4 Id., vol. iii., pp. 350-352.
6 Id., vol. iii., p. 347, seq. et passim. 6 Id., vol. i., pp. 277-280. 7 Id., vol. i., p. 330, seq.
8 Id., vol. iii,, pp. 349-350. 9 Id., passim.
30 Ancient Egyptians, vol. i. p. 291 et seqq. 11 Id., vol. iii., pp. 368-369.
EGYPT.
435
Egypt,
Religion.
The queen also wore sandals. The princesses were dressed
J in the same manner. The dress of the ladies of the up¬
per and middle classes was exactly the same as that of
the queen, except that they more frequently appeared in
the under garment or skirt alone.1 The women of the
lower class wore that garment only,2 and sometimes it was
much shorter than that of the ladies, particularly when they
were engaged in manual labour.3 * The public female mu¬
sicians and dancers usually were clad in the upper garment
alone, and it appears to have been of the finest and most
transparent stuff.1 Occasionally the dancers had no dress
whatever. The women’s hair was worn in the same man¬
ner as the men’s, but it was, of course, of greater length,
usually reaching about halfway from the shoulders to the
waist, being rarely longer, and sometimes much shorter.
It was ornamented in various ways, but the general form
was always the same.5
The dress of the children of all classes, when they were
dressed at all, was very plain, though those of rich persons
were sometimes attired as their elders. Boys were distin¬
guished by the side-lock, which the princes also wore in a
peculiar fashion, as before mentioned.
The religion of the ancient Egyptians cannot be said to
be as yet fully unravelled. Notwithstanding the very nu¬
merous materials that we possess, the subject is so difficult
that no one has advanced any distinct system of explanation
applicable to the whole. In the following observations it
is intended to arrange the principal tenets of this religion
in as logical an order as may be, to enable the reader to
judge for himself in the many points of difficulty which the
matter presents.
The authorities for this part of the inquiry are the mo¬
numents and papyri of ancient Egypt: reference may be
advantageously made to Greek and Roman works, such as
Herodotus, Plutarch Delside et Osiride, or whoever wrote
that treatise, Macrobius, lamblichus, and others; yet is it un¬
safe to base anything wholly on the statements found in
these works, and with the ample materials which the monu¬
ments present, wholly unnecessary. Great care should also
be taken not to acquire an incorrect view of this religion
from the accounts of some of the late writers who inter¬
preted it according to a philosophic system, whereof the
monuments and papyri afford no distinct evidence. Many
modern writers have accepted such interpretations, even
since the Egyptian records have been accessible to them,
and thus rendered the mythology more difficult of compre¬
hension. The peculiar circumstances of these ancient in¬
terpreters should be borne in mind. They lived at a time
when Greek philosophy had established among the learned
a kind of deism in place of various forms of idolatry, and
was endeavouring by it to oppose the spread of Christianity.
That philosophy had rendered much of the ancient Egyptian
religion ridiculous unless understood mystically, and it became
the endeavour of the learned to systematize and explain so as
to make the main doctrines of this faith consistent with one
another, and the seeming absurdities, allegorical representa¬
Egypt.
tions of physical and moral truths. Hence have arisen the
errors of supposing the Egyptian religion to be, properly
speaking, a system, and of concluding that everything con¬
tained in it must have some important signification, which
errors have retarded the true explanation in a very high
degree. If it can be shown that this religion is the off¬
spring of various faiths, and that they have never been
moulded together, on the one hand, and if it be admitted
that other religions, such as those of ancient Greece and
Rome, contained much that was puerile and unreasonable,
on the other hand, then it must follow that the religion of
ancient Egypt cannot properly be called a system, and that
its tenets are not necessarily capable of a philosophical ex¬
planation.
Manetho,6 and Herodotus,7 with other writers of less im- Divinities.
portance,8 agree with the historical Turin Papyrus9 in stat¬
ing or implying that the reign of the gods, and then, ac¬
cording to the historian first mentioned, that of the demi¬
gods or heroes, and lastly, that of the manes, preceded the
rule of mortals in Egypt. The consideration of the histo¬
rical bearing of this statement belongs to a subsequent por¬
tion of the present article ;10 but it must be here mentioned,
as, had we a complete list of the mythic rulers, we should
probably possess one Egyptian classification of the divini¬
ties. The only reliable records are, however, in so mutilated
a condition that it is unsafe to build any hypothesis upon
them.
Herodotus states that the Egyptians had three orders of
gods, the first, second, and third, whereof the first was the
most ancient.11 From what is said respecting them it is evi¬
dent that these orders were mythic dynasties, while it appears
almost as certain that the gods were arranged according to the
importance of the towns in which they were worshipped,12 and
not according to the importance of the offices ascribed to them.
This should be borne in mind when examining the relation
of these dynasties to history. The orders of the gods there¬
fore have nothing to do with the principles of the religion.
In order to form an opinion respecting those principles,
it is desirable first to enumerate the chief divinities and
their offices ; then the ceremonies of their worship ; and,
lastly, the main doctrines with reference to man. From these
data some leading ideas respecting the sources of the reli¬
gion may be derived.
Num, or Nu, called Kneph by the Greek writers, was one Num.
of the most important of the gods: he was worshipped
throughout Ethiopia, in the island of Elephantine, and in
the southern part of the Thebais.13 * * He is represented as a
man having the head of a ram and curved horns, with above
the head broad horns more or less twisted.11 The significa¬
tion of his name, as stated by ancient writers, and verified
by the most reasonable etymology, is “ soul,”13 and to him
was ascribed the creation of both men and divinities, and
of the material universe.16 He seems thus to have corre¬
sponded to the soul of the universe of the philosophers,
whereof so remarkable an account is given by Virgil in
the iEneid.17
Id., vol. iii., p. 162.
1 Ancient Egyptians, vol. ii., p. 167. 2 Ancient Egyptians, vol. ii., p. 167.
4 Id., vol. ii., pp. 236-7. 6 Idiy v0l.i.,p. 256.
6 Cory’s Ancient Fragments, pp. 91 and 92. 7 Herod, ii., 43.
8 Diod. Sic., i., 13, 14, 15, &c. Dicasarchus cited by Schol. in .Apoll. Rhod. Arg., lib. iv., v. 276, p. 86, ed. Shaw, &c.
9 See Sir Gardner Wilkinson’s edition. This is better than that given by Dr Lepsius in his Auswahl, as it is accompanied by a
transcription into hieroglyphic characters, and the writing on the back is given.
10 See infra, section ii. ii Herod, ii., 145, and 43, 46.
12 Chev. Bunsen advances this view, Egypt's Place, vol. i., p. 364.
13 Ancient Egyptians, vol. iv., p. 235.
. 16 Bunsen’s Egypt's Place, vol. i., p. 375.
17 Principio coelum ac terras, camposque liquentis,
Lucentemque globum Lunas, Titaniaque astra,
Spiritus intus alit, totamque infusa per artus
Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet.
Inde hominum pecudumque genus, vitaeque volantum,
Et quae marmoreo fert monstra sub aequore pontus.
14 Id., plate 21.
16 Id., p. 377.
u
436
Seti.
Anka.
Amen.
EGYPT.
Kneph mast not be confounded with Amen, who is some¬
times, as in the Oasis called after him, represented under
the form usually assigned to Kneph.1 His consort is gene¬
rally either the goddess Seti or Anka, the former of whom
is represented as a female with the crown of Upper Egypt
with high horns, or the crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt
united,2 and the latter likewise as a female, with a high head¬
dress, as if of feathers.3 Sometimes, according to Sir Gard¬
ner Wilkinson, these form a triad.—The question of triads
in the Egyptian religion is one of great difficulty. It can¬
not be denied, however, that triads were more frequently
worshipped than one divinity or two divinities, and that the
personages composing these triads were held to be related
to one another.4
The chief god of Thebes, Amen, bears more than one
name, and is variously represented. His proper name,
Amen, signifies the “ hidden” or “ concealed,” as both the
hieroglyphic inscriptions and ancient writers show,
derived from the verb amen, to “ enwrap” or “ conceal.”0
He is also called Amen-ra, the name of the sun-god, 11a,
being added to his own; and in the inscriptions of the Roman
times, Hammon-Cenubis, that is Amen-Num (Kneph). His
peculiar form is that of a man wearing a cap with two very
high and narrow plumes, and he is painted of a blue colour.
But he is also represented with the figure of Khem the
generative principle, when he is generally called Amen-ia
ka mut-f, that is the husband of his mother, according
to the usual interpretation, which, however, may be con¬
sidered doubtful.6 Amen is further pourtrayed under the
form of Kneph, the ram-headed god; and though when thus
represented on the monuments he bears the name Amen
ra, he must also have received the name Amen-Num or
Hammon-Cenubis before-mentioned. Amen was worshipped Egypt.
in the Great Oasis and in that called after him under the —^
form last-mentioned, and hence arose the mistake of the
Greeks and Romans who always assigned to him that figure.
The goddess Mut, or “ the mother,” is the companion of Mut.
Amen, and seems to be the female form of Khem, or of
Amen in the character of Khem. She is usually repre¬
sented as a female wearing the crowns of Upper and Lower
Eo-ypt, and the vulture-head-dress of a queen.6 I j]er€; ^as
also a feminine Amen, Ament (“ t” being the feminine
article), whose figure is that of a female with the ciown of
L°Khuns^formed with his parents Amen and Mut the triad Khuns.
of Thebes. He is usually represented as a mummy-shaped
male figure, differing from Ptah in having the crescent
and o-lobe of the moon upon his head, and in wearing the
side-lock of a child. He is .sometimes pourtrayed as a
hawk-headed figure, likewise with the moon on his head ;
in this form he is connected with Ptah-Sokari-Osiris, and
Ra the sun-god.10 , „ t „
Khem was a god by whom the productiveness of nature Khem.
was emblematized. He was represented as a swathed Phal¬
lic figure with a single arm, above which was a nail, raised
behind his head, and wearing the high-plumed cap of Amen.
The reading of his name is still doubtful; the most probable
one Khem, reminds one of the patriarch Ham from whom
the Mizraites were descended. The Greeks identified him
with Pan, and called Chemmis, a city in the Thebais where
he was worshipped, Panopolis. The monuments afford no
evidence that obscene rites were celebrated to him ; indeed
nothing is more remarkable than the coarseness of allego¬
rical representations of Khem and other divinities, which
Igneus est ollis vigor et ccelestis origo
Seminibus, quantum non noxia corpora tardant,
Terrenique hebetant artus, moribundaque membra.
Hinc metuunt, cupiuntque : dolent, gaudentque : neque auras
Dispiciunt clausm tenebris et carcere caeco.—^n., lib. vi., v. //I / .
Know first, the heavens and earth, and liquid plains,
And the moon’s shining orb, and sun-like stars,
A spirit nourishes within, and mind
Prevading every part, governs the whole,
With the vast fabric mixing : hence the race
Of men and beasts, and all the flying tribes,
And the great monsters which the far-spread sea
Beneath its shining surface comprehends.
A fiery energy and heavenly source
Are theirs, though evil bodies counteract.
And earthly limbs and members that must die.
Hence ’tis they fear and hope, they mourn and joy,
Though heaven they see not from their prison dark.
Some apology i. needed for venturing to tr.n.lat. a passage differently from that best and I)'7d“ ’ t,l“
in this case he is too free in his rendering, and has permitted poetic feeling somewhat to take the place of close accuracy. ^ ^
1 Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. ii., p. 375. Ancient Egyptians, vol. iv? p. 237. • A Lt;'* vwntnlmrers from Cham-
4 The Chev. Bunsen remarks, “we must expressly warn our readers against a.misunderstanding int° c notice’those groups
pollion downwards, seem in danger of falling. He was perfectly right in considering it a ma er o grea |11 gentationg c0n;0ined
of gods which are ordinarily found together. Now, as a principal god is very frequently me wi i in le P P , eve’n ^yqikin-
with two others, in his letters from Egypt he formed out of these a series of so-called Triads, an i ea w nf|pn varv and further
son have taken up, and carried out still farther. Upon this, it is first of all to be remarked that these g-uPs often vary further,
that they are not formed of gods of the same order, so that they can furnish us no sort of assistance in restoring the thrce o •
must be observed, however, that Chevalier Bunsen, had he visited Egypt, would have seen that triad-worship was rather the rule than
the exception, judging from the representations on the monuments. It should also be noted, t a i ® or ’ the inferior
dicative, not of the position of the gods in the Pantheon, but of the rank of the towns where their wors up pr ’ , . wag 0f jess
divinity or divinities of a triad would almost necessarily have been of another order than the greater as icir o 1 “\ve must
importance; so that an argument is thus afforded in favour of triads rather than against tiem. ev. unsen , j.r;n;ty
also protest, in the name of philosophy, against the abuse of the word triad. Three times one certain y ma -e n , the
complete in itself, still less a trinity which is at the same time a unity. The true idea, which must be consn ere as i^psneciallv
formation of triads, certainly lies much deeper, and is assuredly not to be found in this manner upon the surface. Ibis i P ?
the case, if, as has been the practice hitherto, we do not distinguish any epochs, but consider the representa ions o a peri fnrrn:n0. one
(during which two immense revolutions in the religious sentiments of the Egyptians can be historically (^n)0n*1raU ^ jn TT1jnd0that
single original system” (Egypt's Place, vol. i., pp. 365, 366). The learned author does not seem to have sufficiently fprne
in many heathen systems a triad originated from a monad, and that the Egyptian triads were formed of cognate personag
6 Manetho, cited by Pint., Be Is. et Osir., c. 9. Comp. lamblichus. Be Mysteriis, viii., 3. Bunsen s Egypt s 1 lace, vol. i., pp. >
6 Mr Birch suggests “ who is male and female,” a probable rendering. -.i on
7 For the different representations of Amen, see Ancient Egyptians, pi. 20 and 22. Ancien gyp ia , p •,
9 Id., pi. 59. jd.5 pi. 46. 11 Id-> PL 2fa’
EGYPT.
Egypt, evidently were intended to contain nothing indecent, whence
we may reasonably suppose that the ceremonies were like¬
wise free from intentional indecency. We must be parti¬
cularly careful in receiving what was written of the Egyp¬
tian religion by those who were unfriendly to it or positively
inimical, at a time when it had been much corrupted by
Greek and Roman influence; and we must not receive the
stories of passing travellers without caution because they
lived two thousand years ago, when indeed it was more dif¬
ficult to obtain accurate information, and the educated class
was more credulous than now. Khem is usually accom¬
panied in the sculptures by a stand whereon are represen¬
tations of trees and of a flower, or a single flower.1 This
exactly corresponds to the asherah or idolatrous grove men¬
tioned in the Bible. The “ groves,” however, were sacred
to Baal, and the Egyptians called Seth Baal, and not Khem.
The cause of this may be, that Baal was the chief divinity
of many of their enemies, and that the Egyptians were there¬
fore more ready to consider him the same as Seth, or phy¬
sical evil, than as Khem, the personification of productive¬
ness, and in some sense of physical good.
1>tah- Ptah, or Phthah, the god of Memphis, is one of the most
important personages in the Egyptian Pantheon. He has
two ordinary forms; the one that of a mummy-shaped male
figure, holding in his hands a long and complex sceptre ;
the other that of a pigmy or child, with a large head.2 In
the latter form he was worshipped at Memphis, if we may
decide from the account of Herodotus,3 and the number
of small figures which have been found of Ptah as a pigmy
on the site of that city. The temples have been so en¬
tirely destroyed, that we cannot judge of the worship of
Memphis as we can of that of Thebes and many of the other
towns of Egypt. The pigmy Ptah generally received the
name Ptah-Sokari-Osiris (an appellation which connects him
with Osiris, the judge of the dead), and has been supposed
to be the same as the Phoenician TraratKos.4 He was held
to be the demiurgus or creator of the universe,5 and is thus
connected with Kneph, and Seb, the father of Osiris.
Neit or The goddess Neit or Neith is often associated with Ptah.6
Nchh. ghe was tjie chief‘ divinity of the ancient and famous city
of Sais in the Delta; and the Greeks relate that Cecrops,
leading a colony thence to Athens, introduced her wor¬
ship into Greece, where she was called Athena. This
Greek name may be derived from the Egyptian, if we sup¬
pose the latter to have been sometimes pronounced Thenei,
with the article prefixed; and the name of the goddess of
truth and justice, Ma-t or Ma-th, may have been in the
same manner the original of Themis. She is represented
as a female having upon her head the crown of Lower
Egypt, or the initial and chief character of her hieroglyphic
name, supposed to be a shuttle.7 She appears to have been
a female form of Ptah. The fact of her being the chief
divinity of Sai's, shows that it was not necessary that the most
important person of a triad, or the principal object of worship,
should be a god, and other instances support this view.
^ Ra, or the sun, was worshipped at Heliopolis as chief
god, and in many other places as a cotemplar divinity. His
usual figure is that of a man having a hawk’s head, upon
which is placed the solar disk and the royal asp.8 Some¬
times he was adored as the solar disk Atin-ra, an object of
worship pourtrayed in the form of the sun, whence issue
numerous rays terminating in human hands, one of which
gives the sign of life to the person supplicating.9 This form
of Ra is, however, almost entirely confined to the monu-
437
ments of a foreign race of sun-worshippers, whose religion Egypt,
and history belong to a subsequent portion of this article. ^
Thoth, the god of letters, was especially regarded as the Thoth.
patron of the town of Hermopolis Magna, in Middle Egypt.
His usual form is that of a man having the head of an ibis,
and often bearing the crescent and disk of the moon ; the
latter, however, being distinguished from that of Khunsbyits
elongated and depressed form.10 He presided over science,
art, and every mental pursuit, and hence his position among
the Egyptians was very high; and Hermes Trismegistus, a
form of Thoth, has scarcely ceased to be regarded as a mys¬
terious and powerful personage from the connection of his
name with magic.
Atum, and Pasht, or Pakht, were children of Ptah. The Atum.
former was an important divinity with respect to the de¬
ceased, but inferior to Osiris. He is pourtrayed as a man,
often wearing the crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt.11 Plis
sister Pasht, who is sometimes styled his mother, was called
Bubastis by the Greeks, who identified her with Artemis Pasht, or
(Diana), and was the goddess of the town Bubastis, in Bubastis.
Lower Egypt. She is usually represented as a lion-headed,
or cat-headed female, having the globe of the sun, and an
uraeus upon her head.12 A great festival was annually held
at Bubastis in her honour, whereof Herodotus gives some
account.13 Her offices are not clearly made out.
The children of Ra were eight in number. Among the
most important of these were the goddesses Athor or Hat-
hor, and Ma-t or Thma. The former of these was iden- Athor.
tiffed with Aphrodite by the Greeks. Her name signifies
the abode of Horus,” and she is pourtrayed as a female
having a cow’s head with a globe between her horns, or a
human head above which are the horns of a cow and a
globe and uraeus.14 She was the goddess of beauty and
mirth,10 and her worship was very prevalent in Egypt. The
town of Tentyris (Dendera)was under her protection, and
a magnificent temple to her yet stands there. Her name
connects her with Isis, the mother of Horus.
The god Mu, and goddess Ma-t, brother and sister, would Mu and
seem to be male and female personifications of one and the Ma-t.
same principle ; for each wears on the head the ostrich fea¬
ther, and that is always the chief sign of the name of the
former, and the symbol and sometimes name of the latter.16
Mu is solar light, and Mat the goddess of truth and justice,
and it seems therefore most probable that the former repre¬
sented physical light, and the latter moral light. That the
male divinity should personify physical excellence and the
female moral, is remarkable, as indicating a philosophy which
acknowledged that while man was more powerful of body,
woman possessed a soul of greater delicacy and more capable
of religious feelings.
Tafnet and Munt must also be noticed as children of Ra. Tafnet.
The former has the head of a lioness, and may be regarded
as only another form of Pasht ;17 and the latter is represented Munt.
as a hawk-headed figure having a disk and urseus on his
head, above which rise the high plumes of Amen.18 He
appears to have corresponded to Mars, and the king is lik¬
ened to him when he is waging a successful war against the
enemies of Egypt, of which country Munt was regarded as
a protector. Another son of Ra was Sebak, who is usually Sebak.
depicted with the head of a crocodile, and a head-dress com¬
posed of ram’s horns, a disk and two ostrich feathers.19 His
offices are not as yet ascertained.
Last of the children of Ra, Seb and Nutpe must be men- Seb.
tioned as the heads of the Osirian group of divinities. Seb
1 Ancient Egyptians, vol. vi., pi. 26; comp. pis. 22 and 76. The flowers are not always upon a stand.
2 Id., pis. 23 and 24 A.; comp., pi. 24. 3 Herod., iii. 4 Bunsen’s Egypt's Place, vol. i., p. 383.
6 Id., i). 384. 6 Id., p. 385. 7 Ancient Egyptians, pi. 28.
9 Id., pi. 30. 10 Id., pi. 45 ; comp. 46.
12 Id., pis. 27, 35 A. 13 Herod., ii., 59, 60.
15 Id., iv., p. 392. 16 Id., pis. 46, 49.
18 Id., pi. 49. 19 Id., pi. 50.
6 Id., p. 384.
8 Id., pi. 29.
11 Id., pi. 47 ; comp. 48.
14 Ancient Egyptians, pis. 36, 36 A.
17 Id., pi. 51.
,
1
438 EGYPT.
Egypt- is represented as a man upon whose head usually stands a
goose, which is also the initial letter of his name.1 It refers
to his character as creator, in which he is likened to a goose
producing the egg so famous in the Orphic writings.2 He
is thus connected with Ptah, to whom the office of creator
is likewise assigned. Nutpe, the consort and sister of Seb,
is represented as a woman having sometimes upon her head
a small vase, her symbol and the initial of her name.3 That
name is believed to signify “ the abyss of heaven.” She is
stated in the hieroglyphics to have been the parent of the
gods, like Seb, and she presided over the soul.4 From these
two sprang Osiris and Isis, Seth and Nephthys, and Aroeris.
iiris. Osiris is the most remarkable personage in the Egyptian
Pantheon, and was probably more highly reverenced than
any of the other gods. His usual form is that of a mum¬
mied figure holding the crook and flail, and wearing the
crown of Upper Egypt, generally with an ostrich feather on
each side.5 * He was regarded as the personification of phy¬
sical and moral good, and hence one of his commonest
names, Un-nufre, signifies “the opener” or “ revealer of
good things.”8 He is related to have been on earth in¬
structing mankind in useful arts, to have been slain by his
adversary Typhon, by whom he was cut in pieces, to have
been bewailed by his wife and sister Isis, to have been em¬
balmed, to have risen again, and to have become the judge
of the dead, the righteous among whom were called by his
name and received his form, in which indeed they are al¬
ways represented. Although in this extraordinary story we
may possibly trace a physical meaning, yet the moral mean¬
ing is far more prominent; and the intention appears rather
to point to the struggle between moral good and moral evil,
than between physical good and physical evil. Indeed, al¬
though the opponent of Osiris personified both physical
and moral evil at a comparative late period, there is strong
reason for supposing that such was not originally the case;
and it is therefore not probable that the story of Osiris was
intended to typify the opposition of good of both kinds to
evil of both kinds. Admitting, then, that it teaches the
doctrine of the conflict between moral good and moral evil,
it is to be inquired why this doctrine was embodied in so
remarkable a narration. Considering all the points of re¬
semblance—bearing in mind that mankind must have been
granted a primeval revelation, and what evidence of there
having been such a revelation is afforded by the great doc¬
trines of the immortality of the soul, the resurrection of the
dead, judgment to come, and future rewards and punish¬
ments, all so closely interwoven with the story of Osiris—-
carefully weighing all this, it seems an unavoidable conclu¬
sion that this story is derived from some prophecy of the
remotest times respectingthe future Saviour of mankind. The
discovery of this remarkable analogy was made some years
since by Mr Lane, and a careful comparison of all the hiero¬
glyphic documents which bear upon it in our hands, has
afforded it a complete confirmation.
S1S- Isis, the consort of Osiris, was scarcely less venerated
than he, and shared the honours of his temples at the sacred
city of Abydos and the holy isle of Philae. She is usually
represented with a small throne, her symbol, on her head,
and more rarely with the globe and cow’s horns as a head-
dress, and sometimes as winged.7 She is connected with
Athor both in her figure and some of her offices, &c. She
mourned over the dead, presided over the funeral rites, and
was present, as well as Nephthys, with Osiris at the judg¬
ment of the dead. Her titles were so numerous that she Egypt,
received the appellation of Myrionyma, or one having ten
thousand names.
Set, or Seth, called by the Greeks Typhon, was the brother Set, or
of Osiris, and the personification of physical evil. He was Typhon.
represented as having the head of a fabulous animal, with a
long snout and high square ears.8 He was worshipped un¬
til at least the close of the Twentieth Dynasty, but after
that period his figures were erased from the walls of the
temples, even when forming part of the names of kings.
This change is conjectured, with great ingenuity, by the
Chevalier Bunsen to have been effected by the kings of the
Twenty-second Dynasty, who were, partly at least, of an
Assyrian or Babylonian origin.9 Among the Persians and
the neighbouring nations the doctrine prevailed that all
good was traceable to the good principle and all evil to his
opponent. Hence hard drinking was esteemed among the
Persians a virtue, and calamities were not received as either
ordained of the good principle or permitted by him. With
the introduction of this doctrine into Egypt, Seth was at
once expelled the Pantheon, and thenceforward regarded as
the personification of both physical and moral evil, instead of
being held to be a good being.10
The only representation that we find of moral evil is that Apep, or
of an enormous serpent called Apep, which was, in the Apoplns.
Greek form, Apophis. The gods are pourtrayed in the mystic
subjects on the walls of the Tombs of the Kings at Thebes
engaged in warfare with this monster, whom they ultimately
destroy.11 Moral evil being represented by a serpent, affords
another link in the argument that much of primeval revelation
was retained, more or less distorted, by the ancient Egyptians.
The consort of Seth was Nephthys his sister, called in
the hieroglyphic inscriptions Nebt-hi, whose figure is that of
a female having upon her head either her symbol, a basket
and house, or the cow’s horns and globe.12 She much re¬
sembles Isis, and there can be little doubt that she stood in
the same relation to Seth that Isis did to Osiris, being
merely a female form of the male divinity. The monu¬
ments have afforded no light on this matter, but although
not expelled with Seth, the statements of Plutarch13 show
that she was regarded as the barren condition, and in
some sort destructive power of nature. We can, therefore,
scarcely suppose with Bunsen that this explanation of the per¬
sonification can be the result of the late notions respecting the
story of Osiris.14 Like Isis, she presided over the funeral
rites, and was present with her at the judgment of the dead.
Aroeris is called in the hieroglyphics Har-oer, or the El- Har-oer, or
der Horns. He is represented as hawk-headed, and wear- Aroeris.
ing the crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt.15 In one cha¬
racter he was called Har-Het, Horus of Het or Adfoo,
Apollinopolis Magna, and by the Greeks Agathodaemon,
having the usual form of Aroeris, or that of a winged globe.
He thus corresponded to the Feroher of the Persians, or the
protecting good genius. It is very difficult to distinguish
between Aroeris and Har the Younger, or Horus : indeed
there is so much connection between these two divinities
and Harpocrates, that they must be regarded as simply dif¬
ferent forms of one personage.
The children of Osiris and Isis require the next notice : Har, or
they were Har, or Horus, Har-pi-chruti or Harpocrates, and Horus.
Anup or Anubis. The god first mentioned was represented
as Aroeris, hawk-headed and wearing the crowns of Upper
and Lower Egypt.16 He was distinguished, like Osiris, for
1 Ancient Egyptians, pi. 31.
2 Lepsius, Todtenbuch, first noticed by Mr Birch. Cory’s Ancient Fragments, pp 293-4, 5, 9, 310, seq.
3 Ancient Egyptians, pi. 32. 4 Bunsen’s Egypt’s Place, vol. i., pp. 406—7. 6 Ancient Egyptians, pi. 33.
6 Comp. Plut. l)e Isid. et Osir., c. 42. 7 Ancient Egyptians, pis. 34, 35, 35 A. 8 Id., 38, 39.
9 Bunsen’s Egypt's Place, vol. i., pp. 442-3.
Comp. Jieuvens, Lettres d M. Letronne sur les Papyrus Bilingues et Grecs, Arc. ler lettre, p. 39.
11 Champollion, Lettres, p. 231. Wilkinson gives his name and figure in the Ancient Egyptians, pi. 42. 12 Ancient Egyptians, pi. 35.
I)e Isid. et Osir., c. 38. 14 Bunsen’s Egypt's Place, vol. i., p. 422. 15 Ancient Egyptians, pi. 37. 16 Id., loc. cit.
j
EGYPT.
Egypt.
Anup, or
Anubis.
Hepu-her.
Har-pi-
chruti, or
Harpo-
crates.
Hapi-mou,
or Nilus.
Seben, or
Lucina.
Animal-
■worship.
his part in the strife between good and evil, in which he
assisted his father, as well as in the judgment of the deceased,
whom he conducted before him. To his brother Anup, or
Anubis, the jackal-headed god,1 was assigned the weighing
of the souls of the departed in the judgment, and he espe¬
cially presided over embalming and funeral rites. He and
another jackal-headed god, Hepu-her,2 who was also con¬
nected with the future state, were the guards of the paths
of the sun, which would seem to indicate a cosmic cha¬
racter, but they are probably so called in relation to the
cycles of the future state. Harpocrat.es, in the hierogly¬
phics, Har-pi-chruti, or Horus the Child (a reading and
etymology which we owe to the ingenuity of Bunsen, aided
by Lepsius3), is represented as a naked boy wearing a side-
lock, and sometimes the crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt.
He is often pourtrayed seated upon a lotus-flower, and with
his finger in his mouth, not to denote silence, but a child¬
ish action, as Sir Gardner Wilkinson has justly remarked.4
Osiris was likewise parent of the four genii of Amenti or
Hades, who were supposed to protect the parts of the body
which, being not embalmed, were placed in jars, bearing
the names of these genii, and having lids in the form of
their heads.5
Several other divinities might be mentioned, but those
enumerated above are the most important. The andro¬
gynous Nilus, who has been already described in an earlier
portion of this article, and the goddess Seben or Lucina,6
who was especially held to protect Upper Egypt, may be
particularized. There are not, however, many more divi¬
nities, several which have been supposed to be distinct
being merely different forms of those before described,
while others must be regarded as foreign, or as merely
mystical, and having no place in the Pantheon.
The distinguishing peculiarity of the ancient Egyptian
religion, with respect to worship, is the adoration of sacred
animals as emblems of the gods. It was a custom of great
antiquity, for Manetho tells us that in the reign of Chaiechos,
the second king of the Second Dynasty (about B.c. 2400),
the bulls Apis at Memphis, and Mnevis at Heliopolis,
and the Mendesian goat, were called gods.7 This shows
not only that the Egyptian religion was not wholly deve¬
loped until that time, or later, but probably that animal
worship was unknown in the most ancient form of that reli¬
gion. Afterwards, however, this strange custom had become
so prevalent that we find at the time of the Eighteenth Dy¬
nasty (about b.c. 1525-1340) one animal at least sacred to
every god, and no city without such an object of wor¬
ship. No satisfactory cause has been assigned as the origin
of this superstition, as it has been the endeavour of those
who have written respecting it to furnish a philosophical
explanation of an unphilosophical custom. The existence
and popularity of such worship proves, however, whence it
originated ; for the desire felt by mankind for a living or
material object of adoration has in all ages led priests to
offer them something to satisfy this desire, by giving them
a material representation of a divinity, and the common
people have entirely lost sight of the immaterial in the ma¬
terial, while their instructors have not been willing to unde¬
ceive them, and thus lose a source of wealth and influence.
Of certain if not all of these animals, one was always
held especially sacred, and during its lifetime received
peculiar honours, and at its death a magnificent funeral.
The most celebrated of these were the bulls Apis at Mem¬
phis and Mnevis at Heliopolis, both sacred to Osiris, though
some say the latter was sacred to the sun, and the Men¬
desian goat—which three Manetho mentions as having been
made objects of worship at the same time. Of the sacred
439
Egypt.
animals generally a mere enumeration must suffice, in the
order of their importance, as nearly as can be ascertained.
The most important seem to have been bulls, sacred to
Osiris, and cows, to Athor ; a kind of hawk, to Ra and other
gods ; the ibis, to Thoth ; the crocodile, to Sebak ; the asp,
to Num and the goddess Rannu; the cat, to Pasht; the
scarabseus (beetle), to Ptah and Ra; and the goat, to the god
called Mendes by the Greeks, whoever he may be. As
of secondary rank may be mentioned the ram and sheep,
sacred to Num; the cynocephalus, to Thoth ; the ceras¬
tes, to Amen; the jackal, and probably more than one al¬
lied species, to Anubis; a great vulture, to the goddess
Seben ; the kind of heron called in the hieroglyphics bennu,
to Osiris ; and five kinds of fish—the oxyrhinchus, the latus,
the lepidotus, the phagrus, and the moeotes, the first of
which was sacred to the goddess Athor.8 Among the
animals of the least note may be remarked the lion, sacred
to Hercules or Mu ; the shrew-mouse, to the goddess Buto,
whoever she may be, and the ichneumon. From this enu¬
meration, which is taken from the list and excellent account
of the sacred animals by Sir Gardner Wilkinson,9 it is evi¬
dent that the selection of many of them must have been
inconvenient, and that of others dangerous, so that it is
vain to endeavour to trace wise motives in their choice.
None of the animals, except some of those selected from
their fellows, such as the bull Apis, received more than
a local veneration, and some of them were as much exe¬
crated, or as little respected, in one nome, as revered in
another.
The worship of the Egyptian divinities was conducted Sacrifices,
with much ceremony and mystery. The objects sacrificed
or offered were animals of various kinds, and parts of ani¬
mals, vegetables and fruit, first-fruits of the corn, libations
of wine, and incense. There is no representation of an un¬
doubted human sacrifice on the Egyptian monuments. The
king is sometimes pourtrayed slaying a group of foreign
captives before a divinity, but the accompanying inscriptions
render it most probable that the subject has merely a sym¬
bolical meaning, being intended to signify the destruction of
enemies generally. Manetho, however, related that the
custom of human sacrifices in Heliopolis was abolished by
Amosis, almost certainly the king having that name who is
the head of the Eighteenth Dynasty;10 and Plutarch says,
on his authority, that such sacrifices were performed in the
city Eilethyas.11 The human sacrifices at the latter place
were probably abolished, like those at the former, in early
times. Magnificent temples, some of which will be described
in a later part of this article, were raised in honour of the
gods, and a numerous body of priests was engaged in their
service.
The most interesting aspect of the religion of ancient The future
Egypt is in its influence on the people. Man was held tostate.
be accountable hereafter for his actions done in this life,
and to be'judged or condemned according to his works.
He was to be brought before Osiris, and his heart weighed
against the feather of truth ; he was to be questioned re¬
specting his actions by the forty-two assessors, as to whether
he had committed the forty-two sins concerning which they
inquired. If guiltless, he took the form of Osiris his judge,
and entered into a state of happiness, living among the
gods in a region of perpetual day, by the banks of the
celestial Nile; but if guilty, he was taken by ministers of
vengeance, sometimes changed into the form of some base
animal, such as a sow,12 and consigned to a fiery place of
punishment and perpetual night. It is not certain whether
the judgment was believed to occur at each man’s death,
or generally at a remote future period; nor whether the
1 Ancient Egyptians, pi. 44. 2 pp 44..
4 Ancient Egyptians, \<A. iv., pp. 408, 409; pi. 37 A. 6 Id., pi. 61.
7 Cory’s Ancient Fragments, pp. 98, 99. 8 Id., vol. v., p. 250.
10 Porphyrius de Abstin., p. 199, R. 11 Plut. de hid. et Osir., lib. i. cap. 13.
3 Egypt’s Place, vol. i., p. 434.
8 Id., pi. 52.
9 Id., vol. v., p. 90, et seqq.
Champollon, Monumens, pi. cclxxii.
440
EGYPT.
Egypt, rewards and punishments were believed to be of eternal
duration, but the soul was held to be immortal. Many good
results of these important doctrines can be traced, but they
were unfortunately neutralized by the baseness of the
idolatry, so that we can only detect the effect on the mind
in accustoming it to think of eternity, and thus giving it
sublime ideas, while the soul was debased from true religion
by the superstitions and allegories wherein what the Egyp¬
tians possessed of it was hidden.
From the preceding account of the Egyptian religion,
some opinion of its origin may be deduced. We trace in
it certain well-defined relics of what can only have been a
primeval revelation ; we observe a strong Sabaean element,
particularly as the verb “ to adore” is expressed by the sym¬
bol of a man in an attitude of worship to a star; we find
much of a cosmic religion or nature-worship, besides Sa-
baeism ; and, lastly, we remark an intellectual polytheistic
system in the adoration of abstract intelligences. Hence
Egypt.
Origin of
religion.
Laws.
we must conclude that this religion had at least a triple
origin ; but having been evidently comparatively complete
at a very remote period, coeval with the earliest inscribed
monuments now remaining, or antecedent to them, we can¬
not attempt to guess the manner in which its sources be¬
came moulded, and the time which wras occupied in this
being effected.
The monuments tell us little respecting the laws of the
country, and that little is gathered inferentially. Ancient
writers in some measure supply this deficiency, as far as we
can venture to rely upon their statements.—Some of the
kings were celebrated as lawgivers, as were also the gods,
and especially Thoth or Hermes.
The laws respecting crimes and offences must have been
generally severe in their nature, and unbending in their
application, as the sculptures show that men and women of
all classes went for the most part unarmed and unprotected.
Now, it is usual in the Turkish empire to see the plough¬
man with pistols in his belt, and a gun over his shoulder, or
at least armed with a dagger or a heavy staff. Murder was
punished with death, whether the person killed were a free
man or a slave, but otherwise capital punishment was spar¬
ingly inflicted. Indeed, at one time, under the rule of Sabaco
the Ethiopian (of the Twenty-fifth Dynasty of Manetho), ac¬
cording to Herodotus,1 who may mean the whole Ethiopian
dynasty, the king’s power of commuting the sentence was
exercised in all cases of persons capitally condemned, and
the culprits were employed to raise the mounds on which
their cities stood. Adultery was punished by the man being
beaten with a thousand strokes of rods, and the woman’s
nose being cut off. Forging of money and deeds, and
similar crimes, were punished by the loss of both hands of
the guilty person. Theft was not regarded as a heinous
offence, if we may believe Diodorus, but this can only apply
to petty theft. The common punishment for this and
such like breaches of the law was beating with a stick; and
the right thus to chastise was permitted to masters and all
persons of authority, to ensure the obedience of inferiors,
and avoid the inconvenience of having to refer all causes to
a legal tribunal. Respecting debt, king Bocchoris, sur-
named the Wise, of the Twenty-fourth Dynasty, enacted
that if a man were sued for a borrowed sum of money by
one who produced no written agreement, he should be quit
of the debt if he denied having borrowed on oath. Usury
was not permitted to the lender above what would double
the sum lent, and payment was taken from the debtor’s
property, but it was not lawful to imprison him. Of the
laws relating to the tenure of land mention has been made
in an earlier place. It may be repeated here, that under
Joseph’s administration the whole of the land, except what
belonged to the priests, became the property of the king,
but that it appears that the military class soon regained
possession of their lands.2
The government of Egypt was of the monarchical form, Govern-
but limited so as by no means to deserve the character of meat,
a despotism. The will of the king was restrained by the
power and wisdom of the priesthood, into whose class he was
admitted, though not as head of the religion, on or before his
accession. The priests could refuse an unjust king the rites
of burial, for every one was judged before those rites were
permitted to be performed ; and there is no doubt that in
other ways they restricted the unlimited exercise of regal
authority. The power of various kings was, of course, more
or less despotic, but on the whole it does not seem to have
been unreasonably exercised; and the greatest of them
appear generally to have been regarded as benefactors by
the common people, if we except, perhaps, the builders of
the Great Pyramid and of the Second. The government of
the country under the king was administered by nomarchs
or governors of nomes, and toparchs or governors of to-
parchies, into which the nomes were subdivided, as well as
minor officers. Some of these seem to have been hereditary .
rulers, and those of Eilethyas appear at one time to have
been not only hereditary but of royal descent. The gover¬
nor of Ethiopia, under the Pharaohs of the Eighteenth and.
Nineteenth Dynasties, always received the title, “ Prince of
Cush,” and was probably a kind of viceroy. rl he king’s sons
do not seem to have been made governors, although they
commanded bodies of troops, and held court appointments.
The subjects on the walls of the ancient Egyptian tombs Domestic
give us a great insight into the domestic life of that people.llfe-
C)f their infancy and youth we know little, but it is evident
that boys were trained to manly sports and exercises, and
educated to read and write, as well as instructed in their
religion. Circumcision was practised from the earliest
periods, but it does not appear whether it was considered a
religious rite. On attaining to manhood they married, and
appear to have restricted themselves to but one wife.
Diodorus Siculus relates that, while the priests were allowed
but a single wife, the rest of the people were permitted to
marry as many as they pleased.3 It such were the case,
this privilege was very rarely taken, and the monuments
have not as yet afforded a decided instance of it. No
marriage ceremonies are represented, as far as is known, but
the state was evidently considered honourable and binding.
Concubines were allowed, and their children, though ac¬
knowledged, were probably held to be inferior to those of
wives. The women, doubtless, received a lower educa¬
tion to that of the men, but not so much so as among the
modern Egyptians. They were not restrained by any sys¬
tem resembling the hareem-seclusion of El-Islam, and
always mixed freely with the other sex. 1 hose of the
upper classes were treated with marked respect; the wife
being called the “ lady of the house,” and held in all respects
to be her husband’s equal. Among the poor, the wife was
very subject, as in all other countries. There was also no
separation into castes, as has been supposed, and we can
only distinguish the classes of soldiers, priests, and labourers.
These were not prohibited from intermarrying, and some¬
times a man held both a military and a sacerdotal appoint¬
ment.4 There were no hereditai’y titles, although some
families appear, or one, at least, to have possessed a here¬
ditary government, as above mentioned. In these circum¬
stances, therefore, it is not to be wondered that the condition
of society was flourishing, and the intercourse of the people
for the most part comparatively liberal and friendly. Fo¬
reigners, however, were regarded with dislike and jealousy,
perhaps especially after the rule of the Shepherds. I he
1 Herod., ii., 137.
3 Diod. Sic., lib. i., cap. 80.
For the laws of the ancient Egyptians, see particularly Diod. Sic., i., 27, 70-80
M. Ampere first proved that the Egyptians were not divided into castes.
EGYPT. 441
Egypt, lower class being uneducated, and for the most part very
v ^ r j poor, seems to have been despised by the higher; and the
agricultural labourers and herdsmen appear to have been re¬
garded with particular contempt. The servants were chiefly
free Egyptians, but were sometimes negro andother captives.
Entertain- The rich were very hospitable, delighting in giving feasts
ments. at which the guests were provided with very varied enter¬
tainment. The host and hostess sat together, as did other
married people, and the rest of the company were arranged
in various ways, the men and women generally being seated
apart. The seats were single or double chairs, but many
sat on the ground. Each guest was adorned with neck¬
laces of flowers by the servants, and a lotus flower was
bound to the head, on which was likewise placed a lump
of ointment. Small tables were set before them, whereon
were piled meat dressed in many ways, fruits, cakes, and
other viands, and wine-cups were carried round. Before
the repast, hired musicians and dancers amused the com¬
pany, and often the entertainment seems to have been
solely music and the performances of dancers, the guests
Games. being offered wine and flowers, and anointed.1 I he ancient
Egyptians had many other amusements, such as various
games, one of which resembles chess in appearance, but
probably is rather to be likened to the game of draughts,
and they were diverted by dwarfs, and the male and female
performers of various feats.2 Of their everyday life the
sculptures give us some idea. The proprietor of land and
cattle went out in the morning and superintended agricul¬
tural processes on his estates, such as sowing or reaping; or
he saw the flocks and herds brought before his scribes to
be registered. Sometimes he directed the shipment of
his produce for some town, or went to view the fisheries.
Sports. When he was at liberty he diverted himself by going among
the fenny tracts in a canoe, generally with some of his chil¬
dren of both sexes, to spear the hippopotamus, or more fre¬
quently to knock down birds with the curved throw-stick.
At other times he fished with a line in the preserves of his
gardens or lands, or went to the desert, generally a-foot,
to hunt various animals of the antelope kind, which he shot
with arrows, often stone-tipped, sometimes coursing with
hounds.3 Every man of the better classes had a chariot,
generally drawn by two horses, which he usually drove
himself, standing in it. The life of the ladies was not
unlike that of the men, except that they did not join in the
sports, but sometimes as spectators. They seem to have
spent their time principally in household matters, in visiting,
and walking in the gardens. Occasionally they rode in heavy
chariots drawn by oxen. Their manners seem to have
been indolent and luxurious, and in these respects similar
to those of the modern inhabitants of the same class, unlike
the men who were so much more active than those of the
present day. Among the lower orders the men were em¬
ployed as labourers and artisans, while the women were en¬
gaged in work which was generally lighter than that of the
other sex. Both led hard lives, having scanty clothing and
poor food ; yet the cheapness of living, and the mild climate,
rendered their condition easier than one would at first sup¬
pose.
Language. "Hie language of the people was that which has been
called the Egyptian, and in its later form, after the people
had become Christians, the Coptic. The Egyptian was
kindred to the Syro-Arabian class, though not actually be¬
longing to that group. At least two dialects appear to
have prevailed, which we find in the Coptic, besides a
third: these are the ordinary Coptic or Memphitic dialect,
that of Lower Egypt; the Sahidic or Theban, that of Upper
Egypt; and the Bashmuric,prevailing in the Bucolia,and per- Egypt,
haps the Oases. The last-mentioned may therefore be almost
considered as provincial. The language was monosyllabic in
its roots, and abounding in vowels. Its sound must have been
somewhat harsh if the Copts have rightly retained the pro¬
nunciation. The inscribed and written character was the
hieroglyphic, an extremely complex system, which ex¬
pressed' words partly by representations of objects and
symbols of ideas, and partly by signs which denoted phone¬
tically all or the chief letters of a word. From this w as
formed the hieratic, which is but a running hand or com¬
mon written form of the other, in which documents were
usually written on papyrus, and from which sprang another
system. This last was the demotic, or enchorial writing,
composed of a few characters selected from the phonetic
signs in hieratic, usually two to each letter, and more sim¬
ply written, forming a convenient system of writing for
deeds and other legal documents, as well as for ordinary
use among the people. The hieroglyphic and hieratic
writing, we find to have prevailed at very early periods;
the former is found on monuments of the age of the Great
Pyramid (b.C. 2400), and the latter in the time of the Ninth
Dynasty (about B.C. 2100). The demotic appears to have
been introduced at a comparatively late period, as we find
no examples of it earlier than under the 1 wenty-sixth Dy¬
nasty ; and it did not come into general use until the
period of Greek and Roman rule. For further details on
this subject, the reader is referred to the article Hiero¬
glyphics.
Much remains to us of the literature of ancient Egypt. Literature.
Numerous papyri have been discovered containing religious Papyri,
and historical documents, the former generally in hieratic,
the latter always, and these with the inscriptions of the
tombs and temples, as well as of almost countless tablets,
afford us specimens of the character ol this literature. 1 he
religious papyri are all portions or complete copies of one
work which Champollion entitled “ the Funeral Ritual,” and Funeral
Lepsius “ the Book of the Dead.”4 This is a strange ritual,
rambling composition, which some have supposed to be a
collection of various pieces of different ages (a hypothesis
that must be cautiously accepted, as it is such a favourite
one of German criticism, often used to explain what needs
no explanation of the sort), and divided into many chapters
headed by rubrics. It consists of a series of prayers to be
said by the soul during its wanderings after death until
reunited to the body, and instructions as to what will
happen in this intermediate state. Although much study
has been bestowed upon it, its contents have not been
understood in detail; which is owing partly to the use of
words which are not found in the Coptic, having been
abandoned at the conversion of the Egyptians to Chris¬
tianity, and partly to the extreme obscurity of the sub¬
ject. It has not been found to contain any passages of
eloquence or beauty, and as a composition is certainly most
disappointing. The religious inscriptions are often portions
of this great work, but many are simply addresses to the
gods, or lists of their titles. The historical papyri do not Historical
much, if at all, excel the religious in the matter of com- papyri,
position, though far exceeding them in the interest of
their subjects. Some of these are a kind of poetical ac¬
count, probably in measured prose, if not in verse, of the
exploits of the king of Egypt, while others are merely
narratives of various matters from one official to another.5
The historical inscriptions are generally inflated pane- Historical
gyrics of the king, relating the overthrow of his enemies inscrip-
and other great actions of his reign, whether civil or mili- uons*
1 Ancient Egyptians, vol. ii., p. 207, et seqq. 2 Id,, vol. ii., p. 414, et seqq. Id., vol. iii., p. 1, et seqq.
4 Das Todtenbuch der Aegypter, Leipzig 1842. ..... ^ ,
6 The Rev. Dunbar Heath is about to publish a work on some of these historical papyri, which is expected to throw much light upon
their contents, and to afford great assistance to others who may endeavour to decypher them.
OK
VOL. VIII.
442
EGYPT.
Egypt.
A ro¬
mance
Science.
Astro¬
nomy.
tarv.1 Some moral sayings have been discovered, and one ro¬
mance, of which the Vicomte de Rouge has published a very
interesting account.2 It is full of curious incidents, and
displays a most remarkable supernatural machinery. A com¬
plete translation of this and other works of the same kind,
should they be discovered, would furnish us with much curi¬
ous matter, and, in particular, throw light upon the question
as to how much of the superstitions of the Arabs and modern
Egyptians, and their fairy mythology, may be traceable to
the ancient people of Egypt. It is also to be hoped that
the books relating to sacred ceremonies, to laws, to arts and
sciences, and the like, or some of them, may be recovered,
and that we may thus be enabled to form a tolerably fair
estimate of the state of literature, science, and art among
this remarkable people.
Respecting the sciences we have chiefly to depend upon
the evidence founded on the monuments, and some of the
sculptures and inscriptions which remain—evidence which
is therefore partly inferential, and when direct, is only
based on incidental data. It is nevertheless of the most
satisfactory character, and corroborative of the accounts of
ancient writers. Astronomy was the chief of the sciences,
and it was carried to the highest point which it could attain
without the aid of modern instruments. In order to deter¬
mine the length of various periods, and the times at which
certain religious ceremonies should be celebrated, a very
accurate observation of the heavenly bodies became neces¬
sary ; and the belief that these bodies influenced the well¬
being of mankind induced the most careful registry of their
movements, and in particular of those phenomena so
difficult to observe, the heliacal risings of stars. It has
been asserted by ancient writers, and modern scholars
have supported their statements, that the Egyptians, be¬
sides being acquainted with the Julian year, had even as¬
certained its inaccuracy as a tropical year, having attained
to a knowledge of the precession of the equinoxes.3 When
we consider the long period through which their observa¬
tions must have been carried on, and that the Greeks
must have discovered this doctrine if they did not derive
it from the Egyptians or Chaldees, without being more
favourably placed, such an opinion seems in nowise un-
Geometry. reasonable. Geometry held the next place to astronomy.
The necessity of measuring the height of the rise and in¬
undation of the Nile, the construction of dams and dikes,
and many such like matters, must have required a know¬
ledge of geometry and the kindred sciences quite as much
as mechanical skill; and we find that the ancient Egyp¬
tians were famous in these branches of science, which, in-
Mechanics. deed, is sufficiently attested by existing works. Their me¬
chanical skill is remarkably evidenced by the construction
of the pyramids of Memphis at a very early period of their
history. The transport of part of the materials for these
structures from quarries on the opposite bank of the Nile,
of part from those of Syene, nearly 550 miles above Mem¬
phis by the course of the river—the transport of such
masses of stone by water and land, the elevation of the
blocks, some of enormous size, while the buildings were in
progress, the beautiful fitting of the polished masonry, and
the accurate excavation in the rock of part or all of the
passages and chambers, show a very great mechanical
knowledge, the results of which have not been excelled
Chemistry, by that of Europe at the present day. With chemistry the
Egyptians must have possessed considerable acquaintance,
as we may conclude from the state of various arts which
in a great measure depend upon it. The workers in metals
used the blow-pipe, and made knives of steel, though these
and swords were usually of a hard bronze ; and the man- Egypt,
ner in which Moses destroyed the golden calf is an evi-
dence of the chemical skill of the Egyptians, from whom it
is reasonable to suppose he had acquired the knowledge
of which he then made use. Medicine and surgery, includ- Medicine
ing anatomy, were much studied, and attained a high degree and sur-
of excellence relatively speaking. Of the purely abstract Sery-
sciences we can scarcely judge, and it is dangerous to rea¬
son from the character and religion of the people.
Of the arts architecture claims the first place, painting Arts:
and sculpture being subservient to it among the Egyptians, architec*
Temples were not raised to contain statues, but statues ture.
were set up to adorn temples whereof they formed archi¬
tecturally a part, and the walls were decorated with painted
sculptures and paintings, which again formed parts of the
architectural whole. The group of these arts may there¬
fore be considered as one, and it should be our object to
discover the grand principle which was intended to be ex¬
pressed by the Egyptians in their application of them.
Their houses were slight and temporary ; they cared only
for two classes of edifices, temples and tombs ; the former
as abodes of the gods, the latter as resting-places for bodies -
they deemed sacred and to be preserved for ever. In both
the builders aimed at solidity of material, massive grandeur
of form, richness and sobriety of colour—that they should
last for ever, and express at once the solemnity of the pre¬
sent and of the future. The idea that originated this archi¬
tecture was the contemplation of eternity and of the im¬
mortality of the soul; and in recognising that idea, and the
noble manner in which it was carried out, we find some¬
thing great and admirable in the ancient Egyptians. If
we compare the same arts of Assyria and of Greece, we
trace a tar different leading idea. In Assyria the greatness
of the king as the vicegerent of the gods is constantly
brought before us; his figure crowds the temple walls, where
the gods are ever represented protecting him, and he rarely
offering to them, while in Egypt the king is constantly
pourtrayed worshipping and sacrificing, and not so con¬
stantly attended by the gods. In Assyria the palaces con¬
tain temples, but in Egypt the temples are palaces. In
Assyria, and afterwards in Persia, the great king was the
one object of respect or fear; and when the Persian princes
introduced that famous edict, that none was to ask a peti¬
tion of any god or man for thirty days save of the king
only,4 they were but carrying into effect what had been
virtually practised by almost all the people ; and their being
able to procure such a decree sufficiently proves this. The
leading idea then that influenced the Assyrian artist, was
the majesty of the king. In Greece we see another lead¬
ing idea. However it may have been in older times, at
the best period of art among the Greeks, we perceive
that sculpture, which was their highest art, was designed to
express the perfection of human beauty, not ideal beauty,
as it has been called, but a perfect form composed, like
the famous picture of Zeuxis, from a study of the most
beautiful human examples. The architecture expresses
the same idea; it is always symmetrical, elegant, pure in
taste, but never massive or sublime. The leading idea
here is beauty, and that of a material kind. In ancient
art, therefore, the Egyptian has the highest place with
respect to intention, and equals that of Greece and Assyria
in the excellence with which the intention has been carried
out. He who has been pleased with the temples of Greece
and interested with the palaces of Assyria, is confounded
by the Great Pyramid, and struck with awe in the hypostyle
hall of El-Karnak.5
f1hampollion’s Lettres ecrites de VEgypte et de la Nubie, the reader will find much information as to the historical and religious
inscriptions, conveyed in an interesting style of writing. 2 Revue ArchSologique, 1852, p. 385.
The evidence from ancient writers on this point has been collected hy Lepsius in his Chronologie der Aegypter. 4 Dan. vi. 7.
Aucun peuple ancien ni moderne n’a coneju Tart de farchitecture sur une echelle aussi sublime, aussi large, aussi grandiose, qui le
EGYPT.
Egypt. Egypt has always been regarded as the home of magic
^ arts: as early as the time of Joseph there was a class of
Magic. magicians, and by them was Moses opposed. The monu¬
ments have not been found to contain any distinct notice
of such persons, and our information respecting them is
derived from the Bible, and from the narratives of Greek
and Roman writers: there are also some magical papyri of
the Roman period. The magicians were interpreters of
dreams and omens, and they also pretended to work wonders.
They endeavoured to bring about what they desired by
invocations composed in a great measure of a strange jar¬
gon, and partly of foreign words, and they even threatened
to reveal the mysteries. And it is not a little remarkable,
that the performances of the modern Egyptian magicians,
and their reputed results, bear a strong resemblance to one
of the ancient modes of working an enchantment and the
effect it was said to produce.1 Probably the magicians were
of the priestly class, but magic was most likely practised
by persons of all positions, not being deemed a black art.
Some kinds of magic were however regarded to be un¬
lawful, as the invocation of Typhon after he had been ex¬
pelled from the Pantheon,2 and the use of enchantments to
produce illegal results.
Character. From the foregoing observations and other data, we may
gain a not inaccurate idea of the character of the ancient
Egyptians. They were religious, though much given to
superstition, and of a contemplative disposition ; in war
they were brave, without the hideous cruelty of the
Assyrians ; to their country they bore a patriotic affection,
and were hospitable to their fellow-countrymen; in their
dress they were usually simple, and frugal in their diet.
On the other hand they sometimes indulged in wine to
excess, and were very sensual, especially the women, as in
modern times; they were much addicted to falsehood, and
did not show that kindness to foreigners that they did to
their own people. This last fault is however chargeable
to their religious and political system.
■ Industrial The industrial arts were carried to a great degree of ex¬
arts. cellence in ancient Egypt. In weaving, and all the pro¬
cesses connected with the manufacture of linen and the
like, they have not been surpassed in modern times. Their
pottery was very good, and their glass is not inferior to that
of the Greeks, except in beauty of colour. In the making
of instruments of music, and household furniture, of vases,
and various vessels of metal, alabaster, and other materials,
arms, and domestic implements, they displayed equal taste
and skill, and we can trace in many instances how greatly
the Greeks were indebted to them for patterns and forms
which they often rendered more elegant.—The agriculture
and gardening have been already noticed.
Music. In the sculptures we find representations of a great variety
of musical instruments of which scarcely more than the
names can be mentioned here, the multiplicity of which
shows how much attention had been bestowed on music.
Various kinds of harps are represented, often richly orna¬
mented, and differing from one another in their size and
the number of their strings: they were played with the
hand. We also see lyres, varying in the number of strings,
and played with or without the plectrum, and the guitar
which always had three chords. Besides these, there were
other stringed instruments for which it is difficult to find
modern appellations. The Egyptians had also flutes as well
as single and double pipes, the tambourine of various forms,
cymbals, cylindrical maces, drums of different kinds beaten
443
with the hands or sticks, including that called by the Egypt,
modern inhabitants the darabukkeh, the trumpet, and the v-^/
sacred sistrum. The military music was that of the trumpet,
drum, and cylindrical maces, the first of which was con¬
fined to the army; but almost all the instruments were used
in the services of the temples.3 Respecting the character
of the ancient Egyptian music it is difficult even to form
a guess.4
The musicians often likewise sang or danced while play-Musicians
ing on their instruments. The dances of both men and antl ^an*
women were of various kinds, from what might be called cer8-
feats of agility to slow and graceful movements. The
dancers were chiefly women, and their performances seem
generally to have resembled those of the modern dancing-
girls of Egypt. They wore either a very transparent and
full dress of fine linen, or nothing but a narrow girdle.3
These circumstances would give us a very low opinion of
the civilization and morals of ancient Egypt, did we not find
almost their parallel in modern Europe, at exhibitions which
the great of both sexes especially favour by their presence.
The festivals of the gods, or panegyrics, were very Religious
numerous; and some of them attracted a great number 0ffestivals*
pilgrims to the chief temple of the divinity in whose honour
they were held. The most important of these were, accord¬
ing to Herodotus, the festival of Bubastis, at the city called
after her, then that of Isis at Busiris, next that of Neith
at Sals, that of the Sun at Heliopolis, that of Latona, at the
city of Buto, and lastly that of Mars at Papremis.6 In this
enumeration of the chief festivals in the order of importance,
it will be observed that they were nearly all celebrated
in the Delta, and none at all south of that tract except that
of the Sun at Heliopolis, which indeed was situated only a
little above the ancient point of the Delta. As we find
Herodotus was imperfectly acquainted with Upper Egypt,
and as in his time some great towns of the earlier period
had fallen into decay, we may conclude that both then
and in preceding times there were other great periodical
festivals. The panegyry of Amen at Thebes must have
been very anciently of the highest rank; and subsequently
so long as Thebes was a town, it cannot have sunk to the
condition of an ordinary religious festival. These great
celebrations were distinguished, not only by the grandeur
of the ceremonies performed and the expense lavished upon
the sacrifices, but by the concourse of people who flocked
to them rather to divert themselves than to perform a reli¬
gious duty, and among whom every kind of amusement
was unrestrainedly practised. The festivals in honour of
Osiris, whereof two were annually kept, though inferior to
none in solemnity, were probably less popular, as only the
initiated were admitted to the mysterious rites, which seem
to have been more characteristic of them than of the other
festivals.
We know little of the private festivities of the ancient Private
Egyptians, and, in particular, there is no evidence of any festivities,
having been usual at a marriage, the marriage-ceremony
itself being, as has been previously remarked, not repre¬
sented upon the monuments. The most remarkable ceremo¬
nies connected with their private life were those celebrated
at a funeral. At the time of death the period of mourning Funeral
commenced, and lasted seventy-two days or a shorter time, rites.
During this time the body was embalmed and swathed in
many bandages, the outermost of which was covered with a
kind of pasteboard, on which were painted the features of the
deceased, and various emblems and inscriptions. A mummy
firent les vieux Egyptiens; ils concevaient en hommes de 100 pieds de haut, et 1’imagination qui, en Europe, s’elance bien au-dessus de
nos portiques, s’arrete et tombe impuissante au pied des 140 colonnes de la salle hypostyle de Karnac.”—Champollion’s Lettres, p. 98.
1 See a very curious fragment of a Greco-Egyptian work on magic edited by Mr Goodwin, published by the Cambridge Archseolowical
Society, and a notice of it in the Archaeological Journal, No. 41.
2 Iteuvens, Lettres, &c., cited supra p. 438. 3 Ancient Egyptians, vol. ii., p. 222, et seqq.
4 The reverence in which it was held, its use in the sacred ceremonies, and the numerous and very different instruments, would lead
us however to suppose that music had attained no little excellence, unless indeed the priests restricted it to conventional limits.
J Id., vol. ii., pp. 329, 390. * Herod., ii., /59.
U1
444
Egypt.
Modern in
habitants.
EGYPT.
was thus formed, bearing the shape of a bandaged human
fhuire, of which the form of the head and hands alone was
seen. 5 When the tomb, which had been long previously com¬
menced, and was either an excavated grotto or stone struc¬
ture, was complete, the funeral ceremony usually took place,
though it was olten delayed to a later period. The mummy
was inclosed in a case of wood having the same shape as it¬
self, and this was again inclosed, when the deceased was a
wealthy person, within either another wooden case, or more
usually a sarcophagus of stone, sometimes of the same form
as the mummy, but generally rectangular, or nearly so. The
mummy was then placed upon a sledge, drawn by oxen or
by men, and taken to the bank of the river, or shore of a
sacred lake, which was to be crossed in order to reach the
place of burial. This procession by water was an important
part of the ceremony. The mummy, attended by mourners,
was placed in a sacred baris or boat, which was towed by
another boat, and followed by others carrying mourners,
offerings, and all things necessary for the occasion.1 On ar¬
riving at the tomb the sarcophagus was deposited in a se¬
pulchral chamber, usually at the bottom of a pit within
the tomb, and offerings to the deceased and others of his
family buried there were made by the relatives, as well as
to the gods presiding over the future state. Visits were
afterwards paid to the tomb in order to make these offer¬
ings, probably at stated periods. One tomb sufficed for each
family, and sometimes for two generations ; and, in the case
of the poorer classes, many were buried in the sepulchral
chambers of a single pit, above which was no structure or
grotto. The law has already been noticed whereby every
one was judged by a legal tribunal before the right of burial
was permitted.
- The modern inhabitants must now be considered. Mr
Lane (1834) estimates the population of Egypt at less than
2,000,000, and gives the following numbers as nearly those
of the several classes of which it is mainly composed:—
Muslim Eevptians (fellaheen or peasants, and towns¬
people)^   1,750,000
Christian Egyptians (Copts) 150,000
’Osmanlees, or Turks  10,000
Syrians  5,000
Greeks    5,000
Armenians *  2,000
Jews   5,000
and the remainder, exclusive of the Arabs of the desert,
about 70,000.2
Sir Gardner Wilkinson (1843) computes the total at about
1,800,000 ;3 but Clot-Bey (1840), not always an impartial
writer, places it much higher, upwards of 3,000,000.“ The
following result of the government census, taken in 1847-8,
is remarkable as showing the system of falsifying statistics
for state purposes. It is copied from an official return.
Middle Egypt  591,294
El-Gharbeeyeh   529,930
El-Kalyoobeeyeh   184,240
Upper Egypt 1,190,118
Esh-Sharkeeyeh  342,509
El-Geezeh    223,554
El-Boheyreh    215,810
El-Menoofeeyeh  440,519
Ed-Dakahleeyeh  347,347
Shuhra...     10,116
El-Kuseyr    3,435
Rosetta   18,405
'Damietta....,    28,922
Suez  17,399
El-’Areesh    2,347
Alexandria  143,134
Cairo     253,541
4,542,620
Of the present population of Egypt, the Muslims consti¬
tute seven-eighths, and nearly four-fifths of that of the me- Egypt,
tropolis ; and to this class, and more particularly to the
people of Cairo, the following sketch of personal characteris¬
tics and customs will relate, excepting in some few cases,
which will be distinguished from the rest.
In describing the personal characteristics of this remark- Personal
able people, Mr Lane, in his admirable work, The Manners character
and Customs of the Modern Egyptians' (which was written lstlcs-
just before European influence was felt in the country, and
now deservedly ranks as the only book of authority on the
subject), says: “ In general the Muslim Egyptians attain
the height of about five feet eight, or five feet nine inches.
Most of the children under nine or ten years of age have
spare limbs and a distended abdomen; but as they grow up
their forms rapidly improve. In mature age most of them
are remarkably well proportioned; the men muscular and ro¬
bust ; the women very beautifully formed, and plump; and
neither sex is too fat. I have never seen corpulent persons
among them, excepting a few in the metropolis and other
towns, rendered so by a life of inactivity. In Cairo, and
throughout the northern provinces, those who have not been
much exposed to the sun have a yellowish but very clear com¬
plexion, and soft skin; the rest are of a considerably darker
and coarser complexion. The people of Middle Egypt are
of a more tawny colour, and those of the more southern pro¬
vinces are of a deep bronze, or brown complexion—darkest
towards Nubia, where the climate is hottest. In general the
countenance of the Muslim Egyptian (I here speak of the
men) is of a fine oval form : the forehead of moderate size,
seldom high, but generally prominent; the eyes are deep
sunk, black, and brilliant; the nose is straight, but rather
thick ; the mouth well formed; the lips are rather full than
otherwise; the teeth particularly beautiful; the beard is com¬
monly black and curly, but scanty. I have seen very few
individuals of this race with grey eyes ; or rather, few per¬
sons supposed to be of this race ; for I am inclined to think
them the offspring of Arab women by 4 urks, or other fo¬
reigners. The Eellaheen, from constant exposure to the
sun, have a habit of half shutting their eyes ; this is also
characteristic of the Bedawees. Great numbers of the
Egyptians are blind in one or both eyes. 4 hey generally
shave that part of the cheek which is above the lower jaw,
and likewise a small space under the lower lip, leaving, how¬
ever, the hairs which grow in the middle under the mouth ;
or, instead of shaving these parts, they pluck out the hair.
They also shave a part of the beard under the chin. \ ery
few shave the rest of their beards, and none their moustaches.
The former they suffer to grow to the length of about a
hand’s-breadth below the chin (such at least is the general
rule, and such was the custom of the Prophet), and their
moustaches they do not allow to become so long as to incom¬
mode them in eating and drinking. 44ie practice of dyeing
the beard is not common; for a grey bread is much re¬
spected. The Egyptians shave all the rest of the hair, or
leave only a small tuft (called ‘ shoosheh ’) upon the crown
of the head. * * * 4'he general form and features of
the women must now be described. From the age of about
fourteen to that of eighteen or twenty, they are generally
models of beauty in body and limbs ; and in countenance
most of them are pleasing, and many exceedingly lovely ;
but soon after they have attained their perfect growth, they
rapidly declinethe relaxing nature of the climate, and
other predisposing causes, contribute to render many of them
absolutely ugly at the age of forty. “ In the Egyptian
females the forms of womanhood begin to develop them¬
selves about the ninth or tenth year: at the age of fifteen
or sixteen they generally attain their highest degree of
perfection. With regard to their complexions, the same
1 Ancient Egyptians, plates 83-86. 2 Modern Egyptians, Introduction. Since that time the population has certainly not increased.
3 Mod. Egypt and Thebes, i. 256. 4 Aperqu General, i. 166-7.
6 The Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians, by E. W. Lane; Knight, London, 1842.
EGYPT.
445
Egypt, remarks apply to them as to the men, with only this differ-
ence, that their faces, being generally veiled when they
go abroad, are not quite so much tanned as those of the
men. They are characterized, like the men, by a fine oval
countenance, though in some instances it is rather broad.
The eyes, with very few exceptions, are black, large, and of
a long almond-form, with long and beautiful lashes, and an
exquisitely soft, bewitching expression—eyes more beauti¬
ful can hardly be conceived : their charming effect is much
heightened by the concealment of the other features (how¬
ever pleasing the latter may be), and is rendered still more
striking by a practice universal among the females of the
higher and middle classes, and very common among those
of the lower orders, which is that of blackening the edge
of the eyelids, both above and below the eye, with a black
powder called ‘ kohl.’ ” 1 Both sexes, but especially the
women, tattoo several parts of the person, and the latter stain
their hands and feet with the red dye of the hinne.
Dress. Their dress can be but briefly described. That of the
men of the upper and middle classes consists of cotton
drawers, and a cotton or silk shirt with very wide sleeves.
Above these are generally worn a waistcoat without sleeves,
and a long vest of silk, called kaftan, which has hanging
sleeves, and reaches nearly to the ankles. The kaftan is
confined by the girdle, which is a silk scarf, or cashmere or
other woollen shawl. Over all is worn a long cloth robe,
the gibbeh (or jubbeh) somewhat resembling the kaftan in
shape, but having shorter sleeves, and being open in front.
The dress of the lower orders is the shirt and drawers, and
waistcoat, with an outer shirt of blue cotton or brown
woollen stuff; some wear a kaftan. The head-dress of all
is the turban wound round a skull-cap. This cap is usually
the red cloth fez, or tarboosh, but the very poor wear one
of coarse brown felt, and are often without the turban.
Many professions and religions, &c., are distinguished by
the shape and colour of the turban, and various classes,
and particularly servants, are marked by the form and
colour of their shoes ; but the poor go usually barefoot.
The ladies wear a shirt and drawers, a very full pair of silk
trousers, and a close-fitting vest with hanging sleeves and
skirts, open down the front and at the sides, and long
enough to turn up and fasten into the girdle, which is
generally a cashmere shawl; a cloth jacket, richly em¬
broidered with gold, and having short sleeves, is com¬
monly worn over the vest. The hair in front is combed
down over the forehead and cut across in a straight line ;
behind it is divided into very many small plaits, which hang
down the back, and are lengthened by silken cords, anti
often adorned with gold coins and ornaments. A small
tarboosh is worn on the back of the head, sometimes hav¬
ing a plate of gold fixed on the crown, and a handkerchief
is tastefully bound round the temples. The w omen of the
lower orders have trousers of printed or dyed cotton, and
a close waistcoat. All wear the long and elegant head-veil.
This is a simple “ breadth” of muslin, which passes over
the head and hangs down behind, one side being drawn
forward over the face in the presence of a man. A lady’s
veil is of white muslin, embroidered at the ends in gold and
colours; that of a person of the lower class is simply dyed
blue. In going abroad the ladies wear above their indoor
dress a loose robe of coloured silk without sleeves, and
nearly open at the sides, and above it a large enveloping
piece of black silk, which is brought over the head, and
gathered round the person by the arms and hands on each
side. A face-veil entirely conceals the features, except the
eyes; it is a long and narrow piece of thick white muslin,
reaching to a little below the knees. The women of the
lower orders have the same out-door dress of different ma¬
terials and colour. Ladies use slippers of yellow morocco,
and abroad, inner boots of the same material, above which
they wear, in either case, thick shoes having only toes. Egypt.
The poor wear red shoes, very like those of the men. —'
In religion the Muslim Egyptians are Sunnees, profess- Religion,
ing the creed which is commonly termed “ orthodox,” and
are principally of the persuasion of the Shafe’ees, whose
celebrated founder, the Imam Esh-Shafe’ee, is buried in the
great southern cemetery of Cairo. Many of them are, how¬
ever, Hanafees (to which persuasion the Turks chiefly be¬
long), and in parts of Lower, and almost universallyin Upper,
Egypt, Malikees. For the tenets of El-Islam, the reader is
referred to the article Mahommedanism.
The civil administration of justice is conducted in four Civil ad-
principal courts of judicature ; that of the Zabit, or chief of min istra-
the police, where trivial cases are summarily disposed of;tion of
the Deewan el-Khideewee, in the citadel, in which theJustlce’
pasha or his deputy presides, and where judgment is given
in cases wLich either do not require to be referred to the
two other courts yet to be mentioned, or which do not fall
within their province; the Deewan el-Mahkemeh, the court
of the kadee, or chief judge, who is a Turk sent annually
from Constantinople, and who must be a Hanafee ; and
that of the Muftee of the Hanafees, or chief doctor of the
law, who decides all cases of difficulty. There are besides
five minor mahkemehs or courts in Cairo, and one in each
of the neighbouring towns of Boolak and Masr El-’Ateekah,
from which cases are always referred to the court of the
kadee ; and each country town has a native kadee, whose
authority is generally sufficient for the villages around. The
Council of the ’Ulama, or learned men, consists of the
sheykh, or religious chief, of each of the four orthodox
persuasions, the sheykh of the great mosque called the
Azhar, who is of the persuasion of the Shafe’ees, and is
sometimes its sheykh, the kadee, and the chief (Nakeeb)
of the Shereefs, or descendants of the Prophet, with several
other persons. This body was until lately very powerful,
but now has little influence over the Pasha. Cairo is divided
into quarters (Harah, pi. Harat), each of which has its
sheykh, who preserves order among the people; and the
whole city is partitioned into eight larger divisions, each
having a sheykh called Sheykh et-Tumn. Various trades
also have their sheykhs or chiefs, to whom reference is
made in disputes respecting the craft; and the servants
have similar heads who are responsible for their beha¬
viour. The country is divided into governments, as be¬
fore stated, each presided over by a Turkish officer, hav¬
ing the title of Mudeer, and sub-divided into districts under
the control of native officers, bearing the title “ Mamoor”
and “ Nazir.” A responsible person called Sheykh el-Beled
(or “ sheykh of the town,” or “ village”), presides over
each small town and village, and is a native of the place.
It must also be mentioned that the Sa’eed, or Upper Egypt,
is governed by a pasha, whose residence is at Asyoot. Not¬
withstanding the consistent, able, and in many respects
commendable, code of law s which has been founded on the
Kur-an and the Traditions, the administration of justice is
lamentably faulty. As is the custom throughout the East,
judgment in Egypt is usually swayed by bribes, and a poor
man’s case is generally hopeless when his adversary is rich.
To this rule there have been some notable exceptions, and
the memory of a few virtuous judges is cherished by the
people, but such instances are very rare. The moral and
civil laws observed by the Egyptians being those of El-
Islam will be found under another article.
It is very worthy of notice, that in Cairo, as in some Infancy,
other Muslim cities, any one may obtain gratuitously an ele-and early
mentary education, and he who desires the fullest attainable e<iucation*
education may receive that also without the payment of a
single fee, by joining a class of students in a collegiate
mosque. The elementary instruction which most boys re¬
ceive consists chiefly of reading, and learning the Kur-an by
1 Modern Egyptians, chap. i.
446 E G Y P T.
Egypt, heart; day-schools, as charitable institutions, abound in
v—Cairo, and every town possesses its school; a trifling fee to
the fikee (or master) is the only expense incurred by the
scholars. Girls are seldom taught anything beyond needle¬
work. The children of both sexes, except those of the
wealthy, have generally a very dirty and slovenly appearance;
and often intentional neglect is adopted to avert the effects
of the “ evil eye,” of which the Egyptians entertain great
dread. The children of the upper classes are excessively in¬
dulged, while the poor entirely neglect their offspring. The
leading doctrines of El-Islam, as well as hatred for all re¬
ligions but their own, and a great reverence for their pa¬
rents and the aged, are early inculcated. This deference
towards parents cannot fail to strike every foreigner who
visits Egypt, and does not cease with their growth ; pre¬
senting an example well worthy of imitation in the west.
Circumcision is observed at about the age of five or six
years, when the boy is paraded, generally with a bridal pro¬
cession, on a gaily caparisoned horse, and dressed in women’s
clothes. Some parents, however, and most of the learned,
prefer a quieter and less expensive ceremony.1
Domestic It is deemed disreputable for a young man not to marry
life. when he has attained a sufficient age; there are therefore few
unmarried men. Girls, in like manner, marry very young,
some even at ten years of age, and few remain single be¬
yond the age of sixteen ; they are generally very prolific.
The bridegroom never sees his future wife before the wed¬
ding night, an evil which is somewhat mitigated by the
facility of divorce. A dowry is always given, and a mar¬
riage ceremony performed by a fikee (a schoolmaster, or
one who recites the Kur-an), in the presence of two wit¬
nesses ; the ceremony is very simple, but constitutes a legal
marriage. The bridal of a virgin is attended with great
festivity and rejoicing ; a grandee’s wedding sometimes con¬
tinuing eleven days and nights. On the last day, which
should be that terminating with the eve of Friday, or of
Monday, the bride is taken in procession to the bridegroom’s
house, accompanied by her female friends, and a band of
musicians, jugglers, wrestlers, &c. As before stated, a boy
about to be circumcised joins in such a procession ; or, fre¬
quently, a succession of such boys. A Muslim is allowed
by his religion four wives, but advantage is rarely taken of
this license, and very few attempt to keep two wives in one
house ; the expense and discomfort which polygamy entails,
act, therefore, as a restriction to its general adoption. A
man may however possess any number of concubine slaves,
who though objects of jealousy to the legal wife, are yet
tolerated by her in consideration of her superior position,
and conceded power over them, a power which she often
uses with great tyranny: but certain privileges are pos¬
sessed by the concubine, especially if she have born a
son to her master. Such slaves are commonly kept only
by grandees, the generality of the Muslim Egyptians being
content with one wife. A divorce is rendered obligatory
by the simple words, “ Thou art divorced,” and a triple
divorce is irrevocable under ordinary circumstances. The
hareem system of appointing separate apartments to the
women, and secluding them from the gaze of men, is ob¬
served in Egypt as in other Muslim countries, but less strictly.
Mr Lane says on this subject—“ I believe that in Egypt
the women are generally under less restraint than in any
other country of the Turkish Empire ; so that it is not
uncommon to see females of the lower orders flirting and
jesting with men in public, and men laying their hands upon
them very freely. Still it might be imagined, that the
women of the higher and middle classes feel themselves
severely oppressed, and are much discontented with the
state of seclusion to which they are subjected; but this is
nor commonly the case ; on the contrary, an Egyptian wife
who is attached to her husband is apt to think, if he allow Egypt,
her unusual liberty, that he neglects her, and does not suffi-
ciently love her ; and to envy those wives who are kept and
watched with greater strictness.”2 The females of an
Egyptian household never sit in the presence of the master,
but attend him at his meals, and are treated in every re¬
spect as inferiors. The mother, however, forms a remark¬
able exception to this rule ; in rare instances, also, a wife
becomes a companion to her husband. On the other hand,
if a pair of women’s shoes are placed outside the door of the
hareem apartments, they are understood to signify that fe¬
male visitors are within, and a man is sometimes thus ex¬
cluded from the upper portion of his own house for many
days. Ladies of the upper or middle classes lead a life of
extreme inactivity, spending their time at the bath, which
is the general place of gossip, or in receiving visits, em¬
broidering, and the like, and in absolute dolce far niente.
It is therefore no cause for wonder that their tone of morals
is generally low. Both sexes are abstemious in their food,
though fond of pastry, sweetmeats, and fruit. The princi¬
pal meals are breakfast, about an hour alter sunrise ; dinner,
or the mid-day meal, at noon; and supper, which is the
chief meal of the day, a little after sunset. Coffee is taken
at all hours, and is, with a pipe, presented at least once to
each guest. Tobacco is the great luxury of the men of all
classes in Egypt, who begin and end the day with it, and
generally smoke all day with little intermission. Many
women, also, especially among the rich, adopt the habit.
Men who can afford to keep a horse, mule, or ass, are very
seldom seen to walk, and numberless excellent asses are to
be hired in Cairo. Ladies always ride asses and sit astride.
The poorer classes are of course unable to observe the
hareem system, but the women are in general carefully veiled.
Some of them keep small shops, and all fetch water, make
fuel, and cook for their households. The food of the poor is
very meagre ; flesh meat is rarely tasted by them, and (be¬
sides bread), dates, raw cucumbers, and onions, are their com¬
mon food, with soaked beans, roasted ears of Indian corn, &c.
In their social intercourse the Muslim Egyptians are re- otiaracter,
gular, and observe many forms of salutation and much eti- &c.
quette ; yet they are very affable, entering into conversation
with strangers at shops and elsewhere. Their courtesy
and dignity of manner are very striking, and are combined
with ease, and a fluency of discourse. Of their mental
qualifications Mr Lane remarks—“ The natural or innate
character of the modern Egyptians is altered, in a remark¬
able, degree, by their religion, laws, and government, as well
as by the climate and other causes ; and to form a just
opinion of it is, therefore, very difficult. We may, however,
confidently state that they are endowed, in a higher degree
than most other people, with some of the more impor¬
tant mental qualities, particularly quickness of apprehension,
a ready wit, and a retentive memory. In youth they gene¬
rally possess these and other intellectual powers; but the
causes above alluded to gradually lessen their mental
energy.”3 Their principal virtues are piety and strong
religious feeling, a strict observance of the injunctions of
El-Islam, and a constant sense of God’s presence and over¬
ruling providence, combined however with religious pride
and hypocrisy. Their common discourse is full of assevera¬
tions and expressions respecting sacred things, often how¬
ever used with a levity which it is difficult for a person unac¬
quainted with their feelings easily to reconcile with their re¬
spect for God. They entertain an excessive reverence for
their Prophet; and the Kur-an is treated with the utmost
respect—never, for example, being placed in a low situation
—and this is the case with everything they esteem holy.
They are fatalists, and bear calamities with perfect resigna¬
tion to the Divine will. Their filial piety and respect for the
1 Modern Egyptians, chap, xxvii.
2 Id., vi.
3 Id., xiii.
EGYPT.
447
Egypt, aged have been before mentioned, and benevolence and
^ charity are conspicuous in their character; poverty is there¬
fore not accompanied by the distressing circumstances which
too frequently attend it in Europe. Humanity to dumb ani¬
mals is another virtue, and cruelty is openly discountenanced
in their streets, even to unclean animals; this is however
unfortunately wearing otfin consequence of their intercourse
with Franks. I heir affability, cheerfulness, and hospitality,
are remarkable, as well as frugality and temperance in food
and drink, scrupulous cleanliness, a love of country, and
honesty in the payment of debt. It should be added, how¬
ever, that the Egyptians rarely, if ever, exercise their social
virtues but towards persons of their own persuasion and
country. Their vices are indolence, obstinacy, and libi¬
dinousness, especially among the women, cupidity (mitigated
by generosity), envy, a disregard for the truth, and a habit
of cursing. Murders, and other grave crimes of this nature,
are rarely committed, but petty thefts are very common.
Language. . “ The Arabic spoken by the middle and higher classes
in Cairo is,” on the unquestionable authority of the Modern
Egyptiam, “generally inferior, in point of grammatical cor¬
rectness and pronunciation, to the dialects of the Bedawees
of Arabia, and of the inhabitants of the towns in their im¬
mediate vicinity, but much to be preferred to those of Syria,
and still more to those of the Western Arabs.”1 The
language varies in Upper and Eower Egypt, and is more
correct inland than near the shores of the Mediterranean.
Literature. In the decay of Arab literature,. Cairo still holds the chief
place as a seat of learning, and its University, the Azhar, is
undoubtedly the first of the Eastern world. Its professors
teach “grammatical inflexion and syntax, rhetoric, versi¬
fication, logic, theology, the exposition of the Kur-an, the
Traditions of the Prophet, the complete science of juris¬
prudence, or rather of religious, moral, civil, and criminal
law, which is chiefly founded on the Kur-an and the Tradi¬
tions, together with arithmetic as far as it is useful in matters
of law. Lectures are also given on algebra, and on the
calculations of the Mohammedan calendar, the times of
prayer, &c.”2 The students, as already remarked, pay no
fees, and the professors receive no salaries. The latter main¬
tain themselves by private teaching, and by copying manu¬
scripts, and the former in the same manner, or by reciting
the Kur-an. The number of students may be, on an average,
from 1500 to 2000. Except the professors of literature, few
Egyptians are taught more than to read and write ; and of
these, still fewer can read and write well. The women,
as before mentioned, are very rarely taught even to read.
Science is but little studied, and barbers generally prac¬
tise medicine and surgery. Mohammad ’Alee endeavoured
to improve this state of things, by sending young men to
Europe for the purpose of scientific study, and by establish¬
ing various schools, with the same object, in Egypt. His
improvements were discouraged by Abbas Pasha, who,
happily for the country, is not now living; and we may hope
that Sa’eed Pasha may follow the example of his father, Mo¬
hammad ’Alee.
In common with other Muslims, those of Egypt have
very many superstitions, some of which are peculiar to
themselves. Tombs of saints abound, one or more being
found in every town and village; and no traveller up the
Nile can fail to remark how every prominent mountain has
the sepulchre of its patron saint. The great saints of
Egypt are the Imam Esh-Shafe’ee, founder of the persua¬
sion called after him, the seyyid Ahmad El-Bedawee, and
the seyyid Ibraheem Ed-Dasookee, both of whom were
founders of orders of Darweeshees. The former of these two
is buried at the town of Tanta, in the Delta, and his tomb
Egypt.
Science.
Saints.
attracts many thousands of visitors annually to his principal
festival: the latter is also much revered, and his festival
draws together, in like manner, great crowds to his birth¬
place, the town of Ed-Dasook. But, besides the graves of
her native saints, Egypt boasts of those of several members
of the Prophet’s family; the tomb of the seyyideh Zeyneb,
daughter of ’Alee, that of the seyyideh Sekeeneh, daughter
of El-Hoseyn, and that of the seyyideh Nefeeseh, great-
grand-daughter of El-Hasan, all of which are held in high
veneration. The mosque of the Hasaneyn (or that of the
“ two Hasans”) is the most reverenced shrine in the country,
and is believed to contain the head of El-Hoseyn. As con¬
nected with the superstitious practices of Egypt, Dar- Darwee-
weesheeS must be mentioned, of whom there are many shees.
orders found in that country, the following being the most
celebrated:—1. The Rifa’eeyeh, and their sects the ’Ilwa-
neeyeh, and Saadeeyeh. 2. The Kadireeyeh. 3. The
Ahmedeeyeh, or followers of the seyyid Ahmad El-Beda¬
wee, and their sects the Beiyoomeeyeh, Shaaraweeyeh,
Shinnaweeyeh, and many others. 4. The Barahimeh, or
followers of the seyyid Ibraheem Ed-Dasookee. These are
all presided over by a direct descendant of the Khaleefeh
Aboo-Bekr, called the Sheykh El-Bekree. The Saadeeyeh
are the most famous for charming and eating live serpents,
&c., and the ’Ilwaneeyeh for eating fire, glass, &c. The Charms.
Egyptians firmly believe in the efficacy of charms, a belief
which is associated with that in an omnipresent and over¬
ruling Providence. Thus, the doors of houses are inscribed
with sentences from the Kur-an, or the like, to pre¬
serve from the evil eye, or avert the dangers of an unlucky
threshold; similar inscriptions may be observed over most
shops, while almost every one carries some charm about his
person. Among so superstitious a people, with whom, as
we have already seen, science is in a very low state, it is
not to be wondered that the so-called sciences of magic,
astrology in the place of astronomy, and alchemy in that of
chemistry, are in a comparatively flourishing condition.3
Since the time of the Turkish Conquest, the arts in Egypt The arts;
have rapidly fallen into decay; this is partly attributable industry,
to the deportation of most of the skilled artificers of Cairo
to Constantinople by the Sultan Seleem, but it is mainly
owing to the misrule of the Turkish pashas, who have suc¬
cessively domineered over this unfortunate country. Cairo
contains the most splendid specimens of Arab architecture
of any part of the Arabian empire ; but at present new
buildings are erected after the Constantinopolitan model, or,
what is still worse, the purely European—both styles immea¬
surably inferior to the Arab, and very ill suited to the re¬
quirements of the climate. In like manner, every other
kind of native art is gradually perishing ; and it is to be
feared that even should the people be relieved from oppres¬
sion and bad government, their industry will be encouraged
rather to adopt imaginary improvements imported from Eu¬
rope, than to cultivate the beautiful taste of their ancestors.
The manufactures of the present inhabitants of Egypt are
generally inferior to those of other eastern nations: their
handicrafts are clumsy, and the inevitable results of tyranny
are everywhere evident; nevertheless, the curious shops, the
markets of different trades (the shops of each trade being
generally congregated in one street or district), the easy
merchant sitting before his shop, the musical and quaint
street cries of the picturesque venders of fruit, sherbet, wa¬
ter, &c., with the ever-changing and many-coloured throng
of passengers, all render the streets of Cairo a delightful
study for the lover of Arab life, nowhere else to be seen in
such perfection, or with so fine a back-ground of magnifi¬
cent buildings.
3 Modern Egyptians, chap. ix. 2 > ibid
For very interesting details on the subject of Eastern magic, with its kindred sciences, the reader should consult the Modern Egyp¬
tians, and Lane’s Thousand and One Nights, Knight, London, 1839, vol. i. chap, i., note 15.
mv. t'JLLX.r 
448
Egypt.
Luxuries,
games,
EGYPT.
Dancing
girls.
Periodical
public
festivals.
Among the luxurious habits of the Egyptians must be
classed the immoderate use of tobacco (as before mentioned),
and coffee. They are, however, rarely guilty of the vice of
drunkenness, wine being prohibited by the Kur-an. Eaters
of opium, and smokers of hemp, called hasheesh, are not un¬
common, though they are always of the dregs of the people.
The bath is a favourite resort of both sexes and all classes.
In Cairo alone are upwards of sixty public baths, and every
aood house has a private bath. Their amusements are ge¬
nerally not of a violent kind, being rather in keeping with
their sedentary habits, and the heat of the climate. They
are acquainted with chess, draughts, backgammon, and other
games, among which is one peculiar to themselves, called
Mankalah, and played with cowries. The game of the
gereed requires great bodily exertion; and wrestlers, &c.,
are found in the country, though not in any number. Music
is the most favourite recreation of the people of Egypt ; the
songs of the boatmen, the religious chants, and the cries in
the streets, are all musical. There are male and female
musical performers; the former are both instrumental and
vocal, the latter (called ’Almeh, pi. ’Awalim) generally vocal.
The ’Awalim are, as their name (“ learned”) implies, gene¬
rally accomplished women, and should not be confounded
with the Ghawazee, or dancing-girls. There are many kinds
of musical instruments. 1 he music, vocal and instrumental,
is generally of little compass, and in the minor key; it is
therefore plaintive, and strikes a European ear as somewhat
monotonous, though often possessing a simple beauty, and
the charm of antiquity, for there is little doubt that favourite
airs have been handed down from remote ages. The pro¬
phet Mohammad condemned music, and its professors are
in consequence lightly esteemed by the generality of Mus¬
lims, who nevertheless scruple not to enjoy their perform¬
ances, and resort to the coffee-shops and to private festivities,
where they are almost always to be found.
The Ghawazee (sing. Ghazeeyeh) form a separate class,
very similar to the gypsies. They always intermarry among
themselves only, and are all brought up to the venal pro¬
fession. Their performances are too well known to need a
description here, but it should be observed that the religious
and learned Egyptians hold them to be improper. They
dance in public, at fairs and religious festivals, and at private
festivities, but not in respectable houses, whether before the
men or the ladies. Mohammad ’Alee banished them to
Isne, in Upper Egypt; and the few that remained, occa¬
sionally dancing in Cairo, called themselves ’Awalim, to
avoid punishment. A most objectionable class of male
dancers also exists, who imitate the dances of the Gha¬
wazee, and dress in a kind of nondescript female attire.
Not the least curious of the public performances are those
of the serpent-charmers, who are generally Rifa’ee, or
Saadee Darweeshes. Their power over serpents has been
doubted by most European travellers, yet their performances
remain unexplained ; and apparently they possess means of
ascertaining the haunts of these and other reptiles, and of
alluring them forth ; they, however, always extract the
fangs of venomous serpents. Jugglers, rope-dancers, and
farce-players, must also be mentioned. In the principal
coffee-shops of Cairo are to be found x’eciters of romances,
surrounded by interested audiences. I hey are of three
classes, and recite from several works, among which was
included, until lately, the Thousand and One Nights ; but
manuscripts of the latter have recently become so rare, as
to render it almost impossible to obtain a copy.
The periodical public festivals are exceedingly interest¬
ing, and many of the remarkable observances with which Egypt.
they abound are passing away ; but, happily, the Modern v 
Egyptians contains the descriptions of its learned and
minutely accurate author, an eye-witness of what he relates.
The first ten days of the Mohammadan year are held to be
blessed, and especially the tenth; and many curious and
superstitious practices are observed on these days, particu¬
larly by the women. The tenth day, being the anniversary
of the martyrdom of El-Hoseyn, the mosque of the Hasa-
neyn is thronged to excess, mostly by women. Following
the order of the lunar year, the next festival is that of the
Return of the Pilgrims, which is the occasion of great re¬
joicing, many having friends or relatives in the caravan.
The Mahmal,1 a kind of covered litter, first originated by the
celebrated Queen, Sheger-ed-Durr, is brought into the city
in procession, though not with as much pomp as when it
leaves with the pilgrims. These and other processions have
lost much of their effect since the extinction of the Mem-
looks, and the gradual disuse of gorgeous dress for the re¬
tainers of the officers of state. A regiment of regular
infantry makes but a sorry substitute for the splendid caval¬
cade of former times. The Birth of the Prophet (Moolid
en-Nebee), which is celebrated in the beginning of the
third month, is the greatest festival of the whole year.
During nine days and nights its religious ceremonies are
observed at Cairo, in the open space called the Ezbekeeyeh.
Next in time, and also in importance, is the Moolid El-
Hasaneyn, commemorative of the birth of El-Hoseyn, and
lasting fifteen days and nights; and at the same time is
kept the Moolid of Es-Salih Eiyoob, the last king but one
of the Eiyoobee Dynasty. In the seventh month occur
the Moolid of the Seyyideh Zeyneb, and the commemora¬
tion of the Mearag, or the Prophet’s miraculous journey to
heaven. Early in the tenth month (Shaaban), the Moolid^
of the Imam Esh-Shafe’ee is observed ; and the night of
the middle of that month has its peculiar customs, being held
by the Muslims to be that on which the fate of all hying is
decided for the ensuing year. Then follows Ramadan, the
month of abstinence, a severe trial to the faithful; and the
Lesser Festival (El-’Eed es-Sagheer), which commences
Showwal, is hailed by them with delight. A few days
after, the Kisweh, or new covering for the Kaabeh atMek-
keh, is taken in procession from the citadel, where it is
always manufactured, to the Mosque of the Hasaneyn to be
completed ; and, later, the caravan of pilgrims departs, when
the grand procession of the Mahmal takes place. On t le
tenth day of the last month of the year, the Great Festiya
(El-’Eed el-Kebeer), or that of the Sacrifice, closes the
calendar. _ ,
The rise of the Nile is naturally the occasion of annual Observ
customs, some of which are doubtless relics of antiquity.
these are observed according to the Coptic yef- / ie the rise of
commencement of the rise is fixed to the night of t ie tjie
eleventh of Ba-ooneh (Paoni), the seventeenth of June, and
is called that of the Drop (Leylet en-Nuktah), because a
miraculous drop is then supposed to fall, and cause the
swelling of the river. The real rise commences at Cairo
about the summer solstice, or a few days later ; and on about
the third of July a crier in each district of the city begins
to go his daily rounds, announcing, in a quaint chant, die in¬
crease of water in the Nilometerof the island of Er-Rudah.
When the river has risen twenty or twenty-one feet, he
proclaims the Wefa en-Neel, “Completion” or ‘ Abun¬
dance of the Nile.” On the following day, the dam which
closes the canal of Cairo is cut with much ceremony, anc
1 Mahmil is probably the correct pronunciation of this word. _ . . , „ ,, . .
2 With reference to this curious fact, and also in connection with the subject, it may here be mentioned that t e perio o
winds, called the Khamaseen, that is “ The Fifties,” is calculated from the day after the Coptic Easter, and terminates on e ay
Pentecost, and that the Muslims observe the Wednesday preceding this period, called “ Job’s Wednesday,” as well as its rs ay, v icn
many go into the country from Cairo “ to smell the air.” This day is hence called Shemm en-Neseem, or “ the smelling o i
zephyr.” The ’Ulama observe the same custom on the first three days of the spring quarter.
EGYPT.
Egypt.
Funeral
rites.
this is the signal for letting the inundation over the surface
of the country. A pillar of earth before the dam is called
the “Bride of the Nile,” and Arab historians relate that this
was substituted, at the Muslim conquest, for a virgin whom
it was the custom annually to sacrifice, to ensure a plentiful
inundation. A large boat, gaily decked out, representing
that in which the victim used to be conveyed, is anchored
near, and a gun on board is fired every quarter of an hour
during the night. Rockets and other fireworks are also let
off, but the best, strangely, after daybreak. The Governor
of Cairo attends the ceremony of cutting the dam, with the
Kadee and others. The crier continues his daily rounds,
with his former chant, excepting on the Coptic New-Year’s
Day, when the cry of the Wefa is repeated, until the Sa-
leeb, or Discovery of the Cross, the 26th or 27th of Sep¬
tember, at which period, the river having about attained its
greatest height, he concludes his annual employment with
another chant, and presents to each house some limes and
other fruit, and dry lumps of Nile mud.
This brief account of the modern Egyptians would be
incomplete without a few words concerning the rites atten¬
dant on death. The corpse is immediately turned towards
Mekkeh, and the females of the household, assisted by hired
mourners, commence their peculiar wailing, while fikees recite
portions of the Kur-an. The funeral takes place on the day of
the death, if that happen in the morning; otherwise on the
next day. The corpse, having been washed and shrouded,
is placed in an open bier, covered with a Cashmere shawl,
in the case of a man; or in a closed bier, having a post
in front, on which are placed female ornaments, in that of a
woman or child. The funeral procession is headed by men
called “ Yemeneeyeh,” chanting the profession of the faith,
followed by male friends of the deceased, and a party of
schoolboys, also chanting, generally from a poem descriptive
of the latter state. Then follows the bier, borne on the
shoulders of friends, who are relieved by the passers-by,
such an act being deemed highly meritorious. On the
way to the cemetery the corpse is generally, in Cairo, in
the case of the northern quarters of the city, carried either
to the Hasaneyn, or, if the deceased be one of the ’Ulama,
to the Azhar; or, in the case of the southern quarters, to
the seyyideh Zeyneb, or some other revered mosque. Here
the funeral service is performed by the Imam, or minister
of the mosque, and the procession then proceeds to the
tomb. In the burials of the rich, water and bread are dis¬
tributed to the poor at the grave, and sometimes a buffalo
or several buffaloes slaughtered there, and the flesh given
away. The tomb is always a vault, surrounded by an ob¬
long stone monument, with a stela at the head and feet, and
a cupola, supported by four walls, covers the whole in the
case of sheykhs’ tombs and those of the wealthy. During
the night following the interment, called the Night of De¬
solation, or that of Solitude, the soul being believed to
remain with the body that one night, fikees are engaged at
the house of the deceased to recite various portions of the
Kur-an, and, commonly, to repeat the first clause of the
profession of the faith, “ There is no deity but God,” three
thousand times. The women alone put on mourning attire,
by dyeing their veils, shirts, &c., dark blue, with indigo; and
they stain their hands, and smear the walls, with the same
colour. Everything in the house is also turned upside down.
The latter customs are not, however, observed on the death
of an old man. At certain periods after the burial, a khatmeh,
or recitation of the whole of the Kur-an, is performed, and
the tomb is visited by the female relations and friends of the
deceased. The women of the F ellaheen (or peasants) of U pper
Egypt observe some strange dances, &c., at funerals, which
must be regarded as partly relics of ancient Egyptian customs.
For the fullest information on the subjects of the forego¬
449
Egypt.
ing sketch, the reader is referred to Lane’s Modern Egyp¬
tians, to its author’s translation of the Thousand and One
Nights, and, in particular, to the notes appended to that
translation; and to the EnglisJuvoman in Egypt, by Mrs Poole.
The native Christians of Egypt, or Copts, are chiefly de- Copta.
scended from the ancient Egyptian race ; and as they rarely
intermarry, they preserve in their countenances a great re¬
semblance to the representations of the tombs and temples.
Their dress and customs are very similar to those of the
Muslim Egyptians, but their reserve towards persons of
another persuasion renders a knowledge of their peculiar ob¬
servances exceedingly difficult. The causes which produced
the separation of their Church will be noticed in the his¬
torical portion of this article; and in the same part will be
found mention of the chief persecutions which they have
suffered. Under Mohammad ’Alee they were relieved of
much oppression, and the immunities then granted to them
they still enjoy. The neglected appearance of their houses,
and their want of personal cleanliness, is in strong contrast
to the opposite habits of the Muslims, and European resi¬
dents generally prefer the latter as domestic servants.
The Jews of Egypt, of whom there have been great Jews,
numbers since the captivity of the Ten Tribes, appear to
be even more degraded than their fellows in other countries.
They are held in the utmost abhorrence by the dominant
race, and often are treated with much cruelty and oppression.
Many are bankers and money-changers, &c. The quarter
of the Jews in Cairo is exceedingly filthy, and would give
a stranger the notion that they labour under great poverty.
But such is not the case ; the fear of the Muslims inducing
them to adopt this outward show of misery, while the interior
of many of their houses is very handsome and luxurious.
SECTION II.
CHRONOLOGT AND HISTORY.
It is not possible, within the limits of the present article, Chrono-
even to enumerate the various opinions which have prevailed l°gy-
respecting the chronology of ancient Egypt, strictly speak¬
ing, and respecting the chronological results deduced from
different arrangements of its dynasties. On the former sub¬
ject it will suffice to mention the divisions of time, particu¬
larizing those which are generally received, as to their cha¬
racteristics, or as to their periods of commencement also ;
and on the latter, to state the main differences between the
views of the learned.
The Egyptians, from very early times, subdivided the Seasons,
year which they commonly used info three seasons, each
containing four months, called the first, second, third, and
fourth months of these seasons. This notation obtained
from a very remote period,1 probably dating as far back as
near the commencement of Egyptian history. The three
seasons were called “ the season of Vegetation,” “ the sea¬
son of Manifestation,” and “ the season of the Waters,” or
“ the Inundation.”2 The interpretation of the names of
the first two seasons is doubtful, but that of the third is cer¬
tain, and enables us to ascertain the characteristics of the
year to which these names of the seasons must have origi- Tropical
nally applied. The fitness of the division is shown by our Year>
finding it universally used in Egypt in the present day, though
UJ
vaguely defined; the three seasons being called
G £ u*
“ Winter,” 1 “ Summer,” and \ “ the Inunda¬
tion,” literally “ the Nile,” meaning the season at which the
Nile is spread over the cultivable parts of Egypt. The
season of the waters can be shown to have commenced a
month before the autumnal equinox, and to have terminated
1 Lepsius, Chronologic der Aegypter, i., p. 148.
VOL. VIII.
2 Horce AEg., pi. i., No. 1.
3 L
EGYPT.
Vague
Y ear.
Sothic
Y ear.
Egyptian
J ulian
Year.
Names of
months.
at the winter solstice, at which period, therefore, the Tropical
Year commenced, when all things in Egypt begin anew.
At what time the Tropical Year was instituted has not
been ascertained, but it must have been at least as ancient
as the nomenclature of the months, which, as above men¬
tioned, was in use in very early times ; and when it came
to be disused is likewise uncertain.1 That the Egyptians
possessed a Tropical Year is generally admitted, but its
time of commencement has been matter of doubt and
difference.
The Egyptians had also, in ancient times, a year con¬
sisting of 365 days, apparently older than the Tropical
Year, and consecrated by its antiquity. This year is
commonly called the “ Vague Year,” and was subdivided
into twelve months of thirty days each, with an addition of
five Epagomenae, or intercalary days, after the twelfth
month. It was divided into the three seasons of the Tro¬
pical Year, and the months were called after those seasons.
It was in common use at least as early as the time of the
second king of the Eighteenth Dynasty2 (about b.c. 1500),
and was not abandoned until it was made a Julian \ear by
Augustus, b.c. 24. No diversity of opinion prevails re¬
specting the Vague Year.
Another year was used by the ancient Egyptians, but,
apparently, only for astronomical and possibly for religious
purposes, for both of which the Vague Year was also em¬
ployed. It was the Sothic Year, commencing on the 20th
of July, the day of the so-called heliacal rising of Sothis.3
There is a calendar sculptured on the exterior of the great
temple of Medeenet-Haboo at Thebes, which may be that
of a Sothic Year; and if so, this year would have been in
use as early as about b.c. 1200; but this cannot be con¬
sidered certain.4 It seems most probable that the Sothic
Year was only a year of the priests, which originated not
long before, or subsequently to, the commencement of the
first Sothic Cycle, b.c. 1322, and it does not seem unreason¬
able to conjecture that it was instituted with the cycle.5
Its length was 365| days, so that it differed from the
Julian alone in the time of its commencement. There is
no disagreement among scholars respecting it.
When Egypt had become a province of the Roman
empire, Augustus commanded the inhabitants to make use
of a Julian Year in their public records. But instead of
fixing its commencement to be that of the common Julian
year, the Egyptians made the Vague Year Julian by inter¬
calation ; consequently the Egyptian Julian Year always
began on the 29th, or, in the year next after their leap-
year, the 30th, of August, o.s., which was the day on which
the Vague Year commenced B.C. 24, when the new reckon¬
ing was instituted. The Copts and the Egyptian peasants
still make use of this year.6
The names by which the Egyptian months were called
(excepting in hieroglyphic inscriptions) in the times of the
Ptolemies and Caesars—Thoth or Thoyth, Paophi, &c.—
are never found, as such, in hieroglyphics of any time.
They were chiefly or wholly derived from the names of the
divinities to which the months were held to be sacred.7
These names were, in the Memphitic dialect of Coptic,
if we adopt the most probable reading assisted by the
manner in which they have been written in Greek, as
follows: 1, Thoiit; 2, Paopi; 3, Athor; 4, Choiak; 5, Tobi;
6, Mechir ; 7, Phamenoth ; 8, Pharmuthi; 9, Pachon (or
rather Pachons, as the name in the Sahidic dialect is Pashons
or Pashons, and in Arabic, Beshens, and its etymology
supports this correction) ; 10, Paoni; 11, Epepi; 12, Mesore. Egypt.
The Arabic names are merely corrupt forms of these.8
The day among the ancient Egyptians commenced in Day,
the morning six hours before noon,9 and was equally di¬
vided into day and night, each of which contained twelve
hours, numbered from one to twelve, as is shown by the
astronomical tables in the tombs of the kings at Thebes10
(about b.c. 1200). The hour is also mentioned in earlier Hoar,
inscriptions. It was subdivided into smaller periods, of
which the length has not been ascertained with certainty.11
Ancient writers speak of various cycles in use among the Cycles.
Egyptians, and the monuments mention great periods of
time. It has been argued that the coincidence of the
Vague Year and the Tropical was probably the commence¬
ment of a cycle; and it is known that a cycle began when
Sothis rose heliacally on the first of Thoth, or, if the Sothic
Year had been already instituted, when that year coincided
with the Vague.
The Tropical Cycle claims the first notice. Such a cycle, Tropical
comprehending the period during which the Vague Year Cycle,
passed through all the seasons of the Tropical, would pro¬
perly exceed by a few years fifteen centuries of Vague
Years, but, if also lunisolar, would consist of exactly fifteen
hundred Vague Years; and we may fairly suppose that to
have been its length, because the Egyptians could scarcely
have arrived at a more accurate determination, and because
they are stated to have used periods of five hundred years,
a third of that sum. Admitting that such would have
been the length of an ancient Egyptian Tropical Cycle, we
must inquire, in the next place, when it would have com¬
menced. The most natural period of its commencement
would be the coincidence of the Tropical and Vague Years,
and of the years in which this coincidence might be con¬
sidered by the ancient Egyptians to take place, that would
be chosen in which there was a new moon on the first day of
Thoth. But if we consult the monuments, we find that the
vernal equinox was the most important of the tropical
points, and the greater ease of its determination would give
it a preference above the winter solstice. It is, therefore,
not unreasonable to conclude that the beginning of the
cycle was marked by the coincidence of the Tropical and
Vague Years, and the occurrence of a new moon on the
day of the vernal equinox. At a period which the chrono¬
logy of the dynasties, apart from all astronomical considera¬
tions, shows to have been by no means distant from that of
the coincidence of the Vague and Tropical Years, we find
the record of the commencement of some unknown period,
apparently connected with the vernal equinox; and again,
fifteen hundred years later, we observe another though less
distinct record of the same nature. Hence, if it be ad¬
mitted that the year with which the Tropical Cycle began
was one in which a new moon fell on or very near the day
of the vernal equinox, we may compute the commencements
of two of these cycles,—as, January 7, b.c. 2005, in the
reign of Amenemha II., the second king of the Twelfth
Dynasty, and December 28 b.c. 507, when Egypt was a
Persian province, under Darius Hystaspis.12
The Sothic Cycle is one respecting which chronologers Sothic
are agreed. It was a period of 1460 Sothic or Julian, and Cycle.
1461 Vague Years, and its commencement was marked by
a so-called heliacal rising of Sothis, or Sirius,13 on the first
day of the Vague Year, which could only recur at the return
of the cycle, according to the Egyptian calculation. One
of these cycles commenced July 20, b.c. 1322, most pro-
I Horw JEg., p. 3, et seqq. 2 Id., p. 5-7, pi. 1, No. 2. 3 Id., p. 9.
4 Id., pp. 31, 32. M. Biot considers this calendar to be of a Vague Year, JRecherches de Quelques Dates Absolues, &c., ler Mem., p. 35.
5 Horce sEg., p. 9. 6 Id., loc. cit. 7 Id., pp. 7, 14.
8 Chronologic der Aegypter, i., p. 134, et seqq. Horce. AEg., p. 7, et seqq. 9 Chronologic der Aegypter, i., p. 130.
10 Champollion, Monumens de VEgypte et de la Nubie, PL cclxxii bis, et seqq. Biot, Recherches, &c., 26me Mem., p. 156, et seqq.
II Chronologic der Aegypter, L, p. 127. 12 Horce AEg. p. 12, et seqq. and PI. L, Nos. 5, 6.
13 Id., p. 28.
EGYPT.
Egypt.
Phoenix
Ctycle.
bably during the reign of Setbee I., the head of the Nine¬
teenth Dynasty j1 and the next, on the same day A.r*. 138,
in the reign of Antoninus Pius. The only matter of argu¬
ment respecting these periods is, whether there were any
before that commencing b.c. 1322. There is no distinct
evidence to show that such was the case, but, on the con¬
trary, there is presumptive evidence that the period was
instituted in that year.2
The Phoenix Cycle is a very important period in Egyp¬
tian chronology, but one respecting which the statements of
ancient writers, as well as the opinions of modern scholars,
have presented a remarkable diversity. An examination of
the Egyptian monuments, however, indicates the length of
the true Phoenix Cycle, and the dates of its commencements.
In the celebrated astronomical ceiling of the Rameseum of
El-Kurneh, commonly, but incorrectly, called the Memnon-
ium, we find a representation of a constellation bearing
the name Ben-nu Osir, or the Phoenix of Osiris, and haying
the form of a kind of heron. It is placed under the sixth
month, indicating that it rose heliacally, in the Egyptian
acceptation of the term, during that month, when Sothis so
rose on the first of Thoth, or during that month. As no
precise day is fixed as that of the rising of the Phoenix, we
cannot determine to wrhat constellation it corresponded, but
it most probably represents Cygnus, the “Bird” (/'Opns) of
the Greeks, and perhaps it also partly included Aquila, or
comprehended part of each of those constellations. Ancient
writers speak of the appearance of the Phoenix on various
occasions : this must allude to the heliacal rising of the con¬
stellation, that is, of its principal, or of its last star; for the
ancient Egyptian expression for heliacal rising, meaning
thereby the rising of a star about one hour before sunrise,
is “ manifestation,” or “ appearance.” Reasoning, therefore,
from analogy, the Phoenix Cycle would commence when
the Phoenix rose about an hour before the sun on the first
day of the Vague Year, and consist, like the Sothic Cycle, of
1460 Julian years, and 1461 Vague. Supposing this to
have been its duration, the position of the Phoenix in the
ceiling of the Rameseum of El-Kurneh would enable us to
fix approximatively the commencement of a Phoenix Cycle
preceding the date of that sculpture, to some one of the years
B.c. 2042 to 1923 inclusive. This view of the Phoenix
Cycle is strengthened by a remarkable passage of Tacitus,
wherein he says that some assigned a length of 1461 years
as the interval between appearances of the Phoenix, and
stated that they occurred first in the reign of Sesostris, then in
that of Amasis, and then in that of Ptolemy, “the third Mace¬
donian sovereign.”3 Now, the reign of Amasis falls within
the approximative date of the commencement of the Phoenix
Cycle following that already calculated from the ceiling of
the Rameseum. The duration of that reign was b.c. 570
to 525 inclusive ;4 whence we may calculate the limits of the
commencement of the preceding cycle, supposing the length
to be 1460 years, as b.c. 2030 to 1985 inclusive, the ap¬
proximative date being thus narrowed. But the means of
accurately fixing these dates appears to be afforded by the
Calendar of the Panegyries, for it has been argued with much
probability, that the Egyptians had great Panegyrical periods,
whereof four composed a sum of 1461 Julian years, and
that two of these periods commenced respectively Jan. 2 b.c.
1986, which will agree with the reign of the old Sesostris,
Sesertesen III., and Jan. 2 b.c. 525 during that of Amasis.
451
Egypt.
These, therefore, would be likewise commencements or the
Phoenix Cycle, the duration of which would be 1461 Julian
Years, and not 1460, which indeed may be the meaning of
Tacitus. The appearance of the Phoenix in the time of
Ptolemy, the third Macedonian sovereign, by whom Ptolemy
Euergetes is intended, is clearly at variance with the state¬
ment respecting the length of the interval, if the appearance
in the reign of Amasis be accepted, and there is every rea¬
son for giving the latter the preference.5
On the monuments of ancient Egypt, mention is fre- Panegyri-
quently made of various Panegyrical periods in particular, cal Periods,
and of periods of Panegyries in general. Many opinions
have prevailed respecting them, and the subject is one of
so intricate a nature, that it cannot be investigated in the
present article. It is intended rather, in the following obser¬
vations, to present an outline of the only distinct and com¬
plete explanation of these divisions of time, giving references
to where the reader will find a full investigation of them.
It is important to distinguish between the system of
Panegyrical periods and the Royal Panegyries, of which
somewhat will be said subsequently. The former consisted of
a year, month, and division of a month. The year, or Great
Panegyrical Year, had a mean length of 36o^ Julian years,
having alternately a length of 364-|- and 366 years. I he
Great Panegyrical Month, of which there were twelve to
the year, contained thirty Julian years, and was divided into
twenty Divisions of the Great Panegyrical Month, each hav¬
ing a length of one Julian year and a half. There must
also have been an intercalation of four years and a half, or
six years, after the twelfth Panegyrical Month. The com¬
mencement of the Tropical Cycle being dated as having oc¬
curred in the twelfth Division of the twelfth Great Panegy¬
rical Month, enables us to ascertain the beginning of one
Great Panegyrical Year, and consequently of the rest. The
following are the dates of their commencements :—
First Great Panegyrical Year, B.C. 2717, Era of Menes, the first
king of Egypt. Length 364^ years.
Second Great Panegyrical Year, B.C. 2352, in the time of Suphis
I. and II., kings of the Fourth Dynasty. Length 366 years.
Third Great Panegyrical Year, and commencement of the first
Phoenix Cycle, B.C. 1986, in the time of Sesertesen III,, the fourth
king of the Twelfth Dynasty. Length of the Great Panegyrical
Year 364J years.
Fourth Great Panegyrical Year, B.C. 1622. Length 366 years.
Fifth Great Panegyrical Year, B.c. 1256. Length 364£ years.
Sixth Great Panegyrical Year, B.C. 891. Length 366 years.
Seventh Great Panegyrical Year, and commencement of the Se¬
cond Phoenix Cycle, B.C. 525, in the reign of Amasis. Length of
Great Panegyrical Year, 364J years.
Eighth Great Panegyrical Year, B.C. 161, in the reign of Ptolemy
Philometor. Length 366 years.
Ninth Great Panegyrical Year, A.D., 205, in the reign of the
Roman Emperor Septimius Severus.
The earliest mention upon the monuments of the Pane¬
gyrical periods of this class is found in the inscriptions com¬
memorating-the commencement of the Second Great Pane¬
gyrical Year, and the latest certain notice is probably of the
time of Darius Hystaspis. J he following are the dates re¬
corded on the monuments, wherein these periods are used:
2352 B.C. Commencement of the Second Great Panegyrical 4 ear.
Time of Suphis I. and II. Fourth Dynasty.
2005 Commencement of the First Tropical Cycle. Time of Ame-
nemha II. Twelfth Dynasty.
1472-1 Date in fourth year of Skhee. Eighteenth Dynasty.
1 Horce JEg., p. 33. 2 Boras P- 35.
3 Paullo Fabio L. Yitellio consulibus post longum seculorum ambitum, avis Phoenix in iEgyptum venit; prsebuitque materiem doetk.-
simis indigenarum, et Graecorum, multa super eo miraculo disserendi; de quibus congruunt, et plura ambigua, sed cognitu non absurda,
promere libet. Sacrum soli id animal, et ore ac distinctu pinnarum a ceteris avibus diversum, consentiunt qui formam ejus detmiere. 1 e
numero annorum varia traduntur. Maxime vulgatum, quingentorum spatium. Sunt qui adseverent, mille quadringentos sexaginta
unum interjici; prioresque alites Sesostride primum, post Amaside dominantibus, dein Ptolema^o, qui ex Macedonibus tertius regnavit,
in civitatem cui Heliopolis nomen, advolavisse, multo ceterarum volucrum comitatu, novam faciem mirantium. Sed antiquitas quidem
obscura : inter Ptolemaeum ac Tiberium minus ducenti quinquaginta anni fuerunt, unde nonnulli falsum hunc Phcenicem, neque Arabum
b terris credidere, nihilque usurpavisse ex his quse vetus memoria firmavit.—Ann. vi., 28.
4 It is generally agreed that Amasis died in the year b.c. 525 ; and since the Phoenix Cycle commenced in January^of that year, as is
subsequently shown, it can hardly be doubted to have fallen in his reign. 6 See Ilorce ^©7., p. 39, and pi. ii.
1
Royal Pa¬
negyrics.
Arrange¬
ment of
Dynasties.
EGYPT.
1442 b.c. Date in sixteenth year of Queen Amen-numt. Eighteenth
Dynasty.
1412 Date in thirty-third year of Thothmes III. Eighteenth
Dynasty.
591 Date in reign of Psammetichus II. Twenty-sixth Dynasty.
561 Date in reign of Amasis. Twenty-sixth Dynasty.1
It is necessary to mention the Calendar of the Decans,
which was connected with that of the Panegyrics. The
ancient Egyptians distinguished thirty-six stars or asterisms,
nearly equidistant, throughout a great circle of the heavens
(like the signs of the zodiac), which rose at intervals of about
ten days. The two most important of the Decans were Sothis
and Smat, which were distant half a year from one another.2
Besides the Panegyrical periods above mentioned, were
those of the Royal Panegyrics. These were thirty-year
periods or Triacontaeterids, as they are called on the Ro¬
setta Stone, and subdivisions, having apparently a length
of three years. They were probably counted from the
king’s accession, and his first Triacontaeterid festival, cele¬
brated at or about the completion of his thirtieth year.
They seem to have been reckoned by Julian years, and
celebrated at the first indication of the rise of the Nile.3
Respecting the duration of the Triacontaeterids, there is
of course, a general agreement, since it rests upon indubit¬
able authority.4
Modern writers have generally depended upon an arrange¬
ment of the dynasties for the duration of ancient Egyptian
history. Some have held those dynasties to have ruled con¬
secutively ; but others have maintained that many of them
were contemporaneous. Hence have arisen two chrono¬
logical systems, of which some account must here be given.
Those who hold the dynasties to have been all consecu¬
tive, assign to the Egyptian monarchy a duration of up¬
wards of 5000 years. It is, however, generally admitted in
the present day, that this is an extravagant period, and that
both the writings of ancient historians, and the evidence of
the monuments, lead to the conclusion that many of the
earlier dynasties were contemporary. But here again there
is a wide difference of opinion; some holding, that though
the monuments afford general evidence of contemporaneous¬
ness—for example, by the progress of art—no distinct evi¬
dence has been yet obtained from them of the contempo¬
raneousness of any two kings of different dynasties; while
others maintain that the hieroglyphic inscriptions do afford
such distinct evidence of contemporaneousness. Cheva¬
lier Bunsen and Professor Lepsius are the best scholars
who have advanced the former view, and it is necessary
therefore to give an outline of their method. They both
recognise the absurdity of the opinion that the dynasties
were all consecutive; but being unable to obtain monumental
evidence as to the order of their contemporaneousness, and
the obvious order, to be mentioned subsequently, not occur¬
ring to them, they were forced to look to ancient writers for
some distinct statement of the duration of the Egyptian
kingdoms as a whole. This wished-for sum they found in
a passage of the Byzantine Syncellus, who states that, ac¬
cording to Manetho, the duration of the Thirty Dynasties,
from Menes the first king, to Nectanabo [II.] the last, was
3555 years. This sum they unhesitatingly accept, and rest
their whole chronology upon it, having, for that part of it
which is anterior to the sixteenth or seventeenth century
b.c., and respecting which alone there are serious differences
of opinion, absolutely no other reliable support.5 It is impor¬
tant, therefore, to examine into the trustworthiness of a vessel
which has carried these inquirers so far into the ocean of time.
In the first place, it must be remarked that a solitary
number which is found in a single work of a single author
is always to be regarded with caution, more especially when Egypt,
that author is as careless as Syncellus. It becomes, there-
fore, a hazardous matter to build a chronological arrange¬
ment upon this number. But the next inquiry should be,
whence Syncellus derived the sum, since two persons have
the name of Manetho without distinction in his writings—
the true Manetho, the native historian of Egypt, and the
false Manetho, usually called Pseudo-Manetho, who usurped
the historian’s name as a passport for his impostures. Be¬
sides Syncellus, four other writers, all preceding him in time,
Africanus, Eusebius, Theophilus of Antioch, and the Jewish
historian Josephus, quote from the true Manetho or refer to
him. Syncellus does not appear to have had access to his
work, and makes no distinction between him and the im¬
postor, calling both Manetho. In every instance in which
what he states on Manetho’s authority is not found in the
works of the four writers above mentioned, excepting that of
the passage under consideration, it is admitted by all to
have been derived from Pseudo-Manetho. External evi¬
dence therefore would induce an unprejudiced inquirer to
ascribe the sum of 3555 rather to the false Manetho than
to the true. Internal evidence increases this suspicion of
the passage. Therein it is stated that the time was that of
113 generations in thirty dynasties. Nowthe Old Chronicle,
an undoubted imposture, treated in like manner of the his¬
tory of Egypt under thirty dynasties in 113 generations
during a great and imaginary cycle. By this Old Chronicle,
according to Syncellus’s opinion, was Manetho, that is the
Pseudo-Manetho, as Bunsen acknowledges, led astray.6 The
agreement in the sum of generations is most striking ; that
of the number of dynasties affords no argument, thirty be¬
ing the true number. Hence an additional doubt is thrown
upon this statement; and a careful comparison of its sum of
years with what we may believe to be derived from the
chronology of Pseudo-Manetho or his followers, does not
tend to lessen our suspicion, although a positive proof can¬
not be thus obtained. In the order of the dynasties, Bun¬
sen and Lepsius have admitted some of the earlier to have
been contemporary, but in arranging them they have dif¬
fered considerably. The main point of disagreement is
with respect to the Shepherd dynasties, of which Bunsen
makes a Middle Empire between the Old Empire and the
New, as he terms them, supposing these dynasties to have
ruled without any contemporary Egyptian line. This
Lepsius opposes, holding the Shepherds never to have go¬
verned without contemporary Egyptians, and dividing the
dynasties into the Old Empire and the New.
To Mr Lane archaeology is indebted for the discovery of
the true order of contemporaneousness of the dynasties.
As long ago as the year 1830 he discovered that order from
“ the evidence given by Manetho and others, that some of
the early dynasties were contemporary7, and upon a con¬
sideration of the ordinal and other appellations (or numbers
and names) by which those dynasties are distinguished [by
Manetho] ; for the interpretation of hieroglyphics was not
then certain enough for him to obtain clear monumental
evidence.” An examination of the hieroglyphic inscriptions
has proved Mr Lane’s accuracy,7 and the arrangement has
received the high sanction of Sir Gardner Wilkinson.8 The
following table will explain the order of the contemporary
dynasties, that is, the first seventeen : under the eighteenth
dynasty Egypt was a single kingdom, and most, if not all,
of the subsequent dynasties were successive. The dates ot
the commencement of each dynasty in the table are more
or less approximative, as are also their durations ; but the
fixed dates show that neither can be far wrong in all the
most important instances.
Horce ^Eg., pp. 61-68. The date of Thothmes III. is mentioned (p. 72-73) as of Royal Panegyries, but the author has since come
to the conclusion that it is that of the commencement of a Great Panegyrical Month.
^ Id., pp. 53, 54, and 56, 57. Chronologic der Aeggpter, i., p. 66. 3 Horce AEg., p. 71, et seqq.
6 ^ironologie der Aegypter, i., p. 161. 6 Egypt's Place, vol. i., p. 86, et seqq. Chronologic der Aegypter, i. p. 488, et seqq.
PJPt s Place, vol. i. p. 214 et seqq. 7 Horoe EEg., p. 79, et seqq. 8 Architecture of Ancient Egypt, p. 132.
EGYPT.
Egypt.
liable of
ihe first
seventeen
dynasties.
B.C.
2700
2600
2500
2400
2300
2200
2100
2000
1900
1800
1700
1600
1500
THINITES.
I. 2717. (Era of
Menes.)
II. (cir. 2470.)
MEMPHITES.
III. (cir. 2650.)
IV. (cir. 2440.)
2352 (Date in reign
of Suphises.)
VI. (cir. 2200.)
VII. .(cir. 1800.)
VIII. (cir. 1800.)
ELEPHANTINITES.
V. (cir. 2440.)
I
HERACLEOPOLITES
IX. (cir. 2200.)
DIOSPOLITES.
XI. (cir. 2200.)
X, (cir. 1750.
XII. (cir. 2080.)
2005. (Date in reign
of Amenemha II.)
1986. (Date in reign
of Sesertesen III.)
XIII. (cir. 1920.)
XVIII. (cir. 1525.)
XOITES.
XIV. (cir. 2080.)
SHEPHERDS.
XV. (cir. 2080.) XVI. (cir. 2080.)
XVII. (cir. 1680.)
Table of
the first
seventeen
dynasties.
1
454
EGYPT.
Egypt.
History.
Divine Dy¬
nasties.
First Dy¬
nasty.
Menes,
or Menee.
Athothis.
TJenephes.
Sememp-
ses.
Menes, the head of the First Dynasty, is related to have
been the first mortal king of Egypt.1 Manetho states that
the period before his reign was occupied by the rule of the
gods, demigods or heroes, and manes, extending through
nearly 25,000 years, according to Eusebius.2 Similar state¬
ments are found in the writings of Herodotus and Diodorus.3
These divine dynasties, whether cyclical or not, have no
place in history, being purely mythical and not traditionary.
And it should be observed, that whereas in tne annals of
other ancient nations a time of tradition intervenes between
that of myths and that of facts, no such period of transition
is found in the Egyptian records, where we find pure fiction
immediately followed by accurate history. Hence it seems
reasonable to suppose that at the time of Menes, or not
long before, Egypt was colonized from another country, and
this is entirely in accordance with the most probable Septua-
gint date of the Dispersion about half a century before the
Era of Menes, b.c. 2717, which was probably the date of
his accession.4 Whether or not the Mizraite settlers may
have found an aboriginal population is a question too large
to be discussed in this brief historical notice.5
With Menes, therefore, Egyptian history commences.
His dynasty is stated to have been one of Thinite kings, of
the city of This, situated near to Abydos in Upper Egypt.6
Respecting Menes, Manetho, according to Eusebius, relates
that he made a foreign expedition and acquired renown ;
and, moreover, that he was killed by a hippopotamus, as
Africanus also mentions.7 Diodorus Siculus, who calls him
Menas, states that he first instructed the Egyptians in re¬
ligion, and so changed their simple manners that Trephach-
thus, the father of Bocchoris the Wise, finding from experi¬
ence the happiness of a frugal life, and the evils of luxury,
inscribed a curse against him in the temple of Jupiter (or
Amen-ra), at Thebes.8 Herodotus says that Menes founded
the city of Memphis, after he had diverted the course of
the river by raising a dyke. The same historian mentions
that he built the temple of Hephaestus (or Ptah) in Mem¬
phis.9 His name, written Menee, has been found in hiero¬
glyphic characters in a sort of list, or procession of small
statues of kings, in the Rameseum of El-Kurneh,10 and in
hieratic characters in the Royal Turin Papyrus.11
Menes was succeeded, after a long reign, by Athothis his
son, respecting whom Manetho tells us that he built the
palace at Memphis, and that he was a physician, and left
the anatomical books.12 This, as well as what Herodotus
relates of his father having changed the course of the river,
however that be understood, shows that the Egyptians were
at this remote period a highly civilized people; and the cir¬
cumstances that, after an interval of less than four centuries
from the accession of the first king, we find magnificent
pyramids as royal sepulchres, and the tombs of the subjects
sculptured and having hieroglyphic inscriptions, confirm
this opinion. The Third Dynasty commenced, and Mem¬
phis became independent, during, or soon after, the reign of
Athothis; but as the exact time of this change is not de¬
termined, it wTill be best to notice the later Thinite kings be¬
fore speaking of the Memphite line of sovereigns. Uene-
phes, the fourth Thinite king, is said by Manetho to have
built the pyramids near Kochome, a place which has not
been identified ; and it is added that Egypt was afflicted
by a famine in his reign. In the time of Semempses, the
seventh king, there was a very great plague.13 With his Egypt,
successor the dynasty terminated, having ruled, in all pro-
bability, about two centuries and a half.
The few particulars that we know of the history of the Second Dy
Second Dynasty, in wdiich the Thinite line was continued, nasty-
are related by Manetho alone. He says that in the reign
of the first king Boethos, a chasm of the earth opened at
Bubastis, and many perished ; that under the second king
Kaiechos, the bulls Apis in Memphis, and Mnevis in Helio- Kaieclids.
polis, and the Mendesian goat, were called gods, as already
mentioned ; and that under the next king Binothris, it was Binothris.
adjudged that women could hold the sovereign power.
During the reign of the seventh king Nephercheres, called Nepher-
Nufre-ka-ra in the hieroglyphical list known as the Tablet cheres.
of Abydos,14 Manetho tells us that it was fabled that the
Nile flowed mixed with honey for the space of eleven days.
His successor, according to the Egyptian historian, was
Sesochris, a man of gigantic stature.15 Nothing further is Sesochris,
related by Manetho of the occurrences of this dynasty, to
which he assigns a duration of about 300 years. From the
monuments, however, it appears most probable that it lasted
little less than four centuries, and that the Thinite king¬
dom name to a close with it at the time of the Shepherd
invasion.
The Memphite kingdom, as already noticed, commenced Third Dy.
not long after the Thinite, with the Third Dynasty. Mane- nasty- ^
tho relates that during the reign of its first king Nechero- Nechero-
phes or Necherochis, the Libyans revolted from the Egyp- Phes-
tians, but returned to their allegiance, being terrified by a
sudden increase of the moon. The second Memphite sove¬
reign Tosorthros, or Sesorthos, is said by the same autho- Tosorthros.
rity to have been called by the Egyptians TEsculapius, on
account of his medical knowledge, and to have invented
the art of building with hewn stones, and to have patronized
literature.16 After having lasted about two centuries, this
dynasty was succeeded by the Fourth, one of the most
famous of the lines which ruled in Egypt, while the Fifth
Dynasty of Elephantinite kings arose at the same time.
Of Soris, the head of the Fourth Dynasty, nothing is known; Fourth Dy-
his name, written Shura, occurs in the hieroglyphic inscrip- nasty,
tions of tombs near the Pyramids of El-Geezeh, and was
found by Mr Perring in the quarry-marks of the Northern
Pyramid of Aboo-Seer, which was therefore his tomb.17 In
Manetho’s list, according to Africanus, he was followed by
two kings bearing the name of Suphis, who may be called
Suphis I. and II." These correspond to the Shufu, or Khufu, Suphis I.,
and Num-Shufu, or Num-Khufu of the monuments. Since or Shufu,
these names are found together, particularly in the quarry- aj? or^”3.
marks of the Great Pyramid which has two principal chain-
bers, and which all are agreed in assigning to the reign of one Qreat py.
king, it is most reasonable to suppose that they ruled together ramid.
for the greater part of their reigns. Manetho makes Suphis
I. to have ruled for 63 years, and Suphus II. 66. The latter,
therefore, probably reigned for some years after the former.
Shufu must be the first of these kings, since he is the
Cheops (Khufu) to whom Herodotus ascribes the building
of the Great Pyramid, which, according to Manetho, was
the work of Suphis I.18 This is the period at which we
first find undoubted contemporary monuments of which we
know the date, the earliest whereof is most probably the
Northern Pyramid of Aboo-Seer before mentioned. Under
xi.TlCZCyit Jj TdCJ'ltflC'YltS) pp*
4 Horce -/Eg-, p. 93.
I Manetho in Cory’s Ancient Fragments, pp. 94, 95 ; Herod., ii., 99 ; Diod. Sic., i., 45.
3 Herod., ii., 43, 145 ; Diod., i., 23, 26, 44.
6 On this subject see a letter in the Journal of Sacred Literature, January 1855, p. 433. • ai
6 ©/7, rroXis AlyvpTTiu vXmriov’hfiuSau. I voXlms Oivirns- AlyvrTia.xu* Steph. Byz., s. v. The author referred to is Alex¬
ander Polyhistor. See Fragmenta Historicorum Grcecorum, vol. iii., p. 237.
7 Ancient Fragments, pp. 94, 95.
9 Herod., ii., 99.
II See Wilkinson’s edition.
13 Id., 96, 97. 14 Horce jEg., pp. 101-2.
16 Id., pp. 100-1. 17 Vyse’s Pyramids of Gizeh, vol. iii. p. 13 and pi. facing p.
8 Diod., i., 45.
10 Lepsius, Denkmdler, abth. iii., hi. 163.
12 Ancient Fragments, pp. 94-97.
15 Ancient Fragments, pp. 96-99.
14. 18 Horce AEg., p. 118.
EGYPT, 455
Egypt, the rule of the two Suphises such monuments are ex-
tremely numerous1 and afford us far better knowledge of
the state of Egypt at that time than do the scanty remains
of Manetho and the traditionary tales of Herodotus and
Diodorus. The names of both the Suphises occur among
the rock inscriptions of Wadee-el-Magharah in the Penin¬
sula of Sinai, where the second of them, or Num-Shufu, is
represented slaying a foreigner.2 The military expeditions
of the Egyptians, however, at this period were probably of
little importance, and designed to repress the nomad tribes
which have at all times infested the eastern and other bor¬
ders of Egypt, and to maintain the possessions beyond these
borders. The Memphite Pharaohs were rather celebrated
for the arts of peace and for the care with which they pro¬
moted the interests of literature and science. Of Suphis
I. Manetho writes that he was arrogant towards the gods,
but, repenting, wrote the Sacred Book.3 This seems to
agree well with what Herodotus and Diodorus relate of the
impiety and cruelty of the king who built the Great Pyra¬
mid ;4 but if we suppose that he was arrogant towards the
priests, we find a sufficient cause for the ascription to him
of this character, so ill according with the prosperity and
peacefulness of his time as shown by the monuments. The
power of the king or kings is evidenced by the magnitude
of the Great Pyramid, and the costly manner of its construc¬
tion ; the safety of the kingdom, by no soldiers being repre¬
sented in the sculptures, and the general custom of going un¬
armed common to the great and the small; the wealth of the
subjects, by the scenes pourtrayed upon the walls of their
tombs; and the state of science and art, by the construction
of monuments, gigantic in size, of materials many of which
were transported from a great distance, and fitted together
with an accuracy that has never been excelled, as well as
by the astronomical and other knowledge, of which evidence
is found in the contemporary inscriptions. After the Su-
MencherSs, phises ruled Mencheres, called in the hieroglyphic inscrip-
or Men* tions “ Men-kau-ra,” and by Herodotus “ Mykerinos.” By
kau-ra. hi in the Third Pyramid was raised, in which the late Gene-
ramid ra^ Howard Vyse found part of his mummy case, bear¬
ing his name, now in the British Museum.5 According to
Manetho, Queen Nitokris, the last sovereign of the Sixth
Dynasty, built this pyramid ; but it should be observed that
Eusebius’s version of the lists seems to state this merely on
the authority of tradition. It is most probable, from its plan,
that the building was enlarged and a new passage and
chamber excavated in the rock beneath it after its first com¬
pletion, whence it seems that the later sovereign, by this
additional work, made the tomb of Mencheres her own
sepulchre also. Of the subsequent kings of the Fourth
Dynasty, who were, according to Africanus’s version of the
lists of Manetho, four in number, nothing is known. The
duration of the dynasty probably somewhat exceeded two
hundred years, and it was succeeded by that called the Sixth,
in like manner of Memphite sovereigns.
Fifth Dy* The Fifth Dynasty, of Elephantinites, commenced about
tmty. tjie same tjme as t]ie Fourth. The names of several of
its earlier kings occur in the necropolis of Memphis, and
sometimes with those of the contemporary sovereigns of the
Sephres, or Fourth Dynasty.6 The most important of these is Sephres,
Shaf-ra. the Shaf-ra or Khaf-ra of the monuments, the builder of the
Second Py* Second Pyramid. Herodotus calls him Chephren,7 and Dio-
ramid. dorus Siculus, Kephren.8 The Elephantinite Dynasty lasted
not much less than six hundred years, and appears to have Egypt,
consisted of thirty-one kings, the last of whom, called by
Manetho Onnos, and in hieroglyphics Unas, was contem- Onnos, or
porary, as is shown by an ancient inscription, with Assa the Unas,
fifth king of the Fifteenth Dynasty of Shepherds, ruling at
Memphis.9
The Sixth Dynasty, by which the Memphite kingdom Sixth Dy-
was ruled after the close of the Fourth, lasted about a cen- nasty,
tury and a half. The most famous sovereign was the se¬
cond of the line, Papa or Phiops, who is related to have Pinops, or
ruled a hundred years, a statement which the monuments I5aPa-
seem to corroborate, although not directly. His sculptured
records are numerous throughout Egypt, showing him to
have been a powerful king, but not giving us any account of
remarkable events during his reign. The second sovereign
after him was Queen Nitokris, called in the Royal Turin Nitokris,or
Papyrus, Neet-akartee. With her the Dynasty closed, ^get akar"
Memphis being taken by the foreign invaders called Shep¬
herds, whose first king made it his capital.10
Another royal line, that of the Heracleopolites, arose while Ninth
the Sixth Dynasty ruled at Memphis. The time of the nasty’
commencement of the first Heracleopolite Dynasty, the
Ninth, is not certain, but it was probably not long after that
of the Memphite Dynasty above mentioned. The names
of six kings of the Ninth Dynasty have been found in hiero¬
glyphics, and their order is shown by the list of the Cham¬
ber of Kings : all these bear the name of Nantef, excepting
the fifth, who is called Munt-hotp. The king last mentioned Munt-hotP'
seems to have been the most powerful of the six ; his suc¬
cessor in the list of the Chamber of Kings receives a title
equivalent to that of “ chief,” and his name appears not to
have been inclosed in a royal ring. Munt-hotp was con¬
temporary with the last king of the Eleventh Dynasty, and
it is therefore probable that his successor was deprived of
all but titular power by the potent head of the Twelfth
Dynasty. After this time the monuments have not been
found to afford us any information respecting the Heracleo¬
polite kingdom. Probably the Ninth Dynasty lasted about
four hundred years, and the Tenth nearly two hundred, Tenth Dy-
terminating at the time of the great Shepherd war of ex- nasty-
pulsion, which resulted in the overthrow of all the royal
lines except the Diospolite.11
With the Eleventh Dynasty commenced the Diospolite
or Theban kingdom, which afterwards attained to greater ^ ^
power than any other, and had a longer uninterrupted
duration. Its first dynasty was that called the Eleventh,
the kings of which, excepting the last, seem to have been
of little power, and are probably mentioned in subsequent
inscriptions rather because they were the founders of the
Diospolite line than as illustrious rulers. The duration of
this dynasty is doubtful, and the time of its commencement
has not been determined; it may be supposed that it began
not long after the Ninth Dynasty. Amenemha I., its last Amenemha
sovereign, was- a potent king who succeeded in a time of1,
great disorder in establishing his kingdom as supreme in
Upper Egypt. During part of his reign he was co-regent
of Sesertesen I., head of the Twelfth Dynasty.12
The commencement of the Twelfth Dynasty forms an Twelfth
epoch in Egyptian history. Until then the country seems D)’nasty-
to have enjoyed a long period of prosperity, and then to
have been suddenly surprised and subdued by a foreign Shepherd-
force, which succeeded in gaining possession of Lowerlnvasion-
1 Lepsius, Denhmdler, abth. ii., bl. 1, &c. 2 Id., abth. ii., bl. 2. b. c.
3 Ancient Fragments, pp. 102-3. Africanus does not state but implies the king’s repentance.
4 Herod., ii., 124; Diod., i., 64. The latter author does not ascribe impiety to the builder of the Great Pyramid, but makes him to
have been an oppressive king. s Yyse’s Pyramids of Gizeh, vol. ii., p. 93, et seqq.'
6 Lepsius, Benkmdler, abth. ii., bl. 55 ; Horce AEg., p. 110. 7 Herod., ii., 127.
8 Diod., i., 64. Diodorus says he was the brother of his predecessor Cheops, whom he calls Chemmis or Chembtis, according to the read¬
ings of different manuscripts; but adds that some said that he was that king’s son, by name Chabryis. This, however, is but another
form of the Egyptian name Shaf-ra. 2 Lepsius, Benkmdler, abth. ii., bl. 75. Horae AEg., pi. 5, p. 122.
10 Horae AEg., pp. 136 and 166. 11 Id., p. 136, et seq. 12 Id., p. 144, et seqq.
456
EGYPT.
Egypt.
Subjuga¬
tion of
Egypt.
Eo-ypt, and maintained itself for upwards of five centuries,
bein'1- at length expelled, after a protracted struggle, which
did not probably finally terminate until upwards of a century
or even more after its power was broken. This period
that of the Shepherd-rule—lasting from the invasion of
Eo-ypt until the beginning of the Eighteenth Dynasty, un¬
der which the foreigners are generally held to have been
ultimately forced to leave the country, was one for the most
part of great suffering to the inhabitants; yet it compre¬
hends the rule of many sovereigns, both native and foreign,
of strength and wisdom; and there can be no doubt that it
brought out those martial qualities which afterwards so
greatly distinguished the Egyptian race.
The manner in which Egypt was subdued by the fo¬
reigners is not known for certain. Manetho states that they
easily gained possession of the country without a. battle.
This success may have been partly owing to the undisturbed
good fortune which preceded the invasion, but must have
been also attributable to other causes ; and it is not impro¬
bable that some one of the Egyptian kings had called in the
foreigners as allies, or hired them as mercenaries, both dan¬
gerous expedients, more especially the latter, which is ge¬
nerally regarded as a symptom of a decaying state or a
tyrannical government. Manetho relates that the Shep¬
herds having subdued the country, burnt the cities, demo¬
lished the temples, aud treated the people with great bar¬
barity. It is probable that this account of their conduct is
somewhat exaggerated, having been coloured by the hati ec
which the Egyptians bore to the foreigners, and a recollec¬
tion of the troubles of the great struggle which ended in
their expulsion. At all events it is evident that they soon
accommodated themselves to the manners of the Egyptians,
adopted their religion, and endeavoured in every way to
promote the welfare of the subjugated country. rl he race
of the foreigners has been much disputed; the Egyptians
Origin of called them “ Shepherds” and “ Hycsos,” or “ Shepherd-
Shepherds. kino’s,” according to Manetho, who stated that Hyk sig¬
nified “ a king” and “ Sos” “ a shepherd” and “ shepherds;
but in another place, said that “ Hyk” and “ Hak” signified
“ captives.” In hieroglyphics “ Hak” is one of the names for
“ king,” and “ Huk” means a “ captivebut the second word
of those composing Hycsos, according to Manetho, is not
found except in Coptic, in which language occurs the word
shm, “ a shepherd.” The most reasonable etymology seems
to be “ captive,” that is, “ foreign, shepherds for it should
be observed that in the inscriptions foreigners are frequently
called captives, and so represented on the monuments, when
not actually such. In the inscriptions we find mention of
“ Shepherds,” “ Penu” (or “ Phoenicians”), and “ enemies”
or “ foreigners,” the last-mentioned appellation being un¬
doubtedly0 applied to Manetho’s Shepherds. The Egyp¬
tian historian says that some said they were Arabs, and in
his lists the kings of the first Shepherd Dynasty, the Fif¬
teenth, are called Phoenicians. There is reason to suppose
the latter statement to be true, and there is also evidence
that some of the foreign race w'ere Arabs, and certain of
their kings, most probably of the Sixteenth Dynasty, appear
to have been Assyrians.1 Having said thus much respect¬
ing the establishment of the Shepherds in Egypt, we must
return to the Diospolite kingdom.
The first king of the Twelfth Dynasty was Sesertesen I.,
of whose long reign many records, but those chiefly of sub¬
jects, yet remain. The most interesting of the national
monuments is a tablet found by Dr Ricci at Wadee Halfeh,
in Nubia, near the Second Cataract, recording the king s
triumph over foreign tribes, probably Ethiopians, and show¬
ing that at this early period the Egyptian rule had stretched
Egypt.
Sesertesen
I.
thus far into Nubia.2 For part of his reign Sesertesen I.
was co-re^ent with Amenemha I., the last sovereign of the
Eleventh °Dynasty, and with Amenemha II. towards the Amenemha
close of his reign. Under the latter king the first Tropical II.
Cycle commenced b.c. 2005. Late in his reign he took as
his colleague Sesertesen II. The next king, who probably Sesertesen
was for part of his reign co-regent with Sesertesen II., was II.
Sesertesen III., the Sesostris of Manetho. This name of Sesertesen
Sesostris is applied by ancient historians to several kings. HI.,
It is probably derived from Sesertesen: other derivations
have indeed been proposed, but none of these is equally satis¬
factory.1 We can recognise an early Sesostris, that is, Se¬
sertesen III., and a later one, Rameses II., of the Nineteenth
Dynasty, and it is not unlikely that Sesertesen I. is also
spoken of under this name. If this supposition be cor¬
rect, we may distinguish the two very ancient kings as
Sesostris the conqueror, or Sesertesen I., and Sesostris the
lawgiver, or Sesertesen III. In Manetho’s lists we find, after
a short account of the conquests of Sesostris, which seems in¬
applicable to this king’s reign, that he was considered by the
Egyptians as “after,” or “ the first after,” Osiris;4 which may
be5 explained by concluding that he was regarded by them
as the greatest of mortals, and to be honoured next to
Osiris, “ the youngest of the gods.” In ancient sculptures
in Nubia we find kings of the Eighteenth Dynasty, of the
Thothmes family, Worshipping Sesertesen III. as a god,
and this is the only case of the kind. We find indeed one
solitary instance of another early monarch being thus wor¬
shipped in later times, and some examples of several mo-
narchs being worshipped together, and several cases of
kings worshipping their fathers or other progenitors, but, as
far as has been ascertained, no example of a king of any
dynasty being frequently represented as a god, and wor¬
shipped, in sculptures of other kings not of the same dynasty.
The monuments thus seem to indicate that Sesertesen HI.
is Manetho’s Sesostris. Sesertesen II. was apparently a
a king of little note, and it is improbable,, notwithstanding
his name, that anything ascribed to Sesostris by those who
confounded different kings under that name applies to him.
During the reign of Sesertesen III. the First Phoenix Cycle
commenced, b.c. 1986. The next king was Amenemha Amenemha
III., of whom we are told in the lists that he built the La¬
byrinth in the Arsinoite nome as a tomb for himselt.
prenomen reads Ra-en-ma or ma-t, or Ma-en-ra oi Ma"t"
en-ra, and from it most probably originated the Mcens ot
the Greeks. Mceris seems, like Sesostris, to have been a
name applied to more than one sovereign; but there can
be no doubt that the principal person intended by it was
this king, for the Greeks ascribe to him the building or
founding of the Labyrinth, and his name has been discovered
by Dr Lepsius in the sculptures of the ruins of that struc¬
ture or its pyramid.5 After the reigns of two other so-
vereigns Amenemha IV. and Ra-sebak-nufret, who was, mene
according to Manetho, as preserved by Africanus, a queen, ^,a_gel)ak.
the sister of her predecessor, the dynasty came to a. close. nufret>
It is probable that these two ruled with Amenemha III., as
successive co-regents, perhaps towards the close ol his reign.
This dynasty lasted about 160 years: Africanus assigns to
it, in his version of Manetho’s list, exactly that duiation,
and the monuments and Royal Turin Papyrus afford con¬
firmation of this sum.6 At its termination the povvei o
the Diospolites became greatly diminished, and did not
recover until the beginning of the Eighteenth Dynasty.
The Fourteenth Dynasty, or Xoite kingdom, seems to Fourteen
have arisen with, or during, the Twelfth Dynasty. It ia
its seat of government at Xois, a town ot^ Lower Egypt in
the northern part of the ancient Delta. Seventy-six kings
1 See Manetho in Cory’s Ancient Fragments; and Horce AEg., p. 148. . Rosellini, onumeni > ' „ ’
3 A derivation lately suggested by the Vicomte de Rouge is very ingenious, and more probable than any o er
name Sesertesen. See the Athenceum Franqais, 1854, No. 48, p. 1128. 4 Ancient Fragments, PP-
6 Lepsius, Denkmaler, abth. ii., bl. 140. 6 For the chronology and history of this dynasty, see Horce p.
Egypt.
Shepherd
kings.
Fifteenth
Dynasty.
Salatis.
Pi-ankhee,
or Beon.
A-an, or
lannas.
Assa, or
Ass is.
EGYPT.
457
are assigned to this line, and a duration of either 184 or
484 years. The latter sum is the more probable if the
number of kings be correct. Supposing, then, that the
Fourteenth Dynasty lasted for nearly five centuries, it pro¬
bably terminated during the great Shepherd war, and perhaps
some years before the beginning of the Eighteenth.1
According to Africanus, three dynasties of Shepherd
kings ruled in Egypt, the Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seven¬
teenth. Eusebius, however, makes but one of these dy¬
nasties, the Seventeenth, to have been of the foreign in¬
vaders, while he assigns to it kings who are of the Fifteenth
in Africanus’s list. According to Josephus, the Shepherds
ruled 511 years, until the great war commenced wliich ter¬
minated in their expulsion from Egypt. The monuments,
as well as internal evidence, are in favour of Africanus’s
version instead of that of Eusebius, and it is therefore
generally preferred. Admitting, then, that there were
three Shepherd dynasties, we must next inquire what was
the period of their rule. In the list of Africanus the sum
of the three is 953 years, which, if correct, would prove
that they could not have been successive. That it is cor¬
rect is most probable, and that the Fifteenth Dynasty was
contemporary with the earlier portion of the Sixteenth, and
the Seventeenth with the later portion of the same dynasty,
the Seventeenth Dynasty being, however, separated from
the Fifteenth by a Memphite dynasty or dynasties.2
The Shepherd kings of the Fifteenth Dynasty were the
greatest of the foreign rulers. The first of these, Salatis or
Saites, was made king, according to Manetho, after the con¬
quest of the country (cir. b.c. 2080). “ He lived at Mem¬
phis, making the Upper and Lower Country to pay tribute,
and placing garrisons in the most fit situations.” Of these
the greatest was A varis, an old city, to the east of the Pelusiac
Branch, which he rebuilt and fortified strongly, placing in it
an enormous garrison.3 His object was to defend the frontier
against the Assyrians, who, Manetho tells us, he foresaw
would have a desire to invade his kingdom. Salatis died
after an active reign of nineteen years.4 In the lists he
and his successors are called Phoenicians, and it is very pro¬
bable that they were of that race. His nomen is not found in
the hieroglyphic inscriptions, buthis prenomen occurs both on
a contemporary monument and in the Royal Turin Papyrus.5
The successor of Salatis was Beon, in the hieroglyphics
Pi-ankhee, and he was followed by Apachnas, whose nomen
is found only in the Royal Turin Papyrus, and is of doubt¬
ful reading. The next king was lannas, called on the
monuments A-an, to whom succeeded Assis, whose hiero¬
glyphic name is Assa. There are several tombs of the
time of this king in the necropolis of Memphis, from the
sculptures and inscriptions of which we obtain great insight
into the state of the Shepherd kingdom under his rule.6 In
the sculptures we see the same evidences of the prosperity
and wealth of the subjects as in those of the period of the Fourth
Dynasty. The foreigners appear to have adopted the Egyp¬
tian dress and manners so completely that we do not find
a single foreign name. In one tomb the inscriptions show
that the Shepherd kings of this dynasty held Leontopolis
or the Leontopolite nome in the eastern part of the ancient
Delta, which shows that their dominion must have been ex¬
tensive.7 Most probably Assa was the Pharaoh of whom
Joseph was the prime-minister, the patriarch receiving that
appointment towards the close of his reign, and continuing
to hold it in the next reign. The reasons for this opinion will Egypt*
be given a little later. Of the last king of the Fifteenth Dy-
nasty, the successor of Assa, the monuments tell us nothing,
and it is not even certain that his name has been found in
hieroglyphics or hieratic. In Manetho’s lists he is called
Aphobis or Apophis. With him the greatest Shepherd
Dynasty came to a close, and Memphis was again the seat
of native kings. If Dr Brugsch’s view be correct, Apophis
reigned just before the Eighteenth Dynasty, no doubt after
the Shepherds had lost Memphis.8
After the end of the Twelfth Dynasty, about b.c. 1920, Thirteenth
the Diospolite kingdom was ruled by the Thirteenth, which Dynasty,
lasted about 400 years, until the commencement of the
Eighteenth Dynasty. The kings seem to have been of
little power, for the most part, and probably tributary to
the Shepherds. They possessed, however, a considerable
tract south of Egypt; and this may be supposed to have
been an asylum for them during the troublous period of
their rule. All the names of these kings have not been
found, and those which are known are chiefly prenomens,
and not nomens; many of the latter appear to have been
Sebak-hotp and Nufre-hotp.9 The Fourteenth Dynasty, or
Xoite Kingdom, has been already noticed.
The Eighth Dynasty, of Memphites, succeeded the Fif- Eighth
teenth, and ruled, according to Africanus’s version of Ma- Dynasty,
netho’s List, nearly a century and a half. It is not certain
whether the Seventh Dynasty, likewise of Memphites, to Seventh
which the same version assigns a duration of only 70 days, Dynasty,
intervened between the Sixth and Fifteenth Dynasties, or
the Fifteenth and Eighth.10 The native successors of the
Shepherds at Memphis seem to have been princes of little
power and contracted dominions. The Shepherds of the Sixteenth
Sixteenth Dynasty appear to have succeeded to the political Dynasty,
position of those of the Fifteenth. It is very remarkable
that in the Royal Turin Papyrus among kings who must
be assigned to this dynasty or the Seventeenth are cer¬
tain who appear to be Assyrians, and one of these is
probably a Pharaoh who oppressed Israel, the predecessor
of him who was drowned in the Red Sea. Indeed there
are strong grounds for supposing that this dynasty was
composed of kings of a different race or races to those of
the Fifteenth, and bitterly opposed to them ; and that
when the rule of the latter came to a close they seized their
possessions in the eastern part of the Delta, and persecuted
the Israelites who had been favoured by the earlier so¬
vereigns. Of the Seventeenth Dynasty nothing is known, Seven-
except that its kings were Shepherds. Africanus’s version teenth Dy-
indeed makes them to have been co-regent Diospolites and nasty-
Shepherds, but this is generally held to be a mistake.11
From the time of Assa to the commencement of the
Eighteenth Dynasty, a period of about three centuries and
a half, scarcely any monuments have been discovered, and
this indicates that Egypt was then in a weak and distracted
condition,12 and agrees with the statement of Manetho, that Shepherd
after the Shepherds had ruled Egypt for 511 years, the war.
kings of the Thebais and of the rest of Egypt made an
insurrection against them,, and a great and long war raged be¬
tween them.13 The kings here meant must have been a Dios¬
polite of the Thirteenth Dynasty, probably with a Heracleo-
polite of the Tenth, and a Xoite of the Fourteenth. The
great war thus commenced had resulted at the beginning
of the Eighteenth Dynasty in the restoration to Egyptian
1 Horce yEg., p. 181. 2 For the chronology of the Shepherd Dynasties, see Hora; yEg., p. 163.
3 See a paper by Dr Brugsch, Zeitschrift der Deutschen morgenldndischen Gesellschaft, 9 band, i. & ii. heft, p. 200 et seqq.
4 Ancient Fragments-, p. 170, and preceding page. The extraordinarily careless pagination of the second edition of this work render's
reference to a particular page sometimes impossible. 6 Horce AEg., pi. vii., p. 166.
6 Lepsius, iJenkmdler, abth. ii., bl. 60 et seqq. 7 Horce FEg., pi. vii., pp. 176-7.
8 Zeitschrift der Deutschen morgenldndischen Gesellschaft, loc. cit. 9 Force -ZEg., p. 179.
10 Id., p. 168, Most probably the Seventh Dynasty followed the Fifteenth. 11 Id., p. 16f\
12 In Lepsius’s Denkmdler only three plates (abth. ii., bl. 119-151) are assigned to the monuments of the Thirteenth Dynasty, and of
these many are ascribed by others to an earlier period. 13 Ancient Fragments, p. 171.
VOL. VIII. 3 M
Egypt.
Connection
of the
Israelites
and Greeks
vith
Egypt.
Date of
Exodus.
rule of nearly all Lower Egypt; ami the other lines hav¬
ing then come to an end, the whole power was centred
in the Theban monarchy. It was, however, probably more
than a century before the foreigners were finally expelled.
Before noticing the history of the Eighteenth Dynasty,
it is necessary to mention briefly the connection between
the Israelites and the Egyptians, and between the Greeks
and the Egyptians. The sojourn and exodus of the Israelites
have been variously assigned to the time of the Dynasties
preceding the Eighteenth, and to that or the following
Dynasty ; and this is, therefore, the proper place in which to
notice some of the grounds on which these different opinions
rest. Certain of the Greek traditions point to the Shepherd-
period, if there be any truth in their approximative chro¬
nology ; and these, therefore, likewise here demand a brief
consideration.
A wide difference has prevailed among critics respecting
the date of the Exodus, and the length of time for which
the Hebrews sojourned in Egypt before that event. Some,
rejecting all the numbers mentioned in the Bible by which
the time of the Exodus has been usually computed, take
the genealogies as their guides, and calculate that event to
have occurred about 1300 B.c.; others, following Arch¬
bishop Ussher, place it b.c. 1491 ; and others, agreeing
with Dr Hales, carry it back to the middle of the seven¬
teenth century. The last view, which is in accordance
with the opinions of several of the early Christian chro-
nologers, is supported by evidence not easily shaken, which
may be thus stated:—1. The numbers of years occurring in
the Book of Judges added together, and St Paul’s statement
that the Israelites were ruled by judges for “ about the
space of four hundred and fifty years, until Samuel the
prophet,”1 would carry up the date of the Exodus to about
B.c. 1650. The mention in Jephtha’s message to the king
of the Ammonites that Israel had already dwelt 300 years
in the trans-Jordanite possessions,2 is agreeable with this
date of the Exodus and with Ussher’s, but not with that of
about b.c. 1300. Against the date of about b.c. 1650 may,
however, be urged the statement in the first Book of Kings/
that the temple was commenced by Solomon in the 480th
year after the Exodus, which is the basis of Ussher’s com¬
putation ; but this number is given differently in the Sep-
tuagint version as 440 years, and it cannot be reconciled
with the period mentioned by St Paul, nor, except by an
arbitrary arrangement, with the numbers given in the Book
of Judges. 2. A comparison between the Hebrew calen¬
dar and the Egyptain leads to the same results as do the
data mentioned under the previous head. The ancient
Hebrew civil year commenced about the time of the au¬
tumnal equinox; and we find that at the approximative
date of the Exodus obtained from the numbers given in the
Book of Judges, the Egyptian Vague Year commenced at
or about that period. This approximative date, there¬
fore, falls about the time at which the Egyptian Vague Year
and the civil year of the Hebrews nearly or exactly coin¬
cided in their commencements. It may be supposed that
the Israelites had made use of the Egyptian Vague Year,
which, indeed, is rendered not unlikely by the circumstance
that they had for the most part adopted the Egyptian re¬
ligion,4 the ceremonies of which were regulated by the
months of that year. The ordinances of the Law, however,
made it necessary that the Israelites should use a year
virtually solar, and such a year was at the time of the
Exodus either restored or instituted. But the inquiry may
be carried farther ; for, if the Egyptian and Hebrew months
corresponded, the fourteenth day of Abib, on which fell the
full moon of the Passover of the Exodus, corresponded to
the fourteenth day of Phamenoth. Now, a full moon fell
on the fourteenth day of Phamenoth, or Thursday," April Egypt,
the 21st, in the year b.c. 1652. A full moon would not
fall on the same day of the Vague Year at a shorter interval
than 25 years before or after B.c. 1652; and the triple co¬
incidence of the occurrence of a full moon on a certain day
of the Vague Year, with reference to the autumnal equinox,
could not recur in less than 1500 Vague Years. 3. There
are certain indications which would induce us to place the
commencement of the first sabbatical period in the year
B.C. 1605, and since the Exodus took place 47 years pre¬
viously, to date the latter event b.c. 1652. The inquiry
which leads to this result is very intricate, and the result
cannot be regarded as more than hypothetical; yet it should
be remembered that it is founded on evidence totally dis¬
tinct from that adduced under the preceding heads. 4. To
the Israelites in the desert a command was given “ that they
make them fringes to the borders of their garments through¬
out their generations, and that they put upon the fringe of the
borders a ribband of blue,”5 as a memorial of the covenant.6
In an Egyptian battle-scene representing, in the great
temple of Aboo-Simbel, the capture by Rameses II. of a
stronghold in or near Palestine, probably that called in the
hieroglyphics Ketesh, which corresponds to the Ashteroth-
Karnaim mentioned in the Bible, a peasant is pourtrayed
driving away some cattle. His dress has a blue stripe re¬
sembling a ribband near its border, and a blue fringe, and
his physiognomy is not unlike that of the Jews.7 This
seems to afford strong evidence that Rameses II. reigned
subsequently to the Exodus. The date of the campaign
to which this sculpture relates may be placed about b.c.
1300, or not more than a few years later at the utmost.
The Exodus, therefore, on this ground, appears to have
taken place in or before the year b.c. 1340, and certainly
prior to the reign of Rameses II. This result would show
that those who hold the latest date of the Exodus—that
deduced from the genealogies—are wrong in assigning the
event to the reign of Men-ptah, the successor of Rameses
II.; and it is in opposition to their best argument that the
city Raamses or Rameses, built or fortified during the oppres¬
sion,8 was named after Rameses L, or his grandson Rameses
II., since the oppression would probably have ended before
the accession of the former king. The weight of evidence,
therefore, is in favour of the earliest of the dates mentioned
above, that of b.c. 1652. Respecting the duration of the
sojourn of the Israelites in Egypt, the sum of 215 years
seems, on the whole, far preferable to 430 ; but there is not
space here for the discussion of the question. Admitting
then that Joseph’s government probably began b.c. 1876,
that Jacob came into Egypt b.c. 1867, and that the Exodus
took place in the year b.c. 1652, these data may be applied
to Egyptian history with a view to test their accuracy.
Granting these premises, Joseph became governor of Joseph
Egypt towards the close of the reign of Assa or Assis. governor
the fifth king of the Fifteenth Dynasty and this Shepherd oi ofF •
king would well correspond to the Pharaoh mentioned in
the Bible, as the most powerful sovereign not of those of
the Lower Country only but of all Egypt. Various pas¬
sages in the Bible-narrative seem to confirm this view,
which is most agreeable with the testimony of the mo¬
numents ; for an Egyptianized foreigner would be far more
ready to favour the strangers than would a native Egyptian.
The Fifteenth Dynasty was followed, after perhaps the
seventy days’ rule of the Seventh, by the Memphite line
of the Eighth Dynasty, about the time of Joseph’s death.
The kings of the Eighth Dynasty seem, however, to have
been of little strength, and it appears that the Shepherds of
the Sixteenth Dynasty succeeded to much of the power of
the rulers of the Fifteenth. We cannot suppose the new
1 Acts xiii. 20.
6 Numbers xv. 38,
2 Judges xi. 26.
6 Id., 39-41.
3 1 Kings vi. 1.
7 Rosellini, Monumenti Storici, No. Ixxx.
4 Josh. xxiv. 14 ; Ezek. xx. 7, 8,
8 Exod. i. 11.
EGYPT.
Egypt.
king, which knew not Joseph, and the other oppressors
of the Israelites, to have been of the Eighth Dynasty,
Oppression for this was a line of Memphite kings, and it is said in
of the the Bible, “ My people went down aforetime into Egypt
Israelites, to sojourn there; and the Assyrian oppressed them with¬
out cause:”1 from which we must infer that at least one
of the Pharaohs of the oppression was an Assyrian. Now,
in the list of kings called the Royal Turin Papyrus,
among the names of a dynasty of foreigners, which could
not have been the Fifteenth, and was therefore either
the Sixteenth or Seventeenth, occur those of Assyrian
kings.2 One of these, who bears the name of Uben-ra (a
name likewise borne by two other kings of the same period,
as well as found on one of the Nemrood ivories in the Bri¬
tish Museum, and likewise taken as a foreign title, in the
feminine Ubent, by the Semiramis who ruled in Egypt3),
appears to have reigned forty years (the number is imper¬
fect, but is probably forty), while to his successor is assigned
a reign of but one year. And the Bible-narrative seems to
indicate that the Pharaoh from whom Moses fled to Midian
reigned at least forty years, while it is quite clear that his
successor, who was drowned in the Red Sea, must have
reigned about a year, somewhat more or less. These cir¬
cumstances seem to confirm the early date of the Exodus,
no less than others. Among the latter may be particular-
Policy to- ized the subsequent policy of the Egyptians and Assyrians
wards the towards the Israelites, and the friendship of the Israelites
Israelites. an(j the Egyptians in after times, as well as the many diffi¬
culties in accepting the later dates which arise from the
absence of any mention of the sojourn and Exodus on mo¬
numents supposed to be contemporary.4 The friendship
of the native Egyptian and Ethiopian kings, without any
known exception, for Shishak and his family were partly,
at least, of Assyrian or Babylonian origin, and the constant
enmity with which the Israelites were regarded by the
Assyrians and Babylonians, are satisfactorily explained by
our finding that the Assyrians oppressed both the Israelites
and the Egyptians in Egypt. For it is evident that the
Shepherd kings of the period which followed the Fifteenth
Dynasty, or, at least, those after Assa, were those whose
memory was so hateful to the Egyptians. It must also be
borne in mind that many of the Shepherds must have been
Egyptianized; like Moses, whom the daughters of the priest
(or prince) of Midian thought to be an Egyptian; and that
they were evidently so mixed up with the Egyptians of
Lower Egypt as to be, under Shepherd rule, almost one
people ; and thus one can understand their being generally,
though not always, mentioned as Egyptians, or not as dis¬
tinct from them, in the Bible. Probably the Egyptians joined
with the oppressors of the Israelites sometimes without being
forced to do so, for they were included in the same punish¬
ment ; yet their conduct towards them in after times, and
the remarkable command in the law, “ Thou shalt not ab¬
hor an Egyptian, because thou wast a stranger in his land,”
to which it is added that their children, like those of Edom¬
ites, should enter into the congregation of the Lord in
their third generation,5 whereas Amalekites could never be
admitted, both tend to show convincingly that the Egyptians
had in many instances treated the Israelites with kindness
while they sojourned in their land; and the punishment
which partly fell upon them may have been in their case
rather for idolatry and vice than for oppression. The in¬
ference thus drawn from the passage in the Book of Deu¬
teronomy is strengthened by an examination of what pre¬
cedes it; for there are three other nations only mentioned,
the Moabites, Ammonites, and Edomites, of which the last
were admitted to the same privilege as the Egyptians,
though the other two were excluded. The reason of their
exclusion is alone mentioned: it was their inhospitality to
459
Egypt.
the Israelites when they came out of Egypt, whereas the
Edomites, we know, treated them hospitably. In reviewing
the subsequent history of Egypt, we cannot fail to be struck
with the constant amicable feeling which subsisted between
the Israelites and the Egyptians. The capture of Gezer,
a Canaanite town, by one of the Pharaohs, without opposi¬
tion on the part of Solomon, and the giving of that city to
his daughter, Solomon’s Egyptian queen, and that marriage
itself, show what a friendly alliance existed in those days.
And in later times, though we may think that the policy of
Tirhakah and Apries was dictated by a regard to their own
interests, Neco appears to have been unwilling to add the
rich kingdom of Judah to his dominions, when Josiah dis¬
puted his passage to the Euphrates. The conduct of Shi¬
shak was far different, but he was, as already remarked, of a
line partly at least of Assyrian or Babylonian origin, and his
policy was that of an Assyrian or Babylonian prince. These
matters have been dwelt upon in some detail, but their im¬
portance, as tending to establish a synchronism between
Hebrew and Egyptian history, make it impossible to pass
them by without something more than a mere notice.
The traditionary accounts of the civilization of Greece Civiliza-
by colonists from Egypt are so obscure, and so interwoven tlon of
with undoubted mythological relations, that some have re-
jected them as either false or doubtful. Yet it is hard to -ggypt.
believe that the traditions of any nation respecting their D
ancestors are altogether unworthy of reliance; and our
wisest plan is to endeavour, by a comparison of the monu¬
mental data in Greece and Egypt, first to ascertain whether
there is any truth in these traditions, and then to separate
that truth from the error which surrounds it. Greek art
affords evident traces of Egyptian influence, if not rather
of an Egyptian origin ; a column resembling the Doric being
found in the rock tombs of Benee-Hasan, which were ex¬
cavated about the time of Abraham. The earliest Greek
pottery affords still stronger evidence in bearing patterns
and devices of an unmistakable Egyptian origin, and espe¬
cially one which is imitative of a well-known hieroglyphic
group. This shows that the two countries must have been
connected at least as early as the time of Homer, and pro¬
bably as far back as the date to which the taking of Troy
is usually assigned. Then, again, we find on an Egyptian War of the
monument of about B.c. 1200 a sea-fight represented be- Egyptians
tween Cretans and Carians on the one side and Egyptians
on the other, a circumstance which confirms the Greek tra- and Ca_
dition that the Cretans held the empire of the sea in ancient rjans.
times, and lost it not long before the siege of Troy, likewise
indicating in what manner their maritime power was broken.
This case warns us not to disregard even earlier traditions,
especially as they also are very consistent with the history of
Egypt at the period to which they relate, and were received
by the learned Greeks and Egyptians of subsequent times.
We may admit that many colonists went from Egypt to Coloniza-
Greece during the Shepherd rule, carrying arts and sciences tl0n of
to the rude inhabitants of Hellas. These emigrations com-
menced at least as early as the middle of the nineteenth Egypt,
century before our era, and continued as late as the close
of the sixteenth, if, as we may suppose, there be any truth
in the approximative chronology of the traditions. The
kings of the Fifteenth Dynasty are said to have been Phoe¬
nicians, and many of their people seem to have been of the
same race : thus we see wherefore certain of the colonists are
made both Phoenician and Egyptian, for, as evidently in the
Bible, Shepherds are often called Egyptians. Towards the
close of the Fifteenth Dynasty many of the Shepherds would
seem to have sought a home in Greece; and when the great
war had commenced these emigrations appear to have become
more frequent, until after the time when the foreigners
were finally expelled Egypt, when notice of them ceases.
1 Is. lii. 4. 2 Wilkinson’s edition. 3 This name occurs on a scarabseus in tfye possession of Sir G. Wilkinson.
4 See a review of Lepsius’s Letters in the Journal of Saered Literature, July, 1854. 5 Deut. xxiii. 7, 8.
460
Egypt.
EGYPT.
The history of the Shepherds in Egypt, and the traditions of
the colonization of Greece, agree so well that the only diffi¬
culty to one’s mind is to understand how so much truth can
have been preserved amidst the myths and exaggerations
of the ancient Greeks. Thus much may be safely affirmed,
but the details of the traditions must be regarded with great
caution, lest by hastily accepting them, as did most critics
until lately, the truths with which they are interwoven
should appear perplexed and doubtful, and historical scep¬
ticism take the place of justifiable circumspection.
Eighteenth With the Eighteenth Dynasty, about b.c. 1525, a new
Dynasty, period of Egyptian history commences, new in the abundance
of materials for its reconstruction, and in the greatness of the
monarchy whose fortunes it relates. The sources of informa¬
tion are no one connected history, but numerous inscrip¬
tions, sculptures, and papyri, whence we can gather many
of the remarkable events by which this and the succeeding
dynasty were distinguished.
Aah-mes. The first king of the Eighteenth Dynasty was Aah-mes,
whom Manetho called Amos or Amosis. No great monu¬
ments of his reign remain, but from various inscriptions we
must infer that he was a powerful king, and that in his time
the Shepherds had quitted the greater part of Egypt. Two
records of especial interest may be particularized. One is
a long inscription in the tomb at Eilethyas of one Aah-mes,
chief of the mariners, who served several of the early kings
of the Eighteenth Dynasty, having commenced his career
under King Aah-mes. The inscription speaks of war at
sea, or on the river, mentions the famous Shepherd-city
Avaris, and relates that the king made in his sixth year an
expedition by water to Ethiopia to impose tribute.1 ihe
other record is a tablet at the quarries of El-Ma’sarah, a
little above Cairo, on the east bank of the river, opposite Mem¬
phis, which relates that in the twenty-second year of his
reign Aah-mes cut stone for the temple of Ptah, most pro¬
bably at Memphis, and for that of Amen at Thebes. These
inscriptions show that Aah-mes must have ruled nearly all
Egypt, and thus explain why some (as it appears, but it is
a disputed point) supposed him to have finally expelled the
Amenophl. Shepherds. Amenoph I., the successor of Aah-mes, was at
least as potent a king, and the memorials of his reign are
more numerous. They are chiefly found in the representa¬
tions or paintings of the tombs of his subjects; but chambers
in the more ancient portion of the great temple of Amen-ra,
now called that of El-Karnak, at Thebes, show that he
did not neglect public edifices.2 He was evidently success¬
ful in wars against the Ethiopians as well as against Asiatics.
Thothmesl. To him succeeded Thothmes I., in whose reign the arms
of Egypt were carried into Mesopotamia, for one of his
officers has left an inscription recording that he brought
booty thence.3 The same king warred in Ethiopia also.4 *
In the great temple at Thebes he made additions, and, in
particular, set up there two obelisks of red granite, of which
one yet stands.6 Under the next sovereign, Thothmes II.,
the prosperity of Egypt continued, and the extent of his
kingdom is proved by his name being found as far south as
Napata (Gebel Berkel), in Ethiopia.6 With him was as¬
sociated in the government a Queen Amen-numt, who ap-
numt, a Se- pears to have possessed much greater power than he, if not
to have ruled solely while he was but nominally a king.
For at least 16 years, that is, for the whole of the reign of
Thothmes II. and the first 3 or 4 years of that of Thoth¬
mes III., this queen continued to govern, and left many
beautiful monuments to attest her magnificence and power,
chiefest of which are the lofty obelisks of the temple of
Amen-ra at Thebes, one of which is still standing,7 while
Thothmes
II.
Amen-
the other is fallen and broken in pieces. Queen Amen- Egypt,
numt is called the daughter of Ihothmes I., and the sistei xs)
of Thothmes III., and therefore of Thothmes II. also; but
she appears to have been a foreigner, and if so, only related
to the Egyptian royal family by marriage, unless her mother
was likewise a foreigner, and a wife of Thothmes I. Seve¬
ral circumstances seem to show that she was a Semiramis,
for one cannot say Semiramis simply, since more than one
sovereign appears to have been intended by the name, as
in the case of Sesostris. The strongest reasons in favour
of this opinion are founded on the circumstance that Queen
Amen-numt is constantly represented in the sculptures as
wearing male attire, that she receives in one instance what
we may almost conclude to be an Assyrian title “ Ubent”
as her appellation “ in the foreign land,” and that her name
was afterwards effaced from the monuments ; particulars
which are strikingly in accordance with the statement that
the Assyrian Queen Semiramis, who dressed as a man, sub¬
dued Egypt. It may be added that the time of Amen-
numt is not far anterior to the approximative date of a
Semiramis obtained from the fragments of Berossus.
Thothmes III. appears soon to have emancipated himself Thothmes
from the control of Queen Amen-numt. His reign vvas IB.
marked by many successful expeditions conducted by him
in person, in one of which he penetrated as far as Nineveh,
though it is not said whether he besieged that city or not.9
If Manetho be accurate, the most important military event
must, however, have been his successful war with the Shep¬
herds, who, according to that historian, were driven by him
out of all Egypt excepting the stronghold of Avaris on the
frontier.10 Many monuments, especially at 4 hebes, remain
to prove the greatness of this king and the wealth of his
subjects. The tombs of private persons are not the least
interesting of these memorials, and afford, in the repre¬
sentations which adorn their walls, very beautiful speci¬
mens of ancient Egyptian painting. Indeed, the reign of
Thothmes III., with that of Thothmes II. preceding it, and
those of Amenoph II., Thothmes IV., and Amenoph III.
following it, may be considered as comprising the best
period of art, all the earlier time showing a gradual impiove-
ment, and all the later a gradual declension. W e do not,
however, trace a very marked falling away until the power
of Egypt had begun to decline, full two centuries later than
the end of Thothmes III.’s reign. Of Amenoph II., the Amenoph
son and successor of Thothmes III., little is known, and we H-
can scarcely err in supposing his reign to have been short
and unmarked by very important events. In the reign of
Amenoph’s son Thothmes IV., occurred, according to Thothmes
Manetho, the departure of the Shepherds from their last I\.
possession in Egypt.11 The Egyptian historian relates that eP®'rt“re
having unsuccessfully beleaguered Avaris, the stronghold of °er(^
the foreigners, Thothmes agreed to terms, and the Shep¬
herds were permitted to leave the country unmolested with
their families and effects. The monuments have not been
found to allude to this event, and they tell us little of this
reign, but that little shows that, short as it evidently was, it
was marked by prosperity and success.
Thothmes IV. was succeeded by his son Amenoph III., Amenoph
one of the most illustrious kings of the best period of Egyp¬
tian history. In his time we find a distinct record of the
extent of the kingdom, which is stated to have had Nehereena
(Mesopotamia) as its northern boundary, and Keruee or
Keluee (probably Coloe) as its southern.12 Although it does
not distinctly appear whether these are to be understood as
the outermost provinces or as the lands bounding those pro¬
vinces, and although the southern boundary cannot be
1 Champollion, Lettres, pp. 197,198, and De Rough Tombeau (RAhmes.
3 Lepsius, Auswahl. taf. xiv. A.
6 Lepsius, Denkmaler, bl.
8 Ilorce AEg., pp. 198, 199.
10 Ancient Fragments, pp, 171, 172. 11 Id., pp. 172, 173.
2 Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. ii., p- 250.
4 Lepsius, Id., loc. cit. 5 Rosellini, Monumenti Storici, No. xxx.
7 Rosellini, Monumenti Storici, Nos. xxxi. to xxxiv.
2 Transactions of the Royal Society of Literature..
12 Rosellini, Monumenti Storici, No. xliv., 1.
EGYPT.
461
Egypt.
positively ascertained, yet we can gain some idea of the and also by M. Prisse. The duration of their power pro- Egypt-
Rule of
Sun-wor¬
shippers.
power of Egypt from the inscription. Syria, west of Eu¬
phrates, obeyed Amenoph III., and a very great part ot
Ethiopia; and that the latter was the case is proved by
monuments and their inscriptions in that country, and re¬
cords of his successes in the inscriptions of Egypt. It is
remarkable that he seems from his physiognomy to have
been partly of Ethiopian origin. His long reign of nearly
forty years, at the least, was marked by the construction of
magnificent temples. Of these the greatest were two at
Thebes; one on the west bank, of which scarce anything
remains but the two great colossi which stood on each side
of the approach to it, and one of which is famous as the
Vocal Memnon. On the opposite bank he likewise built the
great temple now called that of El-Uksur, which Rameses
II. afterwards greatly increased in size. It is almost need¬
less to remark that the identification of this king with Mem¬
non by the Greeks, apart from the circumstance that other
Pharaohs were so called by them, is of no historical value.
The tomb of Amenoph III. yet remains at Thebes in the
Western Valley near that of the tombs of the kings.
After the reign of Amenoph III., the tranquillity of
Egypt was disturbed by the rule of the chiefs of stranger
settlers, foreign princes, who were allied to the Egyptian
royal family. Whatever may have been their title, it is
evident that the Egyptians regarded them as usurpers, and
that they were unable to maintain themselves but by a
rigorous military despotism. Their monuments have been
found in all parts of Egypt, but much defaced or entirely
ruined by the enmity of the Egyptians. We learn, how¬
ever, that they abandoned the Egyptian religion, and set
up in its place sun-worship ; that they built a city in Middle
Egypt, near the modern village of Tel-el-’Amarineh; and
raised temples at Thebes and elsewhere. Manetho appears
to have noticed their rule, for Eusebius, in the second part
of his chronicle, mentions that during the reign ot Ame-
nophis (Amenoph III.).“the Ethiopians, migrating from
the river Indus, came and dwelt near to Egypt ;”and in the
catalogue of kings of Egypt by an anonymous author, given
by Syncellus, we find tbe following passage immediately
before the mention of Oros, Amenoph’s son and legitimate
successor:—“ The Ethiopians, coming from the river Indus,
settled near to Egypt.” It is highly probable that this
statement was originally derived from Manetho, though
evidently altered by misapprehension. Our finding that
Egypt and Ethiopia were under the power of foreign chiefs
at about the time indicated does not permit us to doubt
that the statement was founded on fact. These sun-wor¬
shippers appear therefore to have belonged to the race which
may be called that of the Eastern Ethiopians, a people who,
in the time of the Greek geographers, dwelt between Persia
and the Indus, and whom Herodotus describes as lank-haired
to distinguish them from the Ethiopians of Africa.1 * Bunsen
and Lepsius suppose their rulers to have been heretical Egyp¬
tian princes, but it is plain that both chiefs and people were
of a race far different from that of the Egyptians, although
their chiefs were allied with the Egyptian royal family.
Sir Gardner Wilkinson, not without strong reason, assigns
Amenoph III. to this foreign race ; but if he be right in this
opinion we may notwithstanding date the commencement
of theii rule from the end of his reign, as then began that
change of the state religion which was the great peculiarity
of the foreign domination. Several kings of this race ruled
after Amenoph III., of whom the most important was
Amenoph IV., or Bekh-en-atenra. They have not as yet
been classed in order, although much has been done towards
effecting this desirable object by Sir Gardner Wilkinson
bably did not much exceed thirty years. The religion of
these foreigners is a matter of great interest, as it presents Their reli-
us with a very ancient example of pure sun-worship. The gion-
sun is represented as adored by them under the form of a
disk whence issue numerous rays, each terminating in a
human hand, one of which presents to the worshipper the
symbol of life. It appears that they adored one god,
whom they supposed to be resident in the sun, and oper¬
ating through its rays ; and that they worshipped this god
through the medium of the sun and its rays. These par¬
ticulars may be compared with the “ Chaldean Oracles of
Zoroaster,” as given by Cory in his Ancient Fragments?
Although many of these “ Oracles ” must be of late origin,
and others must have suffered by translation into Greek,
they certainly contain many principles of the old religion
of Zoroaster, and it is not therefore surprising that we should
find in them remarkable agreements with the records of the
sun-worshippers. The following couplet reads like a de¬
scription of the representation of the sun worshipped by the
foreigners as described above :
“ It becomes thee to hasten to the light and rays of the Father,
From whence was sent to thee a soul, endued with much mind.”
X^Sj <rs irsrjuSs/v vr/ios ro (polos xu) rfarfios uvyas
Ev^sv ffot \ fftru.[Avn vovv.3
Precisely how and when the sun-worshippers were ex¬
pelled from Egypt or destroyed, does not appear; though
it can scarcely be doubted that Oros, the Har-em-heb of Har-em-
the monuments, who succeeded them, was the prince by heb-
whom they were overthrown.4 Har-em-heb was a son of
Amenoph III., and with him was continued the legitimate
line of Diospolite sovereigns. The records of his reign are
comparatively unimportant; and if Manetho be right in as¬
signing to him a rule of between 36 and 37 years, as the
best readings inform us, it must be supposed that for the
greater part of this period he did not rule, or governed but
a portion of the country, but that, counting from the close
of his father’s reign, he included the time that the sun-wor¬
shippers held the supreme or chief power during his own
nominal or contemporaneous reign. The sculptures of
a rock temple at Silsilis, Gebel-es-Silsileh, commemorate a
successful expedition against the negroes.5
Oros was succeeded by Rameses I,, of whose very short Rameses T.
reign no important details have reached us. After him his Nineteenth
son, Sethee I., one of the greatest of the Pharaohs, ascended g
the throne. The exact duration of his reign, which must 60
have been long, is uncertain, and probably for part ot it he
ruled jointly with his son Rameses II. His accession may
be placed about b.c. 1340, which is therefore the approxi-
mativedateofthecommencementofthe Nineteenth Dynasty;
for Manetho makes him head of that line, a position which
should rather, one would think, have been assigned to his
father Rameses I. The most important architectural work
of his reign yet remaining is the magnificent hypostyle hall
in the great temple of El-Karnak, on the outside of the
north wall of which is a highly interesting series of sculp¬
tures representing the great achievements of his arms.6
His tomb, which is generally known as “ Belzoni’s,” from
its discoverer, is the most beautiful of those in the valley
of the tombs of the kings ; and its size shows that his reign
must have been a long one, for it is well known that the
sepulchre of an Egyptian king was usually commenced at
or not long after his accession, and thus indicated the dura¬
tion of his reign. The most important of the military ex¬
ploits of Sethee I. appears to have been the conquest of the
Kheta or Hittites, and the capture of their great stronghold
Ketesh, or Ashteroth-Karnaim. It should also be noticed
1 Herod vii 70. 2 Ancient Fragments, p. 239, et seqq. 3 7<i., p. 272.
4 For the history and religion of the sun-worshippers, see Sir Gardner Wilkinson’s Modern Egypt and Thebes, ii., 71, &c.; Ancient
Egyptians, pi. 30 ; Lepsius, Uenkmdler, ahth. iii., hi. 91, et seqq. 6 Rosellini, Monumenti Storici, No. xhv. bis, et seqq.
6 Id., No. xlvi., et seqq.
462 EGYPT.
Egypt, that he expelled certain foreigners of the race of the “ Shasu”
v . j from the city of the Lion, or Leontopolis, near the eastern
frontier of Lower Egypt.1
Raineses II. Rameses II., who succeeded his father, Sethee L, proba¬
bly after having ruled jointly with him for some time, was
the most illustrious of the ancient kings of Egypt. It is he
who is generally intended by the Sesostris of the Greek
and Roman writers. His reign lasted, according to Mane-
tho, if we follow what seem the best readings, a little above
sixty-six years, and was marked by great success in war and
by the construction of magnificent edifices. Among the
latter may be mentioned at Thebes the great temple, com¬
monly called the Memnonium, but more appropriately the
Rameseum of El-Kurneh, on the western bank, one of the
most beautiful of Egyptian monuments, and a great part of
the temple of El-Uksur on the opposite bank, as well as
additions to that of El-Karnak. Throughout Egypt and
Nubia are similar memorials of the power of Rameses II.,
one of the most remarkable of which is the great rock
temple of Aboo Simbel, not far north of the Second Ca¬
taract. The temple of Ptah at Memphis was also adorned
and enlarged by this Pharaoh, and its site is chiefly marked
by a very beautiful colossal statue of him, fallen on its face,
and partly mutilated. The numerous monuments of Ra¬
meses II. and a hieratic papyrus2 commemorate the suc¬
cessful wars in which he was engaged.'1 The most important
War with of these was waged against the Hittites, called by the Egyp-
the Hit- t;ans the Kheta, and their allies, and was decided late in the
tites- fifth year of the king’s reign. A powerful confederacy had
been formed by the Hittites, the Khilibu, or people of Alep¬
po, the people of Karkamish, or Carchemish,and other tribes,
some of which had been tributary to the crown of Egypt,
and a great army collected to support their avowal of in¬
dependence. The strongest of the confederates were the
Kheta led by several chiefs. The king of Egypt marched
against them, and the contending armies met in the plain
of Ketesh, or Ashteroth - Karnaim, a strong city which
formed the basis of the confederates’ operations. The ge¬
nerals of the latter had made a skilful disposition of their
forces. Having drawn up their infantry in a large and
deep phalanx before Ashteroth-Karnaim, and behind the
moat which surrounded that city, they posted their chariots
on the other side of the moat. The chariot force had an
open plain in which to manoeuvre, while the infantry, placed
on rising and wooded country, and protected by the moat,
was ready to support the retreat of the rest of the army, or
follow up its advance. The Egyptian chariots, led by the
king and four of his sons, met and broke the charge of the
Hittites; and notwithstanding that their infantry, having
crossed the fosse by a bridge, endeavoured to maintain the
day, they were put to the rout, and many of those who
escaped the arrows of the chariot force and the swords of
the infantry were drowned in attempting to recross the
moat. Negotiations were in consequence commenced,
which resulted in a treaty favourable to the king of Egypt.
The war appears to have broken out again some years after¬
wards, for we find in an inscription of the temple of El-Kar¬
nak the record of peace having been concluded with certain
chiefs of the Kheta, in the twenty-first year of the reign of
Rameses II. The foreigners were compelled to pay tribute
by this treaty, whence they must be supposed to have been
previously worsted. Many other nations were subdued by
Rameses II., but his chief exploit wras the overthrow of the
confederates. His great expeditions seem almost all to have
been conducted in the earlier part of his reign, and its later
portion appears to have been chiefly spent in advancing the
welfare of the country by a promotion of the arts of peace.
Menptah, the thirteenth legitimate son of Rameses II.,4 Egypt,
reigned in his father’s stead. Of his rule the records are
few and of little importance; and a story is told by Mane- Menptah.
tho, who does not vouch for its accuracy, that then great
troubles befel Egypt. He relates that, according to this
account, the foreigners and unclean people who were in the
country, having been sent to work in the quarries by order
of the king, revolted, and, in alliance with a force of Shep¬
herds of the race of those who had been previously expelled,
called in by them from Palestine, effected the subjugation
of Egypt, which they held for thirteen years, while the king
was a fugitive in Ethiopia; and that at the end of that time
he returned with Sethos his son, and drove them out with
great slaughter. The leader of the rebels is said to have
been Moses, and the people the Jews, but neither the time
nor the circumstances are favourable to this view, which,
nevertheless, is that of some eminent modern scholars. The
monuments cannot be denied to afford corroboration to the
story, by indicating that about this time there was intestine
trouble in Egypt, and that at least one king ruled who was
not afterwards regarded as legitimate by the Egyptians.
The usurper was Sip tali, who married Queen Ta-seser, a Sipfah and
daughter of Rameses II.; and Amenmeses, whose place is Ta-seser.
not certainly known, probably succeeded him, being in that
case likewise a usurper.
The head of the Twentieth Dynasty was Sethee II., who Twentieth
was probably the son of Menptah. His accession, andDynasty-
therefore the commencement of the dynasty, may be placed
about b.c. 1220. The next date to this which may be re¬
garded as certain is that of the beginning of the Twenty-
second Dynasty, B.C. 1008 or 1009. The chronology of
the intervening period is obscure, for Manetho assigns to
the Twentieth Dynasty a duration of either 135 years, if
we follow Africanus, or 178 or 172, if we take the authority ot
Eusebius. To the Twenty-first Dynasty, which was of Ta-
nite kings, a duration of 130 years is assigned by both the
chronologers above mentioned as that stated by Manetho.
If these sums be at all near the truth, the two Dynasties must
have ruled contemporaneously for upwards of forty or of
eighty years. That such was the case is rendered probable
by our finding at El-Karnak the names of only three of
the latest kings, the fifth, sixth, and seventh, or last of the
Twenty-first Dynasty, by whom a temple commenced under
the Twentieth was continued.
The monuments tell us nothing important respecting the
reigns of Sethee II., and of his successor Merer-ra: ot the Sethee II.
latter it can only be said that he evidently ruled but a short Merer-ra.
time, leaving the kingdom to his son Rameses III. With Rameses
that sovereign the glories of the Theban line revived, and a
series of great victories by land and sea raised Egypt to the
place which it held under Rameses II., to whom alone he
may be considered second as a warlike prince. In a stately
temple, now called that of Medeenet-Haboo, which he
raised on the western bank at Thebes, are sculptures and
inscriptions commemorating the exploits of his reign, which
are not, for the most part, elsewhere recorded. A small
edifice, which was evidently a royal residence, and has been
called his pavilion, and an extensive tomb in the Valley of the
Tombs of the Kings, are the only other striking monuments
of a reign which seems to have been much occupied in the
prosecution of foreign wars. Of these, one of the most im¬
portant, if not perhaps the most important, was that which he
waged against “the Khairetana of the Sea,” and the “ Tokka-
ree,” whom his fleet defeated in a sea-fight, which he be¬
held from the shore like Xerxes at Salamis. This sea-fight
is the subject of one of the most remarkable battle-scenes
which adorn the great temple of Medeenet-Haboo ;6 and it
-1 Both these events are recorded in the sculptures and inscriptions of the north wall of El-Karnak. Rosellini, Monumenti Storici, loc. cit.
2 Select Papyri, pi. xxiv., et seqq.
3 See his monuments in Rosellini, Monumenti Stofici, No. Ixii., et seqq.; and Lepsius, Benkmaler, abth, iii., hi. 142, et seqq.
4 Id., text, tom. i., Nome e titoli dei Be d^Egitto, &c., xii., 13. 6 Id., Nos. cxxxi.
EGYPT. 463
Egypt, is interesting to endeavour to ascertain who were the de-
feated peoples. The Shairetana, or Khairetana, are seen
among the forces of Rameses IT., as auxiliaries or merce¬
naries, distinguished for bravery, wearing crested helmets,
and having short swords. Their name is identical, if we
make allowance for the difference of the languages, with
that of the Philistine tribe of “ Cherethim,” which fur¬
nished faithful mercenaries to King David. The same
Khairetana we see in the army of Rameses III., in the ex¬
pedition in which he overcame the Kharetana of the Sea
and the Tokkaree. The Khairetana of the Sea would thus
correspond to the Cretans, who are allowed to be of the
same origin as the Cherethim, the former being the inhabit¬
ants of Crete, and perhaps of other islands, and the latter
settled on the coast of Palestine. The identification of the
Tokkaree does not seem so easy; yet it must be considered
that the Carians are the only maritime nation having a
name resembling that of the Tokkaree, who could, with any
probability, have been associated with the Cretans, and that
<■ Herodotus relates, on the authority of the Cretans, that in
the old days of the maritime power of Crete, the Carians
inhabited the islands, and served in the ships of Minos, be¬
ing “ by far the most famous of all nations in those times f
and, moreover, bore another name, being called, he says,
Leleges.1 This war of Rameses III., as before remarked, is
very agreeable with the Greek traditionary account, which
tells of the great kings of Crete who held the empire of the
sea until not long before the siege of Troy, that is, about
the time of Rameses III., whom we may hence conclude to
have been the cause of the overthrow of their maritime su¬
premacy. Among the other nations whom Rameses III.
conquered, were the Pelesatu, or Philistines, who have the
same physiognomy and costume as the Tokkaree, thus indi¬
cating a common origin, the Rebu, a powerful people, and
other uncertain races. Nine kings, all bearing the name of
Rameses, succeeded Rameses III., but their rule was not
(as far as we know) marked by great events, and scarcely
any monuments but their tombs remain to commemorate
Ittameses it. Rameses IV., V., VI., and VII. were all sons of Ra-
V, V., mesesIII.; and it is most probable that they supplanted
^1., & VII. one anotber, and thus weakened the country by their dis-
!lameses sensions. At the close of the reign of Rameses XII., the
MI. supreme power fell into the hands of a ruler of the Twenty-
Twenty- first Dynasty, three kings of which have left records at
irst Dy- Thebes. The first of these was Amense Pahor, whom
Vmense Manetho calls Osochor, and makes the fifth king of the
Pajj0r Dynasty; the second, Piankh, who is, according to Manetho,
Piankh. Psinaches, the sixth king of the same line; and the third
Pisham. Pisham, Psusennes, the seventh and last. Pahor and Pisham
are represented as priests, though receiving the titles of
kings, a custom which was continued, but not so exclusively,
under the next dynasty.
Twenty- Manetho calls the Twenty-second Dynasty, which next
econd Dy-
occupied the Egyptian throne, of Bubastite kings; and this
statement receives some support from the circumstance, that
the name of one of them has been found among the sculp¬
tured remains of the temples of Bubastis. These sove¬
reigns cannot, however, have been of unmixed Egyptian
origin, for Mr Birch has shown, from their names and those
of princes of their family, that they must have been partly
at least of Assyrian or Babylonian race.2 Their policy, also,
was rather that of those peoples than of the Egyptians, if
we may judge from Sheshonk’s war with Rehoboam; for
'heshonk Sheshonk I. is the Shishak mentioned in the Bible.3 From
i kak Shi" we are enabled to fix, with great probability, both the
date of his accession, and the commencement of the dynasty
of which he was the first king, as well as to establish a syn¬
chronism in the chronology of the kingdom of Egypt and
that of Judah. The accession of Sheshonk I. may there- Egypt,
fore be placed in the year b.c. 1008 or 1009, and his march
against Jerusalem in that b.c. 988, his 21st or 22d year. War with
Among the sculptures of the great temple of El-Kaifaak is liehoboam.
a list of nations and towns conquered by Sheshonk I., among
which Champollion discovered the name of the kingdom of
Judah, and of various cities, of which some appear to have
been in the territories of Jeroboam I., to whom the king of
Egypt seems therefore to have acted faithlessly. Osorkon Osorkon I.
L, the next king, is supposed to have been the Zerah whom
Asa king of Judah defeated in the year b.c. 962, or some¬
what later ;4 but if Manetho’s numbers have been rightly
preserved, this king could not have been Zerah, though by
that name might be intended a later Osorkon. Of the
other kings of this dynasty, the monuments tell us scarcely
more than the names. After having ruled 120 years, ac¬
cording to Africanus’s version of Manetho’s lists, it was suc¬
ceeded by the Twenty-third Dynasty of Tanite kings, Twenty-
about B.c. 889. From this period until the accession of third Dy-
the Twenty-fifth Dynasty, the chronology and history is ob- nasty,
scure. Of the Twenty-third Dynasty we know nothing of
importance, and we cannot determine its duration. It is pro¬
bable that the hieroglyphic names of some of its sovereigns
occur on the monuments, but this is not certain.5 With
the end of the Twenty-second Dynasty, the fortune of the
brightest period of Egyptian history deserted the Pharaohs;
and except under the vigorous rule of the Ethiopians, and
then of certain of the kings of the Twenty-sixth Dynasty,
never returned. When Egypt had been united under a
single head at the commencement of the Eighteenth Dy¬
nasty, those great expeditions soon began which made the
Egyptian name famous in after ages. The countries lying
to the east of Egypt, as far as the Euphrates, were overrun
by the forces of the Pharaohs, and their inhabitants compelled
to render allegiance, and make tributary presents, to those
sovereigns. But no attempt seems to have been made to
bring the strangers under Egyptian government, although
alliances were entered into with some, in order to bind
them in friendship with the conquering power. Notwith¬
standing their aversion to foreigners, there is abundant evi¬
dence that the Egyptians treated such allies with respect,
unlike the Assyrians and Babylonians, who enslaved and
transplanted the nations which they subdued. Constantly,
however, the tributaries rose in revolt against the Egyptians,
and caused many long and fierce struggles before they were
reduced to their former condition ; and they seem to have
been supported in these contests by some great power seated
on the Tigris or Euphrates. Ethiopia was, at least nearly
as far as the junction of the White and Blue Niles, a pro¬
vince of Egypt, having the same religion and laws, and go¬
verned by a prince, called “ the Prince of Kush.” From
the accession of Aah-mes, the head of the Eighteenth Dy¬
nasty, until the time of Rameses II., the power of Egypt
gradually increased: under the latter king it attained its
greatest height, and having apparently waned somewhat
after his reign, it rose again through the vigour of Rameses
III. Under the kings that followed him, the kingdom of
Egypt fell into an insignificant condition ; and in Solomon’s
time seems scarcely to have possessed anything in Syria.
Sheshonk I., however, taking advantage of the divisions
which followed the reign of Solomon, rendered the kingdom
of Judah, and doubtless that of Israel also, tributary to him.
But not long after his time, probably in consequence of the
power of the Assyrian empire, Egypt again declined, and
did not rise until the rule of the Ethiopians.
The Twenty-fourth Dynasty consisted of a single king, Twenty.
Bocchoris the Wise, a Sa'ite, the period of whose rule was fourth Dy-
6 years, according to Africanus’s version of Manetho, but nasty.
Bocchoris
the Wise.
1 Herod, i., 171. 2 Transactions of the Royal Society of Literature, New Series, vol. iii.
3 1 Kings xiv., 25,26 j 2 Chron. xii.; 2, et seqq. 4 2 Chron. xiv., 9, et seqq.; xvi. 8. 6 Bunsen’s Egypt’s Place, vol. ii,, pp. 594, 695.
464
Egypt.
Twenty,
fifth Dy¬
nasty.
Shebek I.,
or Sabaco.
Shebek II.,
or Sebichus
Treaty with
Hoshea.
EGYPT.
Tehrak or
Tirhakah.
Twenty-
sixth Dy¬
nasty.
Psametik
I., or Psam
mitichus.
44 according to that of Eusebius. He was celebrated as a
lawgiver. His reign was brought to a disastrous termina¬
tion by Sabaco the Ethiopian, who, having taken him cap¬
tive, burned him alive. Thus was established the Twenty-
fifth Dynasty of Ethiopian kings, which can scarcely be
considered a foreign line, since Ethiopia was so thoroughly
Egyptian at that time; and the transfer of supreme power
cannot, therefore, though effected by armed force, be re¬
garded as very different from the earlier changes of one
native dynasty for another.
The accession of Sabaco may be assigned to about the year
b.c. 749. His hieroglyphic name, Shebek (I.), is found on
some monuments of his reign, to which we may assign, with
Eusebius, a duration of twelve years. Sebichus, his son,
succeeded him, and ruled, on the authority of Africanus,
fourteen years. He likewise bears the name of Shebek (H.)
on the monuments. The most important event that we know
of his reign is the treaty which he concluded (cir. b.c. 725)
with Hoshea, the last king of Israel; who, nevertheless, was
overpowered by Shalmaneser, the potent king of Assyria,
soon afterwards. In the Bible he is called So or Sewa,
after the manner in which Egyptian names are often abbre¬
viated in Hebrew. The last king of this dynasty—called by
Manetho Tarcus or Taracus, in the Bible 1 irhakah, and in
the hieroglyphic inscriptions Tehrak—wasoneof the greatest
sovereigns who ruled Egypt, insomuch that Megasthenes
mentions him witb Sesostris as having carried his arms as
far as Europe. Monuments in Egypt and Ethiopia, pai ti-
cularly at Gebel-Berkel, the ancient Napata, commemorate
his piety and his success in war. He came to the throne
cir. b.c.* 723, and ruled twenty years, according to Eusebius’
version of Manetho’s Lists. In the year cir. b.c. 710 he ad-,
vanced against Sennacherib to support Hezekiah, king of
Judah. It does not appear whether he met the Assyrian
army, but it seems probable that its miraculous destruction
occurred before any engagement had been fought between
the rival forces. Perhaps we may conclude that 1 irhakah
availed himself of this opportunity to restore the supremacy
of Egypt west of the Euphrates. With the reign of
Tirhakah the Twenty-fifth Dynasty closed; but, accoid-
ing to Eusebius, an Ethiopian, Ammeres, commenced the
next line, the Twenty-sixth Dynasty of Saite kings. Ihe
earlier part of that dynasty presents many difficulties, and it
is not until the reign of Psammitichus, or Psametik I., that
the history and chronology become clear. This king was,
according to Manetho, either the fourth or fifth king of the
dynasty, having succeeded Nechao I. Herodotus tells us
that before his reign the country was ruled by a dodecarchy
of which he was a member; and that, by the help of Ionian,
Carian, and Phoenician mercenaries, he overthrew his col¬
leagues, and rendered himself sole king of Egypt.1 Psam¬
mitichus came to the throne in this manner, b.c. 664,2 and
reigned for fifty-four years. He was generally successful,
and under him the arts began to show a marked revival.
The sculptures of his time, and that of his successors in
the same dynasty, are often not much inferior to those of
the Nineteenth Dynasty, and far superior to those of the
Twenty-second and Twenty-fifth. He did not forget the
services of his mercenaries, especially the Greeks, and in
addition encouraged their fellow-countrymen to trade with
Egypt, and caused his subjects to be instructed in their
language. In this manner, and by showing a preference
to the Greek troops above the native Egyptian soldiers,
he offended the latter, of whom a great force (said by
Herodotus to have comprised 240,000 men) rebelled, and,
notwithstanding the king’s remonstrances, left their country,
and established themselves in Ethiopia, far south of Egypt.3 Egypt.
Even if the number stated by Herodotus be much exag-
gerated, this defection must have contributed to weaken
Egypt, no less than the establishment of a mercenary force,
which alienated the affections of the Egyptians, particularly
the soldiery. Psammitichus carried on a successful war in War in
Palestine, and took Ashdod or Azotus, after a twenty-nine Palestine.
years’ siege, or twenty-nine years after his army had first
sat down before it.4 Probably the town was held by an
Assyrian garrison, for Tartan, the Assyrian general, had
taken it from the Egyptians in the preceding century.5 To¬
wards the close of his reign Psammitichus averted an inva¬
sion of Egypt by the Scythians, who had gained possession
of the kingdom of the Medes and the dominion of Asia.
They advanced to Palestine on their way to Egypt, but
Psammitichus, having met them, stayed their progress with
presents and prayers.6 His son—called in the inscriptions
Neko, by Manetho Nechao II., and in the Bible Pharaoh- Neko.
Nechoh—succeeded him in the year b.c. 610. His reign
was marked by great events. In his first year he advanced
into Palestine, marching along the sea-coast on his way to
Carchemish on the Euphrates, and was met by Josiah, king
of Judah, who, although he remonstrated, opposed his
passage. Their armies joined battle at Megiddo, called Battle be-
by Herodotus Magdolus, and Josiah was slain and his forces tween Neko
put to the rout. It is probable that Neko was successfulanii Josia •
in the object of his enterprise, and that he speedily returned
to Egypt in triumph, having on his way back deposed Jehoa-
haz, Josiah’s son, and set up Jehoiakim, his elder brother,
in his stead. The expedition was apparently intended to
strike a blow at the failing power of the Assyrians, whose
capital soon after fell a prey to the combined forces of the
Babylonians and Medes. The army, however, which was
stationed on the Euphrates by Neko, met with a signal
disaster three years subsequently, being routed by Nebu¬
chadnezzar at Carchemish. The warlike king of Babylon
pushed his success, and we read in the Bible, after the men¬
tion of Jehoiakim’s death, that “ the king of Egypt came not
again any more out of his land ; for the king of Babylon had
taken from the river of Egypt unto the river Euphrates all
that pertained to the king of Egypt.”7 But although war¬
like affairs occupied so much of his reign, Neko was not
inattentive to the welfare of commerce, for he either com¬
menced the canal from the Nile to the Red Sea, or attempted
to clear the course of one previously dug; but in either case,
the work was not completed.8 He likewise maintained a
fleet both in the Mediterranean and in the Red Sea; and
Phoenicians, by his command, attempted and accomplished
the circumnavigation of Africa.0 He was an enlightened and
wise prince, who encouraged foreigners without incurring
the jealousy of the Egyptians, and whose dealings with neigh¬
bouring nations evince both moderation and policy.
Psametik II., called by Herodotus Psammis, who sue- Psametik
ceeded his father b.c. 595, does not seem in his short reign
of 6 years to have done anything worthy of record. Egypt,
however, prospered under his rule, for the splendid tombs
of his subjects, and those of his successors, show the wealth
of the country from this time to its subjugation by Cam-
byses. The next sovereign was Uahphrah, called Pharaoh- xjahphrah
Hophra in the Bible, and by Herodotus Apries. He began or Apries.
to reign b.c. 589, and at first was eminently successful, for
he entered Palestine and Phoenicia, taking Gaza and Sidon, in
and defeated the king of Tyre in a sea-fight. Pie also Phoenicia
worsted the Cyprians.10 Having thus restored the influence and Pales-
of Egypt, he succoured Zedekiah, the king of Judah, in his tine,
rebellion against Nebuchadnezzar, and when Jerusalem was
1 Herod, ii., 147, et seqq. .... . , „
2 The dates of this dynasty are in each reign placed one year earlier than Lepsius’s computation (Monatsbencht der Komgl. 1 reuss.
Akad. der Wissen. zu Berlin. Aug. 1854, p. 496), for reasons which there is not room to state here.
3 Id. ii., 30 ; Diod. i., 67. * Her. ii., 157. 6 Isaiah Xx. 6 Herod, i., 105. _
7 Kings xxiv., 7. s gee SUpra, section i. 9 Her. iv., 42. Id. n., 161; Diod. i., 68.
EGYPT.
Dethrone¬
ment and
death of
Apries.
Egypt, besieged by the Chaldeans the advance of his army compelled
them to raise the siege.1 The city nevertheless fell, and the
power of Egypt in Palestine was crushed by the campaigns
of Nebuchadnezzar. The fugitive Jews were kindly re¬
ceived by Pharaoh-Hophra,2 and seem henceforward to
have formed an important part of the population. At the
fall of the kingdom of Israel many Hebrews had taken re¬
fuge in Egypt,3 and this was not the only occasion on which
their numbers were increased by other emigrants. Greater
calamities than the loss of his influence to the east of Egypt
befel Apries at a later time, for an army which he sent against
the Greeks of Cyrene was cut to pieces, and a consequent
military revolt placed the crown on the head of Amasis.
Apries was deserted by all except the Ionian and Carian
troops (30,000 in number), and a few Egyptians, but never¬
theless he marched to meet the rebel. At Momemphis, near
the lake Mareotis, a decisive battle was fought, and Apries
w^as made prisoner by Amasis. At first the new king treated
his captive with consideration, but afterwards yielding to the
importunities of the people, who hated him, he gave him up
to them, by whom he was strangled. Nevertheless he buried
him royally.4 Thus was fulfilled the prophecy spoken by
Jeremiah: “ I will give Pharaoh-Hophra, king of Egypt,
into the hand of his enemies, and into the hand of them
that seek his life.”5 There seems little doubt that at the
time of this rebellion, and perhaps in conjunction with the
advance of Amasis, Egypt was invaded and desolated by
Nebuchadnezzar. It should be observed, however, that the
remarkable prophecies of Ezekiel6 may refer for the most
part to the invasion by Cambyses.
Aah-mes, Amasis or Aah-mes came to the throne in the year b.c. 570,
or Amasis. and ruled with great credit for nearly half a century. He en¬
deavoured rather to consolidate the power of Egypt than to
make extensive conquests, and thus he strengthened the
country against its dangerous neighbours on the east. He
was not regardless of the welfare of commerce, and the
efficiency of his navies is shown by his having subjugated
Cyprus and made it tributary. The Babylonian kingdom
became so weak in his days, that he joined Nabonidus its
king, and Croesus the sovereign of Lydia, in an alliance to
oppose Cyrus.7 Nevertheless Babylon fell, and with it the
remains of the great empire founded by Nebuchadnezzar,
and the defeat of Croesus followed the fall of his. ally.
Xenophon says that Croesus was aided by a strong force of
Egyptians, 120,000 in number, who in a great battle near
Thybarra maintained themselves unbroken until Cyrus
granted them honourable terms, and that he settled them
in the cities of Larissa and Cyllene, on the coast of Asia
Minor. From the manner in which this is narrated, and
particularly from the evident appeal to the truth of the
narrative on account of the cities being called those of the
Egyptians, this seems to be, notwithstanding that it occurs
in the Cyropcedia, a genuine fragment of history.. If so, we
could well understand why Egypt was unable to offer a
vigorous resistance to the Persian invader a few years later,
since it would have thus been deprived of a great part of
the army. Monuments were raised by Amasis throughout
Egypt, of which some remains are yet to be seen, but his
works were probably chiefly in Lower Egypt and at Sa'is ;8
and hence there are no very remarkable ruins- of his time,
since the temples of Upper Egypt are the best preserved.
Towards the close of his long reign Amasis found himself
obliged to make great preparations to resist the threatened
invasion of Cambyses, and at length died a little before
Psammeni- that calamity befel his country. His son, Psammenitus,
ti?- most probably the Psametik III. of the monuments,
ascended the throne B.c. 525, and prepared to meet the ad-
465
Egypt.
vancing enemy. The king of Egypt, at the head of a native ^ _
and Greek army, awaited the invader at Pelusium, which ■v/-—^
was long regarded as the key of the country, and is there¬
fore called in the Bible “ Sin, the strength of Egypt.”9
After an obstinate battle the Persians gained the day, and
Cambyses advanced against Memphis. Thither he de¬
spatched a herald in a Mitylenian vessel; but the Egyptians,
exasperated against the unjust invader, destroyed all on
board. Cambyses then laid siege to the city, whose ancient Memphis
fort, the White Wall, offered a protracted resistance, but taken by
at length fell into the hands of the invader, with Psam- t-'ambyses.
menitus the king. Thereupon Cambyses signalized his
victory by characteristic acts of cruelty, rendered more Twenty-
odious by being partly enacted under a show of justice, seventh
and insulted the conquered king by the humiliation of his Dynasty,
daughter to the rank of a poor slave, and the execution of
his son as a low malefactor. Moved by shame rather than
pity, he ordered the king’s son to be spared when it was
too late, but afterwards he was not able to refrain from the
meanness of dragging forth and burning the mummy of
Amasis1" and that of his queen.11 This queen was called
Ankh-nes, her sarcophagus is now in the British Museum.
Near it was discovered her burnt mummy. One cannot but
regret that a desire to put a historical subject in a new light,
which has worked so much mischief of late, should have
raised up an apologist for a despot of whom no one good act
stands recorded. The unhappy Psammenitus, having been
led captive to Susa, was after a time put to death by drink¬
ing bull’s blood, for having plotted against Cambyses. It is
believed that Cambyses did not at first insult the Egyptian
religion ; indeed, there is evidence that he began by show¬
ing reverence, or a pretence of reverence, towards their
gods; but having failed in his disastrous expeditions to
Ethiopia and the Oasis of Jupiter Amnion, he became
exasperated against the unfortunate Egyptians, and de¬
stroyed their temples and statues, and even wounded the
bull Apis. After four years spent in Egypt,, lie left the
country to quell the rebellion which had placed the Magi
at the head of affairs, and shortly after perished from the
effects of an accidental hurt.
Darius, the son of Hystaspes, having overthrown Smerdis, Darius
the Magus, early applied himself to the improvement of his Hystaspis.
great empire, and, whether from policy or goodness, strove
to conciliate the various nations that composed it. During
his visit to Egypt he gained the favour of the inhabitants,12
and hieroglyphic inscriptions show that he caused the temples
to be adorned with additional sculptures.13 Notwithstanding,
the Egyptians, unwilling to continue in servitude to. a foreign
power, revolted in the last year but one of his reign14 (b.c.
486), but were reduced by Xerxes, his successor, in his second Xerxes,
year (b.c. 484). Xerxes made his brother Achaemenes Egypt sub¬
satrap of Egypt,15 and the province remained quiet until his dued.
death, shortly after which Egypt again rose against the foreign
rulers. Inaros, the son of Psammitichus^who was sovereign
of some of the Libyans, and Amyrtaeus, the Saite, headed
the insurrection. The Persians were driven out; and the
insurgent leaders prepared to resist their return, by raising
a native and mercenary force, and securing the assistance
of the Athenians.. Artaxerxes, as soon as he was firmly
established on the throne, took measures towards regaining
the lost province. An enormous army, said to have con¬
sisted of 400,000 men, and a fleet, were despatched under the
command of Achaemenes, the late satrap. Inaros and Amyr-
taeus,. instead of awaiting the advance of the Persians at the
eastern frontier, wisely stationed their army in the western
part of the Delta, where, if defeated, they could retire into
Libya; and, if successful, they could place their enemies in
1 Jer. xxxvii., 5, 7, 11.
4 Herod, ii., 161, et seqq. Diod. i., 68.
7 Herod, i., 77.
10 Herod, iii., 16.
13 Ancient Egyptians, vol. i., p. 199.
VOL. VIII.
2 Id. xliii., 7, &c.
6 Jer. xliv., 30.
Comp. Herod, ii., 175, 176.
3 Comp. Hosea viii., 13 ; ix., 3, 6.
6 Ezek. xxix., xxx., xxxi., xxxii.
9 Ezek. xxx., 15.
11 A burnt mummy was found with this queen’s sarcophagus.
14 Herod, vii., 1. 15 /cf. vii., 7, 8.
12 Diod. i., 95.
3 N
466
EGYPT.
Egypt.
Battle of
Papremis.
Expedition
of Megaby-
zus and
Artabazus.
Artaxerxes
Longiman-
us.
Darius
Noth us.
Twenty-
eighth Dy¬
nasty.
Amyrtaeus
the Sa'ite.
Twenty-
ninth Dy¬
nasty.
Nefaurut
or Neferi-
tes.
a most dangerous position. They joined battle near Pap¬
remis, the city of the Egyptian Mars, and the Persians
were disastrously routed. The Athenians rendered great
services, but the fortune of the day was decided by the
valour of Inaros, who mortally wounded Achsemenes in
single combat. The Athenians pursued the fugitive Per¬
sians by water, and blockaded them in the castle of Mem¬
phis.1 Artaxerxes then despatched a second expedition,
under Megabyzus, the son of Zopyrus and Artabazus,
which, with the remains of the army of Achaemenes, ap¬
pears to have exceeded in magnitude that unfortunate
force. The Egyptians and Greeks advanced from Mem¬
phis, where they were still engaged in the siege of the
castle, and were routed by the Persians in a battle, in which
Inaros was wounded by Megabyzus. Having retreated to
the island Prosopitis, the defeated forces maintained them¬
selves for more than a year, until the Persians, having,
partly at least, cut off the water which formed their best
defence, forced them to capitulate. Inaros surrendered, on
condition that his life should be spared—an engagement
that was broken after he had been five years a captive, and
he was crucified to gratify the revenge of Amytis, the
mother of Achaemenes.2 Amyrtaeus, more fortunate than
his colleague, escaped to the fens, where, in the island of
Elbo, he defied all attempts of the Persians to reduce him.
The warlike inhabitants of that part of Egypt warmly sup¬
ported his cause, and their maritime position ensured them
the succour of the Athenians.3 Artaxerxes Longimanus
granted some privileges to the conquered; and, in parti¬
cular, made Thannyris, the son of Inaros, and Pausiris, the
son of Amyrtaeus, governors; thus in a manner causing
them to succeed their fathers.4 Early in the reign of Darius
Nothus, after a long interval of rest, Egypt became again
disturbed, and in his tenth year (b.c. 414) successfully as¬
serted its independence. The details of the struggle are
not known to us; all that can be said with certainty is that
Amyrtaeus, the Sa'ite, was proclaimed king, and was the
first of a short series of Egyptian monarchs. Some main¬
tain that this could not have been the same as he who fled
to the marshes, and that such was the case cannot indeed
be proved; yet there is nothing improbable in the supposi¬
tion that he had never been subdued, especially as we hear
of him as late as b.c. 450,6 and sixty-four years of active
life cannot be regarded as unparalleled in history.
The rule of Amyrtaeus, the sole king of the Twenty-
eighth Dynasty, does not seem to have been marked by
events of importance. After having governed six years,6
he was succeeded by the first king of the 4 wenty-ninth
Dynasty. From this period until the final extinction of the
Egyptian kingdom considerable difficulties beset our in¬
quiries from the conflicting statements of historians. 1 here
will not be space in the present article to do more than
indicate the most probable view of these questions, which
do not affect the few great events of the period.7 I he first
of the Mendesians (b.c. 408), Neferites or Nephreus, ruled
tranquilly for six years, unmolested by the Persians, whom
he opposed by aiding their enemies the Greeks. His name,
written Nefaurut, is found in hieroglyphics. Achoris or
Ackoris, the Hakori of the monuments (b.c. 402), governed
for 13 years or more prosperously. He made great efforts
came to a close, unless Eusebius be right in adding a third Egypt,
king, with a rule of one year.9
A new line, the Thirtieth Dynasty, of Sebennyte kings, Thirtieth
succeeded to the supreme power. The first of this dynasty Dynasty,
was Nectanebes I., called in the hieroglyphic inscriptions Nekht-
Nekht-nebf. His accession may be probably placed in the ^eect’a”g_
year b.c. 380, and he at once began to take vigorous measures beg £
to defend the kingdom against the Persians, who, under the
powerful satrap Pharnabazus, were making formidable pre¬
parations to reduce it. 1 he Athenians, with chaiacteiistic
baseness, deserted his cause; and having sent for Chabrias
from Egypt, despatched another eminent general, Iphicrates,
to command the Greeks who served under the Persians.
The king of Egypt, unaided by foreign troops, made the
best disposition of his forces, and strengthened all assailable
points. In the year b.c. 373, the Persians entered Egypt,
led by Pharnabazus and Iphicrates, and finding Pelusium
too strong for them, landed a force at the Mendesian mouth
of the Nile, and captured the fort which defended it. But
this success did. not endure. The generals differed as to
the plan of campaign, and Nectanebes worsted the enemy
in several skirmishes and also in a battle. I he difficulties .
of their position were increased by the overflow of the Nile.
Iphicrates fled secretly thence by sea, and Pharnabazus
was compelled to make a disgraceful retreat. X his expedi¬
tion is of no little importance, as it shows that the Egyp¬
tians, without foreign aid, on at least one occasion, both
outmanoeuvred and defeated a powerful Greek fbice, act¬
ing with a great Persian army; and serves to warn us
against believing what the Greek historians, with the inor¬
dinate vanity of their nation, tell us on so many occasions,
that the preservation of the Egyptian kingdom was owing
to the bravery of their mercenary troops.10 During the rest
of the reign of Nectanebes Egypt remained unmolested,
and the king repaired or beautified the temples.
laches, or Teos, succeeded Nectanebes I. in about the Tachos or
year b.c. 361. His first care was to take advantage of the Teos.
distracted state of the Persian empire, and to raise an army
and fleet by which to recover the influence of Egypt in
Syria. Tbe command of the fleet he gave to Chabrias, the
Athenian, and that of the Greek mercenaries he intrusted
to the celebrated Agesilaus, king of Sparta, while he him¬
self was general-in-chief. Agesilaus was displeased that
such a subordinate command had been bestowed upon him,
and his enmity had no little share in the subsequent mis¬
fortunes of Tachos, which were as much owing to the
friendly counsels of Chabrias. In order to raise money for
the prosecution of the war, it became necessary to tax the
inhabitants of Egypt heavily ; and this, combined with the
obnoxious character of the taxes, and the unfair extortion
practised towards the priests, aroused the national discon¬
tent. When the king was already in Phoenicia, his brother Rebellion,
Nectanebes, whom he had left to govern Egypt, plotted
against him ; and persuaded his own son, of the same name ^ Tacjj0gi
as himself, who was at the head of some forces in Syria, to
try for the supreme power. Agesilaus was gained over by
the usurper, and Chabrias was probably recalled by the
Athenians, while the Egyptian forces deserted their king.
Tachos could only flee, but his true character is shown by
his immediately repairing to Artaxerxes Mnemon. I he
iur io years or more prosperously, -ire mauc ^ — n . ... i, i • r]
to repel the advance of the Persians, and raised a force of king of Persia, following the national policy, botli receivea
the Atlipninn the fuo-iiive well, and nroiected an expedition against Egypt
mercenaries, of which he gave the command to the Athenian
general, Chabrias.8 Many sculptures attest the happiness of
Egypt during this time of peace. Two kings, of whom
nothing is known, followed Achoris, ruling for a year and
four months; and with the second of them the dynasty
the fugitive well, and projected an expedition against Egypt
under his command; but neither lived to see this design
carried out, and Tachos is said to have died a victim to the
consequences of the luxury of the Persian court.11 _ it*.
In the meantime Nectanebes II. (b.c. 359) established^^116
Ctesias in Persicis. Thucyd. i., 109, 110.
* Diod. xi., 71, 74, 75. Ctesias in Persicis. Thucyd. i., 104. 2 Diod. xi., 75, 77.
« Thucyd. i., 112. Plut. Gim. 18. Herod, ii., 140. 4 15.
5 Thucyd. loc. cit. 6 Manetho in Ancient Fragments, pp. 130, 131.
7 Comp. Ancient Egyptians, vol. i., p. 203, et seqq. : and Kenrick’s Ancient Egypt, vol. ii., p. 494, et seqq.
8 Diod. XV., 29. Corn. Nep, Chabrias. 9 Anc. Frag. pp. 130-133. 10 Diod. xv., 29, 38, 41-43. Corn. Nep., Iphicratet.
11 Diod. xv., 90, 92. Plut., Agesilaus, 36, 37. ^Elian, Var. Hist. 5, 1.
EGYPT.
467
Invasion
and subju¬
gation of
Egypt by
Artaxerxes
Ochus.
Egypt, himself on the throne by the aid of Agesilaus. A Mende-
sian leader, whom Tachos had chosen for his successor, had
raised a large though unwarlike force and proclaimed him¬
self king; but after a sanguinary contest, the king of Sparta
and Nectanebes put him to the rout, and Egypt was thus
tranquillized.1 These intestine struggles, however, had
greatly contributed to the fall of Egypt, and may be partly,
at least, ascribed to the turbulent mercenaries, whose policy
must be condemned, even if we judge, as alone we can,
from the partial accounts of their countrymen, the Greek
historians, and those who drew their information from them.
Had it not been for this civil war, although the expedition
into Syria might have been unsuccessful, Egypt would have
retained strength enough to withstand the Persians for the
few years of weakness that preceded the fall of their empire.
The early part of the reign of Nectanebes II. was prosperous,
and he resisted with success the efforts which Artaxerxes,
or Darius, Ochus, made to reconquer the country, and aided
the Sidonians and other Phoenicians in throwing off the
Persian yoke. The indolent king of Persia, roused by these
disasters, collected a great army and fleet, took Sidon, subdued
all Phoenicia, and reduced Cyprus. Mentor, the Rhodian,
a leader of Greek mercenaries in the service of Nectanebes,
who had been sent by him to aid the Phoenicians in their
revolt, deserted to Ochus, and the route to Egypt lay open
to the victorious army. Nectanebes prepared to make a
vigorous resistance, by strengthening every defensible posi¬
tion and collecting an army of Egyptians, Libyans, and
Greeks. Pelusium was successfully defended by a Greek
garrison against the Thebans in the service of Ochus, un¬
til Nicostratus, the leader of his Argive mercenaries, having
learnt by treachery a means of getting to the rear of the
main Egyptian force under Nectanebes which was encamped
near by, not only executed the manoeuvre but maintained
himself by defeating the Greek garrison of a fortress which
sallied forth to oppose him. Then the king of Egypt,
menaced by a superior army, partly in front of his position
and partly in its rear, retreated with his whole field force
to Memphis. The Greek garrison of Pelusium surrendered
on terms to their fellow-countrymen, and the garrisons of
the other strong places of Lower Egypt followed their ex¬
ample. Nectanebes, believing that he could not effectually
oppose the invader, fled to Ethiopia by the river.2 Thus
Egypt again fell into the power of Persia in about the year
b.c. 350, according to the best authorities. From that
time until our own days, a period of twenty-two centuries,
no native ruler has sat on the throne of Egypt, in striking
fulfilment of the prophecy, “ there shall be no more a prince
of the land of Egypt.”3 * *
At this memorable point we must pause a moment to
the decline review the causes which led to the decline and ultimate fall
and fall of 0f the native rulers of Egypt, after their power had been
. gyPtlan maintained, with little interruption, for more than 2300 years.
The apparent chief cause of their ruin was the hostility of the
three empires which successively governed the East. Un¬
der Rameses II. Egypt had attained its highest glory, un¬
der Rameses III. its position was maintained, but shortly
after him its power suddenly failed. This is about the time
at which Herodotus places the beginning of the Assyrian
Empire. The kingdom of Egypt again acquired impor¬
tance under Sheshonk L, a prince, partly at least, of Assy¬
Causes of
indepen¬
dence.
rian or Babylonian origin. His successors do not seem, for ^gyP1-
the most part, to have retained what he had acquired, and the
country again lost its importance until the accession of the
Ethiopian Dynasty. The princes of that line bringing with
them a large and powerful territory, and being warlike and
vigorous rulers, were enabled to check the advance of the
Assyrians, and the third of them,Tirhakah, lived to the time of
the first of those disasters which ruined the enemy, the mira¬
culous destruction of Sennacherib’s army. Had not a period
of anarchy followed the Ethiopian rule, the ascendancy of
Egypt might perhaps have been recovered. The establish¬
ment of Psammitichus was the beginning of an active line
of native princes, who regained much of the former power
of their crown, until Nebuchadnezzar, the head of the Ba¬
bylonian empire, overthrew the army of Egypt, and de¬
stroyed its influence in Asia. Weakened by this contest,
Egypt could not oppose a successful resistance to the push¬
ing force of Persia, and fell almost at once into the hands
of Cambyses. For nearly two centuries the history is but
a record of the unequal struggle of the patriotic Egyptians
against the overwhelming power of despotic Persia, and of
the establishment of native princes, who latterly succeeded in
maintaining the kingdom for almost seventy years against
all the forces which could be brought against their enfeebled
country. While such were the apparent causes of the down¬
fall of this ancient power, others may be traced which,
though less manifest to a superficial reader of history, seem
mainly to have occasioned the success of Egypt’s enemies.
Until the time of Psammitichus the Egyptian soldiers had held
the post of honour, but that king not only introduced Greek
mercenaries into the army but treated them with especial
favour, so that many of the native soldiers revolted and all
became discontented. This course of conduct, which was
mainly pursued by his successors, destroyed the old mi¬
litary system without substituting anything stable in its
stead, and placed the defence of the kingdom in the hands
of untrustworthy though brave men. The adoption of
Greek manners by the great separated them from the sym¬
pathies and support of the lower classes, and at a time when
unity alone could render the country strong enough to re¬
sist the aggressions of Persia, disunion everywhere prevailed.
Ochus, having gained possession of Egypt, signalized
his success by outrages which it is needless here to re¬
late. He did all in his power to insult the religious feel¬
ings of the unhappy Egyptians, and seems to have gone
beyond Cambyses in his furious acts of barbarity. After a
few years of Persian rule which are a blank in the history
of Egypt, that country passed into the hands of Alexander
the Great in the course of his conquest of the empire where¬
of it was a province.6
From the time of Alexander commences a brighter pe- Greek
riod of Egyptian history, although its annals are those ofkingsj
Greek sovereigns and it witnessed the decay of Egyptian
nationality. As the enemy and vanquisher of the Persians,lie led“"
Alexander was received in Egypt (b. c. 332) as a deliverer.
The Persian governor had not forces sufficient to oppose
him, and the cities opened their gates to him without even
a show of resistance. Alexander visited Memphis, founded
Alexandria, and went on pilgrimage to the oracle of Jupiter
Ammon, manifesting on every occasion the greatest respect
for the Egyptian religion. He then organized the govern-
1 Plut., Ages. 38. 2 Diod. xvi. 40, et seqq. 3 Ezek. xxx., 13. 4 Ancient Egyptians, vol. i., pp. 212, 213.
5 The chief ancient authorities for the history of Egypt under the Greek rule, from the conquest by Alexander, are the following:
iElian, Agatharchides, Aminianus Marcellinus, Appian, Arrian, Athenseus, Caesar, and Hirtius; Cicero, Diodorus Siculus, Dion Cassius,
Josephus, Justin, Livy, the first and second books of Maccabees, Pausanias, Pliny, Plutarch, Polybius, Porphyry, Quintus Curtius, Strabo,
and Vitruvius. Scattered notices occur in the works of many other writers; and there are some historical inscriptions both in hieroglyphics
and in Greek. The dates of accession of all the Ptolemies, except the first, have been taken from Ideler’s Memoir Uber de Reduction
dgyptischer Rater aus den Zeiten der Ptolemder (Konigl. Akad. der Wissenschaften, Berlin, 1834). It should be remembered that it is
meant that the accession fell within the Vague Year, commencing in the Julian Year specified: thus Ptolemy Philadelphus came to the
throne in the year Nov. 285, Nov. 284, which was his first year. Reference has been also made for chronology to Lepsius’s Memoir
Vler einige Ergebnisse der dgyptischen Renkmdler fiir der Kentniss der Rtolemdergeschichte (Kbnigl. Akad. der Wissenschaften, Berlin,
1852'' • and to Fynes Clinton's Fasti Hcllenici, d'C.
468 E G Y P T.
Egypt- ment of the country, and departed to complete his subjuga-
tion of the Persian empire. For the remainder of his short
reign, Egypt continued undisturbed, and though not well
governed in his absence, enjoyed greater happiness and se¬
curity than it had for a long antecedent period.
Ptolemy, Qn the division of Alexander’s empire, the government
governor ()p Egypt fell to the share of Ptolemy, the son of Lagus,
in ES^t- afterwards surnamed Soter, one of his favourite generals
(b.c. 323). He was content for the present to govern in
the name of Philip Arrhidaeus or Aridseus, the feeble suc¬
cessor of Alexander, but did not neglect to get together an
efficient army by which to maintain his position. Not long
after he reached Egypt, the intestine troubles of Gyrene
enabled him to annex it to his government, and about the
same time he made another stroke of policy. The re¬
gent Perdiccas having despatched the body of Alex¬
ander from Babylon in order that it should be buried in
Macedonia, Ptolemy met the important charge in Syria, and
having gained to his side the general who escorted it, carried
it to Memphis, until a tomb should be fit for its reception
at Alexandria. Perdiccas, irritated at Ptolemy’s having
thus gained possession of Alexander’s body, which was in
this manner a source of war after it had ceased to contain
the ambitious soul, marched against Egypt to punish the
governor. After an encounter near Pelusium, in which
Ptolemy had the advantage, Perdiccas outmanoeuvred him
by a night march towards Memphis, but was afterwards
worsted in endeavouring to cross the Nile near that city.
Many of the officers and men of the invading force now de¬
serted to Ptolemy, and Perdiccas was assassinated by his
officers. On this the army, with which were not only Philip
Arrhidaeus, but Alexander Jigus, the heir-presumptive to
the throne, submitted to Ptolemy, who allowed it to de¬
part to Macedonia, having appointed two guardians for the
king and prince. The governor of Egypt pursuing his
advantage, sent an army which (b.c. 320) reduced Phoeni¬
cia and Ccele-Syria; and probably it was at this time that
he subdued Palestine. After a period of prosperity which
was spent in adorning the new city of Alexandria with
magnificent buildings, and settling the details of government
with a view to the benefit of the country, Ptolemy was called
upon to defend Egypt against the threatened invasion of
tYar with Antigonus. Syria and Phoenicia were subjugated by the
Antigonus. 0p Asia ^.c, 315-314), but in the next year Ptolemy
quelled an insurrection in Gyrene, and reduced Cyprus, in
which he had before established a footing (b.c. 315). Hav¬
ing sailed from Cyprus he made a hasty inroad in which he
inflicted some loss on Antigonus by taking cities on the
coasts of northern Syria and Cilicia, and returned by sea to
Alexandria. In the following year (b^c. 312) he advanced
into Palestine and routed the forces of Demetrius, the son
of Antigonus, at Gaza. P tolemy thus regained P hcenicia; and
Seleucus, who had been forced to flee to him, was restored
to his government of Babylonia. Antigonus now marched
against Ptolemy from Asia Minor, but the latter retired into
Egypt, leaving his opponent the dangerous task of invading
that country. After having failed in two attacks on Petra,
Antigonus retreated, and a peace was concluded by which
Ptolemy resigned Palestine to him (b.c. 311). The death
lecome!- °f Alexander iEgus in the same year rendered Ptolemy
kin^'U> altogether independent, although he did not assume the
title of king, except on the Egyptian monuments, until
b.c. 306. All his earlier sculptures bear the names of
Philip Arrhidaeus and Alexander fl^gus, and the rest his
own as king, none having been found with an inferior title;
and it is therefore reasonable to conclude that he assumed
in the hieroglyphic inscriptions the regal style immediately
on the death of Alexander flSgus. Ptolemy soon after that
event led an army against the territory of Antigonus, from
whom he took many places in Syria and Caria, as well as
the island of Cos ; but aoon met with a signal reverse, for
Demetrius engaging his fleet with an inferior force, off Sa- Egypt,
lamis of Cyprus, almost annihilated it, Ptolemy himself
escaping, though his son Leontiscus, as well as his brother
Menelaus, thus fell into the enemy’s hands. By this vic¬
tory Cyprus came into the possession of Demetrius (b.c.
306). Elated by this success, Antigonus marched against
Egypt with a large army, but was repulsed, and retired as
before without having effected anything. Ptolemy then
assumed the offensive, regained Ccele-Syria, and having
united his forces with those of Lysimachus, Cassander, and
Seleucus, joined battle at Ipsus with the forces of Antigonus
and Pyrrhus. The latter were routed, and Antigonus, the
most formidable opponent of Ptolemy, fell in the battle (b.c.
301). Having ruled in comparative peace for several years
after this decisive victory, Ptolemy abdicated in favour of
his son Philadelphus. His character was that of a prudent
prince, generally merciful, of moderate ambition, and rarely
guilty of political injustice. He warmly patronized litera¬
ture, the sciences, and the fine arts, and showed an enlight¬
ened disposition by granting the Jews privileges which in¬
duced them to settle in great numbers at Alexandria.
Ptolemy, surnamed Philadelphus (b.c. 285), inherited ptolemy
a kingdom that comprised not Egypt alone, but the south II., Phila-
coast of Asia Minor, much of Syria, Palestine, and Cyprus, delphus.
which had been recovered in B.c. 295. But after his father’s
death, which occurred b.c. 283, the first of those internecine
struggles that disgrace the history of the Ptolemies broke out.
The king’s half-brother Magas, governor of Cyrene, revolted, War with
and a war commenced, which after some years’ continuance, Magas,
was concluded by a treaty by which the daughter of Magas
was to marry the son of Philadelphus, and to receive as a
dowry the reversion of the possessions of her father, to whom
she was sole heir. The death of Magas soon followed, and
Cyrene was after a time restored to Egypt. Two other
brothers of Philadelphus were subsequently put to death
on different occasions by him on the ground of treason, of
which one of them was certainly guilty. In the eleventh
year of Philadelphus (b.c. 274) he sent an embassy to Rome
to congratulate the republic on having repelled Pyrrhus,
and to make a treaty; and an embassy from the People visited
Egypt in return. Except the struggle with Magas, the rule
of Philadelphus was almost unmarked by war. A contest
with Antiochus IL, king of Syria, ended in a treaty by
which he took to wife Berenice the daughter of Phila¬
delphus, who acquired no military renown. His long
reign was rather distinguished by the erection or com¬
pletion of magnificent buildings, and the advance of trade
by the formation or repair of ports and stations, and the
completion of the celebrated Pharos of Alexandria. He
followed his father’s example in patronizing men of letters,
painters, sculptors, and the professors of science, and con¬
tinued to favour the Jews. Nevertheless his private cha¬
racter cannot claim our admiration. Without being war¬
like, he was cruel, as towards his unfortunate brothers, and
in the destruction of his Gaulish mercenaries, which, how¬
ever politic, was most barbarous. He was luxurious and
licentious in his manners, and seems to have owed his re¬
putation of a great king rather to circumstances than to cha¬
racter. In no sense did he ever show himself heroic, and
had his dominions been seriously endangered he would pro¬
bably have left us little cause to respect him as a warrior or
a statesman. Having ruled thirty-eight years he left his
kingdom to his eldest son Ptolemy, surnamed Euergetes.
Ptolemy Euergetes was at the beginning of his reign Ptolemy
(b.c. 247) called to take an active part by the trouble that HG Euer-
befel his sister Berenice, the wife of Antiochus II., king of Setes-
Syria. That sovereign having repudiated her, and taken
back his first wife Laodice, was murdered by the latter,
whose eldest son, Seleucus II., assumed the reins of power. \
By his, or rather his mother’s, orders Berenice and her son
wrere slain, before Euergetes could afford them succour.
EGYPT.
469
Egypt. Euergetes, however, avenged his sister in a brilliant expe-
^ dition, by which he secured much of Syria and Asia Minor.
War with Afterwards Seleucus attacked Ptolemy, but was routed by
Seleucus II. his forces and those of his rebellious brother Antiochus Hierax.
The latter, however, when fortune deserted him, sought re¬
fuge with Ptolemy, by whom he was kept in custody until
he made his escape, and perished in his flight. The king of
Egypt next conducted an expedition into Ethiopia, where he
made extensive conquests. But notwithstanding these war¬
like actions, Ptolemy continued the generous patronage which
his predecessors had extended to literature and science, and
was especially attentive in improving the great temples of
Egypt, or adding others to them. These, like all the edifices
of the country, excepting those of Alexandria, were in the
native style of architecture, which, although it had under¬
gone some changes, was still that of the time of the Pharaohs.
His temples and those of the other Ptolemies and Caesars,
excel many of the more ancient in size, though far inferior to
them both in architectural beauty and in the execution of
their sculptures. But they were not wholly raised by royal
munificence, for large contributions from various cities,
and even from foreign countries, aided in their construc¬
tion. This circumstance, however, affords a strong evi¬
dence of the wealth of the subjects, and the freedom which
they enjoyed.
Egypt.
The reign of Ptolemy Philopator (b.c. 222), the eldest
IvT Philo- son and successor of Euergetes, commenced with an act of
Ptolemy
pator.
War with
Antiochus
the Great.
infamv, in the murder of his mother Berenice, his brother
Magas, and his uncle Lysimachus. Antiochus (III.) the
Great soon attempted to break the power of Egypt in
Syria, and reduced, by treachery and by force, the chief
possessions of Ptolemy in that country, Phoenicia, and Pales¬
tine. Philopator having collected his forces, marched with
75,000 men against the enemy who now threatened Egypt.
A battle, before which the soldiers of Ptolemy had been
encouraged by the exhortations of Arsinoe the queen, was
fought at Raphia, on the boundary, and the army of Antio¬
chus was signally defeated (b.c. 217). A treaty was soon
concluded, by which the king of Syria resigned his newly
Persecution acquired territories. At Jerusalem, and after his return to
of the Jews. Egypt, Ptolemy treated the Jews in a cruel manner, but
afterwards stayed the persecution. Towards the close of
his reign, he murdered Arsinoe, his sister and queen, and
died, worn out by his vices, and unregretted by his subjects.
With no good quality but a respect for letters and science,
Philopator’s character was marked by cruelty of the basest
description, and by the greatest debauchery, and with him
began the decline of the Greek kingdom of Egypt.
PtolemyV., Ptolemy Epiphanes, the son of Philopator, was yet a
Epiphanes. child when he succeeded his father (b.c. 205). His reign
was ushered in by a serious riot, in which the guilty minis¬
ter and favourites of the late king fell victims to the ven¬
geance of the people. This disturbance was followed by a
graver danger, for Antiochus the Great, the king of Syria,
and Philip IV. of Macedonia, formed an alliance in order
to strip the young king of his possessions. Antiochus de¬
feated the forces of Ptolemy, and speedily acquired Ccele-
Syria and Phoenicia, as well as Judea, being supported
by the Jews, who had hitherto been governed by the
kings of Egypt. In this juncture those who ruled Egypt
for the young king requested the Roman people to be¬
come his guardians, now that the very existence of the
kingdom was threatened by such formidable enemies. The
senate of Rome did not hesitate to accept a trust which
promised so greatly to forward their ambitious views, and
having recently overthrown Hannibal and crushed the power
of Carthage, they felt able to support their client against
the kings of Syria and Macedonia. Accordingly, they de¬
spatched messages to those sovereigns commanding them to
abstain from attacking Ptolemy’s dominions, and Marcus Le-
pidus, one of their ambassadors, became Ptolemy’s guardian
{tutor regis). Antiochus did not, however, desist from his
enterprise ; but being at length intimidated by a second
warning of the displeasure of Rome, he entered into a
treaty with Egypt, promising his daughter to the young king
with the conquered territory as a marriage portion (b.c. 199).
Before Epiphanes had attained his majority, the native
Egyptians revolted, and were not reduced without a severe
contest. They stood a siege in the town of Lycopolis, in
the Delta, but the place was at length captured and the
rebels subdued. In the year b.c. 196, the king was de¬
clared to be of age, and was crowned at Memphis. To Coronation
commemorate this event, as well as the privileges which had of Ptolemy
been granted by the king to the people, and particularly to
the priesthood, the priests issued a decree, of which copies,
carved on stone, were placed in the temples. One of these
copies was fortunately discovered during the French occu¬
pation ; and, bearing an inscription in Greek as well as in
hieroglyphic and enchorial, it furnished European scholars
with the means of interpreting the ancient characters of
Egypt. This tablet, which is now in the British Museum, Rosetta
bears the name of the “ Rosetta Stone.” Three years after Stone,
his coronation, Cleopatra the daughter of Antiochus was
married to Ptolemy, in fulfilment of the treaty previously
concluded; but her promised marriage-portion of Judea,
Ccele-Syria, and Phoenicia, was never given up by the king
of Syria, who appears to have warred against Ptolemy as
soon as he became his son-in-law. The king of Egypt made
scarcely an exertion to recover his provinces, and at length
fell a victim to poison, having reigned 24 years with indo¬
lence, incapacity, and cruelty.
Ptolemy Philometor came to the throne of his father Ptolemy
while yet a child (b.c. 181), and Egypt had again a minor VI., Philo-
for its sovereign. His mother Cleopatra, who was worthy metor-
of her father Antiochus the Great, governed the country
for the young king, and maintained peace with her brothers
Seleucus IV. and Antiochus (IV.) Epiphanes, kings of Syria.
Ptolemy, after a few years, had the misfortune to lose his
mother (b.c. 173), and then, through the headstrong policy
of his ministers, to become involved in a war with the king
of Syria. Antiochus soon marched against Egypt, routed the
army of Ptolemy near Pelusium, took Memphis, and gained
possession of the person of the king. His younger brother
assumed the sovereignty at Alexandria, taking the name of
Euergetes(II.), although he was usually known afterwards as
Physcon, an appellation which he received on account of the
bloated appearance which his intemperate habits had given
him. Antiochus besieged the new king in Alexandria, but
ambassadors from Rome having arrived during the siege
compelled him to withdraw, retaining nothing but Pelusium,
which he garrisoned with a strong force. He took away great
spoil, so that the expedition cannot be regarded as having
been wholly fruitless. On the departure of the invader, Ptolemy
Philometor and Euergetes made peace with one another, VI., Philo-
determining to rule jointly, and Cleopatra their sister, who yjj0r’^lth
had taken part with Euergetes, became the queen of Phi-^^’ ^s’
lometor (b.c. 169). In the following year (b.c. 168) the
restless Antiochus again invaded the kingdom of his ne¬
phews, while his fleet subjugated Cyprus, but after penetrat¬
ing into the heart of Egypt, was forced to retreat as before
by the Roman ambassadors. Not long after this, strife
again arose between the brothers, and Physcon having
expelled Philometor, the latter carried his case before the
Roman senate (b.c. 164). That council decided to restore
Philometor to all his dominions excepting Cyrene, which Ptolemy
they assigned to Physcon. In the ensuing year, however, VI., Philo-
Physcon went to Rome to request the senate to reconsider IIiietor
their decision, and grant him Cyprus which was now in his ^one-
brother’s hands, and to this petition they assented. Phi¬
lometor, however, would not obey this order, and the Ro¬
mans ultimately renounced their alliance with him, and
commanded his ambassadors to leave the city in five days.
EGYPT.
470
Egypt. In the meantime Cyrene had risen against Physcon, and
when he had subdued the people with difficulty, he again
visited Rome to prosecute his cause (b.c. 154). Strength¬
ened by a fresh decision of the senate, and otherwise aided
by that body, Physcon, having raised an army, attempted
to subdue Cyprus. His brother opposed him in person,
leading the Egyptian forces, and having defeated him, forced
him to surrender. Philometor most generously restored
Cyrene to Physcon, and granted him other territories in
the place of Cyprus: thus showing extraordinary clemency
to which the history of the times scarcely affords a parallel,
not less remarkable than the courage with which he re¬
fused to obey an unjust decision of the Roman senate.
tVar in Philometor was next involved in war with Demetrius (I.)
Syria. Soter, the king of Syria, and lent his support to Alexander
(I.) Balas, who slew his adversary in battle. Having,
however, discovered that Alexander was engaged in plot-
ing against him, Philometor aided Demetrius (II.) Nica-
tor in overthowing his father’s enemy. In a decisive battle
Ptolemy fell, having been carried by his horse into the
midst of the enemy’s forces, and thus terminated his long
and chequered reign. If not a great king, he was cer¬
tainly a good one, brave without cruelty, and merciful
without weakness. Literature and science flourished under
his protection, and magnificent temples were raised, or
partly built, during his rule. Not the least remarkable
proof of his enlightenment was the favour he showed the
Jews, one event in whose history must not be passed by
without notice. When Judea passed from the hands of the
Ptolemies into those of the Seleucidae, certain of the Jews
continued to hold with the former, not forgetting the fa¬
vours they had received from some of the kings of Egypt.
Onias the high priest, and many others, having been expelled
Jerusalem for this partiality, took refuge with the king of
Egypt, who granted them land near Heliopolis, and permitted
them to raise there a temple for their own worship. This con¬
tributed greatly to strengthen the Egyptian Jews as a party,
and their importance did not cease until the temple was
closed, not long after the destruction of that of Jerusalem.
Ptolemy The reign of Physcon (b.c. 146) presents a dark contrast
VII., Phys- to that of his predecessor. He immediately took the crown
con. from his brother’s son and rightful successor, who had been
proclaimed king by his mother Cleopatra. Having married
her, Physcon put her son to death on the very day of the
nuptials; and the greatest barbarity was shown towards his
subjects. He next repudiated his wife, to marry his niece
and stepdaughter, her younger daughter, Cleopatra Cocce.
At length, the people, indignant at his cruelty and oppres¬
sion, rose and forced the tyrant to take refuge in Cyprus
Cleopatra. His repudiated queen, Cleopatra, was set up in his stead,
and he revenged himself by murdering the son he had
by her. The queen and the Egyptians sent an army to op¬
pose one which Physcon had despatched against them, but
their force was defeated on the eastern border of Egypt.
Cleopatra sought aid of Demetrius II., king of Syria, who
had married her eldest daughter; but that prince was unable
effectually to assist her, being recalled after he had marched
to Egypt by a revolt at Antioch. The queen had no re¬
source but to flee to Syria, and Physcon recovered his throne
Ptolemy (b.c. 127). He soon found occasion to punish Demetrius,
\ II., Phys- t,y setting up an impostor, Alexander (II.) Zebina, who de-
con, again. feate(j ancj pu(. tQ death t]ie king of Syria. Ptolemy then
made peace with Cleopatra, who came again to Egypt, and
was honourably treated as the sovereign’s sister and former
queen. He then supported Antiochus Grypus in regain¬
ing his father’s kingdom by the overthrow of Alexander.
At last his long reign came to a close, to the great joy of
his subjects; and Egypt was relieved from one who was
perhaps the worst sovereign who ever ruled that un-
happy country. He was ambitious, extremely cruel, in¬
temperate, and debauched; and, though not an enemy
to literature, could not pardon the political offences of its Egypt,
professors.
Ptolemy Lathyrus succeeded his father (b.c. 117), ruling Ptolemy
jointly with his mother, the ambitious and cruel Cleopatra VIII., La-
Cocce. The kingdom of Cyrene had been already given by thyrms, anci
Physcon, at his death, to his natural son Ptolemy Apion; Cleopatra
and the island of Cyprus was given to Ptolemy Alexander, Cocce-
the younger brother of Lathyrus, who afterwards made it a
monarchy. Cleopatra next expelled Lathyrus, because he
would not be governed by her, and he took possession of
the kingdom of Cyprus, while Alexander gained the throne Ptolemy
of Egypt (b.c. 107). Lathyrus w^as soon invited to support IX,> Alex'
cities on the coast of Palestine against Alexander Jannseus, an I'’
the king of Judea, and he conducted a successful campaign, tra Cocce.3'
in which he defeated the army of Jannaeus in a sanguinary
conflict. His mother Cleopatra, however, having taken vi¬
gorous measures, and accompanied one of her armies into
Palestine, checked the successes of Lathyrus, and ultimately
both sovereigns retired to their own dominions. The armies
of Cleopatra were led by two Jewish generals, Chelcias and
Ananias. Ptolemy Alexander, finding that he possessed
nothing but the shadow of sovereignty, fled from Egypt.
Cleopatra endeavoured to persuade him to return, while she
laid a plot for his life, which he met with a counter-plot, and,
as he arrived in Egypt, his mother was murdered (b.c. 90).
After a brief rule the parricide was driven out by the Alex¬
andrians, and at length slain in a combat with the fleet of
Chaereas, an admiral of Lathyrus. Little need be said of
the character of Cleopatra Cocce, and that of her younger
son Alexander I., but that the former was as strong in cha¬
racter as the latter was weak, while both excelled in wicked¬
ness. The history, indeed, of the later Ptolemies and Se¬
leucidae presents an appalling picture of cruelty and vice, to
which we can scarcely find a parallel.
Ptolemy Lathyrus was recalled from Cyprus to fill the Etolemy
throne left vacant at his brother’s flight (b.c. 89). The mostIX'’
memorable event of this part of his reign was the revolt of st0J!ed."
Upper Egypt. The misrule of the preceding sovereigns had
aroused the natives to make a fresh effort for their inde¬
pendence. Ptolemy marched against them, defeated them
in battle, and laid siege to the ancient city of Thebes, their
stronghold. The insurgents offered a desperate resistance,
and tor three years was the city beleaguered in vain. At
last it was taken, and the bravery of its defenders punished
by its being sacked and destroyed. Even the temples were
not spared ; and while wre deplore the damage that they
sustained during the siege and at the razing of the town, we
are not displeased to find such records of a noble resistance
in structures commemorating the ancien't glories of the race.
Nothing else worthy of notice marked the later years of
Lathyrus, who left the reputation of an able and warlike,
but cruel king.
The daughter of Lathyrus, and widow of his brother Cleopatra
Alexander, Cleopatra or Berenice, succeeded her father (b.c. °1' *!ere'
82) ; but her rule was of very short duration, for her step- mce'
son, Ptolemy Alexander II., was sent from Rome by Sylla Ptolemy
to assume the crown and marry Cleopatra. On the day of^^1^"
the nuptials he murdered the unhappy queen, after sheaD c
had governed about half-a-year. This crime aroused the
indignation of the king’s guards, who deservedly punished
it with death. It is most probable that this was the Ptolemy
who left his kingdom to the Roman people, whose pa¬
tronage he had enjoyed, by his will; but motives of policy
prevented their grasping at once at the prize. Ptolemy Ptolemy
Neus Dionysus, commonly known by the surname which XJe’g u"
was given him of Auletes, or the Flute-player, next as¬
cended the throne (b.c. 81). The first part of his rule was
passed in tranquillity, but he earned the dislike of his sub¬
jects by a vicious and disorderly life, until, in the twenty
fourth year of his reign, he found himself obliged to flee
from Egypt (b.c. 58). The immediate cause was perhaps
Egypt.
Cleopatra
Trypheena,
and Bere¬
nice.
Ptolemy
XL,
Auletes,
restored.
Cleopatra
and Pto¬
lemy XII.
Murder of
Pompey.
Caesar at
Alexan¬
dria.
EGYPT.
the seizure of Cyprus by the Romans, who dispossessed his
brother Ptolemy, king of that island, and made his dominions
a Roman province. The Egyptians, incensed at this exer¬
cise of grasping ambition, pressed Auletes to demand the
island, which had been ruled by the preceding kings of
Egypt or a prince of the family, and, in the event of a
denial, to declare war against the Romans. On the king’s
refusal to adopt this line of policy, a revolt was excited,
and he fled to Rome from Alexandria. Immediately
that the king had left, his wife and daughter, Cleopatra
Tryphaena and Berenice, were chosen to succeed him as
joint sovereigns. After having ruled for a year, Cleo¬
patra died, and Berenice married Seleucus, surnamed Cy-
biosactes, or the Scullion, the son of Antiochus Grypus.
He was soon murdered, by his wife’s orders; and she took
a second husband, Archelaus, who pretended to be a son of
Mithradates1 the Great, king of Pontus. Having reigned
two years more, she lost her power and her life on her
father’s restoration, which thus happened: Auletes had
previously learned by experience that the great Roman
aristocrats were not insensible to the effects of bribery, and
on reaching Rome he occupied himself in securing by this
means the interest of the chief senators. Although he was
thus far successful, various difficulties arose which prevented
his gaining the assistance of a Roman army until his exile
had lasted for three years, which he spent at Rome and
Ephesus. He then went to Syria, being strongly recom¬
mended by Pompey to the proconsul Gabinius, and sup¬
ported his proposals with an enormous bribe of ten thou¬
sand talents. Gabinius, taking the king with him, marched
against Egypt, defeated the army which opposed his passage,
subjugated the country, and restored Auletes (b.c. 55),
who at once put his daughter to death. In this expedi¬
tion, Mark Antony served as an officer of Gabinius, and
thus visited the country which was to witness his future
greatness and fall. From this time Ptolemy Auletes ruled
without opposition until his death, which occurred in the
year b.c. 51. He left his kingdom to the joint govern¬
ment of his eldest children, Cleopatra and Ptolemy, whose
rights he trusted to the protection of the Roman people.
Pothinus, the governor of Egypt, did not, however, scruple
to set aside Cleopatra, and make Ptolemy sole sovereign
under his tutelage. Cleopatra, although but about twenty
years of age, acted at once with a vigour that was worthy
of the better times of the Ptolemies ; and having fled into
Syria, succeeded in bringing together an army', with which
she advanced to Egypt in the second or third year after
her father’s death. Ptolemy’s army was sent to Pelusium
to oppose her entrance, and, at this important juncture,
Pompey, fleeing from the fatal field of Pharsalia, landed on
the Egyptian shore, and put himself in the hands of Ptole¬
my’s ministers. Forgetful of the benefits which Auletes had
received from the great Roman in his exile, and in defiance
of their plighted words, they murdered the guest—affording
by this crime one of the many instances of the utterly cor¬
rupt state of the ruling class at that period. Caesar had lost
no time in pursuing his vanquished rivaland not long after,
disembarked with a small but efficient force of four thousand
men at Alexandria. Being now rid of his fears of Pompey,
he set himself to arrange the affairs of Egypt. The army
led by Achillas, which had been sent against Cleopatra, re¬
turned to Alexandria, and closely invested that part of the
city which was held by Caesar’s force. A sanguinary con¬
test ensued, in the course of which the famous Library
perished by fire, and thus the learning which had formed
the chief ornament of the capital received a fatal blow.
Notwithstanding the smallness of his army, Caesar was able
471
to maintain his position, and was strengthened by the ar- Egypt,
rival of Cleopatra, who reached Alexandria in disguise,
having left her army near Pelusium. The attractions of
the young queen had at once engaged Caesar in her favour,
and he had determined to make her sole ruler, to the preju¬
dice of her brother. Ptolemy, feeling himself to be unjustly
used, determined to regain the throne by arms ; and a war
ensued, which lasted for several months, until, on the ar¬
rival of reinforcements to Caesar’s army, the young king was
vanquished, and perished by drowning in an engagement,
probably near the sea-coast (b.c. 48 or 47). Not long
after this, Caesar left Egypt, having established the power
of Cleopatra, with whom he associated in the government Cleopatra
her young brother Ptolemy, who was then betrothed to her an(i Eto-
at a tender age. Egypt was so thoroughly reduced tolemyX111-
order by these measures that Cleopatra did not fear to
leave the country, and reside for a time at Rome with
Caesar, whence she returned subsequently to his murder.
Shortly afterwards, it is believed—but this is not certain
—she put young Ptolemy, her brother and nominal hus¬
band, to death, fearing that he would become too power¬
ful for her. Cleopatra did not take any decided part Cleopatra
in the struggle for power which followed the murder of alone.
Caesar, and on the fall of Brutus and Cassius, Antony
summoned her to Tarsus, to explain this ambiguous course
(b.c. 41). Mark A ntony was as easily vanquished as Caesar
had been by the captivating queen of Egypt. Thence¬
forward Antony and Cleopatra ruled together, and the Rule of
events of this period belong rather to Roman history Antony
than to Egyptian. The chief part of this time, in which an<1 / le0*
a great empire might have been consolidated, was spent * 1
by Antony in pleasure and vice; and by degrees he lost
his influence over his fellow-countrymen, which passed
into the hands of the politic Octavianus. Defeated in the
one naval fight at Actium (b.c. 31), Antony was forsaken Battle of
by his former courage, and fled with Cleopatra to Egypt. Actlum'
When Octavianus invaded the country, they offered no
adequate resistance; and both, in despair, perished by
their own hands—Antony, partly because Cleopatra had
given out that she was dead, Cleopatra, partly because An¬
tony had perished; but both, also, to escape that treatment
which they knew they would receive at the hands of their
heartless conquei'or. So ended the great Dynasty of the
Lagidse, after having endured for nearly three hundred
years. Cleopatra was not unworthy to be the last of that
great line, whose virtues and faults she combined in a high
degree. In person she does not seem to have been very
beautiful, but rather excelling in grace of manner and every
winning art. Busts and coins would lead us to the former
supposition, and the latter would naturally follow. Her
knowledge was extensive, and she was acquainted with many
languages. Literature and science met with her encourage¬
ment ; and she endeavoured to restore the Library of Alex¬
andria, by having transported thither the rival collection of
the kings of Pergamus. Ambition was her ruling passion,
and to it she sacrificed her maidenly honour and the ties of
relationship. Although she was famous for the luxury of
her court, it is most probable that she maintained that
manner of life rather to govern those who governed the
world, and to display her magnificence, than for pleasure’s
sake. The jprincess who ruled, not alone the affections,
but the fierce wills of Julius Caesar and Mark Antony;
who upheld a tottering monarchy, and made those who
subdued it raise it to an empire ; who fell at last through
the strange weakness of Antony, and the treachery of his
followers, and feared not to die by her own hand, must take
rank among the greatest of historical characters. The Ro-
1 It is much to be regretted that the carelessness of ancient historians, or their copyists, should have introduced a false orthography
of this name, which is now almost always written Mithridates. The inscriptions of ancient coins, for example, of the silver tetradrachms
of Mithradates the Great, some of which bear a wonderfully fine portrait of this king, as well as the etymology of the name, warrant the
adoption of Mithradates as the true form.
472
EGYPT.
Egypt- mans, who are ever ungenerous to their enemies, paint her
—character in dark colours, hating her because she governed
theirfairest provinces and their most renowned generals. But
if we remember in what court she was trained, and consider
the manners of that time and country ; if we extend to her
faults that indulgence that many have granted to those of
Caesar and Antony ; if we recollect her love of learning, and
have paced the stately temples which she raised, we shall ac¬
knowledge her one of the greatest sovereigns of the ancient
world, not inferior to Catherine of Russia, who, in a Chris¬
tian country and an enlightened age, committed the same
crimes, but met not with the same condemnation. Her
death itself, praiseworthy according to the religion of those
days, was
 “ well done, and fitting for a princess
Descended of so many royal kings.”1
Egypt When Egypt thus fell into the power of Augustus (b.c. 30),
under the its condition may be likened to what it was when Alexander
Romans, acquired possession of the country. The internecine wars and
Augustus. misru]e 0f t]ie ]ater Ptolemies had gradually lessened the
good which their predecessors of the same line had effected.
Taxation had increased, commerce had dwindled; and in one
particular the future of Egypt was yet darker, for the three
centuries of Greek rule had tended to weaken Egyptian
nationality, by making the natives either Greeks or slaves.
If Greeks, they scarcely looked to Egypt as their country ;
if slaves, they had no higher hopes than for a mild ruler.
The system of government which Augustus introduced was
not one tending to better the province and its inhabitants.
It seems to have been framed so as to crush national feeling
among either the Egyptians or the Greeks settled in Egypt,
and to prevent the Roman prefect who governed the country
from making use of its resources to render himself inde¬
pendent ; and, at the same time, so as to carry out these
objects without, as far as possible, diminishing the produc¬
tiveness of the province. The prefecture and the most
important of the inferior offices were given to Romans alone,
the rest were held by Greeks or Egyptians. The country
was garrisoned and protected by two legions, part of which
was stationed beyond the frontiers, and by a small force of
German horse. The new rulers at first imitated their pre¬
decessors, in causing temples to be built, or in adding to
those which were already raised; but after the second century
of Roman government, these and other public edifices were
comparatively neglected.2 * * * *
yElius Gal- iElius Gallus, a prefect of Egypt under Augustus, made an
lus, the unfruitful expedition against Arabia Felix, but was afterwards
prefect. more fortunate in punishing an inroad of the Ethiopians.
Gallus not only defeated the invaders, but in his pursuit
penetrated to Napata, the capital of Candace, their queen,
and captured that city. From this time no events of interest
mark the history of the province until the reign of Vespa-
Vespaaian. sian. Under him the Jews of Egypt met with several
persecutions. They had previously been embroiled with
the Greeks at Alexandria, and had been on one occasion
cruelly treated for refusing to worship the statue of Cali¬
gula. But in the reign of Vespasian their temple, which
Onias had founded, was closed, and they did not escape
some share of the treatment which their fellow-countrymen
Trajan. in Judea received at the hands of the Romans. In Trajan’s
reign they revolted (a.d. 115-117), and were not subdued
until much blood had been shed. Hitherto they had held equal
privileges with the Greek inhabitants, but at this period they
forfeited these advantages, and were afterwards considered
to be no better than the native Egyptians. In the next
reign the Emperor Hadrian, during his inspection of the Egypt,
provinces, visited Egypt (a.d. 130), as well as on a subse-
quent occasion (a.d. 134). He endeavoured to benefit the Hadrian
people by (as he himself says) renewing their old privi- visits
leges and granting new ones. In the reign of Antoninus Egypt.
Pius a Sothic Cycle commenced in the year a.d. 138, an Antoninus j
event which is commemorated on the coins of Alexandria. Pius.
The preceding great period had commenced b.c. 1322, A Sothic I
when the kingdom of the Pharaohs was, under Sethee I., Cycle com-
in its most prosperous state ; and now, when the unchanged mences.
cycle again began its course, how changed was Egypt!
The country was a province ruled by a race whose tradi¬
tionary history ascends only to a time after Egypt had al¬
ready declined, the people were enslaved, the religion was
on its wane, the priestly learning well nigh gone, the arts
and sciences forgotten by them who had taught them to
the western world. The few wdio knew of the earlier cycle
must have watched with a melancholy interest the birth of
the present one, fearing that it would live to witness the
ruin of all they revered, and the fulfilment of that prediction
which has come down to us under the name of Hermes
Trismegistus, describing the state of Egypt for many cen¬
turies past with a painful truthfulness. Another Sothic
cycle began a.d. 1598, not long after the independence of
Egypt had received its last blow, and that crushing despotism
of Turkey had commenced which was to destroy not only
the memory of the past and the happiness of the present,
but the hope for the future.
After various troubles, principally occasioned by the tur¬
bulence of the Alexandrians and the inroads of barbarous
tribes, a serious rebellion distinguished the reign of Marcus Rebellion
Aurelius. The prefect of Egypt, Avidius Cassius, having in reign of
suppressed a serious revolt, assumed the purple (a.d. 175), Marcus
and was acknowledged as emperor by the armies of Syria Aure 1US-
and Egypt. On the approach of Marcus Aurelius, the
usurper was slain by his adherents, and his party at once
gave way, and were treated by the emperor with the utmost
clemency. Not many years afterwards, Pescennius Niger, Pescennius
who commanded the forces in Egypt, was proclaimed em- .Niger,
peror in the place of the murdered Pertinax (a.d. 193);
but, after a short rule, was overthrown by his rival Severus. Septimius
The new emperor, perhaps because Niger was chosen by Severus.
the Roman army rather than by the Egyptian people, did
not use severity towards the province; on the contrary,
when he visited it he bestowed great privileges upon the
Alexandrians. Nevertheless, his reign was marked by the The Chris-
first persecution of the Christians of Egypt, the prelude to tia™ perse-
many others. Although we cannot be sure when Chris- cu e
tianity w7as introduced into Egypt, it early obtained a nu¬
merous body of followers there, and by this period included
among their number many of the learned and the powerful.
The schools of Alexandria had gradually declined from the
days of the earlier Ptolemies, until they had become the
homes of sophistry and magic arts ; but now the doctrines
of the new religion raised a fresh class of learned men, and
the very pagans gained knowledge by endeavouring to op¬
pose them. In the next reign a great calamity befel the
Alexandrians, for Caracalla, in revenge for an affront which Caracalla.
they had offered him, signalized his visit by a wholesale
massacre of the unfortunate citizens, and by other acts of
tyranny. Another persecution of the Christians occurred Trajanus
in the reign of Trajanus Decius (a.d. 250); and about the Decius.
same period commenced those theological disputes which
henceforward form the most remarkable subjects of the
history of Egypt until the Muslim conquest. During
1 Antony and Cleopatra, act 5, scene 2.
2 The materials for the history of Egypt under the Romans are principally found in the works of the following writers : Abu’l Faraj
(or Abulfaragius), Ammianus Marcellinus, St Athanasius, Cassiodorus, Bpiphanius, Dion Cassius, Eusebius, Eutychius, Herodian, St
Jerome, Josephus, Lampridius, Leontius, Lucian, Nicephorus, Philo Judaeus, Pliny, Plutarch, Porphyry, Procopius, Ptolemy, Rufinus, \
Seneca, Socrates the ecclesiastical historian, Sozomen, Spartianus, Strabo, Suetonius, Tacitus, Tertullian, Theodoret, Theophanes, Flavius
Vopiscus, and Zosimus, and in the Chronicon Alexandrinum,
Egypt.
iEmili-
anus.
Zenobia
conquers
Egypt.
Revolt of
Achilles.
Edict
against the
Christians.
Constan¬
tine the
Great.
The Arian
contro¬
versy.
Council of
Mcsea.
EGYPT.
473
the troublous reign of Gallienus, J^milianus was proclaimed
emperor by the troops at Alexandria; but after governing
a short time w'ith decision and activity, he was defeated and
taken prisoner by the general of the forces of Gallienus. At
the close of his reign, Zenobia, the ambitious queen of Pal¬
myra, attempted to wrest Egypt from the Romans; but,
although successful in a battle with the emperor’s forces, her
army was unable to gain possession of the country. Two
years subsequently, Zenobia reduced Egypt to her rule,
a little before her overthrow by Aurelian. Not long after¬
wards Egypt rose against Aurelian, and Firmus, who seems
to have been elevated to the dangerous dignity by the native
population, was proclaimed emperor (a.d. 272). In order to
subdue this powerful rival, Aurelian led an army against him;
and succeeded in accomplishing his overthrow. Probus,
who had governed Egypt for Aurelian and Tacitus, was
chosen by the troops in Egypt, at the death of the latter
sovereign, as his successor, and speedily acquired the rest
of the empire.
The reign of Diocletian ushers in a more prosperous pe¬
riod of Roman history, when stern military despots knew
how" to curb the turbulent soldiery, who had been so long
used to make and unmake kings ; but to Egypt the time of
his rule was one of great misfortunes, marked by a serious
rebellion and a terrible persecution. Early in his reign
(a.d. 288) Egypt revolted, and Achilles was raised to the
purple. A long struggle ensued, which was only terminated
by the arrival of Diocletian, who took the strongholds of
the rebels, and reduced the country, or at least the greater
part of it, to obedience (a.d. 292). The chief of the in¬
surgents, however, was not taken, and having again raised
his standard after the emperor’s departure, he gained pos¬
session of Alexandria. The revolt was of so important a
character, that Diocletian returned to Egypt to quell it.
Achilles having shut himself up in Alexandria, made a de¬
termined resistance ; but at length the city was taken, and
with his life he paid the penalty of his daring (a.d. 297).
Several years alter this, the cruel emperor published that
famous edict against the Christians (a.d. 303), which caused
one of the hottest of the persecutions that tried the faith and
awakened the zeal of the early church. The events of that
time of suffering belong to ecclesiastical history, but it
should be mentioned here that from the commencement of
this reign (a.d. 284), which they call the JEra. of the Martyrs,
the Copts reckon their chronology, looking back to this as
the heroic period of the church in Egypt. Their traditions
and history alike are full of narratives of the constancy of
the holy men and women, of the monks and virgins, who
suffered at this time, and of whom the world was not worthy.
Would that the Coptic church—which has seldom fallen short
of the early days of Christianity in steadfast adherence to its
profession amidst many persecutions---had not lost the spiri¬
tual character of the primitive church. With the accession
of the politic Constantine (a.d. 323) the persecution, which
had continued until then with greater or less virulence,
came to a close, and the Christians recovered their liberty,
and were able even to hold themselves above the pagans.
Then commenced the great Arian controversy, which was
the means of bringing forward the zeal and abilities of
St Athanasius, the greatest archbishop of Alexandria. Arius,
wrho was a presbyter of the church of Alexandria, having
first broached those doctrines which have since been known
by his name, a controversy arose, which was referred to Con¬
stantine. The emperor wrote such a letter as one would
write who adopted Christianity as a matter of expediency,
and desired to use the church as a political weapon. He de¬
sired the disputants to cease from those questions, as though
men of strong will or firm belief could thus keep their con¬
victions to themselves, and refrain from propagating their
opinions or defending their faith. The contest continued,
and it became necessary to call a general council at Nicaea
VOL. VIII.
(a.d. 325), where Arius and his party were condemned. Egypt.
Subsequently, however, Arius appealed to Constantine,
who commanded St Athanasius (now archbishop of Alex¬
andria) to re-admit him into the church. St Athanasius
refused, and after some years was, by the emperor’s influ¬
ence, driven from his see and from Egypt. He returned
after the death of Constantine (a.d. 338), being supported
by Constantine II., but was afterwards again deposed by a
council held by Constantius II. (a.d. 341). The feelings
of the orthodox and the remonstrances of Constans in¬
duced Constantius to restore St Athanasius to the archie-
piscopate (a.d. 349); but when that emperor had become
monarch of all his father’s dominions he determined to
remove the obnoxious churchman, and forced him, after
a manly resistance, to escape from a post where he could
no longer continue without the prospect of being dragged
thence by the soldiery. An Arian, George, was after a
while forcibly installed in the vacant chair, and the ortho¬
dox experienced a cruel persecution. On the accession
of Julian the Apostate, George fell a victim to the fury of a Julian the
pagan mob, and St Athanasius returned to his see; but by an Apostate,
order of the emperor he was again banished. During the
reign of Julian, the Christians of Egypt, although not actually
persecuted, were treated with contempt, and all was done that
could tend to weaken them and strengthen the pagan party.
By Jovian St Athanasius was again recalled (a.d. 363),
but in the following reign (that of Valens) he was once
more deposed; but the emperor, probably yielding to
the strong feeling of the people, who would have taken
up arms to restore him, soon recalled him. At length Death and
he died in peace among his flock, and his memory is yet character
revered throughout Christendom, as that of one of the
stoutest upholders of the faith in a time of great troubles. * anasius
His firmness in refusing to obey the emperors against his
conscience, his moderation in abstaining from maintaining
himself by raising the people, his care for his flock whether
among them or absent, and his patience when persecuted,
all claim our admiration, and show us how it was that the
Egyptians supported him with such an entire devotion. The
emperor Valens appointed an Arian, Lucius, in his stead,
and the orthodox again suffered a persecution at the hands
of their opponents, supported by the authority of the state.
By Theodosius I. orthodoxy was not only restored, but Theodosius
paganism was abolished. The enforcement of the latter the Great,
part of his celebrated edict caused disturbances at Alex¬
andria, and the Christians seem to have exercised their
power with somewhat of cruelty; but before we condemn
them, we should remember what abominations had been
practised under the name of religion by the Greco-Egyp-
tians. At this time, however, it is very clear that much
had already been done to corrupt the simplicity of the
church in Egypt, and in particular monasticism had been Monasti-
carried to an extraordinary extreme. This is not the place cism.
in which to combat that institution, but it may be asserted,
without fear of controversy, that when a large proportion
of the population of a country take the monastic vows, and,
fleeing from active life, establish themselves not as solitaries,
but in settlements whether in the desert or in tracts other¬
wise uninhabited, we may fairly question the healthy con¬
dition of the church, and apprehend the injury to the state
which has arisen from such practices in Tartary and China
as well as other countries. During the weak reign of
Arcadius, Egypt was agitated by religious strife, between
those who held anthropomorphite doctrines, and the smaller
party which maintained the opinions of Origen. In the Theodo-
next reign, that of Theodosius II., the archbishop Cyril and sius II.
his adherents disgraced themselves by persecutions of the Cyril.
Jews and pagans. The former were expelled from Alex¬
andria, and the latter maltreated, especially Hypatia the
daughter of Theon, distinguished for her beauty as well as for
her learning, whom the clergy inhumanly murdered, with, it
3 o
474
Egypt.
EGYPT.
Marcian.
Separation
the Cop¬
tic church.
Council of
Chalcedon.
Basiliscus.
Zeno.
Byzantine
empire.
Anastasius,
Persian
invasion.
Justin I.
Justinian I
Closing of
the philo¬
sophic
schools.
Heraclius.
is said, Cyril’s connivance or approval. To such lengths
was intolerance carried by ascetic zeaL
Under the Emperor Marcian, the serious religious dis¬
pute which caused the separation of the Coptic church at¬
tained its height. Dioscurus, the archbishop of Alexandria,
supported a priest of the name of Eutyches, who had been ex¬
communicated for asserting the Monophysite doctrine of the
Egyptians. Indignant at this interference, the Greek bishops
called an oecumenical council at Chalcedon, and not only
condemned the Monophysites, but put Dioscurus and those
who held the same opinions beyond the pale of the church
(a.d. 451). A new archbishop of Alexandria, Proterius, was
installed by force of arms and not without a vigorous re¬
sistance, but after the emperor’s death he was murdered
by the people of Alexandria. The Monophysites were,
however, again put down, and for a time the orthodox party
remained in undisturbed possession of the supreme autho¬
rity. The Emperor Basiliscus, himself a Monophysite,
restored the Egyptian party to power, but on his death,
two years afterwards, troubles recommenced ; after a time,
however, the Alexandrians triumphed, and Zeno granted
them the rio;ht of choosing their own patriarch.
The commencement of the Byzantine empire, which is
rather a chronological enoch than a turning-point in history,
caused no changes in the condition of Egypt. The first
sovereign. Anastasius, did not disturb the ecclesiastical
system which he found in force, and the Egyptian or Jaco¬
bite party were unmolested during his reign. Although
thus exempt from ecclesiastical troubles of any magnitude,
Egypt was a prey to the forces of an invader. The Per¬
sians (a.d. 501) ravaged the country and menaced Alex¬
andria, but being manfully opposed, retired at length, leav¬
ing cruel traces of their pillage. In the reign of Justin I.,
troubles in the church again arose, the emperor desiring to
establish an orthodox archbishop, and the strife thus kindled
continued through his reign. Justinian I., although he
showed himself in many respects an able sovereign, load
not the wisdom to see that a tyrannical policy in religious
matters could only tend to estrange his Egyptian subjects.
Accordingly he appointed an orthodox or Melchite bishop,
who was followed by another; but the latter was expelled by
the Alexandrians. Upon this the emperor sent Apollinarius
as patriarch and prefect, with an armed force by which to
establish himself. By opposing violence to violence he
succeeded in putting down his opponents, but his conduct
would not have been justifiable in a governor and was atro¬
cious in a churchman. The reign of Justinian I. is further
marked by the final closing of the philosophic schools
throughout the empire, and the departure of the last of that
long line of learned men to whose industry we owe so much.
The first event of great importance after this was the
invasion and subjugation of Egypt by the forces of Chosroes,
or Khusroo Parvez, in the reign of Heraclius. In the
course of those brilliant campaigns by which the king of
Persia stripped Heraclius of all his eastern provinces as
far as the Bosphorus itself, one of his armies entered Egypt,
and reduced the country without opposition (a.d. 616).
This success was owing no less to the enmity of the Jaco¬
bites for the Melchites than to the weakness of the empire,
as was the subsequent Muslim conquest. The Persians
had the good sense to perceive that their rule would be
strengthened by favouring the native party, and, accord¬
ingly they raised a Jacobite, Benjamin, to the patriarchate,
from the office of bishop of the Alexandrian Monophysites.
After a few years of peaceful government, reverses overtook Egypt,
the Persians, and Egypt again fell under the dominion of
Pleraclius, who restored the orthodox party, but before the
close of his reign the country was conquered by the Arabs,
and was never again a pi’ovince of the Byzantine empire.
A review of the history of Egypt under the Romans Condition
presents a melancholy prospect of rapid decline, withCgypt
scarcely a single time of prosperity to enlighten its dreari-
ness. The main cause of this must have been the national and cau’e3
character of the Romans, who, although they conquered0f its de-
bravely, held firmly, and governed wisely, cared alone for dine,
the outward welfare of the provinces. They sought not to
inquire into the early history and former greatness of a
state they ruled, except to draw out its physical resources
and increase its commercial activity. Thus they did no¬
thing to raise the character of the native Egyptians, whose
affections were still occupied with the story of their former
power and the remains of their ancient religion. While
the Romans thus neglected the Egyptians, policy made
them treat the Greeks but little better, except that they
allowed them somewhat greater privileges, probably to
make their influence balance that of the far more numerous
Egyptians, and thus aid in maintaining a divided interest
in the country. In addition to this, Egypt was weakened
by the exactions of the governors and other officials.
Internal causes, moreover, had no little share in producing
the decline of the country. The people of Alexandria,
uniting the discontent of the inhabitants of a degraded
capital, with the ambition of men of letters, and the rest¬
lessness of an active commercial population, were con¬
stantly involved in dissensions among themselves and with
their rulers, which became graver with the decline of the
empire; while the native Egyptians, more and more op¬
pressed and subject to the incursions of nomad tribes,
relapsed into barbarism, but regained somewhat of their
ancient courage. Hence arose revolts which were quelled
with difficulty, and which had they been directed by mili¬
tary genius, and supported by an undivided people, would
have restored the independence of Egypt. When Chris¬
tianity acquired the ascendancy, religious contests took the
place of political strife, until they became intimately con¬
nected with politics in the resistance of the Egyptians to
the doctrines of the orthodox. Then national spirit was
aroused, and the Greek and Roman parties, now formed
into one, had to oppose the feeling of the whole country.
The emperors generally acted with a short-sighted policy,
and supported the foreign minority by employing force.
It was found necessary to intrust the protection of the
country to Greek or Roman soldiers alone, and thus when
first the army of Khusroo and then that of ’Omar invaded
Egypt, hatred for the Greeks, and the inability to defend
themselves, rendered its subjugation comparatively easy.
In the year 639 of our era, the eighteenth of the Flight,1 Conquest
Egypt was invaded by the Muslims under the celebrated by the
’ Amr Ibn-El-’A's (or, as some of the Arabian historians write Arabs‘
it, El-’A'see). Entering the country from Syria, at the head
of only 4000 men, he besieged Pelusium, and took it after
thirty days. This town was still considered the key of Egypt
on the Syrian frontier, and its capture was therefore an im¬
portant advantage which opened the country southwards to
the Arab general. He marched thence to ’Eyn-Shems, the
ancient Heliopolis, where he found the Greeks collected Battle at
in force, and commanded by John Mukowkis, or rather Hefi°Polls‘
John the Mukowkis, or Gureyg the Mukowkis,2 the governor
ar The years of the Muslim era are generally used in this portion of the history, as they are more convenient to oriental scholars, and
n 0 ofteIJ impossible to convert with exactitude into the corresponding years of our era, when the month in which an event took place is
ot specified. The principal dates are, however, given according to both methods of computation.
According to the Kamoos, “ the Mukowkis is a certain bird having a ring of black upon white, lil
.. . - ,  n o ~~ like the dove or pigeon; also, Gureyg
(in some copies Gureyh) the son of Meene (in the printed edition “ Meenee”), el-Kibtee (t. e., the Copt), the governor of Misr and Alex¬
andria, and the surname of every one who held dominion over these two cities.” Thus a kind of ring-dove seems to have been the sym-
EGYPT.
475
Siege of
Alexan¬
dria.
Arab lieu¬
tenants.
of Memphis, a native Egyptian. They offered a vigorous
defence, but were put to the rout, and ’Amr advanced to
the banks of the Nile and laid siege to Egyptian Babylon,
a fortress of great strength, and garrisoned by a Roman
legion. Here he received a reinforcement of 4000 Mus¬
lims, and after a protracted siege of seven months, he took
the place by assault.1 In an enemy’s country, and far from
all supplies, the small army of the Arabs was still in a
critical position, and unable to push on against the capital,
Alexandria, when the enmity of rival Christians and the
perfidy of Mukowkis decided the balance in their favour.
The persecutions which the Copts had suffered had greatly
embittered them against the Greeks; and, as Gibbon ob¬
serves, had “ converted a sect into a nation, and alienated
Egypt from their religion and government.” Mukowkis,
who governed Memphis, was in heart a Monophysite, and
had also withheld the tribute due at Constantinople; and
both he and his Coptic brethren, after the first resistance,
hailed the new invaders as their deliverers from the Greek
yoke. On the fall of Babylon they entered into a treaty
with the Arabs, engaging to pay to them a poll-tax of
two deenars on every adult male, and agreeing to furnish
them with supplies and assistance while completing the
subjugation of the country. Having concluded this treaty,
and founded the city of El-Fustat, on the site of his first
encampment on the banks of the Nile, with the mosque
known by his name, ’Amr marched against Alexandria; and
after overcoming many obstacles, and disputing the whole
way with the Greeks, who conducted their retreat, in the
face of a victorious army, with great ability, in twenty-two
days he appeared before it. Fresh warriors continued to
arrive from Syria to strengthen the besieging force; but
the defence was as obstinate as the attacks of the Muslims
were brilliant, and was protracted for fourteen months. At
length, on the 22d December 640,2 the metropolis of
Egypt, the first city of the East, capitulated; but it is said
that this conquest was only achieved with the sacrifice of
23,000 Muslims. Abu-l-Farag relates that ’Amr, wishing,
at the earnest request of John the Grammarian, to spare the
famous Library, wrote to the Khaleefeh ’Omar, asking his
instructions respecting it; and that he answered : “ As to
the books you have mentioned, if they contain what is
agreeable with the book of God, in the book of God is
sufficient without them; and if they contain what is con¬
trary to the book of God, there is no need of them; so
give orders for their destruction.” The historian adds,
that they were burnt in the public baths of the city, and
in the space of six months were consumed.3 The con¬
quest of the rest of Egypt was soon effected, and the
various strongholds successively fell into the hands of
the conquerors. Balinese (Oxyrhynchus), a town of
Middle Egypt, is stated to have withstood 16,000 Arabs
for several months, and to have cost them 5000 of their
number.4 * 6 7
’Amr governed the country with much wisdom for four
years, but was dismissed by ’Othman, who appointed in
fiis place Abd-Allah Ibn-Abee-Sarh. The latter reduced
Alexandria, which had been retaken by the Emperor Con-
stans II., and pushed his conquests beyond Africa Propria.
He died at Ascalon, in the year 35, having governed eleven Egypt.
years.6 His successor’s rule was short, and the next vice-
roy, Mohammad, son of the Khaleefeh Aboo-Bekr, on as¬
suming the reins of government, acted with such tyranny
towards the followers of’Othman, that Mu’awiyeh was com¬
pelled to despatch ’Amr to Egypt with a force from Syria,
and a great battle was fought between the two armies of
Muslims, in which Amr was again victorious. As a reward
for this service, he was a second time appointed governor
of Egypt, and he died there in the year 42.
From this time to a.d. 868, or for rather more than two
centuries, Egypt was governed by a succession of viceroys,
appointed by the Khaleefehs of Damascus and Baghdad,
Their period was distinguished by intestine troubles, and a
constant change of rulers, resulting from the caprice of the
Khaleefehs, or the vicissitudes of their fortunes. Here we
may mention, that shortly after the overthrow of the
Umawee Dynasty of Damascus, and the accession of the
House of Abbas, which ruled at Baghdad, the city of El-
Askar, immediately to the north-east of El-Fustat, was
founded, and the seat of government removed thither.
The site is without the walls of modern Cairo, and is marked
by extensive mounds of rubbish.
In a.d. 868 (a.h. 254) Ahmad, the son of Tooloon, a Dynasty of
Turkish slave who held a high office at Baghdad, was ap- the Benee-
pointed governor of the province of Misr by the Khaleefeh ^mad1*
El-Moatezz, and not long after of that of Alexandria also, by n>n_Too-
his successor El-Muhtedee. After a rule of about a year ioon,
as viceroy, in self-defence he threw off his temporal alle¬
giance to the Khaleefeh and proclaimed himself sovereign
of Egypt; but at the same time he endeavoured to avoid
a complete rupture by continuing the prayer for the Prince
of the Faithful in the mosques, and the mention of his name
on the coins which he struck.7 Later in his reign, how¬
ever, he forbade the mention of the Khaleefeh’s brother and
colleague, El-Muwaffik, in the prayers and state-documents
of Egypt, and El-Muhtedee, who was a weak prince, was
prevailed on to denounce him publicly as a traitor from the
pulpits throughout his dominions. Yet that he secretly
favoured him is proved by his vain attempt to escape to
Egypt from the tyranny of his warlike brother. Ahmad
founded the Dynasty of the Benee-Tooloon, which lasted
for a period of 37 years, and consisted of princes of his
own family. He built the royal city of El-Katae’, between
El-Askar and Mount Mukattam, enriched it with splendid
buildings and constituted it the seat of his government.
Its site is now covered with ruins, only his great mosque
remaining, a proud example of his wealth and magnificence,
still the largest mosque of Cairo, and curious as presenting
the earliest specimens of the pointed arch. The reign of
this vigorous and wise prince was remarkable for prosperity
at home and conquests abroad. He took El-Barkah, and
in Syria, in 264, captured Hims, Hamah, and Aleppo ;
after which he proceeded to Antioch, and the governor re¬
fusing to surrender, he took that city by storm. He then
advanced towards Tarsus, but his supplies failing, he was
compelled to retire. About five years later Bedr-ed-Deen
Lulu, his deputy, and governor of Aleppo, Kinnasreen, and
Hims in Syria, and of Diyar Mudar in Mesopotamia, re-
1 Abu-l-Fida, Annales Muslemici, ed. Reiske. El-Mekeen (Elmacin Historia Saracenica).
2 El-Mekeen. Eutychius, Annales.
3 This tradition is, we believe, only mentioned fully by Abu-l-Farag, but he was a Christian, and Muslim writers would consider it
an occurrence of no importance. Abd-el-Lateef merely says, “here was the library which ’Amr Ibn-El-’A's burned by permission of
’Omar ; ” and El-Makreezee, speaking of Pompey’s Pillar, says, “ it is said that this pillar is one of those which stood in the portico of
Aristotle, who there taught philosophy, and that his academy contained a library which ’Amr Ibn-El-’A's burned by direction of ’Omar.”
See the Englishwoman in Egypt, vol. i., p. 40, et seqq.
4 Aboo-Abd-Allah Ibn-Mohammad Bl-Makkaree, MS. in the possession of Sir Gardner Wilkinson, cited in his Modern Egypt and
Thebes, vol. ii., p. 473. e El-Is-hakee, MS.
6 El-Makreezee in his Kitdb el-Mawa'idh wa-l-Iatibdr fee Dhikr el-Khitat wa-l-A'thdr, MS.
7 For an account of his coinage, and that of his successors, as well as of the Ikhsheedeeyeh, see a paper in the Numismatic Chronlcle%
vol. xvii., No. Ixv., p. 116, et seqq., July 1854; and plate in No. Ixvi.
476
Egypt.
Khumara-
weyh.
EGYPT.
Geysh.
Haroon.
Egypt sub'
jugated by
the Abba-
Arab lieu¬
tenants.
Unsuccess¬
ful inva¬
sion by
El-Mahdee
volted and entered into a league with El-Muwaffik. It was
apparently in an expedition against this rebel that Ahmad
died, at Antioch, in the year 270.
Khumaraweyh, on the death of his father, was appointed
his successor by the army, he being then twenty years old,
in the days of El-Moatemid bi-llah, and he inherited a king¬
dom extending from the Euphrates to Nubia. He fought a
battle with the forces of the Khaleefeh, commanded by a son
of El-Muwaffik (afterwards the Khaleefeh El-Moatedid), be¬
tween Damascus and Ramleh ; in which his army gained the
victory, although, if we may believe Abu-l-Fida, he himself
fled the scene of action in a panic, and his troops continued
the fight without him. Ibn-KhallikrLn says that, when El-
Moatemid died and El-Moatedid succeeded him, Khumar¬
aweyh hastened to him with presents and asked him to
marry his daughter, Katr-en-Neda, whose name was also
Asma, to El-Muktefee bi-llah, son and appointed successor
of El-Moatedid; but that El-Moatedid said, “ Nay, but I
will marry her to myself; ” and, the biographer adds, this,
they say, he did to impoverish Khumaraweyh, in which he
succeeded.1 In 281 he made an incursion into the Greek
territory, and died in the following year. It is said that he
was fearful of assassination ; to avoid which he had trained
a lion to guard him when asleep.2 His fears were justified ;
for he was put to death by his women, or, according to
some, by his eunuchs, at Damascus.
His son, Geysh Abu-1-Asakir, succeeded him. This
prince was killed in about eight months; his youth, which
rendered him unfit to govern, occasioned his fall; for he had
discarded from his society those who were in favour with
his father, and associated with none but worthless men. He
was succeeded by his brother, Haroon, the principal events of
the period of whose rule were a great tempest and earth¬
quake in Egypt in 286, and a treaty which he concluded
with the Khaleefeh, by which the provinces of Awasim and
Kinnasreen were ceded to him.3 He reigned upwards of
eight years, but gave himself up to pleasure, and was put
to death by his uncles Sheyban and ’Adee, sons of the
founder of the dynasty, the former of whom usurped the
government.4 In the meantime, at the instigation of the
■ generals of Haroon, Mohammad Ibn-Suleyman, a scribe
of Lulu, advanced against him with a numerous and heavily-
equipped army. Sheyban went forth to meet him with all
the forces he could muster, but numbers of his troops de¬
serted to the invader, and he was soon overthrown.5 Mo¬
hammad Ibn-Suleyman burned El-Katae’ and sacked El-
Fustat, reducing the women to slavery, committing many
atrocities, and exiling the family of Ahmad Ibn-Tooloon,
with all their adherents6 (a.h. 292.)
Having thus completed his conquest, and restored the
province of Egypt to the House of Abbas, Ibn-Suleyman
yielded the government to ’Eesa Ibn-En-N6sharee, ap¬
pointed by El-Muktefee. He died in 297, and was fol¬
lowed by Tekeen El-Gezeree, under whose rule Egypt
was invaded by the forces of Abd-Allah El-Mahdee, first
prince of the Dynasty of the Fatimees (or Fawatim,
that being the plural of Fatimee), which had succeeded
' the Benee-Aghlab in the dominion of Northern Africa.
His general, Hubasheh, having taken El-Barkah, advanced
with an army of 100,000 men to Alexandria, where Tekeen, Egypt,
reinforced with troops from El-Irak, give him battle, and
defeated him in a sanguinary conflict.7 In the following
year he was succeeded by Abu-l-Hasan Zekee El-Aawar
Er-Roomee, in whose time El-Mahdee again attempted the
conquest of Egypt with an army under the command of his
son, Abu-l-Kasim Mohammad; Alexandria fell into his
hands in 307 ; its inhabitants fled to Misr, and the gover¬
nor entrenched himself in El-Geezeh, on the opposite or
western hank of the Nile, and shortly afterwards died. In
this emergency Tekeen was reinstated in his office. He
immediately strengthened El-Geezeh with a second moat,
and intercepted the forces of El-Mahdee by the river; and
being reinforced by 3000 men from Baghdad, under Moonas
the Eunuch, he gave battle to Abu-l-Kasim in the Feiyoom
and at Alexandria, and drove him back to El-Barkah.8
After rendering this important service, Tekeen was again
recalled, and Hilal Ibn-Bedr appointed governor; but the
troops revolting, and much sedition and rapine ensuing, he
was once more despatched to Egypt, where he remained
until his death in the year 321.9
He was followed by Mohammad El-Ikhsheed Ibn-Taghag .
Aboo-Bekr El-Farghanee, afterwards the founder of the
Dynasty of the Ikhsheedees, who was almost immediately
superseded by another governor; and for one year more
Egypt continued to be a province of the Khaleefehs of Bagh¬
dad. In the year 323 El-Ikhsheed again succeeded to the go- Dynasty of
vernment. About this time little remained to the Khaleefeh t^ie
of his once broad empire beyond the province of Baghdad, 5heedees.
and even there his power was but nominal, for Er-Raik
there, as well as in Wasit and El-Basrah, held the entire glieed_
authority. Khoozistan, Persia, Kerman, Rei, Ispahan, El-
Mosil, and the provinces of Mesopotamia, were either in a
state of revolt, or nearly or wholly lost to him. Spain was
governed by the Dynasty of Umeiyeh, and Africa by that
of El-Mahdee; and we have seen the distracted state of Egypt
since the fall of the Benee-Tooloon. El-Ikhsheed availed
himself of these circumstances to throw off his allegiance,
and possess himself of Egypt and Syria ; continuing, how¬
ever, to acknowledge the spiritual supremacy of the Khalee¬
feh. Shortly after he defeated the forces of El-Mahdee,
who had again made an inroad into the country : and in
327 he was confirmed in his government by Er-Radee.10
In the following year Er-Raik subdued a great part of Sy¬
ria, and, having taken Damascus, advanced to the frontier
of Egypt, where, after a very severe engagement, he was
utterly routed, and pursued by the troops of El-Ikhsheed
as far as Damascus. There, however, the fortune of war
turned against El-Ikhsheed, and for a time he was de¬
prived of the province of Syria, though he subsequently
regained possession of it. During his reign, the Khaleefehs
of Baghdad were daily losing power, and, in the year 333,
El-Muktefee wrote to him lamenting his miserable state;
whereupon El-Ikhsheed immediately repaired to him at
Rakkah with valuable presents, and offered him assistance,
and an asylum in Egypt. About this time, also, he conducted
a war with various success against Seyf-ed-Dowleh of Ha-
madan, who had attacked Syria. He died at Damascus in
334, in the 66th year of his age,11 and was buried, as were
1 Ibn-Khallikan, Kitdb Wefayet el-Aayan wa-Anba Abnd ez-Zemdn, voce Khumaraweyh; ed. De Slane, Paris.
2 El-Is-hakee. 3 El-Mekeen, Abu-l-Fida. * El-Is-hakee, El-Mekeen.
6 According to Abu-l-Fida, Sheyban only assumed the command of the army when Haroon fell in the battle endeavouring to rally his troops.
6 El-ls-hakee. El-Makreezee’s Khitat.
7 El-ls-hakee. Of this expedition, Abu-l-Fida relates (in the events of the year 301) that it was commanded by Abu-l-Kasim, who
took Alexandria and the Feiyoom, but was repulsed by Moonas the Eunuch, whom El-Muktadir had despatched against him; and, in the
events of the year 302, he says that El-Mahdee sent another expedition to Egypt by sea, that Alexandria was taken, and that he was
again defeated by Moonas, and driven back with great loss.
8 Abu-l-Fida says that this expedition was commanded by El-Kaim, who, having proceeded to El-Geezeh, passed on to El-Ashmooneyn
and subdued a great part of Upper Egypt, and being well supplied by sea, kept up the war with vigour; but that reinforcements hav¬
ing reached Egypt of twenty-five sail from Tarsus, Moonas gave him battle by sea and land on the same day, and completely routed
his forces. 9 El-ls-hakee. 10 Id. 11 Abu-l-Fida.
Egypt.
Abu-1-
Kasim and
Abu-l-Ha-
san ’Alee.
Kafoor.
Conquest
by El-
Mo’izz.
EGYPT.
477
all the princes of his dynasty after him, in the mosque of
’Omar at Jerusalem.1
Of El-Ikhsheed’s two sons and successors, Abu-l-Kasim
and Abu-l-Hasan ’Alee, little is known ; their wezeer Ka¬
foor, a black eunuch, being the actual ruler. In the reign
of the former, in the year 343, a great fire occurred in El-
Fustat, which destroyed 1700 houses and much merchan¬
dise. Kafoor succeeded to the throne in 355, and was ac¬
knowledged throughout Egypt, Syria, and the Higaz. He
ruled with great ability, and was a patron of literature: his
name is celebrated by the poet El-Mutanebbee, who was
his boon companion, and whom, as well as other learned
men, he rewarded with magnificent presents. On his death
internal dissensions respecting the succession of Abu-1-
Fowaris, a son of ’Alee, presented a favourable opportu¬
nity to the Fatimee Khaleefeh to renew the often-repeated
invasions of Egypt.
Hitherto, with few exceptions, the most notable of which
are the reigns of Ibn-Tooloon, Khumaraweyh, El-Ikhsheed,
and Kafoor, the Muslim rulers of Egypt had not much be¬
nefited the country, or rescued it from the anarchy and
troubles in which it had become involved under the Lower
Empire. But the incidents of the time are so little known
as to have been deemed worthy of more mention in this
article than perhaps their importance would otherwise war¬
rant. From the period at which we have now arrived,
however, the annals of Egypt contain much important
matter, and are so closely interwoven with the events of the
Crusades as to render them deeply interesting to the stu¬
dent of European history. The rise of the schismatic Kha-
leefehs of Africa is a remarkable episode in the early days of
El-Islam, and most of the princes of that dynasty were not
unworthy of their successors, the renowned Salah-ed-Deen
and his family, or of the Memlook Sultans.
In the year 358 El-Mo’izz li-deeni-llah, the fourth Fati¬
mee Khaleefeh, equipped a large and well-armed force,
with a formidable body of cavalry, the whole under the
command of Abu-l-Hoseyn Gohar el-Kaid, a native of
Greece, and a slave of his father El-Mansoor. This gene¬
ral, on his arrival near Alexandria, received a deputation
from the inhabitants of El-Fustat, charged to negotiate a
treaty. Their overtures were favourably entertained, and
the conquest of the country seemed probable without blood¬
shed. But, while the conditions were being ratified, the
Ikhsheedees prevailed on the people to revoke their offer,
and the ambassadors on their return were themselves com¬
pelled to seek safety in flight. Guharlostno time in push¬
ing forward. Before El-Geezeh a partial combat took place:
several days were passed in skirmishes, and at length he
forced the passage of the Nile a few miles south of that
town, at the head of his troops. Here the Ikhsheedees of¬
fered a brave resistance ; the greater part were left dead
on the field, and the remainder, taking what valuables they
could carry off, fled from El-Fustat. The former mediators
were now brought to intercede for the inhabitants and the
women of the fallen dynasty, and, to the honour of the Af¬
rican general, it is related that they were pardoned, and the
city was peaceably occupied. The submission of the rest of
Egypt was secured by this victory; and all the Fligaz, includ¬
ing the holy cities, and El-Yemen, speedily acknowledged the
authority and supremacy of the Fatimee El-Mo’izz. In the
year 359 Syria was also added to his dominions, but shortly
after was overrun by the Karmatees; the troops of El-
Mo’izz met with several reverses, Damascus was taken, Egypt-
and those lawless freebooters, joined by the Ikhsheedees,
advanced to ’Eyn-Shems. In the meanwhile Gohar had
fortified El-Kahireh2 (the new capital which he had founded Founcla-
immediately north of El-Fustat), and taken every precau-
tion to repel the invaders : a bloody battle was fought on ‘^a ire ;
Friday, the 1st of llabeea el-Owwal, in the year 361, be- thaet^l^lt
fore the city walls, without any decisive result. On the matees>
following Sunday, however, Gohar obtained a great victory
over the enemy, who experienced a reverse more complete
than any he had before suffered, and the camp and baggage
fell into the hands of the conqueror.
At the earnest solicitations of his lieutenant, who had
ruled Egypt both ably and justly, with almost absolute
authority, El-Mo’izz at length determined to remove his
court to his new kingdom. In Ramadan 362, he entered
El-Kahireh, bringing with him the bodies of his three pre¬
decessors, and vast treasure. El-Mo’izz reigned about
two years in Egypt, dying in the year 365. He is described
as a warlike and ambitious prince, but, notwithstanding, he
was especially distinguished for justice, and was fond of learn¬
ing. He showed great favour to the Christians, especially
to Severus, Bishop of El-Ashmooneyn, and the Patriarch
Ephrem ; and under his orders, and with his assistance, the
church of the Mu’allakah, in Old Misr, was rebuilt. He
executed many useful works (among others rendering na¬
vigable the Tanitic branch of the Nile, which is still called
the canal of El-Mo’izz), and occupied himself in embellish¬
ing El-Kahireh. Gohar, when he founded that city, built Foundn-
the great mosque named El-Azhar,3 the university of Egypt, tion of the
which to this day is crowded by students from all parts ofAz dr'
the Muslim world. The principal event of his reign in Second in-
Egypt was the second irruption of Hasan the Karmatee. The vasion of
enemy, as on the former occasion, reached ’Eyn-Shems ;the Kar’
but now he gained more advantage over the AfricanmateeS-
troops. Although twice defeated in different parts of Egypt,
and constantly harassed in his advance, the capital was
closely besieged by him, and its defenders were driven across
the fosse. Thus straitened, El Mo’izz had recourse to
stratagem, and succeeded in bribing Hasan Ibn-El-
Garrah (wbo, with a body of the tribe of Tei, fought with
the Karmatees) to desert them in the heat of the next
battle. The result of this plan was successful, and again
Hasan was defeated and compelled to flee. This event,
which occurred in the year 363, relieved Egypt of another
invader, an ally of Hasan, by name Abd-Allah Ibn-’Obeyd-
Allah (formerly governor of Syria under Kafoor), and ob¬
tained for the arms of El-Mo’izz various successes in Syria.4
El-’Azeez Aboo-Mansoor Nizar, on his coming to the El-’Azeez.
throne of his father, immediately despatched an expedition
against the Turkish chief El-Eftekeen, who had taken Da- War in
mascus a short time previously. Guhar again commanded Syria,
the army, and pressed the siege of that city so vigorously
that the enemy called to their aid the Karmatees. Before
this united army he retired by little and little to Ascalon,
where he prepared to stand a siege ; but, being reduced
to great straits, he purchased his liberty with a large sum
of money. On his return from this disastrous campaign,
El-’Azeez took the command in person, and, meeting the
enemy at Ramleh, was victorious after a bloody battle, while
El-Eftekeen, being betrayed into his hands, was with Arab
magnanimity received with honour and confidence, and
ended his days in Egypt in affluence.5 El-’Azeez followed
1 El-Is-hakee.
2 Modern Cairo. It was originally called El-Mansooreeyeh; El-Mo’izz, however, changed its name to that of El-Kahireh, by reason of
an omen at its foundation. The Khitat contains a long account of the foundation of El-Kahireh, and of the three successive walls with
which it was at different times encompassed. For details respecting this and the other capitals of Egypt under the Muslims, see the
sketch in the Englishwoman in Egypt, vol. i., p. 124, et seqq., in which the author has availed herself of the valuable MS. notes of Mr Lane.
3 El-Is-hakee.
4 For a detailed account of the reign of El-Mo’izz, see Vie du Khalife Fatimite Moezz-li-din-Allah, par Quatremere, Paris, imp. roy., 1837.
6 Abu-l-Fida. In 372 El-’Azeez again sent an army to Syria, and quelled a serious rebellion excited by El-Mufrig-Id.
478
EGYPT.
Egypt.
El-Hakim.
His cruelty
and extra¬
vagances.
His im¬
piety.
The Druses.
Invasion.
His assassi¬
nation.
Edh-Dha-
hir.
Disturb¬
ances in
Syria.
his father’s example of liberality. It is even said1 that he
appointed a Jew his wezeer in Syria, and a Christian to the
same post in Egypt. These acts, however, nearly cost him
his life, and popular tumult obliged him to disgrace both
these officers. After a reign of twenty-one years, of great
internal prosperity, he died (a.h. 386) in a bath at Bilbeys,
while preparing an expedition against the Greeks, who were
ravaging his possessions in Syria.3
Though El-’Azeez was distinguished for moderation and
mildness, his son and successor rendered himself notorious
by very opposite qualities. El-Hakim bi-amri-llah Aboo-
’Alee Mansoor began his reign, according to Muslim histo¬
rians, with much wisdom,3 but afterwards acquired a cha¬
racter for impiety, cruelty, and unreasoning extravagance,
by which he has been rendered odious to posterity. He is
described as possessing at once “ courage and boldness, and
cowardice and timorousness, a love for learning and vin¬
dictiveness towards the learned, an inclination to righteous¬
ness, and a disposition to slay the righteous; ”4 and this
character is fully borne out by his many extravagances. Of
his cruelty numerous anecdotes are told us, especially in the
discharge of his functions as Mohtesib, or “ regulator of the
markets and of the weights and measures,” an office which
he assumed, and in which he became the terror of the in¬
habitants. But his cruelty was surpassed by his impiety.
He arrogated to himself divinity, commanded his subjects to
rise at the mention of his name in the congregational prayers
(an edict which was obeyed even in the holy cities Mek-
keh and El-Medeeneh5), and altered his name, which signi¬
fies “governing by the command of God,” to El-Hakim
bi-amru, or “ governing by his own command.” He is
most famous in connection with the Druses, a sect which
he founded, and which still holds him in veneration, and
believes in his future return to the earth. He had thus
made himself obnoxious to all classes of his subjects, wdien,
in the year 397, he nearly lost his throne by foreign inva¬
sion. Hisham, surnamed Aboo-Rakwak, a descendant of
the house of Umeiyeh in Spain, took the province of El-
Barkah, with a considerable force, and subdued Upper
Egypt. The Khaleefeh, aware of his danger, immediately
collected his troops from every quarter of the kingdom, and
marched against the invader, whom, after severe fighting,
he defeated and put to flight. Hisham himself was taken
prisoner, paraded in El-Kahireh, with every aggravation of
cruelty, and put to death. El-Hakim having by vigorous
measures thus averted this danger, Egypt continued to
groan under his tyranny until the year 411, when he fell by
domestic treachery. His sister, Seyyidet-el-Mulook, had,
in common with the rest of his subjects, incurred his dis¬
pleasure ; and, being fearful for her life, she secretly and by
night concerted measures with the Emeer Seyf-ed-Dowleh,
chief of the guard, who very readily agreed to her plans. Ten
slaves, bribed by 500 deenars each, having received their
instructions, went forth on the appointed day to the desert
tract south-east of El-Kahireh, where El-Hakim, unattended,
was in the habit of riding, and waylaid him near the village
of Hulwan, where they put him to death.
He wras succeeded by his son, Edh-Dhahir (commonly
pronounced Ez-Zahir) bi-llah Abu-l-Hasan ’Alee, who
ruled with justice and moderation for nearly sixteen years.
In 414 Aleppo w^as taken by Salih son of Mardas; and al¬
though he was defeated and slain by an Egyptian force sent
against him, a son, Shibl-ed-Dowleh Aboo-Kamil Nasr, yet
retained possession of that city. At this time also Hasan, of
the tribe of Tei before mentioned, had made himself master
of Ramleh ;6 and indeed from this Khaleefeh’s reign we may
date the decline of the Fatimee power, especially in Syria.
In the year 427, El-Mustansir bi-llah Aboo-Temeem Egypt.
Ma’add came to the throne at the age of seven years. His
reign occupied a long period, rendered memorable by the El-Mus-
unparalleled troubles which befel Egypt. It commenced tansir.
prosperously with the defeat and death of Shibl-ed-Dowleh.
Aleppo was taken, the submission of the rest of Syria fol¬
lowed ; and the general who had conducted the expedition
against that province assumed its government. On his
death, Mo’izz-ed-Dowleh, a brother of Shibl-ed-Dowleh,
retook Aleppo;7 but the various fortunes of this prince and
his nephew Mahmood, from this time, and during the cala¬
mities of Egypt, are too complicated and subordinate to
claim a place here. In the western provinces, the rebel
El-Mo’izz (the third successor of Yoosuf Ibn-Zeyree, who
was appointed governor on the conquest of Egypt), was
punished by an irruption of wild Arab tribes in the pay of
El-Mustansir.
In the year 450, the Fatimee Khaleefeh was publicly War be-
prayed for in Baghdad; a remarkable event, of which the tween the I
immediate cause w'as briefly as follows: Abu-l-Harith Ars- Eatimees
lan El-Besaseeree, a powerful Turkish chief exercising un- and
bounded authority in that city, had fallen into disgrace, and
received supplies of men and money from the Khaleefeh of
Egypt; and while Togrul-Beg espoused the cause of the
Abbasee Khaleefeh, his brother Ibraheem Eynal revolted,
joined El-Besaseeree, and defeated Togrul-Beg. El-Besa¬
seeree entered Baghdad, in which the combat continued to
rage; and the unfortunate city was devastated by massacre
and pillage. El-Mustansir was solemnly declared Prince of
the Faithful, and the insignia of the legitimate Khaleefeh
were sent to Cairo. The success of El-Besaseeree, however,
was but transient: Togrul-Beg had, in the meantime, de¬
feated and killed his brother Ibraheem ; he then entered
Baghdad in Dhu-l-Kaadah 451 ; and having despatched
a force against El-Besaseeree, the latter fell in a battle near
El-Koofeh.
A persecution of the Christians of Alexandria occurred Persecu-
about this time ; and in 454 commenced a desolating strug- tion of the
gle between the Blacks and the Turks, both of whom had Christians,
become numerous in Egypt. 1 he former were succoured troubieS.
by the mother of El-Mustansir, herself a negress, while the
command of the latter was taken by Nasir-ed-Dowleh Ibn-
Hamdan, a general of El-Mustansir, more than once go¬
vernor of Damascus, and at this period governor of Lower
Egypt. To this man’s unscrupulous ambition was due
much of the trouble which ensued. After many battles
the Turks succeeded in destroying the power of their ad¬
versaries, and their leader assumed almost absolute autho¬
rity, while they not only extorted from the Khaleefeh im¬
mense sums of money and treasure, but even rifled the
tombs of his predecessors for the valuables which they con¬
tained. At the same time the bulk of the valuable library
of the Fatimees was dispersed by these brigands. But the
very power of Nasir-ed-Dowleh threatened his overthrow.
His sense of security in his position rendered him regard¬
less of the support of the Turks; and when at length his
schemes for the deposition of El-Mustansir brought matters
to a crisis, a large portion of the army declared against him.
Defeated and driven from the metropolis, he succeeded in
possessing himself of Lower Egypt, and a terrible civil war
raged between the contending parties. But an even heavier Famine of
calamity afflicted Egypt. For seven successive years the El-Mustan-
inundation of the Nile failed, and with it almost the entire sir-
subsistence of the country, while the rebels intercepted sup¬
plies of grain from the north. El-Makreezee informs us that
El-Askar and El-Katae were depopulated, and that half the
inhabitants of El-Fustat perished, while in El-Kahireh itself
l Abu-l-Mahasin. 2 El-Is-hakee; Abu-l-Fida.
This may well be doubted from the fact that early in his reign he began to persecute the Jews and Christians, ordering the latter to wear
deep black garments and turbans, and forbidding both to ride on horses or mules, besides other grievous regulations. 4 El-Is-hakee.
lareekh esh-sheykh Imad-ed-Deen Ibn-El-Ketheer, quoted in El-Is-hakee. 6 Abu-l-Fida, 7 Id.
Egypt.
State of
Syria.
Invasion
of Egypt.
I'l-Mustaa-
lee.
Jerusalem
taken by
the Cru¬
saders.
EGYPT.
479
the people were reduced to the direst straits. Bread was
sold for 14 dirhems the lb. loaf; and all provision being
exhausted, the worst horrors of famine followed. The
wretched people resorted to cannibalism, and organised
bands kidnapped the unwary passenger in the desolate
streets, principally by means of ropes furnished with hooks,
and let down from the latticed windows. In the year 462,
the famine reached its height. It was followed by a pesti¬
lence; and in the midst of these horrors, Nasir-ed-Dowleh
advanced on Cairo at the head of an enormous army: he
was induced to withdraw by the promise of large conces¬
sions, only to repeat the attack, and finally to make himself
master of the city, after having inflicted a signal defeat on
the Khaleefeh, who became only the nominal ruler of Egypt;
a condition which lasted until the assassination of this power¬
ful rebel in the year 465.
While these events were occurring in Egypt, Syria was
in a continual state of anarchy and war. A distinguished
general, theEmeer el-Guyoosh Bedr-ed-DeenEl-Gemalee,
held the government of Damascus during these times; and
now El-Mustansir wrote, recalling him to assume the office
of Wezeer of Egypt. On the condition of being allowed to
bring with him a veteran force, he, happily for the country,
obeyed the summons, and to his talents was owing the re¬
storation of order, and even prosperity which followed. By
a massacre of Emeers at a grand banquet shortly after his
arrival, and by numerous executions, he subdued all oppo¬
sition in the capital; and in a series of brilliant victories
annihilated the savage hordes who infested the country
throughout its whole extent, having either been called to the
aid of the contending parties, or voluntarily taken advantage
of the universal anarchy to commit their lawless ravages.
In concluding this necessarily extended notice of the
reign of El-Mustansir, the invasion of Atseez with an army
of Turkumans, Kurds, and Arabs, in the year 469, must be
just mentioned. Spreading devastation around them, they
encamped near Cairo ; and in the first engagement defeated
the forces of El-Gemalee ; but fortune favouring him in a
second battle, the enemy was totally routed with immense
carnage.
El-Mustansir reigned 60 years, and died in the year 487.
He was a weak prince, solely given up to pleasure.1 El-
Gemalee had governed with almost absolute authority and
great ability, fora period of 20 years, dying only a few days
before the Khaleefeh. While admiringEl-Gemalee’s talents,
we cannot but condemn his severity. He built the mosque
which gives its name to the mountain immediately S.E. of
the citadel of Cairo (Gebel-El-Guyooshee), and the second
wall of El-Kahireh, with its three principal gates, Bab-Zu-
weyleh, Bab-en-Nasr, and Bab-el-Futooh. These gates,
which are very fine specimens of architecture, are said to
be the work of three Greek brothers.3
El-Mustaalee bi-llah Abu-l-Kasim Ahmad succeeded his
father; but a son of El-Gemalee, El-Afdal, had the princi¬
pal management of the affairs of the kingdom. This Kha-
leefeh’s reign is memorable for the First Crusade. El-Afdal
had taken Jerusalem from the Turks in the year 1098; and
a few months later it yielded to the Crusaders, after a siege
of 40 days. El-Afdal arrived shortly after its fall with a
reinforcement of 20,000 men, but he was defeated in the
battle of Ascalon. Later, an Egyptian army, commanded
by Saad-ed-Dowleh, was worsted by Baldwin, Count of
Edessa, and the general was killed in the action. From
this period, with the exception of some efforts made in the
next reign, to the time of Salah-ed-Deen (the Saladin of
the Crusades), Egypt was too much occupied with intestine
troubles to equip expeditions against the various parties
who now struggled for the possession of Syria. El-Mustaa¬
lee died in the year 495. He is stated to have been a Egypt-
Sunnee—a strange anomaly in a dynasty of Shiya’ees. v-—^
His son El-A'mir bi-ahkami-llah Aboo-’Alee Mansoor, EI-A'mir.
came to the throne at the age of five years, and until his
arrival at manhood, the government was conducted by El-
Afdal. The first act of the Khaleefeh, however, on taking it
into his own hands, was to put his minister to death, and
appoint in his stead a man whose wickedness obliged him
to imprison him and afterwards condemn him to death. The
rule of El-A'mir was chiefly remarkable for his impiety and
tyranny, and for the successes of the Crusaders, who, having
reduced many of the principal coast-towns in Syria, medi¬
tated the conquest of Egypt, and crossed the frontier, but
were deterred from the prosecution of their enterprise by
the illness of Baldwin, whose death took place at El-Areesh,
on his way back to Jerusalem. El-A'mir was put to death
in 524, at the town of El-Geezeh, it is said by partisans of
El-Afdal, whose son ihen usurped the entire government,
settingup, as Khaleefeh, El-Hafidh li-deeni-llah Abd-El-Me- El-IIafidh.
geed, a grandson of El-Mustansir (El-A'mir having left no
male issue), but without the usual ceremonies of installation.
This wezeer, Aboo-’Alee Ahmad, even forbade the mention
of El-Hafidh in the public prayer, and inserted his own
name in his stead. He perished in a popular tumult, roused
by his extortions and arbitrary rule, and El-Hafidh was duly de¬
clared Khaleefeh, and received the oaths of allegiance'. After
the death of Ahmad, he successively appointed three other
Wezeers; but these proving equally refractory, he at length
dispensed with that office altogether. He reigned nearly
20 years. The licentiousness of his son and successor,
Edh-Dhafir bi-aada'i-llah Aboo-Mansoor Isma’eel, occa-Edh-Dha-
sioned his death in four years and seven months at the hand fir-
of his Wezeer El-Abbas.
El-Fafz bi-llah Abu-l-Kasim ’Eesa Ibn-’Alee was, on El-Fa'iz.
his accession, only five years of age, and the history of
his times presents merely the contentions of rival Wezeers,
of whom the chief were El-Melik Es-Salih Tatae Ibn-
Ruzzeyk, and his competitor El-Abbas, before named. The
latter finding his power failing, gathered together the
wealth he had amassed, and fled to Syria, where he fell
into the hands of the Crusaders, who stripped him of all
that he had, and detained him a prisoner. Eventually he
was given up to Tatae, and crucified over the gates of the
palace.
El-Fai'z died in the year 555, and El-’A'did li-deeni-llah El-’A'did.
Aboo-Mohammad Abd-Allah, a grandson of El-Hafidh, and
the last of the Fatimee Khaleefehs, was raised to what was
then but the shadow of a throne, the entire power being in
the hands of Tatae, who by his oppression and cruelty well-
nigh rendered El-’A'did, by nature benevolent and wise, as
tyrannical as himself. He was assassinated by the secret
orders of the Khaleefeh, and the latter to conceal his agency
in this act, installed his son El-’A'dil in his place. At this The We-
time the well-known Shawir was governor of the Sa’eed (or zeer Sha
Upper Egypt), a post next in importance to that of prime wir>
minister. During the last three reigns the Wezeers had
been rapidly increasing in power; and the annals of the
period are entirely occupied with the rise and fall of potent
grandees, all eager for a post which conferred on its posses¬
sor the supreme authority. At length, in the reign of this
unfortunate prince, they consummated the ruin of the
dynasty, and overwhelmed themselves in its fall. In 555,
El-’A'dil dispossessed Shawir of his government, and the
latter had immediate recourse to arms, marched against his
enemy, and succeeded in putting him to death. He then
constituted himself Wezeer, but in his turn was compelled
to flee from a more powerful rival, Ed-Dirgham. Noor-ed-
Deen, the sultan of Damascus, received the fugitive with
1 Quatremere, Memoires Geographiques et Historiques sur VEmjpta (Vie du Khalife Mostanser-biilah), tom. ii., p. 296.
2 El-Makreezee’s KhitaU _
480
E G Y P T.
Egypt.
He quar¬
rels with
Noor-ed-
favour; and in the course of the next year (559) despatched
an army to Egypt, under the command of Asad-ed-Deen
Sheerkooh, to reinstate him. In the meantime Ed-Dirgham
had been busy putting to death the great men of the em¬
pire ; and having thus weakened his power, he offered but
a feeble resistance, was overthrown in a battle near the
tomb of the seyyideh Nefeeseh, on the S. of Cairo, and
Shawir was restored. No sooner, however, was this effected,
than he forgot the engagements into which he had entered
with Noor-ed-Deen, and threw off his allegiance to him.
Been, and Sheerkooh retired to the Sharkeeyeh, and occupied the
liance^vitlit()Wn Bilbeys, and thence threatened Shawir. In this
Amaury position of affairs the latter had recourse to the Crusaders,
who willingly responded to his call, and Amaury, king of
Jerusalem, arrived with a considerable force. With these
allies, Shawir besieged his former protector in Bilbeys, un¬
til hearing of Noor-ed-Deen’s successes over the Franks in
Syria, they negotiated a peace, and permitted Sheerkooh to
Invasion by withdraw from Egypt. About two years later, Noor-ed-
Noor-ed- Deen, determined on punishing the treachery of Shawir,
Been. again sent Sheerkooh into Egypt with a great army, and
accompanied by his nephew, the famous Salah-ed-Deen.
Shawir again sought to strengthen himself by an alliance
with Amaury, from whom he received the first intelligence
of the meditated invasion. Apprised of their knowledge of
his movements, Sheerkooh changed his course from Bilbeys,
entered the valley of the Nile at some distance above Cairo,
and, crossing the river, marched northwards to El-Geezeh.
Here he endeavoured to raise the people against Shawir and
his infidel confederates; and had in some measure succeeded
when the superior forces of the enemy compelled him to
retreat southwards as far as El-Babeyn, near Ashmooneyn,
where he risked an engagement, and gained a complete
victory. This success opened to the invaders the greater
part of E<rypt, and Alexandria itself fell into their hands.
Salah-ed-Deen was placed in that city with a numerous gar¬
rison, and his uncle departed to subdue the rest of Egypt.
The Crusaders, however, at once closely invested Alexan¬
dria, and so pressed the siege for three months, as to oblige
Sheerkooh to come to its relief. An honourable compro¬
mise was effected, by which the Syrians agreed to resign
their conquests and evacuate Egypt. But fresh troubles
Egypt in- were in store for this unfortunate country. Amaury, irri-
vaded by tated at the result of a campaign in which he had only lost,
determined on an expedition against his recent ally ; and,
entering Egypt, took Bilbeys, putting its inhabitants to the
sword, and laid siege to El-Kahireh, his course being marked
by the most dreadful barbarities. On his approach, the
ancient city of El-Fustat was set on fire by order of the
Wezeer, to prevent it falling into the enemy’s hands, and it
continued burning somewhat more than fifty days.1 El-
’A'did now earnestly sought the aid of Noor-ed-Deen ; and
that monarch, actuated by religious zeal against the Franks,
who had already felt his power in Syria, and by the desire
of conquest, once more despatched Sheerkooh. In the
meantime negotiations had been opened with Amaury to
raise the siege of El-Kahireh, on payment of an enormous
sum of money ; while, however, the conditions were yet
unfulfilled, the approach of the Syrian army induced him
to retreat in all haste. Sheerkooh and Salah-ed-Deen en¬
tered the capital in great state, were received with honour
by the Khaleefeh, and with obsequiousness by the perfidious
Shawir, who was contriving a plot which was fortunately
discovered, and for which he paid with his head. Sheer¬
kooh was then appointed Wezeer by El-’Adid, but dying
very shortly, he was succeeded in that dignity by Salah-ed-
Deen.2
Amaury.
Alliance
between
the Khalee¬
feh and
Noor-ed-
Been.
Of the short period which elapsed before Salah-ed-Deen’s Egypt,
assumption of the title of Sultan, a few words will suffice. ^
One of his first acts was to put to death the chief of the Salah-ed-
Eunuchs, and a revolt of the Blacks resulted ; a combat took Been (Sa-
place in El-Kahireh, in the street called Beyn-el-Kasreyn ; ladm) ap-
and the malcontents being worsted, the disturbances were
quelled. Baha-ed-Deen Karakoosh, a white eunuch, who
afterwards played a prominent part in the reign of SaL'th-
ed-Deen, was appointed to the vacant post. This gave the
Wezeer great influence in the palace, of which he judi¬
ciously availed himself. In 566 we hear of Amaury with
Greek allies unsuccessfully besieging Damielta ; and in the
following year, Salah-ed-Deen conducted an expedition
against the Franks to Ascalon and Ramleh ; after which, a Campaign
year later, he took Eyleh. In 567, by order of Noor-ed-
Deen, he suppressed the name of El-A did in the congrega- iusa e
tional prayers, and substituted that of the Abbasee Khalee¬
feh ; a masterly stroke of policy to secure the adhesion of
the orthodox Muslims. The last of the Fatimees w'as
lying dangerously ill, and his relations concealed from him
his degradation. He died without the knowledge of it,
and with him perished an illustrious but unfortunate dy¬
nasty.
Salah-ed-Deen was thus relieved of the most serious ob¬
stacle on his way to the throne ; yet he dared not throw off
his allegiance to the Sultan of Damascus, but prudently
waited for a favourable opportunity. Noor-ed-Deen’s sus¬
picions were already aroused, and he died while secretly
preparing to proceed in person to Egypt. Salah-ed-Deen Salah-ed-
almost immediately proclaimed himself Sultan of Egypt,
and inaugurated his reign with a series of brilliant successes. gult^n_
With the conquest of £l-Mo’izz, Egypt again took an im- Eiyoobee
portant place among the nations ; and by the wars of Salah- Bynasty.
ed-Deen it became the nucleus of a great empire. But
military glory was not the sole aim of that prince and his
successors ; and the patronage they continued to extend
to letters and the arts had the most beneficial effect upon
the civilization of the country.
Salah-ed-Deen, whose full appellation was El-Melik En-
Nasir, Salah-ed-Deen Yoosuf Ibn Eiyoob acquired his
greatest renown by his campaigns against the Crusaders in
Syria. As these belong, however, more properly to the
history of those wars than to that of Egypt, they will be
more briefly noticed in this place than would otherwise be ^
necessary. The youth of El-Melik Es-Salih Isma’eel, the feubjuga-
son and successor of Noor-ed-Deen, and the consequent
confusion which prevailed in his dominions, gave Salah-ed- of gyria<
Deen a fair pretext to occupy Damascus, as the guardian
of the young prince, and enabled him to wrest from him his
kingdom. He thus considerably enlarged his territory,
made himself master of a great portion of Syria, and continued
to consolidate his power in those parts until the year 573
(a d. 1178), when Philip, Count of Flanders, laid siege to
Antioch, and Salah-ed-Deen entered Palestine. I he lat¬
ter having encamped before Ascalon, bis troops ravaged
the neighbouring country, and set fire to Joppa, until at ^
length Baldwin (surnamed the Leper), king ot Jerusalem, °
issued from Ascalon and gave him battle. The result was
disastrous to Salah-ed-Deen ; his army was totally routed,
and he himself fled alone on a dromedary. After this, how¬
ever, he gained some partial advantages over the Christians;
and a terrible famine induced him, two years later, to con¬
clude a truce with the King of Jerusalem, and retire to
Egypt.
In the year 576 he again entered Syria and made war
on Kilij Arslan, the Seljuk Sultan of Anatolia, and on Leon,
King of Armenia—the Cilicio-Armenian kingdom,—both
1 El-Makreezee’s Khitat.
2 Abu-l-Fida. Michaud, HiH. des Croisades, Liv. VII. The invasion of Amaury is related by Ibn-Shihneh in nearly the same words
as by Abu-l-Fida.
EGYPT.
481
Egypt.
Salah-ed-
Deen en¬
ters Ana¬
tolia and
Armenia,
and prose¬
cutes the
war against
the Cru¬
saders.
He subdues
Mesopota-
Renewed
hostilities
with the
Crusaders.
Battle of
Tiberias or
Hitteem.
Fall of Je¬
rusalem.
of whom he forced to make terms of peace. Not long after
his return, Salah-ed-Deen departed from Egypt (a.h. 578)
to prosecute a war with the Crusaders in which neither side
desired peace. Their hostility was aggravated by the fob
lowing circumstances: a vessel bearing 1500 pilgrims had
been wrecked near Damietta, and its passengers captured ;
and to the remonstrances of the King of Jerusalem, the Sul¬
tan replied by complaining of the constant inroads made by
Renaud de Chatillon. At this time, the latter turbulent chief
undertook an expedition against Eyleh, and for this purpose
constructed boats at Karak, and conveyed them on camels
to the sea; but his flotilla was repulsed, and the siege raised
by a fleet sent thither by El-’A'dil, the brother of Salah-ed-
Deen, and then his viceroy ; and a second attempt was still
more unfortunate—the Christian captives on that occasion
were sacrificed in the valley of Mina. Having threatened
Karak, Salah-ed-Deen encamped at Tiberias, and ravaged
the territory of the Franks: he then besieged Beyroot, but
in vain ; and thence turned his arms against Mesopotamia,
and subdued that country, but the city of El-M6sil success¬
fully resisted him. In the meanwhile, the Crusaders con¬
tented themselves with miserable forays across the enemy’s
borders, and made no serious preparations for the return of
their redoubtable antagonist. The latter having been al¬
most everywhere successful in Mesopotamia, took Tell-
Khalid, and ’Eyn-Tab, in Syria, and obtained possession
of Aleppo ; he again besieged Karak, ravaged the terri¬
tory of Samaria, and later received the fealty of the lord of
El-M6sil, but not the keys of the city.
In the year 1186 of our era, war again broke out between
Salah-ed-Deen and the Crusaders. The Sultan had re¬
spected a truce into which he had entered with Baldwin
the Leper, and Renaud, before named, was the first to
break it. The capture, by the latter, of a rich caravan,
enraged Salah-ed-Deen, who despatched orders to all his
lieutenants and vassals, summoning them to assist in the
“ Holy War;” and he marched (a.d. 1187) from Damas¬
cus to Karak, and there laid close siege to Renaud ; at the
same time a large body of cavalry under the command of his
son,El-Afdal, advanced on Nazareth; and here a body of 130
knights hospitallers and templars, seconded by a few hun¬
dred foot-soldiers, and encouraged by the heroic Jacques de
Maille, marshal of the Temple, by their devotion, immor¬
talized their memory. Only the grand master of the Tem¬
ple and two of his knights escaped from the unequal strug¬
gle. Soon after, Salah-ed-Deen approached in person, at
the head of an army of 80,000 men ; and the Christians
with their whole force encountered him on the shore of
the lake of Tiberias. The result of the battle which en¬
sued was the heaviest blow which had yet fallen on the
Crusaders. Weakened by thirst, shaken by the flight of a
part of their troops on the second day of combat, and over¬
whelmed by numbers, the knights fought with desperate
courage, but at length were forced to the hills of Hitteem.
A multitude fell in this bloody fight, and among the pri¬
soners were Guy de Lusignan (the King of Jerusalem and
successor of Baldwin), with his brother and Renaud de
Chatillon. The number of prisoners is almost incredible ;
and the massacre of many of them is an indelible stain on the
glory of the generally merciful Salah-ed-Deen. Tiberias,
Ptolemais (Acre), Nabulus, Jericho, Ramleh, Caesarea,
Arsoor, Joppa, Beyroot, and many other places, succes¬
sively fell into the hands of the conqueror. Tyre resisted
his attacks ; but Ascalon surrendered on favourable terms,
and the fall of Jerusalem crowned these victories. The
great clemency of Salah-ed-Deen on this occasion is chron¬
icled by Christian historians, though it is but slightly men¬
tioned by the Muslims, who took offence at the favour shown
to the enemies of their faith.
After these events Tyre was again besieged; and when Egypt-
about to capitulate, was fortunately relieved by the arrival
of Conrad, son of the Marquis of Montferrat, and the valiant
defence of the town wearied Salah-ed-Deen, who turned his
arms against Tripoli; but here he met with no better success.
Bohemond, Prince of Antioch, and at that time possessor
of Tripoli also, was, however, glad to obtain a truce of eight
months ; and some strongholds (among others Karak) were
taken. But now the fortune of war turned against the Sul¬
tan. The ever-memorable siege of Acre, maintained with Siege of
equal constancy by both Christians and Muslims, lasted up- Acre,
wards of two years, and attracted the attention of the whole
Western World. At length the immense reinforcements
received by the besiegers, and the presence of Richard Coeur
de Lion of England, and of Philip II. of France, enabled
them to overcome all resistance, and the standards of the
Cross floated on the ramparts of the city. A horrible act
of barbarity was here perpetrated, 2700 Muslim captives
were massacred in cold blood, in consequence of Salah-ed-
Deen’s having failed to fulfil the terms of the capitulation ;
and the palliative plea of the heat of an assault cannot be
urged in extenuation of this enormity. Richard has been
accused of being its author; but Michaud: believes with
reason that it was decided on in a council of the chiefs of
the Crusade. On another occasion, however, that king was
certainly guilty of similar cruelty.
After a period of repose and debauchery, the army of Advance of
the Crusaders, commanded by Richard, directed its march Richard on
towards Jerusalem. Salah-ed-Deen harassed his advance Jerusalem‘
on every point, rendered the cities and strongholds defence¬
less, and ravaged the country. Richard, nevertheless, was
ever victorious ; his presence struck terror into the Muslims,
and he gained a signal victory over the Sultan in the battle
of Arsoor. But dissensions among the chiefs of his army, BattIe of
and the uncertain temper of the commander himself, de- x\rsoor
barred the Crusaders from the attainment of their great
object, the deliverance of the holy city; and when all the
coast from Joppa to Tyre was in the hands of the Chris¬
tians, and the army of Salah-ed-Deen was threatened with
disorganization, a treaty was concluded, and Richard set a peace
sail on his return to England. The glory acquired by Salah- concluded.
ed-Deen, and the famous campaigns of Cceur de Lion, have
rendered the Third Crusade the most memorable in history,
and shed a lustre on the arms of both Muslims and Chris¬
tians greater than they ever attained in these wars, either
before or afterwards.
Salah-ed-Deen died about a year after the conclusion of Death of
this peace (a.h. 589, or 1193 of our era) at Damascus, at Salah-ed-
the age of fifty-seven years. Ambition and religious zeal Deeii-
appear to have been his ruling passions ; he was courageous, pacstgpia"
magnanimous, and merciful; possessed of remarkable mili¬
tary talents, and great control over himself. His generosity,
on almost every occasion, to the vanquished, combined with
his faithful observance of his passed word, are lauded by the
historians of the Crusades ; the former brought on him much
obloquy among his own fierce soldiers, and is a trait in his
character which is worthy of note in the annals of a time
when this virtue was extremely rare. While engaged in
the conduct of his continual wars, he was not unmindful of
the welfare of Egypt, and during his reign many public
works were executed. Of these we may mention especially
the citadel of Cairo, with the magnificent buildings which,
until very recently, it contained ; the third wall of the city;
and the repair of the great canal called the Bahr Yoosuf, a
very important and useful work. From the year 578, until
the period of his death, he had not entered Egypt; but his
brother El-’A'dil, and other princes of his family, successively
governed that country, and the Eunuch Karakoosh, who
also defended Acre, held a large share of authority.1
1 The principal narratives of the life of Salah-ed-Deen are, Bohadini Vita et Res Gestae Sultani Saladini; Arab, et Lat., ed. Schultens,
VOL. VIII. 3 P
482
Egypt.
El-’Azeez.
El-Man-
soor.
El-’A'dil.
Egypt in¬
vaded by
Jean de
Brienne.
El-Kamil.
EGYPT.
On the death of Salah-ed-Deen, his extensive dominions
were divided chiefly among his sons, and Egypt fell to the
lot of one of them, El-Melik El-’Azeez Imad-ed-Deen
Abu-l-Fet-h ’Othman. The grandees supported his claim
to the throne, and he proved himself worthy of their choice.
In conjunction with El-’A'dil, we find him warring against
the leaders of the Fourth Crusade. He reigned five years
and ten days, and was succeeded by his son El-Mansoor Mo¬
hammad; his uncle El-Afdal being compelled to relinquish the
government of Damascus and assume the regency of Egypt.
Disagreement among the sons of Salah-ed-Deen had oc¬
curred soon after that monarch’s death, and now hastened
the rise of El-’A'dil, who, by his military talents and other
remarkable qualities, had excited the fears of even his bro¬
ther. With the view of checking his growing ascendancy,
El-Afdal formed an alliance against him with Edh-Dhahir,
the Lord of Aleppo, and besieged him in Damascus; but
coming to strife, they raised the siege early in 596. This
attempt proved fatal to the power of El-Afdal. He was
pursued to Egypt, in his turn besieged in El-Kahireh,
forced to flee, and El-’A'dil was proclaimed Sultan.1 Hav¬
ing dethroned El-Mansoor, he speedily recovered Damas¬
cus from the hands of the confederate brothers, and Syria
with Egypt acknowledged his supremacy. El-’A'dil is es¬
pecially known by his opposition to the Fourth and Sixth
Crusades, the former of which took place before his acces¬
sion to the throne. He repulsed the Christians near Na-
bulus, captured Joppa, and encountered the enemy between
Tyre and Sidon. He was there defeated with heavy loss,
and Sidon, Laodicea, Gibleh, and Beyroot were taken.
But the Crusaders wasted their strength before the fortress
of Thoron. El-’A'dil raised the siege of that place, and al¬
though afterwards he met with a reverse near Joppa, his ad¬
versaries bought a dear victory ; and, having come to terms
of peace, they returned to Europe. In the year 600 (a.d.
1204) he departed to Syria with the object of securing Je¬
rusalem against threatened attacks, and concluded a truce
which he offered to renew when about to expire; and to
prove his good faith, strengthened that offer by promising
to cede ten castles to the Christians. These overtures
were refused, and the Muslim army drove the newly arrived
king of Jerusalem, Jean de Brienne, back to Europe.
Those who remained then professed their willingness to ac¬
cede to conditions of peace, and we do not again hear of El-
’A'dil in Palestine until 614 (a.d. 1218), when he was once
more called thither to oppose the Crusades; but a serious
invasion of Egypt by these troublesome adventurers hastily
recalled its king, and he died of grief, it is said, on hearing
of the advantages gained by them.2
El-Kamil immediately came to the throne, and took the
most energetic measures for the protection of his kingdom.
In the meantime, the Franks3 besieged Damietta both by
sea and land ; and notwithstanding every effort for the re¬
lief of the place, its garrison was forced to capitulate. El-
Kamil summoned to his aid the princes of his family, and
with every available man watched the enemy’s move¬
ments. Flushed with success, Jean de Brienne commenced
his march on the capital; and with the characteristic care¬
lessness of the Crusaders, he took no measures to secure sup¬
plies. His advance was stopped at the junction of the canal
of Ashmoon with the Nile, where he found El-Kamil in a
very strong position. Encamped on the opposite shore, the
invaders depended for supplies on Damietta and its imme- Egypt,
diate district; but the inundation of the Nile gradually ob-
structed land-carriage, and El-Kamil skilfully availed him¬
self of this natural ally, caused boats to be carried over¬
land to the enemy’s rear, and, thus cut off by land and
water, they were compelled to attempt a retreat. At
Beyramoon, however, all further progress wras found to be
impossible—the inundation had covered the level country,
and the Sultan’s boats blockaded the Nile. They surren¬
dered, and evacuated Damietta, but not before Egypt had
suffered severely from the ravages they committed. The city
of El-Mansoorah was founded on the site of El-Kamil’s camp,
and commemorates his energy and sagacity. The Seventh
Crusade was invited by the same Sultan w’ho had thus
suffered by an invasion of the Franks. In a.d. 1228, El-Ml'ance
Kamil invoked the aid of Frederick II. against his brother
El-Muadhdham, Lord of Damascus, and, in consequenceaeric
of this alliance, Jerusalem, with Bethlehem and the places
between it and Joppa and Acre, Nazareth and the territory
of Thoron and Sidon, with its dependencies, was ceded to
Frederick on the 20th of Feb. 1229. Between these two
monarchs existed the most friendly relations, presenting a
curious spectacle in the midst of the intrigues and hatred of
their subjects for each other, and endangering their popu¬
larity and even their lives. After various expeditions against
his brother and his successors, El-Kamil gained possession
of Damascus, and died there in the year 6354 (a.d. 1238).
He was distinguished by military talents, and rare modera¬
tion, and was also a learned man, a patron of the arts, and
a good king.
His son El-Melik El-’A'dil the Younger, was declared El-’A'dil
Sultan of Egypt and Syria, with the consent of the nobles, II.
and he speedily banished those ministers whose counsels he
feared, and appointed creatures of his own. Oppressed by
his tyranny, and impoverished by his extravagance, the
people called his brother Es-Salih Negm-ed-Deen Eiyoob Es-Salih.
to the throne ; and he deposed and imprisoned El-’Adil in
the year 637, and, to replenish his exhausted treasury, or¬
dered all who had received presents from the late Sultan to
restore them to his successor. In the next year serious a revolt in
disturbances broke out in Syria; Salih Tmad-ed-Deen, Syria aided
who had taken Damascus in the reign of El-’A'dil, formed by the
an alliance wuth the Franks, and purposed the conquest ofl'ianKS-
Egypt: the hostile armies met at Acre, and the Muslim
soldiers of Tmad-ed-Deen deserting to the banner of Es-
Salih Eiyoob, the Franks were routed. Negotiations for
peace were then attempted, but these failing, the Franks were
again induced to take the field by the cession of Jerusalem
and other places. The king of Egypt, on his part, called Alliance
to his assistance the Kharesmees, w4io took Jerusalem and with the
overran Syria. In the next campaign they were joined by Khares-
the army of Es-Salih, under the command of his favourite mees-
slave Beybars, who was destined to play a conspicuous part
in Egyptian history. The allied army met the Franks,
eager to avenge themselves on the Kharesmees for the
horrible atrocities of which they had been guilty in the pre¬
ceding campaign, and willingly joined by the Muslim
princes of Damascus, Hims, and Karak; on the first day
the battle raged with unabated fury from daybreak to sun¬
set, and was continued on the morrow until the prince ol
Hims, having lost 2000 men, gave way and fled towards
Damascus. The Christians maintained the unequal fight
folio, Lugd. Bat., 1732; the account contained in Abu-l-Fida, Annales Muslemici; ed. Iteiske, Hafn., 1789-94, and in the MSS. of El
Makreezee’s Kitdb es-Sulook fi-Maarifet Diwel el-Mulook ; of Ibn-El-Atheer’s work entitled Kamil et-Tawareekh (the continuation of the
great work of El-Tahareel; and of the Rodateyn of Shihab-ed-Deen Ibn-Mohammad ’Abd-Er-Kahman Aboo-Shameh, with the histories
(also MSS.) of Ibn-El-Furat, El-Is-hakee, El-Suyootee (Kitdb Husn el-Muhddareli), and the Khitat of El-Makreezee. This famous Sultan is,
however, mentioned in every Arabic history of note relating to this period. The reader will find extracts from many MSS. in Michaud,
Bibliotheque des Croisades.
1 Abu-l-Fida.
2 Michaud says that he had previously abdicated, but until his death continued to exercise great influence over his sons, and the other
members of the family of Eiyoob ; livre xii. 3 Michaud, livre xii. 4 El-Makreezee, Kitdb es-Sulook, MS.
EGYPT.
Egypt, with great constancy, and were only vanquished after the
greater number had fallen. In these encounters 30,000
men (either Christians or Muslims) were either killed or
taken prisoners. Various successes followed this victory,
Jerusalem was taken by the Egyptians, and Es-Salih laid
siege to Damascus in person. The city having capitulated
on favourable conditions, his fierce allies, enraged at the
loss of pillage, quarrelled with him, and soon after joined
his rebellious subjects. Damascus was reduced to the
direst straits, but again fortune favoured Es-Salih. He
hastened from Egypt, whither he had returned, and totally
defeated the enemy. Other advantages were gained by his
commander Fakhr-ed-Deen over the Franks in the ensu¬
ing year.1
Although attacked by illness, the Sultan was once more
called to Syria to quell fresh troubles ; but at Damascus
news reached him of the threatened invasion of Egypt by
Crusade of the Crusaders under St Louis, and he travelled back in
St Louis, great suffering from his malady. Damietta, which he rightly
judged would be the first point of attack, was strengthened
and wrell stored, and its defence was intrusted to Fakhr-ed-
Capture of Deen. On Friday, June 4, a. d. 1249, the French an-
Damietta. chored before the place, and the next day landed opposite
the camp of the Egyptian general, who offered but slight
opposition, and in the course of the next night betrayed his
trust and retreated southwards. His army was precipitately
followed by the entire population of Damietta, and thus
this important town with its stores fell into the hands of the
invaders without a blow. Fakhr-ed-Deen nearly lost his
life for this act of cowardice, and 54 of his principal officers
were put to death. In the meantime the Sultan’s illness
gradually increased, but nevertheless he caused himself to
be removed to the town of El-Mansoorah, which he for¬
tified, and there he expired on Nov. 21, at the age of
forty-four, and after a reign of ten years. He it was who
introduced the Bahree Memlooks, a body of Turkish slaves,
who composed his body-guard, and eventually usurped the
supreme power. Their name Bahree (or “ of the river”)
originated in their being trained and quartered on the island
of Er-R6dah, where the Sultan had built a palace.
The French were advancing southwards, and, notwith¬
standing the precautions of Sheger-ed-Durr (the widow of
Es-Salih, who assumed the regency), were apprised of the
death of the Sultan. Many partial actions took place on
the march, and on Dec. 19, their army appeared before
El-Mansoorah, the scene of the disaster of Jean de Brienne.
Skirmishing continued until Shrove Tuesday, when, a
traitor having shown the enemy a ford over the canal of
Ashmoon, they surprised the camp and town. Very severe
fighting ensued, Fakhr-ed-Deen fell early in the struggle,
and the place was nearly lost, when the Bahree Memlooks
led by Beybars furiously charged the assailants, and com¬
pletely turned the fortune of the day. The morrow wit¬
nessed another battle, also disastrous to the Crusaders, and
a succession of misfortunes followed. Tooran Shah, on
hearing of the death of his father, travelled in all haste from
Mesopotamia to Egypt, and having reached the camp, as¬
sumed the command. He had recourse to the stratagem
which had proved so successful under the direction of
El-Kamil, and cut off the supplies of the enemy. This,
coupled with disease, soon reduced St Louis to great straits,
and he sent to propose a truce, but not coming to terms he
Surrender determined on retreating to Damietta. A memorable con-
of the Cm- fpct took place by land and water, and St Louis with his
saders. troops surrendered themselves prisoners of war.
Tooran Shah now gave himself up to debauchery, of¬
483
Egypt.
Death of
Es-Salih.
Engage¬
ments at
El-Man¬
soorah.
Tooran
Shah.
fended his nobles by bestowing his favours only on certain
creatures whom he had brought with him from Mesopotamia,
and alarmed the queen by forcing her to render him an ac¬
count of his father’s wealth. Sheger-ed-Durr appealed to
the Memlooks, a conspiracy was formed, and the Sultan was
attacked in his palace. He fled to a pleasure tower built Murder of
on the banks of the Nile, which was set on fire in the pre- To°ran
sence of his army, the wretched king, from the summit, in bia
vain promising to abdicate. He perished miserably, and
his unburied corpse lay for many days on the bank. On
his accession he had strangled a brother, and his fate de¬
serves no pity.
Sheger-ed-Durr (vulgarly called Shegeret-ed-Durr), her- Queen Sbe-
self a slave, and the first of the Dynasty of the Bahree, or ger-ed-
Turkish Memlooks, succeeded to the throne ; and Tzz-ed- Durr> .^1-st
Deen Eybek was appointed commander of the forces.
After many delays, St Louis agreed to pay 400,000 livres Eahree Dy-
as a ransom for himself and his army, 200,000 to be paid nasty,
in Egypt, and the remainder on the fulfilment of certain
stipulations at Acre ; Damietta was surrendered and Egypt
evacuated. Thus ended the last invasion of Egypt by the
Crusaders.2 Sheger-ed-Durr, in order to strengthen herself
on the throne, shortly after married the Emeer Eybek, and El-Mo’izz-
caused him to be proclaimed Sultan, with the title of El- Eybek.
Melik El-Mo’izz, in the year 648.3 The followers of Es-
Salih, however, obliged him to associate with himself in
the sovereignty a young prince of the family of Eiyoob,
El-Melik El-Ashraf Mudhaffar-ed-Deen Moosa. En-Nasir, El-Ashraf
Salah-ed-Deen Yoosuf, a son of El-’Azeez, invaded Egypt, Moosa.
and after many combats was driven back to Syria; but the
country continued in a very unsettled state. I he chief of
the adherents of the fallen dynasty was arrested by Eybek ;
and Beybars, with other leading men, having repaired to
the citadel to demand satisfaction, his bloody head was
thrown to them from the ramparts, and in terror they fled
to Syria. El-Ashraf was then cast into prison, and there
he died. But Eybek soon roused the jealousy of his beauti¬
ful and ambitious wife; and he was assassinated by her
orders. In her turn she was beaten to death, not many
days after, by the wooden clogs of the female slaves of
another wife of Eybek, and her corpse was exposed for
three days in the moat of the citadel.
El-Melik El-Mansoor Noor-ed-Deen ’Alee, son ofEl-Mansoor
Eybek, was now raised to the throne, and Beybars being Alee,
apprised of the death of his rival attempted to regain his
power in Egypt; but Kutz, the viceroy of Eybek and also of
his son, attacked and routed him ; and he soon after deposed
El-Mansoor, and declared himself Sultan. El-Melik El- El-Mud-
Mudhaffar Kutz began his reign by putting to death El- baffar
Mansoor, and SharaV-ed-Deen, the able minister of the last Kutz-
Eiyoobee kings, and of the first of this dynasty. A reign
thus cruelly commenced ended tragically. Kutz was
diverted from these severe measures by the advance of
Hulagu, grandson of Genghis-Khan, who, with a formidable
army, overran El-Trak and Syria. By great efforts Kutz
raised a considerable force and marched to meet him.
The intelligence of the death of the'Mongol emperor had,
however, in the meantime recalled Hulagu, who left Ket-
bugha to encounter the Egyptian Sultan. The battle
declared in favour of the latter, and Syria was restored to
his rule. Returning in triumph to Egypt, he was assassin¬
ated on the frontier by Beybars, in the year 658, and this
Memlook (who had but recently fought under his banner
against the Tatars) was forthwith chosen by the Emeers to
be his successor.
The brilliant reign of El-Melik Edh-Dhahir Beybars
1 El-Makreezee, Kitab es-Sulook, MS. Abu-l-Fida.
2 Joinville’s Vie de St Louis contains an exceedingly interesting and generally accurate account of this Crusade, and to it, with the
histories of El-Makreezee and El-Is-hakee, we are indebted for this sketch of the period.
3 Hist, des Sultans Mamlookspar Makrizi (Kitab es-Sulook), trans. Quatremere; Oriental Translation Fund, Paris.
484
EGYPT,
Egypt.
Edh-Dha-
hir Bey-
bars.
Campaign
in Syria.
The Ab-
El-Bundukdaree is so perplexed and full of incident as to
render a concise account of it very difficult. It commenced
with the reduction of a revolt in Syria. The rebels were
supported by a Tatar army under Hulagu, but Beybars was
everywhere victorious, and Damascus surrendered at dis¬
cretion. Having subdued all opposition in this quarter,
he endeavoured to improve the condition of Egypt, abo¬
lished the exorbitant imposts under which the people
groaned, and welcomed to his court Ahmad, son of the
Khaleefeh Edh-Dhahir, who was declared Prince of the
basee Kha- Faithful with the title of El-Mustansir bi-llah, and fur-
leefchs in n;s]ieci w;th a small force, by which he hoped to estab-
lish himself in Baghdad. He was, however, repulsed by
the Tatars and put to death. The succeeding line ot Kha-
leefehs, possessed of spiritual, but no temporal authority,
remained at the court of the Memlook Sultans until the
Turkish conquest. From this time, Beybars continued to
Beybars at- extend and confirm his rule. His first expedition was to
tacks the Syria against the Christians, and the Church of the Nativity
Christians, at Nazareth w7as destroyed. Thence he went to the forti¬
fied town of Karak, which had more than once resisted the
attacks of Salah-ed-Deen, but opened its gates to the
Memlook conqueror, and its territory was added to his
dominions. A great scarcity afflicted Cairo in 662, and
Beybars threw open the government stores, and strove in
every way to alleviate the sufferings of his subjects.
Campaigns in 663, he again entered Syria, and took Caesarea and
against the Ursoof; and in the next year he commenced a series of
Christians. campajgns against the Christians, notwithstanding the
earnest remonstrances of the kings of France, of Arragon,
and of Armenia. To raise the necessary funds for the ex¬
penses of the w^ar, he took occasion of the occurrence of
many incendiary fires in Cairo, during his absence on this
war, to mulct their co-religionists of the sum of 500,000
deenars,1 ostensibly to repair the damage caused by these
fires. He threatened Acre, and took Safad ; and relieved
from the apprehensions caused by the advance of the Tatars
by the death of Hulagu, and the retreat of his army, Bey¬
bars despatched a force which effected the conquest of Ar¬
menia, and penetrated to the borders of Anatolia; a tran¬
sient success which was speedily annulled by the advent of
Abaka Khan, the son of Plulagu. In the next war, Beybars
again attacked the Christians, burning their churches and
Fall of An- enS]avmg the people. He took Antioch, with horrible
carnage, advanced to Hims, and Hamah, and thence
returned to Cairo. After a campaign against the Tatars,
he ravaged the country around Acre (which place appears
to have been the constant object of his attacks) and the
“ Assassins,” so long the terror of dynasties, submitted to
his power. About this time the Tatars renewed their
inroads and besieged Beyrah; and in the year 671 Bey¬
bars took the field against them with two armies, one com¬
manded by himself in person, the other by Kala-oon El-
Elfee. In the battle of Beyrah the Sultan wras completely
victorious, and the Tatars fled to the mountains of Kurdis¬
tan. In consequence of this victory, Armenia again fell into
his hands, and was given up to pillage. Abaka Khan after¬
wards was again repulsed at Beyrah. Nubia also about
Exppdition ^me acknowledged the authority of Beybars. He died
in Anato- at Damascus in the year 676, after another expedition
Ba. against Anatolia, attended with various success, in which the
Character Tatars were leagued against him.2 Great military talents,
of Beybars. coupled wdth the most indefatigable activity, Beybars cer¬
tioch.
War with
the Tatars.
tainly possessed, but he used his conquests unmercifully; Egypt,
on many occasions he ravaged whole provinces, and sacked
many towns, putting great numbers of the inhabitants to
the sword. The melancholy annals of the Crusades bear
ample testimony to this fact; and while the example of
other monarchs, and of the Franks themselves, may be
urged as some palliation, nevertheless his barbarity remains
an indelible blot on his character. In Egypt he endea¬
voured to reform abuses and suppress vice; and numerous
public works were executed by his orders. Damietta was
razed and rebuilt farther inland; and the mouth of the
Nile was protected by a boom against sudden invasion.
He repaired the fortifications of Alexandria, and the Pharos,
the mosque El-Azhar in Cairo, and the walls of the citadel,
and built the great mosque known by his name to the north
of the city.3
The son and successor of Beybars, El-Melik Es-Sa’eed Es-Sa’eed
Barakeh Khan, was exiled after a short reign, and a younger Barakeh
brother, El-’A'dil Selamish, raised to the throne ; Kala-oon Khan.
El-Elfee acting as regent. This Memlook had married a IA-AUil
daughter of Beybars, and was consequently nearly allied to SLia'olsh-
the Sultan. He, nevertheless, conspired against him, and El-Mansoor
was soon proclaimed king by' the title of El-Melik El- Kala-oon.
Mansoor. Distinguished in former wars, he achieved many
successes during his reign of ten years. On his accession
he despatched an army to reduce disturbances in Syria,
and took Damascus. Peace was thus established in that
province; and in the year 680,4 he, in person, defeated a
very superior force of Tatars, and raised the siege of
Rahabeh. Later in his reign (in the year 688) he besieged
Tripoli, which for nearly two centuries had been in the
possession of the Christians, and was very rich and flourish¬
ing. The town was sacked, and its unfortunate inhabitants
put to the sword.5 His memory is still preserved in Cairo
by his hospital and mad-house, adjoining his fine mosque
in the principal street of the city. This charitable institu¬
tion he is said to have founded for expiation of great sever¬
ity towards the citizens, in enforcing an obnoxious edict.
His son, El-Ashraf Khaleel, rendered himself famous by El-Ashraf
the siege and capture (in the year 690) of Acre, the last Khaleel.
stronghold of the Crusaders in Syria. Many thousands of
its inhabitants were massacred; and 10,000 who presented
themselves before the Sultan and demanded quarter were
slaughtered in cold blood.6 He also took Erzeroom in
691, and two years after was assassinated in Egypt.
El-Melik En-Nasir Mohammad, another son of Kala-oon, En-Nasir
succeeded him at the age of nine years. The regent Ket- Moham-
bugha, however, followed the example of Kala-oon, and ma^ ^
usurped the sovereignty, with the title of El-Melik El-E!-A dll
’A dd. Pestilence and famine were followed by war wdth vet “k16,
the Tatars, who again ravaged Syria. Ketbugha despatched
an army against them, but the valour of his troops was
unable to withstand overpowering numbers, and Lageen
Kala-oon’s, governor in Syria, was driven into Egypt with
an immense crowd of fugitives. Ketbugha was deposed
on the allegation that he had not commanded in person,7
and El-Melik El-Mansoor Lageen was elevated in his El-Man-
stead. In little more than two years this king fell in a S001' La‘
conspiracy. His character was amiable, and he deserved a Seen<
better return for the equity and kindness he showed to his
subjects.
A short period of confusion then ensued, during which
an Emeer was proclaimed king. En-Nasir Mohammad,
1 El-Makreezee, trans. Quatremere tom. i., livr. ii., p. 150. 2 lb.
3 For full details of this Sultan’s reign, see Quatremere’s Hist, des Sultans Mamlooks; and also Abu-l-Fida.
4 El-Makreezee, trans. Quatremere, tom. ii., livr. i., p. 36.
5 Michaud says 7000 were put to death in the sacking of the town, and many more afterwards. Hist, des Croisades, livre 18.
6 El-Makreezee, trans. Quatremere, tom. ii., livr. i., pp. 125-6. Abu-l-Fida. Michaud, livr. 18.
7 El-Makreezee merely says that Ketbugha led an army to Syria; and that on his return his assassination was attempted by certain
of his Lmeers near Ramieh, but that he effected his escape. See Quatremere’s translation, tom. ii., livr. ii., p. 35, et seqq.
i
EGYPT.
485
Egypt.
Restoration
of En-Na-
sir.
Great vic¬
tory over
the Tatars.
En-Nasir
abdicates.
Persecu¬
tion of the
Christians
and Jews.
El-yiu-
dhaffar
Beybars
II.
En-Nasir
again re¬
stored.
Great per¬
secution
of the
Christians.
El-Man-
soor Aboo-
Bekr.
El-Ashraf
however, was at length recalled from his exile at Karak,
and elected Sultan in the year 698.1 Having firmly esta¬
blished himself’ in Egypt, he led an army against the Tatars,
but met with a severe reverse in the plains of“ Hims; a
second expedition proved more fortunate, and this general,
then only nineteen years of age, gained a bloody and deci¬
sive victory over the enemy near Damascus, in the year
702. The battle lasted three days; during the first two
the result was not decisive, although En-Nasir held the
field; on the third day the Tatars were utterly routed and
pursued for many hours.2 The Sultan on his entry into
Cairo after this achievement, was preceded by 1600 pri¬
soners, each one carrying the head of a comrade slain in
the combat, and 1000 other heads were borne on lances
in the procession. En-Nasir reigned until the year 708,
when he went to Karak and voluntarily abdicated ; he had
long struggled against the control of two powerful Emeers,
Beybars and Silar ; and in despair of throwing off their
ascendancy, he then openly yielded the reins of govern¬
ment to those who had long really held them. Since this
prince’s accession, the Christians and Jews of Egypt suf¬
fered the most severe persecution (excepting that of El-
Hakim) which had yet befallen them. In the year 700,
they were ordered to wear, respectively, blue and yellow
turbans, and forbidden to ride on horses or mules, or to
receive any government employment. The people took
advantage of these measures to destroy many churches and
synagogues. The churches continued shut for about a
year; but some of those which had been destroyed were
afterwards rebuilt at the request of Lascaris and other
princes.3 Another event of this period was a great
earthquake which half ruined Cairo, giving it the appear¬
ance of a city demolished by a siege; Alexandria and
other towns of Egypt, as well as Syria, also suffered from
it considerably.4
On the abdication of En-Nasir, El-Melik El-Mudhaffar-
Rukn-ed-Deen Beybars was saluted Sultan; but ere long En-
Nasir recovered his courage, and having collected an army,
marched to Damascus, where he was acknowledged, and
thence to Egypt, entering Cairo without opposition. El-
Mudhaffar had fled at his approach, and, never a favourite
of the people, he was attacked, on his exit from the metro¬
polis, by a crowrd of the citizens, who loaded him with abuse,
and pelted him with stones. En-Nasir now for the third
time ascended the throne of Egypt, and took the entire
authority into his own hands. The remainder of his life
was a period of profound peace, during which he occupied
himself in improving his dominions, and in embellishing
Cairo. But another persecution of the Christians oc¬
curred in 721, and all the principal churches in Egypt
were destroyed by certain fanatical Muslims. The Sultan
threatened a general massacre of the inhabitants of El-
Kahireh and El-Fustat; the Christians, however, took re¬
venge themselves by setting fire to very many mosques
and houses in the metropolis; much tumult ensued, and
many Christians and Muslims were executed. The threats
of the mob compelled En-Nasir to permit the people to
murder and plunder any Christian whom they might meet
in the streets ; and the oppressive rules before enacted were
rigorously enforced, and made even more degrading.5
The sons of En-Nasir followed him in succession, but
the reigns of most of them were short and troublous. El-
Melik El-Mansoor Seyf-ed-Deen Aboo-Bekr, El-Ashraf
’Ala-ed-Deen Koojook, En-Nasir Shihab-ed-Deen Ahmad,
Es-Salih Tmad-ed-Deen Isma’eel, El-Kamil Zeyn-ed-Deen Egypt.
Shaaban, and El-Mudhaffar Zeyn-ed-Deen Haggee, were
only raised to the throne to be either exiled or put to death. En-Nasir
After these, the Sultan Hasan deserves notice. He was Ahmad,
deposed by his brother, Es-Salih Salah-ed-Deen—whose Es-Salih
minister was Sheykhoon, a man well known to students of ■*sm^ ee(‘
Egyptian subjects; but he soon regained his authority,
reigned seven years, and at length fell by the swords of his p^.Mu-
Memlooks in the splendid mosque which he built in the dhaffar
open space beneath the citadel of Cairo. Four more Mem- Haggee.
look kings bring the history to the accession of a newThe Sultan
dynasty, that of the Circassians. These were El-Mansoor ^asfin'
Nasir-etl-Deen Haggee (son of El-Mudhaffar), deposed in g^h-ed-
six months; El-Ashraf Shaaban (son of Hasan), an unfor- Peen.
tnnate prince, whose reign passed away amid the struggles El-Man-
of the now too powerful Emeers,6 by whom he was ultimately soor Hag-
strangled ; his son, El-Mansoor ’Ala-ed-Deen, the victim of £ee-
similar troubles, and in whose time the celebrated Batkook
rose to the regency; and Es-Salih Haggee, a brother ofE1_Man_'
the last king. Exiled by Barkook, who was proclaimed soor ’Ala-
Sultan, he unsuccessfully endeavoured to recover his throne ed-Deen.
in the year 784, and in 790 was restored, but he was soon Es-Salih
once more dethroned, and this time with the loss of his life,
by Barkook.
The Sultan Edh-Dhahir Seyf-ed-Deen Aboo Sa’eed Bar- Edh Dhahir
kook was now undisputed master of Egypt. He was theBarhook'
first prince of the Dynasty of Burgee or Circassian Mem-
looks. As the preceding dynasty was founded by the Dynasty.
Turkish Memlooks of Es-Salih Eiyoob, so this dynasty
was composed of the Circassian slaves whom those kings
from time to time bought with the view of strengthening
their power. They were originally placed in garrison-
towns, and hence their name Burgee, signifying “ of a
tower or castle.” It is worthy of remark, that, while many
of the Sultans of both these dynasties held an insecure tenure
of power, many of the former met with a violent death, but
few of the latter.7 The reign of Barkook is memorable for War with
his war with Teemoor, or Teemoor-lang, commonly called Teemoor-
by us Tamerlane, who had extended his conquests towardslans-
his dominions, but found him not unprepared, for he had
foreseen the threatened danger. In the year 795, KartL
Yoosuf, lord of El-Medeeyeh, and Ahmad Ibn-Uweys, Sul¬
tan of Baghdad, fled to his court for succour. The inha¬
bitants of Edessa had been put to the sword, and Aleppo
was menaced with a similar catastrophe, when Barkook, at
the head of his army, came to its relief. Ahmad was rein¬
stated in Baghdad, as a vassal of Barkook, whosemame ap¬
peared on the coinage ; and soon after Bayezeed, commonly
called by us Bajazet, conducted a treaty with the Sultan
of Egypt. The conquest of India diverted Teemoor from
his projects in Syria, but Barkook continued vigilant, and
by every means sought to insure the safety of his kingdom.
He died suddenly in 801, much beloved by his subjects,
and regarded by less powerful chiefs as their strongest bul¬
wark against the Tatar monarch. He was called “ Sheykh”
for his wisdom and learning, and combined with these quali¬
ties those of a skilful general and a good king. He was
active, wary, and provident; and possessed the military ta¬
lents of Beybars, without his severity. He seems to have
been fond of riches and display, and he certainly left his
treasury in a very flourishing condition, besides much wealth
in stores, slaves, horses, and the like.8
His son, El-Melik En-Nasir Abu-s-Sa’adat Farag, fell a En-Nasir.
prey to intestine troubles and the inroads of the invader. He Farag.
Koojook. _
1 FJ-Makreezee, trans. Quatremere, tom. ii., livr. ii., p. 126. 2 Id., tom. ii., livr. ii., p. 199, et seqq.
3 See Modern Egyptians, supplement; El-Makreezee, trans. Quatremere, tom. ii., livr. ii., p. 177, et seqq.; and for further information on
the persecutions of the Christians, Quatremere’s Mkmoires sur VEgypte, tom. ii., pp. 220-266.
4 El-Makreezee, trans. Quatremere, tom. ii., livr. ii., p. 215, et seqq. 5 Modern Egyptians, loc. cit.; and Memoircs sur VEgypte, ib.
6 Not a little of this turbulence was excited by the constantly intriguing Khaleefehs, who used their religious influence against their
patrons, at whose court they were indeed but guests. 7 See Englishwoman in Egypt, vol. i., pp. 225-9. 8 Abu-l-Mahasin.
486
Egypt.
EGYPT.
Teemoor
lang de¬
feats Fa-
rag.
’Azeez.
Farag re¬
stored.
had overcome a revolt of the governor of Syria, when Tee¬
moor again threatened that province. Kara Yoosuf and
Ahmad sought refuge with the son of their former protec¬
tor, and Farag’s refusing to betray his guests gave occasion
to the enemy to continue the war ; a battle was fought, Farag
was defeated, Aleppo and Flims fell into the hands of the
victor, and the Egyptian forces returned and were concen¬
trated in Egypt. Intimidated, however, by the fall of his
ally Bayezeed, Farag sent an embassy to Teemoor with
presents and offers of amity, and at length concluded a peace
at the sacrifice of territory. Teemoor died in the year 807
(a.d. 1405), and Farag was preparing an expedition to re¬
cover his Syrian possessions, when he was surprised in his
palace by an insurrection, headed by his brother, ’Abd-el-
El-Mansoor ’Azeez, and compelled to take to flight. The people, be-
’Abd-el- lieving that he had perished, proclaimed El-Mansoor ’Abd¬
el-’Azeez his successor. In the space of less than three
months, however, he was deposed in favour of Farag, who
thenceforth reigned at Damascus, until the Khaleefeh El-
Musta’een bi-llah, at the instigation of the Emeer Sheykh
El-Mahmoodee,who had raised an army, boldly declared him¬
self Sultan, by an appeal to religion gained numbers to his
side, instituted criminal proceedings against Farag on the
plea of the exactions which he had been forced to levy for
the conduct of the war against Teemoor, and accomplished
his death. Fie was beheaded in the month of Safar in
the year 815, and his corpse was left unburied. Abu-1-
Mahasin gives him the character of an extravagant, cruel,
and voluptuous king.
El-Musta’een bi-llah, with the title of El-Melik El-
’A'dil Abu-1-Fadl, began his reign well; but he had ap¬
pointed El-Mahmoodee his Wezeer as a reward for his ser¬
vices, and this powerful and vigorous chief soon obliged
him to abdicate, and eventually exiled him to Alexandria,
where he passed the remainder of his days.
El-Melik El-Mu-eiyad Abu-n-Nasr Sheykh El-Mah¬
moodee (originally a Memlook of Barkook’s) waged
three successful wars in Syria, in the first of which he
El-Mus¬
ta’een.
El-Mu-
eiyad
Sheykh.
irfs^ria’118 was a °f faith in putting to death the
^ ’ governor of Damascus and part of the garrison of that city,
after they had surrendered on promise of safety. He
reigned peacefully in Egypt, and his name is recorded as
that of a king who studied the happiness of his subjects and
favoured the learned, who counted him among their num¬
ber. But he was avaricious ; although we might judge the
contrary from his beautiful mosque, and the elegant minarets
over the Bab-Zuweyleh, in Cairo, which are among the chief
ornaments of the city.1
Three kings followed in rapid succession : El-MudhafFar
Ahmad, a son of El-Mu-eiyad, under two years of age at
his accession; Edh-Dhahir Tatar and his infant son, Es-
Salih Mohammad, who was deposed by Barsabay Ed-
Dukmakee. This Memlook assumed the title of El-Melik
El-Ashraf, and worthily continued the prosperous reign of
El-Mu-eiyad. In power and virtue he ranks second only
to Barkook among all the kings of this dynasty.2 He is
Expedition ^nown 111 European history by his expedition in 827 against
to Cyprus. d°hn HE, king of Cyprus, who became his vassal ; and by
the part he took, about seven years later, in the dissensions
of the court of Savoy and the government of Cyprus. He
ruled for seventeen years, with great clemency, and died in
El-’Azecz El-’Azeez Yoosuf, his son, was deposed by El-
El-Mansoor ^ansoor Aboo-Sa’eed Jakmak El-’Ala-ee, a good prince,
Jakmak. and a Patron of the learned.3 After a peaceful reign he
abdicated at the age of about eighty years in favour of his
EOIansoor son) El-Mansoor Abu-s-Sa’adat ’Othman, who was over-
nnan. thrown by the intrigues of the Khaleefeh El-Kaim bi-amri-
El-Ashraf llah, and was succeeded by an aged Memlook, El-Ashraf-
Eynal. Abu-n-Nasr Eynal El-’Ala-ee En-Nasiree, followed by his
El-Mu-
dhaffar
Ahmad.
Edh-Dha¬
hir Tatar.
Es-Salih
Moham¬
mad.
El-Ashraf
son, El-Mu-eiyad Shihab-ed-Deen Abu-l-Fet-h Ahmad. Egypt.
Edh-Dhahir Seyf-ed-Deen-Khoshkadam, a Greek by birth,
superseded him, reigning himself for seven years, with El-Mu-ei-
equity and benignity ; presenting a contrast to the cruelty yad
and oppression of his appointed successor, Edh-Dhahir
Aboo-Sa’eed Bilbay El-’Ala-ee, which caused the latter’s
fall and the elevation of the Sultan Aboo-Sa’eed Temer-kadam
beg Edh-Dhahiree, who, in his turn, was deposed to make Edh-Dha-
room for El-Ashraf Kait Bey, a prince who deserves hir Bilbay.
especial notice for his struggles with the Turks, whereby The Sultan
the conquest of Egypt by that people was deferred for a few pj Yshnlf'
years. After a period of quiet which followed his acces- Bey.
sion, he was alarmed by the victory gained by Mohammad
II. over his ally the King of Persia, and posted a consi¬
derable force on the frontier of Syria. The successes of
the conqueror of Constantinople made him desire to abdi¬
cate ; but the Emeers prayed him to defend his rights, and
he consequently prepared for the war. The death of Mo¬
hammad, and the dissensions between Bayezeed II. and Jem
(or Zizim) temporarily relieved him of these apprehensions.
The fall of Jem, however, and his arrival at the Egyp¬
tian court, implicated Kait Bey in the quarrel; and on
the final overthrow of this prince he made sure of a war War with
with the more fortunate Bayezeed, and himself began Bayezeed.
aggressive measures, intercepted the Turkish caravan of
Pilgrims, and an ambassador from India who was on his
way to Constantinople with presents, and took Tarsus
and Adaneh. A remonstrance from Bayezeed was an¬
swered by a successful attack on his Asiatic commander,
’Ala-ed-Dowleh. In the meantime Tarsus and Adaneh
were recovered from him; but the Emeer El-Ezbekee, to
whom was entrusted the conduct of all future wars, being
despatched against these towns, retook them, defeated an
army sent to chastise him, and annexed Karamania. Another
force was speedily equipped, and took the field in 893 :
conditions of peace were, refused, and considerable success
attended the Turkish arms. El-Ezbekee was, therefore,
again ordered to Syria; a Turkish squadron conveying
troops was dispersed, and at Tarsus he gave battle. The
result was at first unfavourable to the Memlooks, whose
commander, however, rallied them under cover of night,
and succeeded in surprising and totally defeating the Turks.
Long negotiations followed this victory ; and at length
Kait Bey, who w-as always most anxious for peace, ceded
the disputed towns of Tarsus and Adaneh, and secured
repose during the rest of his days. Fie died in 901, hav¬
ing designated El-Melik En-Nasir Abu-s-Sa’adat Moham- En-Easir
mad as his successor. This weak and barbarous king wras ^|ajam"
put to death after four years, during which he was deposed,
and Kansooh, surnamed Khamsameeyeh, and Edh-Dhahir
Abu-n-Nasr Kansooh were successively installed. The
first reigned but eleven days, and the latter abdicated after
five months of great difficulty and danger. On the death
of En-Nasir, El-Ashraf Kansooh Janbalatwas elevated to the
throne, but six months sufficed to accomplish his fall, and he
was fortunate in preserving his life. The next Sultan, El- Tooman
Melik El-’A'dil Tooman Bey, was acknowledged both in jjey.
Egypt and Syria. He, however, was overthrown and killed
in a few months. E1 Ghoo-
The Memlooks now compelled Kansooh El-Ghooree to ree<
assume the dangerous dignity, with the title of El-Melik
El-Ashraf. This prince very unwillingly yielded. His
previous life shows him to have been both virtuous and
learned ; and he proved himself to be an able ruler. After
an unsuccessful expedition against the Portuguese in the
East, he reigned in peace until the year 915, when Kur-
kood, the father of Seleem I., the Turkish Sultan, obtained
his protection and assistance. Events similar to those
which accompanied the end of Jem followed ; and Seleem
Abu-l-Mah asin.
Ib.
El-Is-hakec bears similar testimony to the character of this king, and that of Barsabay.
Egypt.
War with
Seleem.
Battle of
Marj-Da-
bikj and
death of El-
Ghooree.
Tooman
Bey.
The Turk¬
ish con¬
quest.
EGYPT.
487
availed himself of a pretext to declare war against Egypt.
The first reverse which the Egyptians suffered occurred to
an army commanded by ^ Ala-ed-Dowleh, formerly defeated
by Kait Bey, but now in the pay of El-Ghooree. The
winter was passed by the latter in preparing energetically
for the inevitable struggle, and in the spring he advanced
in person. Seleem, on his part, reduced the last place in
the hands of the Egyptians in ’Aladowleeyeh, and pretended
to march towards Persia; but at the same time he sent to
demand of El-Ghooree wherefore he opposed his passage,
and commanded in person on the frontier. El-Ghooree
replied, that his was merely an army of observation, and
that he was desirous of mediating between Seleem and
Isma’eel Shah. Seleem, however, rapidly advanced, refused
to listen to an attempt at negotiation, and was met by El-
Ghooree on the plain of Marj-Dabik, near Aleppo. A
long and sanguinary battle ensued, and victory declared
for neither side, until Kheyr Bey, commanding the right
wing, and El-Ghazalee, over the left of the Egyptian army,
basely deserted to the enemy with their troops. The
centre then gave way and fled in utter confusion, notwith¬
standing the efforts of the Sultan to rally them. He was
trampled to death by his routed cavalry, while (according
to some) in the act of prayer. This event took place on
the 26th of Regeb 922 (a.d. 1517). With his death Egypt
lost her independence. The shattered remains of the
army collected in Cairo. Tooman Bey, a nephew of the
deceased king, was elected Sultan, and at once determined
on every resistance to the conqueror. His general in Syria,
El-Ganbardee, disputed the road with Seleem step by step,
and Tooman Bey awaited his arrival near Cairo. Between
El-Khankah and the metropolis, at the village of Er-
Reydaneeyeh, the opposing armies joined battle, on the
29th of Zu-l-Heggeh. The fall of a favourite general,
Sinan Pasha, infuriated the Turks, and the brilliant bravery
of the Memlooks availed them not. Immense numbers of
them were slain by their enemies in the pursuit, and the
survivors reunited in Cairo. El-Ganbardee, however,
sacrificed his fame by joining the victor. The Turkish
army paused for rest; and time was thus given to Tooman
Bey to hire Arabs at a great cost to replenish his thinned
ranks. Seleem now passed to the west of Cairo. A night
surprise conducted by Tooman failed, but he succeeded in
putting to the sword a great many Turks. He fortified him¬
self in the city, and a house-to-house combat ensued, the
Memlooks defending every foot with the energy of despair ;
the citadel fell by assault, and the unfortunate Tooman
effected his escape towards Alexandria; but on the way he
was taken by Arabs, given up to El-Ganbardee and another,
and brought in chains to Seleem, who at first received him
with honour, but afterwards falsely accused him of conspir¬
ing against him, and, with the cruelty and perfidy charac¬
teristic of his race, crucified him over the Bab-Zuweyleh,
the place of execution for common malefactors. Thus
miserably perished the last independent ruler of Egypt, who
possessed the best qualities of his line, and whose noble de¬
fence of his kingdom would have secured to him the com¬
miseration of any but a Turk.
In reviewing the period during which Egypt was go¬
verned by independent Muslim princes, it is necessary to
consider the spirit of the times and the people over whom
they ruled. They succeeded to the government of coun¬
tries worn out by incessant warfare, overrun by savage
hordes, and debased by the rule of the Lower Empire.
Egypt had long struggled against the slavery to which it
was condemned, and the history of the last three dynasties
of Pharaohs evinces the patriotism which yet animated her
people. But the successive tyranny of the Persians, the
Greeks, and the Romans appears to have annihilated their Egypt,
nationality; and when the Arabs invaded the country, these v'—^
causes, combined with religious strife, induced them to
afford to the conquerors every assistance in their power.
But the changeful rule of the lieutenants, and the troubles of
the Khaleefehs, debarred Egypt (excepting during the reigns
of some kings of the dynasties of the Benee-Tooloon and the
Ikhsheedeeyeh) from profiting by the enlightenment of the
race who held the dominion over it, until the conquest by
the Fatimees. The Khaleefehs of that dynasty contributed
in a great degree to restore to Egypt some portion of its
ancient prosperity, and with the House of Eiyoob it attained
its greatest military glory under the Muslims; but the edi¬
fices erected during the rule of the two dynasties of Mem-
look kings, the libraries collected in Cairo at that period,
and the learned men who then flourished, would point to
it as the age in which literature and the arts were culti¬
vated with the most success ; a sure evidence of the in¬
ternal prosperity of any country. This is the more sur¬
prising when we consider the state of Syria, which had long
before their accession fallen a prey to intestine wars, and
the ravages of the Tatars, the Crusaders, and other invaders ;
and also bear in mind the constitution of their government,
in which the more powerful chiefs were constantly aiming
at the supreme authority; and the practice of purchasing
Memlooks, and rearing them in the households of the great
to enable their masters to maintain their ascendancy, aug¬
mented the number of these aspirants to the throne. These
slaves were, unlike the Bahrees (who were the Turkish
Memlooks of the Eiyoobee Sultan, Es-Salih Negm-ed-
Deen), chiefly Circassians, who afterwards composed the Se¬
cond Dynasty, the Burgee. Many of the Memlook Sultans
rivalled in military achievements the great Salah-ed-Deen,
and even penetrated farther than he in their foreign expe¬
ditions. In Cairo are preserved the finest specimens of Arab
architecture, almost all dating during the period comprised
under the domination of the two Memlook Dynasties: the
libraries of the mosques, and private collections of that city,
though grievously injured since the Turkish conquest, are,
or very recently were, the best and most considerable of
those of Egypt or Syria;1 and, as before remarked, the
University El-Azhar is still, owing to the fostering care of
these Sultans, the principal seat of learning of the Eastern
world. Some have endeavoured to give a history of Egypt
after the European model, with accounts of the state of
commerce, taxation, and the like, under the Muslims; but
those only who have read the Arab histories of this and
other countries can appreciate the general fallacy of these
conclusions, and perceive in them that common failing of
modern authors, a desire to throw a new light on history,
rather than state only as much as the materials warrant.
It would be tedious and unprofitable to follow the details Turkish
of Turkish misrule and tyranny which are from this time Pashas,
presented to the student of Egyptian history. Although
Seleem destroyed the power of the Memlooks, he thought
fit to appoint twenty-four Beys over the military provinces
of that number into which he divided Egypt, subject to the
supreme control of a Pasha, whose council was formed of
seven Turkish chiefs (ujaklees), while one of the Beys held
the post of Sheykh el-Beled, or Governor of the Metropo¬
lis ; an officer who became an object of hatred to the other
chiefs.2 For nearly two centuries the successive Pashas were
mostly obeyed; but the ambition of becoming Sheykh el-
Beled was the fruitful cause of intrigue and murder. The
Memlooks who then held power in Egypt were called the
Ghuzz, that being the name of the tribe to which they areTheGhuzz.
said to have at first generally belonged ; and they conti¬
nually bought slaves, of Circassian or Georgian race, to
1 It should, however, be mentioned that many of the most precious of their contents are plunder brought from the libraries of mosques
in Syria, as is proved by seals which th«y bear.
2 This system was commenced by Seleem, and completed by his successor.
488
EGYPT.
Egypt.
supply the place of children, for they did not intermarry
with natives of Egypt, and women of more northern cli¬
mates are generally either barren or bear sickly offspring in
that country. Thus they lacked the surest source of power 5
few possessed any family ties; but at the same time the
slaves in general were remarkably faithful to their patrons.
At the expiration of the period before mentioned, the Beys
gradually increased in power, until the authority of the
Pasha was almost nominal, and the government became a
military oligarchy i1 this brings us to the rise of the cele-
’Alee Bey. brated ’Alee Bey. He was created Sheykh el-Beled in the
year 1177; but, having revenged himself on an old enemy
who had assassinated ’Alee’s master, to whom he owed his
elevation to the rank of Bey, he shortly after fled to Syria,
and took refuge with the governor of Jerusalem, and thence
went to Acre, where the Sheykh Dhahir became his friend;
and that same year he returned to Cairo in his former ca¬
pacity of Sheykh el-Beled. In 1179 his enemies again com¬
pelled him to flee, and he betook himself this time to El-
Yemen, once more to return to Egypt; after which he
gained increased power. His favourite Memlook, Moham¬
mad Aboo-Dhahab, proved ungrateful, and, while enjoying
the highest power, entered into a conspiracy against his
life; but after receiving the presents of the hostile Beys,
he denounced them to his master, who would not listen to
warnings of his meditated treachery.
In the year 1182, the Porte demanded the assistance of
’Alee Bey in the Russian war ; an order which he was about
to obey, when he was apprised of the departure of a mes¬
senger with a firman demanding his head, he having been
falsely accused at Constantinople of intending to aid the
Russians and throw off his allegiance. He caused the bearer
of this order to be waylaid and put to death, and having
possessed himself of the firman, he convened the Beys,
showed them the document, and aided by those of his own
household,2 persuaded the council to expel the Pasha, and
Egypt de- declare Egypt independent. The Sheykh Dhahir took part
in this rebellion, and the Pasha of Damascus was beaten by
him between Mount Lebanon and Tiberias. A period of
good but vigorous government and of tranquillity followed
these events in Egypt, notwithstanding the very heavy im¬
posts levied for the replenishment of the treasury; and
’Alee’s generals gained for him extended power abroad.
Mohammad Aboo-Dhahab was despatched to Arabia, and
entered Mekkeh, where the Shereef was deposed, and an¬
other Bey traversed the eastern shores of the Red Sea.
After the expedition to Arabia, Mohammad Bey marched
into Syria to assist the Sheykh Dhahir against the Porte,
and the co-operation of the Russians was demanded. A suc¬
cessful campaign terminated before the walls of Damascus,
the siege of which was abandoned when nearly brought to
a close, and Mohammad Bey returned with large forces to
Egypt. This man, loaded with benefits by his patron, now
openly rebelled ; and being joined by ’Alee’s enemies, at
the head of whom was Isma’eel, chief of the guard (who
was sent against him and went over to his side), he advanced
on Cairo, and ’Alee escaped to his steady ally, Sheykh
Dhahir, the Prince of Acre. These events took place in
the year 1186. Mohammad Bey was then declared Sheykh
el-Beled. ’Alee Bey in the meanwhile, in conjunction with
his ally, gained various advantages in Syria, and, on the in¬
formation that his return was desired in Egypt, he collected
a small force, assisted by Sheykh Dhahir and a Russian
squadron, and determined on attempting to recover his
power. He, however, fell into an ambuscade near Es-
Saliheeyeh, and was wounded by one of his Memlooks
dared in¬
dependent
named Murad (aflerwards Murad Bey),3 carried to the cita- Egypt,
del, and poisoned by Mohammad Bey. Thus terminated
the career of the famous ’Alee Bey, a man whose energy,
talents, and ambition bear a strong resemblance to those of
the late viceroy Mohammad ’Alee.
Mohammad Bey Aboo-Dhabab continued Sheykh el- Mohammad
Beled, tendered his allegiance to the Porte, and was invested Bey*
with the pashalic. He then entered Syria, and severely
chastised Sheykh Dhahir, taking Gaza, Joppa, and Acre
itself. Joppa was taken by assault, and suffered a massacre
of its inhabitants, and Acre was pillaged. At the latter place
the Pasha suddenly died. His mosque in Cairo is the latest
fine specimen of Arab architecture, and is not unworthy of
its better days.
The chief competitors for power were now Isma’eel,
Tbraheem, and Murad, the first of whom was speedily ex¬
pelled, the contest continuing between the two latter Beys.
Ibraheem at length succeeded in causing himself to be pro- Ibraheem
claimed Sheykh el-Beled, and Murad contented himself Bey.
with the office of Emeer el-Hagg, or chief of the pilgrims ;
but this arrangement was not destined to be of long conti¬
nuance ; a violent quarrel resulted in a recourse to arms,
and that again in a peace of three years’ duration, during
which the two Beys held an equal sway. In the year 1200
the Porte despatched Hasan Capitan (properly Kapoodan)
Pasha (or High Admiral) with a Turkish force, to reduce the
turbulent Memlooks to obedience, and to claim the annual
tribute. Murad Bey was defeated at Er-Rahmaneeyeh, and
the Turks advanced to Cairo, desolating the country, and
acting according to their almost invariable practice on such
occasions. The metropolis opened its gates to Hasan Pasha,
who determined on pursuing the Beys to Upper Egypt,
whither he despatched a large portion of his army, and a
sanguinary conflict took place. But a war with Russia re¬
called this commander to Constantinople. Isma’eel was Isma’eel
again created Sheykh el-Beled, and he held that post until Bey.
the terrible plague of the year 1205, in which he perished,
and hence it is commonly called the “ Plague of Isma’eel.”
His death caused the return of Ibraheem and Murad; and
eight years after intelligence of the arrival at Alexandria of
a French army of 36,000 men, commanded by General
Bonaparte, united these chiefs in a common cause.
On the 18th May 1798 (a.h. 1212), this expedition, con- TheFrencL
sisting of 13 sail of the line, 6 frigates, and 12 vessels of a invasion,
smaller size, sailed from Toulon, and made the coast of
Egypt on the 1st July. The troops were landed near
Alexandria, and the city fell by assault on the 5th of that
month. The French conquest and occupation of Egypt
belong to European history; a recapitulation of the princi¬
pal events of the period will therefore suffice in this place.
The Memlooks affected to despise their antagonist, and
hastened to chastise him: at Shibirrees they attacked the
French, and were repulsed ; but, nothing discouraged, they
collected all their forces, exceeding 60,000 men, under the
command of Murad, and entrenched themselves at Emba-
beh, opposite Cairo. Plere was fought the battle which
has been dignifled with the name of that of the Pyramids. Battle of
European tactics completely bewildered the Memlooks,the By ra¬
th eir famous cavalry was received on the bayonets of the mi(is-
French squares, a galling fire of grape and musketry mowed
down their ranks, and of this great army only about 2500
horse escaped with Murad Bey, while 15,000 men of all
arms fell on the field of battle. Having made himself
master of Cairo, Bonaparte despatched General Desaix to
effect the conquest of Upper Egypt, and the success of the
Eastern expedition seemed secured. But, ten days after the
^ See the Englishwoman in Egypt, vol. i., p. 229—231.
Alee Eey had, ever since his attainment to the post of Sheykh el-Beled, endeavoured to appoint bis own creatures to all places of
1 an tr ^ a^so greatly increased the number of his Memlooks, to the amount of 6000, and created eighteen of them Beys.
11s e\ent is variously related. Marcel states that he was victorious over the advanced guard of Mohammad Bey, but defeated and
wounded in a battle with the main body; he places the scene of the encounter at the same place, near Es-Saliheeyeh.
EGYPT.
489
Egypt, victory of Embabeh, the battle of the Nile annihilated the
^ French fleet in Aboo-Keer Bay, and most materially in-
Battle of fluenced the future conduct of the war. On this point,
the Nile. Napoleon himself says, “ La perte de la bataille d’Aboukir
cut une grande influence sur les affaires d’Egypte et meme
sur cedes du monde ; la flotte Franchise sauvee, 1’expedition
de Syrie n’eprouvait point d’obstacles, 1’artillerie de siege se
transportait surement et facilement au-dela du desert, et
Saint-Jean-d’Acre n’arretait point I’armee Fran^aise. La
flotte Fran^aise detruite, le divan s’enhardit a declarer la
guerre & la France. L’armee perdit un grand appui, sa
position en Egypte changea totalement, et Napoleon dut
renoncer ti Fespoir d’asseoir a jamais la puissance Fran^aise
dans 1’Occident par les resultats de I’expedition d’Egypte.”1
The disastrous expedition into Syria, undertaken for the
purpose of frustrating the efforts of Sir Sydney Smith before
Alexandria, and of Jezzar Pasha, who was advancing from
Acre, still further obscured Napoleon’s prospects in the
East, and the victory soon after obtained by him over the
Ottoman army at Aboo-Keer, the second defeat of Murad
Bey, and various successes over the Turks, enabled the
French general Kleber (Napoleon having left for Europe
after the first of these events) to set on foot negotiations
for an honourable evacuation of the country. But when
the convention was already signed, and the French were
about to quit Cairo, Lord Keith signified to Kleber that
Great Britain would not consent to the terms of the treaty ;
and although this refusal was afterwards rescinded, Kleber
considered that the withdrawal came too late : he totally
defeated 70,000 men under the Grand Vezeer at Heliopolis,
and returned to Cairo to quell an insurrection of the inha¬
bitants. This distinguished officer was about this time as¬
sassinated in the garden of his palace by a fanatic, who was
impaled in the great square (then a lake) called the Fzbe-
keeyeh, in Cairo, and miserably lingered for the space of
three days before death put an end to his sufferings. Un¬
der Kleber’s administration, Egypt began to resume its
former prosperity: by his conciliatory and good government,
much prejudice against the French was overcome ; by ced¬
ing a part of Upper Egypt to Murad, he gained the good
will of that chief, who gave him no cause to regret this
politic step ; while under bis auspices the “ savans” of the
Institute collected the valuable mass of information em¬
bodied in the “ Great French Work.”
On the death of Kleber, General Menou succeeded to
the command, and although he afterwards conducted the
defence of the country with much valour, yet, to his inju¬
dicious administration, and his want of military talent, we
must mainly ascribe the determination of the British govern¬
ment to attempt the expulsion of the French from Egypt,
and the rapid success of the campaign that ensued. On the
British 2d of March 1801 an army under Sir Ralph Abercromby
expedition. arvived in Aboo-Keer Bay and made good a landing in the
face of a well-disposed French force, which offered every
possible resistance. The memorable battle of Alexandria,
in which Abercromby fell, decided the fate of the war. A
bold march, executed with talent, effected the capitulation
of Cairo ; Alexandria surrendered on the 1st of September,
and the French sailed from the shores of Egypt in the
course of that month.2 General Hutchinson had taken the
command of the English expedition, afterwards reinforced
by a detachment from India under General Baird ; and the
army of the Grand Vezeer, and that of the Capitan-Pasha,
with the troops of Ibraheem Bey (Murad having died of the Egypt,
plague), had co-operated in the measures which led to the
evacuation of the country by Menou.3
The history now requires that we should mention the Origin of
early career of a man who subsequently ruled the destinies ^ohamma<i
of Egypt for a period of nearly forty years. The late ^lee*
viceroy of Egypt, Mohammad ’Alee Pasha, was born in the
year of the Flight 1182 (a.d. 1768-9) at Cavalla, a small sea¬
port town of Albania. On the death of his father, in early
life, he was brought up in the house of the governor of the
town, who, as a reward for military prowess, gave him his
daughter in marriage. By her he had, it is said, his three
eldest sons, Ibraheem,4 * Toosoon, and Isma’eel. Having
attained the rank of buluk-bashee (or head of a body of
infantry), he became a dealer in tobacco, until, in his thirty-
third year, he was despatched with his patron’s son, ’Alee
Agha, and 300 men, the contingent furnished by his native
place, with the Turkish expedition against the French in
Egypt; and soon after his arrival in that country he suc¬
ceeded, on the return of ’Alee Agha, to the command, with
the nominal rank of been-bashee (or chief of a thousand men).
Soon after the evacuation of Egypt by the French, that
unfortunate country became the scene of more severe
troubles, in consequence of the unwarrantable attempts of
the Turks to destroy the power of the Ghuzz. In de¬
fiance of promises to the English government, orders were
transmitted from Constantinople to Hoseyn Pasha, the
Turkish High Admiral, to ensnare and put to death the
principal Beys. Invited to an entertainment, they were,
according to the Egyptian contemporary historian El-Ga-
bartee,6 attacked on board the flag-ship; Sir Robert Wil¬
son and M. Mengin, however, state that they were fired on,
in open boats, in the bay of Aboo-Keer. They offered a
heroic resistance, but were overpowered and made prisoners,
while Mohammad Bey El-Menfookh, ’Osman6 Bey Et-Tam-
burgee,’Osman Bey El-Ashtar, Mohammad Bey El-Hasanee,
Murad Bey the Younger, and Ibraheem Kikhya Es-dsen-
naree (a black), were among the killed. Some, including
the afterwards-celebrated’Osman Bey El-Bardeesee, escaped
in a boat, and sought refuge with the English, who at that
time occupied Alexandria. General Hutchinson, informed
of this treachery, immediately assumed threatening measures
against the Turks, and in consequence, the killed, wounded,
and prisoners were given up to him. Such was the com¬
mencement of the disastrous struggle between the Mem-
looks and the Turks.
Mohammad Khusruf was the first Pasha after the expul- Khusruf
sion of the French. The form of government, however, Pasha.
was not the same as that before the French invasion ; for
the Ghuzz were not reinstated. The Pasha, and through
him, the Sultan, endeavoured on several occasions either to
ensnare them, or to beguile them into submission ; but their
efforts failing, Mohammad Khusruf took the field, and a
Turkish detachment 14,000 strong despatched against them
to Demenhoor, whither they had descended from Upper
Egypt, was defeated by a small force under El-Elfee.7 Their
ammunition and guns fell into the hands of the Memlooks.
In March 1803 the British evacuated Alexandria, and Departure
Mohammad Bey El-Elfee accompanied them to England to of the
consult respecting the means to be adopted for restoring the British,
former power of the Ghuzz. About six weeks after, the
Arnaoot (or Albanian) soldiers in the service of Khusruf
tumultuously demanded their pay, and surrounded the house
1 Napoleon, Memoires, t. ii.
2 Very many of the French had either married Muslim females, or bought concubine slaves of the same faith, whom, on their departure,
they left behind them ; and these unfortunates were forthwith tied up in sacks and drowned.
3 Sir R. Wilson’s History of the British Expedition.
4 Ibraheem is, however, believed by many, or most, to have been the wife’s son by a former husband.
6 The MS. annals of El-Gabartee have furnished the materials for this narrative of the times of Mohammad ’Alee, until the month of
Gumada-t-Taniyeh, a.h. 1.220 (a.d. 1805), when they terminate.
6 Correctly ’Othman, but commonly pronounced ’Osman.
7 Mengin says that El-Elfee withdrew his force leaving El-Bardeesee with 800 men to meet the enemy.
YOL. VIII. 3 Q
490
EGYPT.
Egypt, of the Defterdar, who in vain appealed to the Pasha to satisfy
their claims. The latter opened fire from the artillery of
his palace on the insurgent soldiery in the house of the
Defterdar, across the Ezbekeeyeh. The citizens of Cairo,
accustomed to such occurrences, immediately closed their
shops, and the doors of the several quarters, and every man
who possessed any weapon armed himself. The tumult
continued all the day, and the next morning a body of
troops sent out by the Pasha failed to quell it. Tahir, the
commander of the Albanians, then repaired to the citadel,
gained admittance through an embrasure, and having ob¬
tained possession of it, began to cannonade the Pasha over
the roofs of the intervening houses, and then descended with
guns to the Ezbekeeyeh, and laid close siege to the palace.
On the following day, Mohammad Khusruf made good his
escape with his women and servants and his regular troops,
and fled to Damietta by the river. 1 his revolt marks the
commencement of the rise of Mohammad ’Alec to power in
Egypt, and of the breach between the Arnaoots and 1 urks
which ultimately led to the expulsion of the latter.
Tahir Tahir Pasha assumed the government, but in twenty-three
Pasha. days he met with his death from exactly the same cause as
that of the overthrow of his predecessor. He refused the
pay of certain of the Turkish troops, and was immediately
assassinated. A desperate conflict ensued between the
Albanians and Turks ; and the palace was set on fire and
plundered. The masters of Egypt were now split into
these two factions, animated with the fiercest animosity
against each other. Mohammad ’Alee became the head of
the former, but his party was the weaker, and he therefore
entered into an alliance with Ibraheem Bey, and ’Osman
Bey El-Bardeesee. A certain Ahmad Pasha, who was
about to proceed to a province in Arabia, of which he had
been appointed governor, was raised to the important post
of Pasha of Egypt, through the influence of the Turks, and
the favour of the Sheykhs ; but Mohammad ’Alee, who with
his Albanians held the citadel, refused to assent to their
choice; the Memlooks moved over from El- Geezeh, and
Ahmad Pasha betook himself to the mosque of Ez-Zahir,1
which the French had converted into a fortress. He was
compelled to surrender by the Albanians; the two chiefs
of the Turks who killed Tahir Pasha were taken with him
and put to death, and he himself was detained a prisoner.
In consequence of the alliance between Mohammad ’Alee
and El-Bardeesee, the Albanians gave the citadel over to
the Memlooks ; and soon after, these allies marched against
Khusruf Pasha, who having been joined by a considerable
body of Turks, and being in possession of Damietta, was
enabled to offer an obstinate resistance. After much loss
on both sides, he was taken prisoner and brought to Cairo;
but he was treated with much respect. The victorious
soldiery sacked the town of Damietta, and were guilty of
the barbarities usual with them on such occasions.
’Alee A few days later, ’Alee Pasha El-Tarabulusee2 landed
Pasha. at Alexandria with an imperial firman constituting him
Pasha of Egypt, and threatened the Beys, who now were
virtual masters of Upper Egypt, as well as of the capital
and nearly the whole of Lower Egypt. Mohammad ’Alee
and El-Bardeesee therefore descended to Rosetta, which
had fallen into the hands of a brother of ’Alee Pasha, and
having recovered the town and captured its commander, El-
Bardeesee purposed to proceed against Alexandria; but the
troops required arrears of pay which it was not in his pow er
to give, and the Pasha had cut the dyke between the Lakes
of Aboo-Keer and Mareotis, thus rendering the approach to
Alexandria more difficult. El-Bardeesee and Mohammad
’Alee therefore returned to Cairo. The troubles of Egypt
were now7 increased by an insufficient inundation, and great
scarcity prevailed, aggravated by the exorbitant taxation
to which the Beys were compelled to resort in order to
raise money to pay the troops ; while murder and rapine
prevailed to a frightful extent in the capital, the riotous
soldiery being under little or no control. In the mean¬
time, ’Alee Pasha, who had been behaving in an outrage¬
ous manner towards the Franks in Alexandria, received a
khatt-i-shereef from the Sultan, which he sent by his secre¬
tary to Cairo. It announced that the Beys should live
peaceably in Egypt, with an annual pension, each, of fifteen
purses3 and other privileges, but that the government should
be in the hands of the Pasha. To this the Beys assented,
but with considerable misgivings ; for they had intercepted
letters from ’Alee to the Albanians, endeavouring to alien¬
ate them from their side to his own ; to these, deceptive
answers were returned, and he was induced by them to
advance towards Cairo, at the head of 2500 men. 1 he
forces of the Beys, with the Albanians, encamped near him
at Shalakan, and he fell back on a place called Zufeyteh.
They next seized his boats conveying soldiers, servants, and
his ammunition and baggage ; and, following him, they de¬
manded wherefore he brought with him so numerous a body
of men, in opposition to usage and to their previous warn¬
ing. Finding they would not allow his troops to advance,
forbidden himself to retreat with them to Alexandria, and
being surrounded by the enemy, he would have hazarded a
battle, but his men refused to fight. He therefore repaired
to the camp of the Beys, and his army was compelled to re¬
tire to Syria. In the hands of the Beys, ’Alee Pasha again
attempted treachery. A horseman was seen to leave his
tent one night at full gallop; he was the bearer of a letter
to ’Osman Bey Hasan, the governor of Kine. This offered
a fair pretext to the Memlooks to rid themselves of a man
whose antecedents, and his present conduct, proved him to
be a perfidious tyrant. He was sent under a guard of forty-
five men towards the Syrian frontier; and about a week
after, news was received that in a skirmish with some of his
own soldiers he had fallen mortally wounded.
The death of ’Alee Pasha produced only temporary tran¬
quillity ; in a few days the return of Mohammad Bey El-
Elfee (called the Great or Elder), from England, was the
signal for fresh disturbances, which, by splitting the Ghuzz
into two parties, accelerated their final overthrow. Ihe
jealousy which existed between El-Elfee and the other most
powerlid Bey, El-Bardeesee, has been before mentioned.
The latter wyas now supreme among the Ghuzz, and this
fact considerably heightened their old enmity. While the
guns of the citadel, those at Masr El-’Ateekah, and even
those of the palace of El-Bardeesee, were thrice fired in
honour of El-Elfee, preparations were immediately com¬
menced to oppose him. His partisans were collected op¬
posite Cairo, and El-Elfee the Younger held El-Geezeh;
but treachery was among them ; Hoseyn Bey El-El(ee was
assassinated by emissaries of El-Bardeesee, and Mohammad
’Alee, with his Albanians, gained possession of El-Geezeh,
which w7as, as usual, given over to the troops to pillage. In
the meanwhile El-Elfee the Great embarked at Rosetta;
and not apprehending opposition, was on his way to Cairo,
when a little south of the town of Manoof he encountered
a party of Albanians, and with difficulty made his escape.
He gained the eastern branch of the Nile, but the river had
become dangerous, and he fled to the desert. There he had
several hair-breadth escapes, and at last secreted himself
among a tribe of Arabs at Ras-el-Wadee. A change in the
fortune of El-Bardeesee, however, favoured his plans for
the future. That chief, in order to satisfy the demands of
the Albanians for their pay, gave orders to levy heavy con¬
tributions from the citizens of Cairo; and this new oppres-
Egypt.
^ The mosque of Edh-Dhahir Beybars, thus commonly called by the people of Cairo.
Called by Mengin Geza'irly. 3 pUrse -wras then worth L.15, 12s. 6d.
EGYPT.
491
Egypt, sion roused them to rebellion. The Albanians, alarmed
for their safety, assured the populace that they would not
allow the order to be executed ; and Mohammad ’Alee him¬
self caused a proclamation to be made to that effect. Thus
the Albanians became the favourites of the people, and took
advantage of their opportunity. Three days later they be¬
set the house of the aged Ibraheem Bey, and that of El-
Bardeesee, both of whom effected their escape with con¬
siderable difficulty. The Memlooks in the citadel directed
afire of shot and shell on the houses of the Albanians which
were situated in the Ezbekeeyeh; but on hearing of the
flight of their chiefs, they evacuated the place ; and Mo¬
hammad ’Alee, on gaining possession of it, once more pro¬
claimed Mohammad Khusruf Pasha of Egypt. For one
day and a half he enjoyed the title ; the friends of the late
Tahir Pasha then accomplished his second degradation,1 and
Cairo was again the scene of terrible enormities, the Al¬
banians revelling in the houses of the Memlook chiefs,
whose hareems met with no mercy at their hands. These
events were the signal for the reappearance of El-Elfee.
Khursheed The Albanians now invited Ahmad Pasha Khursheed to
Pasha. assume the reins of government, and he without delay pro¬
ceeded from Alexandria to Cairo. The forces of the par¬
tisans of El-Bardeesee were ravaging the country a few
miles south of the capital, and intercepting the supplies of
corn by the river: a little later they passed to the north of
Cairo, and successively took Bilbeys and Kalyoob, plun¬
dering the villages, destroying the crops, and slaughtering
Misery of the herds of the inhabitants. Cairo was itself in a state of
the people tumult, suffering severely from a scarcity of grain, and the
of Cairo, heavy exactions of the Pasha to meet the demands of his
turbulent troops, at that time augmented by a Turkish de¬
tachment. The shops were closed, and the unfortunate
people assembled in great crowds, crying Ya Lateef! Ya
Lateef! “ O gracious [God] !” El-Elfee and ’Osman Bey
Hasan had professed allegiance to the Pasha; but they soon
after declared against him, and they were now approaching
from the south ; and having repulsed Mohammad ’Alee,
they took the two fortresses of Tura. These Mohammad
’Alee speedily retook by night with 4000 infantry and ca¬
valry ; but the enterprise was only partially successful. On
the following day the other Memlooks north of the metro¬
polis actually penetrated into the suburbs ; but a few days
later were defeated in a battle fought at Shubra, wuth heavy
loss on both sides. This reverse in a measure united the
two great Memlook parties, though their chiefs remained
at enmity. El-Bardeesee passed to the south of Cairo, and
the Ghuzz gradually retreated towards Upper Egypt. Thi¬
ther the Pasha despatched three successive expeditions
(one of which was commanded by Mohammad ’Alee), and
many battles were fought, but without decisive result.
At this period another calamity befel Egypt; about 3000
Delees arrived in Cairo from Syria. These troops had been
sent for by Khursheed in order to strengthen himself against
the Albanians ; and the events of this portion of the history
afford sad proof of their ferocity and brutal enormities, in
which they far exceeded the ordinary Turkish soldiers and
even the Albanians. Their arrival immediately recalled
Mohammad ’Alee and his party from the war, and instead
of aiding Khursheed, was the proximate cause of his over¬
throw.
Cairo was ripe for revolt; the Pasha was hated for his
tyranny and extortion, and execrated for the deeds of his
troops, especially those of the Delees : the Sheykhs enjoined
the people to close their shops, and the soldiers clamoured
for pay. At this juncture a firman arrived from Constan¬
tinople conferring on Mohammad ’Alee the pashalic of' Jid-
deh ; but the occurrences of a few days raised him to that Egypt,
of Egypt.
On the 12th of Safar a.h. 1220 (May 1805) the Sheykhs,
with an immense concourse of the inhabitants, assembled in
the house of the Kadee ; and the ’Ulama, amid the prayers
and cries of the people, wrote a full statement of the heavy
wrongs which they had endured under the administration
of the Pasha. The ’Ulama, in answer, were desired to go
to the citadel; but they were apprised of treachery; and
on the following day, having held another council at the
house of the Kadee, they proceeded to Mohammad ’Alee,
and informed him that the people would no longer submit
to Khursheed. “ Then whom will ye have?” said he.
“ We will have t/iee,” they replied, “ to govern us accord¬
ing to the laws ; for we see in thy countenance that thou
art possessed of justice and goodness.” Mohammad ’Alee
seemed to hesitate, and then complied, and was at once in¬
vested. On this, a bloody struggle commenced between
the two Pashas: Cairo had before experienced such con¬
flicts in the streets and over the house-tops, but none so
severe as this. Khursheed, being informed by a messen¬
ger of the insurrection, immediately laid in stores of pro¬
visions and ammunition, and prepared to stand a siege in
the citadel. Two chiefs of the Albanians joined his party,
but many of his soldiers deserted. Mohammad ’Alee’s
great strength lay in the devotion of the citizens of Cairo,
who looked on him as their future deliverer from their afflic¬
tions ; and great numbers armed themselves, advising con¬
stantly with Mohammad ’Alee, having the seyyid ’Omar
and the Sheykhs at their head, and guarding the town at
night. On the 19th of the same month, Mohammad ’Alee
besieged Khursheed. Retrenchments were raised, and Khursheed
the lofty minaret of the mosque of the Sultan Hasan was besieged in
used as a battery from whence to fire on the citadel ; H“ Cannon-
while guns were also posted on the mountain in its rear. ades an(i
After the siege had continued many days, Khursheed gave bombards
orders to cannonade and bombard the town ; and for six Cairo,
days his commands were executed with little interruption,
the citadel itself also lying between two fires. Mohammad
’Alee’s position at this time was very critical: his troops
became mutinous for their pay ; the Silahdar, who had com¬
manded one of the expeditions against the Ghuzz, advanced
to the relief of Khursheed ; and the latter ordered the De¬
lees to march to his assistance. The firing ceased on the
Friday, but recommenced on the eve of Saturday, and lasted
until the next Friday. On the day following, news came of
the arrival at Alexandria of a messenger from Constantinople.
The ensuing night in Cairo presented a curious spectacle:
many of the inhabitants gave way to rejoicing, in the hope
that this envoy would put an end to their miseries, and fired
off their weapons as they paraded the streets with bands of
music. The Silahdar, imagining the noise to be a fray,
marched in haste towards the citadel; while its garrison
sallied forth, and commenced throwing up retrenchments
in the quarter of ’Arab-el-Yesar, but were repulsed by
the armed inhabitants and the soldiers stationed there ; and
during all this time, the cannonade and bombardment from
the citadel, and on it from the batteries on the mountain,
continued unabated.
The envoy brought a firman confirming Mohammad Mohammnd
’Alee, and ordering Khursheed to repair to Alexandria, ’Alee con-
there to await further orders ; but this he refused to do, on
the ground that he had been appointed by a khatt-i-shereef.^ e or e'
The firing ceased on the following day, but the troubles of
the people were rather increased than assuaged; murders
and robberies were daily committed by the soldiery, the
shops were all shut, and some of the streets barricaded.
1 Khusruf Pasha has since filled with credit several of the highest offices at Constantinople. He died on the 1st of February in this
year, 1855. He was a bigot of the old school, strongly opposed to the influences of western civilization, and consequently to the assist¬
ance of France and England in the present war.
492
EGYPT.
Egypt. While these scenes were being enacted, El-Elfee was be-
sieging Demenhoor, and the other Beys were returning
towards Cairo, Khursheed having called them to his assis¬
tance.
Soon after this, a squadron under the command of the
Turkish High Admiral arrived in Aboo-Keer Bay, with
despatches confirmatory of the firman brought by the for¬
mer envoy, and authorizing Mohammad ’Alee to continue
to discharge the functions of governor for the present.
Khursheed at first refused to yield; but at length, on con¬
dition that his troops should be paid, he evacuated the cita¬
del, and embarked for Rosetta.
Mohammad ’Alee now possessed the title of Governor of
Egypt, but beyond the walls of Cairo his authority was every¬
where disputed by the Beys, who were joined by the army
of the Silahdar of Khursheed; and many Albanians deserted
from his ranks. To replenish his empty coffers he was also
compelled to levy exactions, principally from the Copts.
An attempt was made to ensnare certain of the Beys, who
were encamped north of the metropolis. On the 17th of
August 1805, the dam of the canal of Cairo was to be
cut, and some chiefs of Mohammad ’Alee’s party wrote, in¬
forming them that he would go forth early on that morning
with most of his troops to witness the ceremony, inviting
them to enter and seize the city; and, to deceive them,
stipulating for a certain sum of money as their reward. The
dam, however, was cut early in the preceding night, without
any ceremony. On the following morning, these Beys, with
their Memlooks, a very numerous body, broke open the gate
of the suburb El-Hoseyneeyeh, and gained admittance into
the city from the north, through the gate called Bab-el-
Futooh. They marched along the principal street for some
distance, with kettle-drums behind each company, and were
received with apparent joy by the citizens. At the mosque
called the Ashrafeeyeh they separated, one party proceeding
to the Azhar and the houses of certain Sheykhs, and the
other continuing along the main street, and through the
gate called Bab-Zuweyleh, wrhere they turned up towards
the citadel. Here they were fired on by some soldiers from
the houses; and with this signal a terrible massacre com¬
menced. Falling back towards their companions, they found
the bye-streets closed; and in that part of the main thorough¬
fare called Beyn-el-Kasreyn, they were suddenly placed be-
tu'een two fires. Thus shut up in a narrow street, some
sought refuge in the collegiate mosque El-Barkookeeyeh,
while the remainder fought their way through their enemies,
anti escaped over the city wrall with the loss of their horses.
I wo Memlooks had, in the mean time, succeeded, by great
exertions, in giving the alarm to their comrades in the
quarter of the Azhar, who escaped by the eastern gate called
Bab-el-Ghureiyib. A horrible fate awaited those who had
shut themselves up in the Barkookeeyeh: they begged for
quarter and surrendered, were immediately stripped nearly
naked, and about fifty uxtc slaughtered on the spot; and
about the same number w7ere dragged away, with every
brutal aggravation of their pitiful condition, to Mohammad
Alee. Among them w7ere four Beys, one of whom, driven
to madness by Mohammad ’Alee’s mockery, asked for a
drink of water; his hands were untied, that he might take
the bottle, but he snatched a dagger from one of the sol¬
diers, and rushed at the Pasha, and fell, covered with
wounds. 1 he wretched captives were then chained, and
cit m the court of the Pasha’s house ; and on the following
morning the heads of their comrades who had perished the
( ay )e ore were skinned, and stuffed with straw, before their
caes. ne Bey and two others paid their ransom, and
v.eie ideased; the rest, without exception, were tortured
ami put to death in the course of the ensuing night. Eightv-
nree heads (many of them those of Frenchmen and Al-
."f0!? S*A/r^’i ant^ sent to Constantinople, with a
st that the Memlook chiefs were utterly destroyed.
Thus ended Mohammad ’Alee’s first massacre of his too Egypt,
confiding enemies. v .&
The Beys, after this, appear to have despaired of regain¬
ing their ascendancy ; most of them retreated to Upper
Egypt, and an attempt at compromise failed. El-Elfee
offered his submission, on the condition of the cession of the
Feiyoom and other provinces; but this was refused, and
that chief gained two successive victories over the Pasha’s
troops, many of whom deserted to him.
At length, in consequence of the remonstrances of the
English, and a promise made by El-Elfee of 1500 purses,
the Porte consented to reinstate the twenty-four Beys, and
to place El-Elfee at their head ; but this measure met with
the opposition of Mohammad ’Alee, and the determined re¬
sistance of the majority of the Memlooks, who, rather than
have El-Elfee at their head, preferred their present condi¬
tion ; for the enmity of El-Bardeesee had not subsided, and
he commanded the voice of most of the other Beys. In
pursuance of the above plan, a squadron under Salih Pasha,
shortly before appointed High Admiral, arrived at Alexandria
on the 1st of July 1806, with 3000 regular troops, and a suc¬
cessor to Mohammad ’Alee, who was to receive the pashalicof
Salonica. This wily chief professed his willingness to obey
the commands of the Porte ; but stated that his troops, to
whom he owed a vast sum of money, opposed his departure.
He induced the ’Ulama to sign a letter, praying the Sultan
to revoke the command for reinstating the Beys ; persuaded
the chiefs of the Albanian troops to swear allegiance to him,
and sent 2000 purses contributed by them to Constantinople.
El-Elfee was at that time besieging Demenhoor, and he
gained a signal victory over the Pasha’s troops; but the
dissensions of the Beys destroyed their last chance of a re¬
turn to power. El-Elfee and his partisans were unable to
pay the sum promised to the Porte; Salih Pasha received
plenipotentiary powers from Constantinople, in consequence
of the letter from the ’Ulama; and, on the condition of
Mohammad ’Alee’s paying 4000 purses to the Porte, it was
decided that he should continue in his post, and the re¬
instatement of the Beys was abandoned. Fortune continued
to favour the Pasha. In the following month, El-Bardeesee
died, aged forty-eight years; and, soon after, a scarcity of
provisions excited the troops of El-Elfee to revolt. That
Bey very reluctantly raised the siege of Demenhoor, being
in daily expectation of the arrival of an English army; and
at the village of Shubra-ment he was attacked by a sudden
illness, and died on the 30th of January 1807, aged 55 years.
Ihus w'as the Pasha relieved of his two most formidable
enemies ; and, shortly after, he defeated Shaheen Bey. with
the loss, to the latter, of his artillery and baggage, and 300
men killed or taken prisoners.
On the 17th of March 1807, a British fleet appeared offThe British
Alexandria, having on board nearly 5000 troops, under the expedition
command of General Fraser; and the place, being disaffected 1807.
towards Mohammad ’Alee, opened its gates to them. Here
they first heard of the death of El-Elfee, upon whose co¬
operation they had founded their chief hopes of success ;
and they immediately despatched messengers to his suc¬
cessor, and to the other Beys, inviting them to Alexandria.
I he British resident, Major Misset, having represented the
importance of taking Rosetta and Er-Rahmaneeyeh, to se
cure supplies for Alexandria, General Fraser, with the con¬
currence of the Admiral, Sir John Duckworth, detached the
31st regiment and the Chasseurs Britanniques, under Major-
General \\ auchope and Brigadier-General Meade, on this
service ; and these troops entered Rosetta without encoun¬
tering any opposition ; but as soon as they had dispersed
among the narrow streets, the garrison opened a deadly fire
on them from the latticed windows and the roofs of the
houses. 1 hey effected a retreat on Aboo-Keer and Alex¬
andria, after a very heavy loss of 185 killed and 262 wounded;
General \\ auchope and three officers being among the
EGYPT.
493
Egypt, former, and General Meade and seventeen officers among
the latter. The heads of the slain were fixed on stakes, on
each side of the road crossing the Ezbekeeyeh in Cairo.
Mohammad ’Alee, meanwhile, was conducting an expe¬
dition against the Beys in Upper Egypt, and he had defeated
them near Asyoot, when he heard of the arrival of the
British. In great alarm lest the Beys should join them,
especially as they were far north of his position, he imme¬
diately sent messengers to his rivals, promising to comply
with all their demands, if they should join in expelling the
invaders; and this proposal being agreed to, both armies
marched towards Cairo on opposite sides of the river.
To return to the unfortunate British expedition. The
possession of Rosetta being deemed indispensable, Briga¬
dier-General Stewart and Colonel Oswald were despatched
thither, with 2500 men. For 13 days a cannonade of that
town was continued without effect; and on the 20th of
April, news having come in from the advanced guard at El-
Hamad of large reinforcements to the besieged, General
Stewart was compelled to retreat; and a dragoon was de¬
spatched to Major Macleod, commanding at El-Hamad, with
orders to fall back. The messenger, however, was unable to
penetrate to the spot; and the advanced guard—consisting
of a detachment of the 71st, two companies of the 78th, one
of the 35th, and De Holies’ regiment, with a picquet of dra¬
goons, the whole mustering 733 men—was surrounded, and
after a gallant resistance, the survivors, who had expended all
their ammunition, became prisoners of war. General Stew¬
art regained Alexandria with the remainder of his force,
having lost, in killed, wounded, and missing, nearly 900
men. Some hundreds of British heads were now exposed
on stakes in Cairo, and the prisoners were marched between
these mutilated remains of their countrymen.
The Beys became divided in their wishes; one party be¬
ing desirous of co-operating with the British, the other, with
the Pasha. These delays proved ruinous to their cause ; and
General Fraser, despairing of their assistance, evacuated
Alexandria on the 14th of September.1 From that date to
the spring of 1811, the Beys from time to time relinquished
certain of their demands; the Pasha on his part granted
them what before had been withheld; the province of the
Feiyoom, and part of those of El-Geezeh andBenee-Suweyf,
were ceded to Shaheen ; and a great portion of the Sa’eed,
on the condition of paying the land-tax, to the others.
Many of them took up their abode in Cairo, but tranquillity
was not secured; several times they met the Pasha’s
forces in battle, and once gained a signal victory. Early in
the year 1811, the preparations for an expedition against
the Wahhabees in Arabia being complete, all the Mem-
look Beys then in Cairo were invited to the ceremony of
investing Mohammad ’Alee’s favourite son, Toosoon, with a
pelisse, and the command of the army. As on the former
The mas- occasion, the unfortunate Memlooks fell into the snare. On
sacreof the the 1st of March, Shaheen Bey, and the other chiefs (one
Memlooks. only excepted), repaired with their retinues to the citadel,
and were courteously received by the Pasha. Having par¬
taken of coffee, they formed in procession, and, preceded and
followed by the Pasha’s troops, slowly descended the steep
and narrow road leading to the great gate of the citadel;
but as soon as the Memlooks arrived at this gate, it was
suddenly closed before them. The last of those who made
their exit before the gate was shut were Salih Koosh and
his Albanians. To these troops their chief now made known
the Pasha’s orders to massacre all the Memlooks within the
citadel; therefore, having returned by another way, they
gained the summits of the walls and houses that hem in the
road in which the Memlooks were incarcerated, and some
stationed themselves upon the eminences of the rock through
which that road is partly cut. Thus securely placed, they
commenced a heavy fire on their defenceless victims; and Egypt,
immediately the troops who closed the procession, and who ''■—y-—'
had the advantage of hight r ground, followed their example.
Of the betrayed chiefs, many were laid low in a few mo¬
ments ; some, dismounting, and throwing off their outer
robes, vainly sought, sword in hand, to return, and escape by
some other gate. The few who regained the summit of the
citadel experienced the same cruel fate as the rest (for those
whom the Albanian soldiers made prisoners met with no
mercy from their chiefs or from Mohammad ’Alee), but it
soon became impossible for any to retrace their steps even
so far; the road was obstructed by the bleeding bodies of
the slain Memlooks, and their richly caparisoned horses,
and their grooms. Four hundred and seventy Memlooks
entered the citadel; and of these, very few, if any, escaped.
One of these is said to have been a Bey. According to some,
he leaped his horse from the ramparts, and alighted unin¬
jured, though the horse was killed by the fall; others say
that he was prevented from joining his comrades, and dis¬
covered the treachery while waiting without the gate. He
fled, and made his way to Syria. This massacre was the
signal for an indiscriminate slaughter of the Memlooks
throughout Egypt, orders to this effect being transmitted to
every governor ; and in Cairo itself, the houses of the Beys
were given over to the soldiery, who slaughtered all their
adherents, treated their women in the most shameless man¬
ner, and sacked their dwellings. During the two following
days, the Pasha and his son Toosoon rode about the streets,
and endeavoured to stop these atrocious proceedings; but
order was not restored until 500 houses had been completely
pillaged. In extenuation of this dark blot on Mohammad
’Alee’s character, it has been urged that he had received
the order for the destruction of the Memlooks from Con¬
stantinople, whither the heads of the Beys were sent. It
may be answered to this plea, that on other occasions he
scrupled not to defy the Porte.
A remnant of the Memlooks fled to Nubia, and a tran¬
quillity was restored to Egypt to which it had long been un¬
accustomed, and which has rarely been interrupted since.
In the year following the massacre the unfortunate exiles
wrere attacked by Ibraheem Pasha, the eldest (son of Mo¬
hammad ’Alee, in the fortified town of Ibreem, in Nubia.
Here the want of provisions forced them to evacuate the
place ; a few who surrendered were beheaded, and the rest
went further south and built the town of New Dongola,2
where the venerable Ibraheem Bey died in 1816, at the
age of 80. As their numbers thinned, they endeavoured
to maintain their little power by training some hundreds
of blacks; but again, on the appi'oach of Isma’eel, another
son of the Pasha of Egypt, sent with an army to subdue
Nubia and Sennar, some returned to Egypt and settled in
Cairo, while the rest, amounting to about 100 persons, fled
in dispersed parties to the countries adjacent to Sennar.
Mohammad ’Alee being undisputed master of Egypt, at War with
the reiterated commands of the Porte, despatched, in 1811, the Wah-
an army of 8000 men, including 2000 horse, under the habees.
command of Toosoon Pasha, against the Wahhabees. Af¬
ter a successful advance, this force met with a serious re¬
pulse at the pass of Safra and Judeiyideh, and retreated to
Yembo’. In the following year Toosoon, having received
reinforcements, again assumed the offensive, and captured
El-Medeeneh, after a prolonged siege. He next took
Jiddeh and Mekkeh, defeating the Wahhabees beyond the
latter place, and capturing their general. But some mis¬
haps followed, and Mohammad ’Alee, who had determined
to conduct the war in person, left Egypt for that purpose
in the summer of 1813. In Arabia he encountered serious
obstacles from the nature of the country and the harassing
mode of warfare adopted by his adversaries. His arms
1 The account of this expedition is taken from published official papers, Mengin, &c.
2 Correctly Dunkulah, but pronounced by the natives Dungulah.
494 E G Y P T.
Egypt* met with various fortune ; but on the whole his forces proved
superior to those of the enemy. He led a successful expe¬
dition in the Hijaz, and on the conclusion of a treaty with
the Wahhabee chief, ’Abd-Allah, in 1815, he returned to
Egypt on hearing of the escape of Napoleon from Elba.
He now confiscated the lands belonging to private indi¬
viduals, merely allowing them a pension for life, and at¬
tempted to introduce the European system of military tac¬
tics. A formidable mutiny, however, broke out in the me¬
tropolis, the Pasha’s life was endangered, and he sought re¬
fuge by night in the citadel, while the soldiery committed
many acts of plunder. The revolt was reduced by presents
to the chiefs of the insurgents, and Mohammad ’Alee very
honourably ordered that the sufferers by the late disturb¬
ances should receive compensation from the treasury. The
project of the “ Nizam Gedeed,” as the European system is
called in Egypt, was, in consequence of this commotion,
abandoned for a time.
Soon after Toosoon returned to Egypt, but Mohammad
’Alee, dissatisfied with the treaty which had been concluded
with the Wahhabees, and with the non-fulfilment of certain
of its clauses, determined to send another army to Arabia,
and to include in it the soldiers who had recently proved
unruly. This expedition, under Ibraheem Pasha, left in
the autumn of 1816. After several unimportant advantages,
Ibraheem sat down before the town of Er-Rass ; but three
months’ exertions proving unavailing, he raised the siege, with
the loss of nearly half his army. Notwithstanding, he ad¬
vanced on the capital, Ed-Dir’eeyeh, by slow but sure steps.
The last place before reaching that city offered a brave resist¬
ance, and Ibraheem, in revenge, caused all its inhabitants
to be put to the sword, excepting a number of women and
children, the former of whom were spared not from motives
of pity. Ed-Dir’eeyeh fell after a five months’ siege, in the
course of which an explosion destroyed the whole of the
besiegers’ powder; and had the Wahhabees been aware of
the extent of the disaster, few, we may believe, would have
escaped to tell the tale. ’Abd-Allah, their chief, was taken,
and with his treasurer and secretary was sent to Constanti¬
nople, where, in spite of Ibraheem’s promise of safety, and
of Mohammad ’Alee’s intercession in their favour, they were
paraded and put to death. At the close of the year 1819,
Ibraheem returned to Cairo, having conquered all present
opposition in Arabia, but without having broken the spirit
of the Wahhabees.
The Pasha, since his return from Arabia, had turned
his attention to the improvement of the manufactures of
Egypt, and engaged very largely in commerce. The re¬
sults of these attempts are stated in other places, but the
important work of digging the new canal of Alexandria,
called the Mahmoodeeyeh, must here be again mentioned.
The old canal had long fallen into decay, and the necessity
of a safe channel between Alexandria and the Nile was
much felt. Such was the object of the canal then exca¬
vated, and it has on the whole well answered its purpose;
but the sacrifice of life was enormous, and the labour of the
unhappy Fellahs was forced. Towards the accomplishment
of a favourite project, the formation of the Nizam Gedeed,
a force was ordered to the southern frontier of Egypt, and
the conquest of Sennar was contemplated in order to get
rid of the disaffected troops and to obtain a sufficient num¬
ber of captives to form the nucleus of the new army. The
forces destined for this service were led by Isma’eel, then
the youngest son of Mohammad ’Alee ; they consisted of
between four and five thousand men, Turks and Arabs, and
were despatched in the summer of 1820. Nubia at once
submitted, the Shageeyeh Arabs immediately beyond the
piovince of Dongola were worsted, and Sennar w^as re¬
duced without a battle. Mohammad Bey, the Defterdar,
wit i anotiei force of about the same strength, was then
sent by Mohammad ’Alee against Kurdufan with a like re¬
sult, but not without a hard-fought engagement. In 1822, Egypt.
Isma’eel was, with his retinue, put to death by an Arab ^ /
chieftain by name Nimr ; and the Defterdar, a man infa¬
mous for his cruelty, assumed the command in those pro¬
vinces, and exacted terrible retribution from the innocent
inhabitants.
In the years 1821 and 1822 Mohammad’Alee despatched The Greek
both ships and men (the latter about 7000 or 8000 Alba- war*
nians and Turks) to the Morea, Cyprus, and Candia, to aid
the Porte in reducing the Greek insurrection ; and he con¬
tinued to take part in that struggle, his fleet being engaged
at Navarino, until the English insisted on the evacuation of
the Morea, in 1828, by Ibraheem Pasha. In the latter of
the two years before mentioned (1822), an army of disci¬
plined troops was at length organized: 8000 men (chiefly
slaves, from Sennar and Kurdufan) were trained by French
officers at Aswan. Of the vast numbers seized in the coun¬
tries above named, many died on the way : those who were
not eligible were, with the women, sold in Cairo, and in
the remainder were incorporated many Fellahs. Colonel
Seve (now Suleyman Pasha), a Frenchman who afterwards
became a Muslim, superintended their organization; great
numbers of the Blacks died of hypochondria, but the Egyp¬
tians proved very good troops. Many thousands were
pressed in consequence, and they now constitute the bulk
of the army. In 1823 the new conscripts amounted to
24,000 men, composing six regiments of infantry, each re¬
giment consisting of five battalions of 800 men, and the
battalions of eight companies of 100 men. The organiza¬
tion, pay, &c., of the Egyptian army will be found under
section iv.
In 1824, a native rebellion of a religious character broke
out in Upper Egypt, headed by one Ahmad, an inhabitant of
Es-Salimeeyeh, a village situate a few miles above Thebes.
He proclaimed himself a prophet, and was soon followed by
between 20,000 and 30,000 insurgents, mostly peasants, but
some deserters from the Nizam, for that force was yet in a half
organized state, and in part declared for the impostor. The
insurrection was crushed by Mohammad ’Alee, and about
one-fourth of Ahmad’s followers perished, but he himself
escaped and was never after heard of. Few of these unfor¬
tunates possessed any other weapon than the long staff
(Nebboot) of the Egyptian peasant; still they offered an
obstinate resistance, and the combat resembled a massacre.
In the same year war was once more made on the Wahha¬
bees, who had collected in considerable numbers. The
2d regiment was sent on this service, and it behaved in
a very creditable manner.
But the events of the war with the Porte are perhaps the The war
most important of the life of Mohammad ’Alee. The cam- with the
paign of 1831 had ostensibly for its object the castigation E°rte.
of’Abd-Allah, Pasha of Acre : the invading force consisted
of six regiments of infantry, four of cavalry, four field-pieces,
and a greater number of siege-guns, the whole under the
command of Ibraheem Pasha, while the fleet, conveying pro¬
visions, ammunition, &c., was to accompany the army by
sea. The terrible cholera of 1831, however, stayed the
expedition when it was on the eve of departing ; 5000 of
its number died, and it was not until early in October of
the same year that it started. Little opposition was en¬
countered on the way to Acre, whither Ibraheem had gone
by sea, and that place was invested on the 29th of Novem¬
ber. The artillery of the besieged was well served ; an as¬
sault in the following February was repulsed, and the cold
and rain of a Syrian winter severely tried the Egyptian troops.
A second assault in like manner failed, and Ibraheem was
called awray to repel ’Osman Pasha, governor of Aleppo. The
latter, however, hastily decamped without giving him battle,
and Ibraheem, deeming this advantage sufficient, retraced
his steps towards Acre. He then pushed the siege with
fresh vigour, and stormed the city on the 27th of May:
EGYPT.
495
Egypt. 1400 men fell in the breach, and the garrison was found to
be reduced to about 400 men. The fall of Acre was followed
by negotiation. Mohammad ’Alee evinced a disposition for
peace, but demanded the government of Syria, and the
Porte, in consequence, denounced him as a traitor. On his
part, Ibraheem pushed his successes: Damascus was eva¬
cuated at his approach, and the battle of Hims, fought on
the 8th of July 1832, decided the superiority of the Egyp¬
tian army, and the advantage of disciplined troops over an
irregular force, although very disproportionate in numbers.
The enemy composed the advanced guard of the Turkish
army, 30,000 strong, and the Egyptians numbered only
16,000 men.
After this victory, Ibraheem marched to Hamah, and
thence to Aleppo (which had just before closed its gates
against the Turkish general-in-chief, Hoseyn Pasha, whose
troops became rapidly disorganized), forced the defiles
of Beylan, and pursued the fugitive Turks to Adaneh.
About the same time an Egyptian squadron had chased the
Sultan’s fleet into Constantinople. Diplomacy was, at this
point, again resorted to, but without any result; the Sultan
depended on his fleet to protect the capital, and determined
to risk another engagement with the victorious enemy.
The charge of this venture was intrusted to Resheed Pa¬
sha, the Grand Vezeer. In the mean time, Ibraheem Pasha
had gained the pass of Taurus, and having beaten the Turks
at Oulou-Kislak, he hesitated not to give battle to Resheed
Pasha at the head of about 60,000 men, his own army
being less than half that strength ; the battle of Konyeh,
on the plains of Anatolia, proved utterly disastrous to the
Porte: in the confusion of the fight, and the darkness of a
thick day, the Grand Vezeer was made prisoner, his army
routed, and Constantinople was within six marches of the
victor, without an army to oppose his passage. The capital of
the Ottoman Empire, in imminent danger by sea and land,
was then intrusted to the keeping of its hereditary enemy,
as the last resource of the Sultan Mahmood, and a Rus¬
sian fleet and army were sent thither. Negotiations were,
Treaty of in consequence, opened, and on the 14th of May 1833, a
1833. treaty was concluded between Mohammad ’Alee and the
Porte, by which the whole of Syria and the district of Ada¬
neh were ceded to the former, on condition of his paying
tribute. With this terminated the war, but not the animosity
of the Sultan. Ibraheem, by excessive firmness and rigour,
speedily restored security and tranquillity to the greater part
of Syria; but some years later, the attempt of Mahmood to
get the better of his vassal, and the consequent disaster expe¬
rienced by his arms at Nezeeb, entailed fresh complications,
and the interference of Great Britain ended in the restora¬
tion of Syria to the Porte in 1841. The political motives
which actuated the Great Powers at this time and in 1831
need not be here discussed ; and the operations on the coast
of Syria, the bombardment of Acre, and the blockade of
Alexandria, are familiar to most newspaper readers. It is
undoubtedly true that Mohammad ’Alee placed all his re¬
liance on the co-operation of France, and to its desertion
of his cause, and his confidence in its assistance, either mo¬
rally or physically, must be ascribed the unfortunate issue
of the war. That the Syrians, in general, preferred the rule
of Mohammad ’Alee to the tyranny of Pashas appointed
from Constantinople may be safely averred; but we cannot
close this account of his possession of that province without
animadverting on the horrible cruelties perpetrated by Ibra¬
heem Pasha, or warning our readers not to give credence
to the unmeasured pi'aise bestowed by many on the Egyp¬
tian troops there engaged. Conceding that they were su¬
perior soldiers to the Turks, it must he borne in mind that
they were veterans, disciplined and led by French officers
and an able general: their opponents were destitute of any
European discipline, badly officered, and discouraged by
the disasters in Greece. It has, moreover, been stated on
good authority, that Ibraheem owed much of his success Egypt-
to the placing of artillery in the rear of his troops, with
orders to fire on them should they show symptoms of
wavering.
After the peace of 1841, Mohammad ’Alee gave up all
grand political projects, and solely occupied himself in
improvements, real or imaginary, in Egypt. He conti¬
nued to prosecute his commercial speculations and manu¬
facturing, educational, and other schemes. The barrage
of the Nile, still uncompleted, was commenced by his
direction, and in 1847, he visited Constantinople, where he
received the rank of Vezeer. In the year 1848, however,
symptoms of imbecility appeared, and after a short space
Ibraheem was declared his successor. But his rule was very Ibraheem
short. In about two months he died ; and, according to the Pasha,
terms of the treaty, Abbas, a son of Toosoon, and the eldest Abbas
representative of the family, succeeded to the pashalic. Easha.
This miserable voluptuary, and withal bigoted, though ig¬
norant, Muslim, utterly neglected the affairs of government,
and solely consulted his own gratification. He died sud¬
denly, and, as some assert, mysteriously, in July of last
year (1854) ; and the present Viceroy, Sa’eed Pasha, the Sa’eed
fourth son of Mohammad ’Alee, by his energy of character Pasha,
and superior intelligence, gives us some hope that Egypt
may improve under his rule. He has, it is said, abolished
certain government monopolies, is busily occupied in carry¬
ing out the works of the barrage, and takes great pains with
the disciplining of his army. He is, besides, known to be
favourable to the English. But he is new to his office, and
it would be idle to speculate on the future career of an
Egyptian Turk.
Mohammad ’Alee survived Ibraheem, and died on the 3d
of August 1849. Many and conflicting have been the
opinions entertained of this remarkable man; for such at
least all acknowledge him to have been. His massacre of
the Memlooks has been the great point of attack by his
enemies; but that, as well as many other of his acts, must
be ascribed to his boundless ambition, not to innate cruelty;
for he has proved himself to be averse to unnecessary blood¬
shed. That he really esteemed European civilization may
be doubted; but his intelligent mind could not fail to per¬
ceive that therein lay his great strength, and of this he
availed himself with consummate ability. To his firm go¬
vernment Egypt is indebted for the profound tranquillity
which it lias long been its good fortune to enjoy: a travel¬
ler of any nation or faith may traverse it in its length and
breadth with greater safety than almost any other country
out of Western Europe ; and the display of fanaticism has
been rigorously punished. This has undoubtedly increased
the hatred of the Muslims for the professors of other reli¬
gions ; but we may hope that it will eventually produce a
better state of feeling. While, however, Egypt has bene¬
fited by the establishment of order, the people have suffered
most severe exactions. The confiscation of private lands
has been before mentioned: to that arbitrary act must be
added the seizure of the lands of the mosques, the imposition
of heavy taxation, and a system of merciless impressment.
In fact, the condition of the Egyptian Fellah has rarely been
as wretched as it is at the present day. He also misunder¬
stood the real resources of Egypt, which are certainly agri¬
cultural ; by the much-lauded introduction of cotton, he
dealt a severe blow to native produce; and he did more to
injure the country by endeavouring to encourage manufac¬
turing industry, and by establishing enormous government
monopolies, a measure which crushed the spirit of the agri¬
culturists. His military and governing abilities were as¬
suredly very great, and his career is almost unequalled in
Turkish history. Had it not been for the intervention of
Great Britain, his Syrian successes over the Porte would
probably have led to very beneficial results, by rescuing
Egypt from the wretched condition of a Turkish province.
I
496 EGYPT.
Egypt. But the firman of 1841 entailed the loss of all his mili-
tary power, the army was reduced to 18,000 men, and
the navy condemned to rot in the harbour of Alexandria,
while Mohammad ’Alee, failing to gain the great object of
his ambition, the establishment of an independent dynasty,
and being compelled to look on his then living family as his
only heirs, thenceforth confined himself to measures of
lesser importance, and did not prosecute even these with
his former energy.
The entire constitution of the government of Egypt is
the work of Mohammad ’Alee. With few exceptions he
destroyed all former usages, and introduced a system partly
derived from European models. The army and navy are
of his creation, so are the taxation, the regulation of import
and export duties, See., quarantine laws, the manufactories,
colleges, and the ministry. Some of these institutions are
useful; others, both vexatious and ill calculated for the
country. The colleges of languages and medicine, and the
printing-press at Boolak, are among the former, and are
exceedingly praiseworthy efforts in a right direction ; and
in the same category must be placed many minor improve¬
ments, in which Mohammad ’Alee showed himself to be
far in advance of his countrymen ; while, weighing his
chequered life, and numerous disadvantages of position and
nation, his moral character, enlightened mind, and distin¬
guished ability, must place him high among the great men
of modern times.
SECTION III.
TOPOGRAPHY AND MONUMENTS.1
Lower The northern coast of Egypt is low and barren, present-
Egypt. ing no features of interest, and affording no indication of
General the character of the country which it bounds. It is a bar-
aspect. riei.} generally of sand-hills, but sometimes of rock, for the
most part altogether destitute of vegetation, except where
grow a few wild and stunted date-palms. Immediately be¬
hind are desolate marshy tracts or extensive salts lakes, and
then the fertile country. The last is a wide plain, inter¬
sected by the two branches of the Nile, and by many
canals, whereof some were anciently branches of the river,
and having a soil of great richness, though in this parti¬
cular it is excelled by the valley above. The only inequa¬
lities of the surface are the mounds of ancient towns, and
those, often if not always ancient, on which stand the
modern towns and villages. The palm-trees are less nu¬
merous, and not so beautiful as in the more southern part
of the country, though other trees are more common. The
houses and huts of the towns and villages are of burnt brick
near the Mediterranean ; but as the climate becomes drier,
and the occurrence of rain far less frequent, the use of
crude brick obtains, until near the point of the Delta it is
very general. The mosques even of the towns are rarely
remarkable for architectural beauty in the tract to the north
of Cairo. The palaces or villas of the Turkish grandees,
which are not uncommon, have, however, a light and pic¬
turesque appearance, though their style is not good. The
deserts which inclose the plain on either side are rocky
tracts of very slight elevation, having their surface over¬
spread with sand, pebbles, and debris.
Alexan- Of the towns on the northern coast, the most western,
dria. Alexandria, called by the natives El-Iskendereeyeh, is the
largest and the most important. It was founded in the year
B.c. 332 by Alexander the Great, who gave it the form of
a Macedonian mantle (chlamys). The ancient city occu¬
pied the space between the sea and the lake Mareotis, be¬
ing about four miles in its greatest length, and a little less Egypt,
than a mile in its greatest breadth.2 The island of Pharos v
was likewise inhabited, and was joined to the continent by
the mole called the Heptastadium, a work of Ptolemy Phila-
delphus, or of his father the first Ptolemy, or of Alexander
himself. The Heptastadium and the island divided the
bay into two harbours. These were spacious, and although
the western, anciently called Eunostus Portus, but now the
Old Port, is difficult to enter, and the eastern, Magnus
Portus, or the New Port, is not so deep and is less secure,
they are by far the best anchorages on the coast of Egypt,
and there is nothing else deserving the name of a harbour,
nor does there ever seem to have been. Alexandria, which
partly occupied the site of the ancient Rhacotis, a place of
little importance, speedily increased in consequence, and
became the emporium of the trade between Europe, Arabia,
and India, owing this prosperity to its harbours. After the
death of Alexander the city became the capital of Ptolemy,
the son of Lagus, the founder of a dynasty which generally
held more extensive dominions than the kingdom of Egypt,
and at one time ruled an empire not inferior to that of
the most successful of the Pharaohs. By the Ptolemies,-
Alexandria was adorned with palaces and temples of great
magnificence, for which they did not scruple to despoil
more ancient edifices of some of their chiefest ornaments.
While its commercial importance increased, it became a
celebrated seat of learning, through the wise interest with
which the Greek kings regarded science and letters, and
Ptolemy Soter commenced the famous Library. Under the
Ptolemies, however, the inhabitants, who were chiefly
Greeks, became very troublesome to their rulers, like most
commercial populations, and their turbulence was ill re¬
strained by the weakness of the later sovereigns of that line.
From the time of the Roman Conquest, b.c. 30, until it
was taken by the Arabs, a.d. 640, Alexandria sensibly de¬
clined, partly in consequence of its being a provincial capi¬
tal, instead of a royal residence, but chiefly because of the
unruly disposition of its inhabitants, and their violent re¬
ligious and political disputes, which at last resulted in the
seat of government being transferred to the fortress of
Egyptian Babylon, near the modern Cairo, which became in
some sort the capital. During this time it was distinguished
for the learning of its ecclesiastics, and the strong part which
they took in the theological differences of the early Church.
Under the Muslims, Alexandria never regained the position
of metropolis of Egypt, and its importance, with some fluc¬
tuations, waned until the discovery and consequent adoption
of the route to India by the Cape of Good Hope almost
withdrew the main cause of its prosperity. Recently, how¬
ever, the resumption of the overland route has greatly bene¬
fited this city, and although it was not made the capital, it
became the favourite residence of Mohammad’Alee, which
in like manner contributed to its welfare.
I he older part of the town of Alexandria stands upon
the Heptastadium, which is much wider than of old, but the
recent part, where are the houses of the European mer¬
chants, occupies the site of a portion of the ancient city
which was nearest to the mole. The most striking edifice
is the castle on the island of Pharos, containing a lighthouse,
which has succeeded to the more famous Pharos of anti¬
quity. Here also is the Pasha’s palace, as well as a lesser
Pharos. I he houses of the town are built of stone, or have
their lowest story cased with that material, and the portion
above of brick plastered and whitewashed. The residences
of the European merchants and consuls are spacious and
well-built, somewhat in the modern Italian style, but have
no claims to architectural beauty. The mosques are not
•n tw6 f0llrinSaCCOunt of the t0P°graPhy and monuments of Egypt is the result of personal observations made during a long residence
i at country. It is not therefore deemed necessary to append references, except in cases of particular importance, or where informa¬
tion has been derived from published works.
2 Comp. Strabo, xvii. 1; and Diod. xvii. 52.
EGYPT. 497
Egypt, remarkable, but the English church will, if ever completed,
be a great ornament to the town. The population is esti¬
mated at about 80,000 (including the garrison and sailors
of the fleet), by Sir Gardner Wilkinson (1843).1 One of
the favourite projects of Mohammad ’Alee was the fortifi¬
cation of Alexandria, which has been thus rendered so
strong that if well garrisoned it could not be invested by a
force of less than about 40,000 men.
The remains of ancient buildings are very scanty and of
little interest, compared to those which are seen on the
sites of other Egyptian towns. Two objects are con¬
spicuous, one of the obelisks commonly but inaccurately
called “ Cleopatra’s Needles,” and the great column which
is as incorrectly named “ Pompey’s Pillar.” The former is
a fine obelisk of red granite nearly seventy feet in height,
bearing hieroglyphic inscriptions with the names of Thoth-
mes III., Rameses II., and a later king. Beside it is a
fallen obelisk of the same dimensions, its fellow. They
were brought here fi'om some ancient temple during the
Greek or Roman rule. “ Pompey’s Pillar” is in like man¬
ner of red granite, and its shaft is about seventy feet high,
the whole column being nearly a hundred in height. An
inscription in Greek upon its pedestal states that it was
dedicated to the Emperor Diocletian, but it is not certain
that it was set up to him, nor that it did not form one of a
series of such columns, which, however, is unlikely, from its
great size.2 The other remains are not worthy a special
description in this article, as space would be thus occupied
that must be devoted to more remarkable monuments.
Rosetta. Proceeding to the east of Alexandria, the first place of
importance is Er-Rasheed, called by the Europeans Rosetta,
a considerable town on the west bank of the branch of the
Nile, named the Rosetta Branch, and anciently the Bolbi-
tine. Before the cutting of the Mahmoodeeyeh Canal by
Mohammad ’Alee, to connect Alexandria with this branch
of the river, Rosetta was a place of greater importance than
now, as the overland trade from India chiefly passed through
it, in consequence of the decay of the old canal of Alexan¬
dria. It is a well-built town, having some gardens, like
most of those of Egypt rather picturesque than beautiful,
and it is in many respects more agreeable than Alexandria.
Its population is stated by Clot-Bey to be scarcely 15,000.3
A little to the north of the town is the boghaz, a bar of
sand stretching across the mouth of the river, and ren¬
dering it often impassable ; and between it and Rosetta is
an old fort called Fort St Julien by the French who repaired
it during their occupation of Egypt, when one of their offi¬
cers discovered the trilingual tablet thence called the Ro¬
setta Stone, which afforded the clue by which the Egyptian
hieroglyphics were interpreted.
In ascending the Rosetta Branch, the first place of in¬
terest is the site of Sals, on the eastern bank, marked by
lofty mounds, and the remains of massive walls of crude brick,
but nothing of greater interest. Perhaps, however, some
ruins of the great temple may be buried here. Its position
is marked by the walls of crude brick above mentioned,
which were those of a great enclosure in which it and
doubtless other sacred edifices stood. Sais was one of the
most ancient cities of Egypt, and from it Cecrops is said to
have led a colony to Athens. The goddess Neit or Neith
was the divinity of the place, and a festival of great solem¬
nity was annually held here in her honour, to which pilgrims
resorted from other parts of Egypt. Sals was remarkable
for the learning of its priests, and for a time held a high
political position when Egypt was ruled by the kings of the
powerful Twenty-sixth Dynasty, whose native place it was,
though it does not seem to have been capital of the country.
1 Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. i., p. 160.
•! Aperqu General, tom. i., p. 196. 4 Englishwoman in Egypt,
6 The temple of Bubastis at the city of the same name was likewis
VOL. VIII.
A modern village here is called “ Sa-el-IIagar,” or “ Sa'isof Egypt,
the Stone,” a name which probably alludes to the famous
monolith described by Herodotus.4
In the interior of the modern Delta no remains of im-Towns in
portance have been discovered, though there are many an- the Delta,
cient sites marked by mounds. The chief towns are El-
Mahalleh el-Kebeereh, not far from the Damietta Branch,
about forty miles from the sea; Tanta, nearly in the mid¬
dle of the Delta; and Manoof, farther south. Of these
Tanta is best known as the birth-place of the Muslim saint
called the seyyid Ahmad El-Bedawee, in whose honour
three festivals are annually kept, the greatest of which at¬
tracts more pilgrims than any other in Egypt, and is second
alone to the pilgrimage to Mekkeh in this particular. Like
many celebrations of the kind, the festivals of Tanta are
rather distinguished by riot than piety, and recall the revel¬
ries of Bubastis and Canopus.
Several sites of interest are found on the course of the Damietta.
Damietta Branch, the old Phatnitic or Phatmetic. First
of these is the town whence it takes its name, Dimyat,
called by the Europeans Damietta, which stands not far
from the mouth of this branch, and on its eastern side. In
the time of the Crusades it was a strong place, and regarded
as the key of Egypt. It was taken and retaken by the con¬
tending forces, and formed the basis of the operations of
St Louis in the unfortunate Eighth Crusade. Shortly after¬
wards the Memlook Sultan Edh-Dhahir Beybars, in a.d.
1251, razed it and rebuilt it on the present site somewhat
further from the sea. It is a flourishing town, and has a
population of about 28,000 inhabitants, according to Sir
Gardner Wilkinson.5 The next place of importance is the
town of El-Mansoorah, founded by El-Melik El-Kamil, theEl-Mansoo-
nephewof Salah-ed-Deen, during the Sixth Crusade, to com-rah‘
memorate, as its name imports, his success over the invading
army of Jean de Brienne. A little to the south of El-
Mansoorah, on the opposite bank, at a short distance from
the river, are the remains of a very remarkable temple
of the goddess Isis, and the mounds of the town of
Iseum. Although the temple is entirely thrown down, aslseum*
though by a natural convulsion, but no doubt by human
violence, its plan may be partly traced and its date ascer¬
tained, since the materials have not been removed. It
was, unlike most Egyptian temples, built altogether of gra¬
nite,6 and about 600 feet in length and 200 in breadth. The
materials must have been transported from Syene, a distance
by the river, on which they were doubtless floated, of more
than 600 miles. Bearing in mind this circumstance, and the
difficulty of both working and sculpturing so hard a material,
this temple must be considered to be one of the most costly in
the country. The earliest name which has been found here
is that usually assigned to Amyrtaeus of the Twenty-eighth
Dynasty, but the most common one is that of Ptolemy
Philadelphus. It was in this part of Egypt that Amyrtaeus
found a refuge during his long contest with the Persians,
and it seems not improbable that when he had at last
mounted the throne, and made Egypt once more an inde¬
pendent kingdom, he testified his pious gratitude by com¬
mencing this magnificent edifice. A little to the south of
this site is the small town of Semennood, anciently Seben-Semennood
nytus, the city of Hercules, in like manner on the western (Sebenny-
bank of the river; and a short distance farther, on the sametus-)'
side, is the village of Aboo-Seer, the ancient Busiris, named Woo-Seer
after Osiris, who, with Isis, was here worshipped. Herodo-^usiris)-
tus mentions, among the great festivals, that of Isis held at
the latter place, but this was more probably kept at Iseum,
which was near by. For a considerable distance there isTol-Atreeb
nothing of interest until we reach Tel-Atreeb, where the(Athribis)-
3 Englishwoman in Egypt, vol. i., p. 38, et seqq.
vol. i., p. 54. 6 Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. i., pp. 452, 453.
e entirely of red granite. Mod. Egypt and Thebes, vol. i., p. 428.
3 it
498
Egypt.
Pelusium.
Tanis.
Bubastis.
Bilbeys.
Onion.
The Bar¬
rage.
Heliopolis,
Boolak.
Cairo.
E G Y P T.
site of the town of Athribis is marked by high mounds, with
remains of ancient houses and some blocks of stone.
To the eastward of the Damietta Branch, in the broad
cultivated tract or the desert beyond, are some places worthy
of note. The most eastern of these is the site of Pelusium,
which was, in the times of the Pharaohs of the Twenty-
sixth Dynasty, and probably earlier, the key of Egypt to¬
wards Palestine.1 No important remains have been dis¬
covered here. Between this site and the Damietta Branch
are the mounds of Tanis, or Zoan, where are considerable
remains of the great temple, the most remarkable of which
are several fallen obelisks, some of which are broken. From
their inscriptions, and those of other blocks, it has been as¬
certained that the temple was as ancient as the time of the
Twelfth Dynasty, and was much beautified by Rameses II.
and other kings of that time and the subsequent period.
Tanis was on the eastern bank of the Tanitic branch of the
Nile, now called the canal of the El-Mo’izz. On the same
side of the same branch, but considerably to the south, was
the city of Bubastis, the site of which is indicated by very
lofty mounds, in which may be traced the remains of its
great temple. Here was held the festival of the goddess
Bubastis, which attracted great crowds of pilgrims, and
is ranked by Herodotus first of the festivals of Egypt.
Not far south, and on the borders of the desert, is Bilbeys,
which was a place of some importance as a frontier-town in
the time of the Eiyoobee princes. Still farther south are
the mounds of Onion, the Jewish city foxmded by the high
priest Onias, where was a temple closed by Vespasian not
long after the overthrow of Jerusalem. The site is called
Tell-el-Yahoodeeyeh, or “ The Mound of the Jewess.”
At the point of the Delta is the unfinished Barrage,
which was intended, by crossing both branches of the river,
to regulate the inundation above and below this place.
The river here becomes broader, as it is generally for a
great distance higher, than in its divided state. A little
south of the point of the Delta, on the eastern bank of
the river, near the village of El-Matareeyeh, is the site of
, the ancient Heliopolis, the City of the Sun, marked by a
solitary obelisk, and crude brick ridges formed by the ruins
of a massive wall. The obelisk bears the name of Seser-
tesen L, the head of the Twelfth Dynasty, in the simple
inscription, which runs down each of its sides. It is of red
granite, and nearly 70 feet in height. The city was famous
rather for the learning of its college than for its size, and
the temple of Ra was held in high veneration. Many fa¬
mous Greek philosophers studied here, and much that has
been supposed to have been discovered by them was pro¬
bably derived from their Egyptian instructors. At a short
distance south of Heliopolis is the modern metropolis of
Egypt, Cairo, not far inland.
Boolak, the port of Cairo, is a considerable and flourish¬
ing town, having two remarkable mosques, and a very large
palace, built by Isma’eel Pasha, a son of Mohammad ’Alee,
who fell a victim to a conspiracy caused by his own tyranny,
while commanding an expedition in Upper Nubia. It was
founded a.h. 713, in the reign of the Sultan Mohammad
Ibn Kala-oon. Two principal roads lead hence to the me¬
tropolis, distant about a mile.
Cairo is the fourth Muslim capital of Egypt: the site of
one of those that have preceded it is, for the most part, in¬
cluded within its walls, while the other two were a little to the
south. ’Ami1, the Muslim conqueror of the country, founded
El-Fustat, the oldest of these, close to the fortress of Egyp¬
tian Babylon, the seat of government at that time. Its
name signifies “ The Tent,” as it was built where ’Amr had
pitched his tent. The new town speedily became a place
of importance, and was the residence of the Na'ibs, or Egypt,
lieutenants, appointed by the orthodox and Umawee Kha-
leefehs. It received the name of Masr, properly Misr,
which was applied by the Arabs to every important capital
of the country, Thebes and Alexandria excepted. It de¬
clined after the foundation of El-Kahireh, but never be¬
came altogether deserted, for a small town, called Masr El-
’Ateekah, or “ Old Masr,” occupies, in the present day, part
of what was its area in its time of prosperity. Shortly after
the overthrow of the Umawee Dynasty, and the establishment
of the Abbasee, the city of El-’Askar was founded (a.h. 133)
by Suleyman, the general who subjugated the country, and
became the capital and residence of the successive lieu¬
tenants of the Abbasee Khaleefehs. El-’Askar was a small
town adjacent to El-Fustat, of which it was a kind of suburb.
Its site is now entirely desolate. The third capital, El-
Katae’, or El-Kataye’, was founded about a.h. 260, by Ahmad
Ibn-Tooloon, a lieutenant who rendered himself indepen¬
dent of the Abbasee Khaleefeh, and made this his capital.
It continued the royal residence of his successors; but not
long after the fall of the Dynasty, and a subsequent one,
the seat of government was transferred by the Fatimees to
a new city, El-Kahireh. El-Katae’, which had been sacked
on the overthrow of the Tooloonees, rapidly decayed. A
part of the present Cairo occupies its site, and contains its
great mosque, that of Ahmad Ibn-Tooloon.
Gohar el-Kaid, the general who subjugated Egypt to
the power of his master, the Fatimee Khaleefeh El-Mo’izz,
founded a new capital a.h. 358, which was named El-Kahi¬
reh, that is, “ the Victorious,” which has been corrupted into
Cairo. This town occupied about a fourth part of the pre¬
sent metropolis, being the north-eastern portion. By de¬
grees it became greater than El-Fustat, and took from it
the name of Misr or Masr, which is applied to it by the
modern Egyptians. It continually increased, so as to in¬
clude the site of El-Katae’ to the south, and of the old town
of El-Maks to the west. The famous Salah-ed-Deen, or
Saladin, built a citadel on the lowest point of the mountain
to the east, which immediately overlooked El-Katae’, and
he partly walled round the towns and large gardens within
the space now called Cairo. Under the prosperous rule of
the Memlook Sultans this great tract wras filled with habita¬
tions ; a large suburb to the north, the Hoseyneeyeh, was
added; and the town of Boolak founded. Since the Turkish
conquest (a.d. 1517) the metropolis has constantly decayed,
but its limits are the same.
Cairo is of an irregular oblong form. Its greatest length is
about three miles, and its average breadth about a mile and a
half, and its dimensions do not fall very much short of these in
any part.2 This surface is not, however, entirely occupied by
houses, for it contains the citadel, various extensive gardens
and open spaces, as well as lakes. The streets are extremely
narrow, and the markets generally crowded, so that the
stranger usually acquires a delusive idea of the density of
the population. Mr Lane states the population to have
been 240,000 before the great plague of 1835, and adds
that the deficiency, equal to not less than one-third of the
inhabitants, caused by that terrible visitation, would be
speedily supplied Ifom the villages.3 Sir Gardner Wilkinson,
in his Modern Egypt and Thebes* published in 1843, gives
the population at about 200,000; and Mrs Poole, writing
in 1842, estimates it at about 240,000 ;5 but Clot-Bey,6
whose work appeared in 1840, states the much higher
amount of about 300,000 souls. The census of 1847-8,
already noticed,7 states the more moderate sum of 253,541
inhabitants, and in this instance it is not likely to have been
far wrong. We may fairly suppose that during the time of
1 See above, section ii.
2 M. Jacotin, in the Description de VEgypte, t. xviii. 2, p. Ill, estimates the superficies of Cairo at 793 hectares, or about 3 square miles.
3 Modern Egyptians, Introduction. 4 Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. i., p. 256.
6 Englishwoman in Egypt, vol. i., p. 136. 6 Aper~u General, tom. L, p. 204. T Supra, section i.
E G Y P T.
Egypt, comparative prosperity that followed the great plague of
i ^ 1835 the population gradually increased to about 250,000,
and that the cholera in 1848 and the recent conscriptions oc¬
casioned by the war between Turkey and Russia have some¬
what diminished its amount, which may at the present time be
stated at above 200,000, and probably little below 250,000.
Of the population of 240,000 in 1834, according to Mr
Lane, about 190,000 were Muslim Egyptians; about 10,000
Copts; 3000 or 4000 Jews; and the rest, strangers from
various countries. The adult male population was about
one-third of the whole, or 80,000 persons, of whom 30,000
were merchants, petty shopkeepers, and artisans; 20,000
domestic servants; 15,000 common labourers, porters, &c.;
the remainder chiefly consisting of military and civil servants
of the government.1
Cairo is still undoubtedly the most remarkable and cha¬
racteristic of Arab cities. The beauty of its [religious and
domestic architecture, before jhe recent Turkish innova¬
tions, is unexcelled elsewhere. The edifices raised by the
Moorish kings of Spain, and the Muslim rulers of India,
may have been more splendid in their materials, and more
elaborate in their details; the houses of the great men of
Damascus may be more costly than were those of the
Memlook Beys; but for purity of taste and elegance of
design they are far excelled by many of the mosques and
houses of Cairo. These mosques have suffered much in the
beauty of their appearance from the effects of time and
neglect; but their colour has been often thus softened, and
their outlines rendered the more picturesque. What is
most to be admired in their style of architecture is its ex¬
traordinary freedom from restraint, evidenced in the wonder¬
ful variety of its forms, and their being frequently irregular
with respect to one another without offending the eye, as
well as the skill in design which has made the most intricate
details to harmonize with grand outlines. Its beauty seems
to resemble that of nature, ever changing, yet ever har¬
monious, irregular without disproportion, because it appeals
to a higher feeling than that which judges by the cold rules
of geometry. Yet it never attains to sublimity, unlike the
older architecture of the country ; for the religion which
originated it2 endeavoured by it to shadow forth the joys
of a future paradise in which the senses were to be gratified
rather than the soul. The ancient Egyptian raised his
pyramid on a rock in the trackless waste, or excavated his
sepulchre in one of its most secluded valleys ; his time-
defying temples stood in the desert, or raised their stern
masses above the fields ; the Muslim placed his mosque in
cities, amidst the homes of men, and where its elegant
minaret should be half hidden by the palms, and throw its
shadow of red and white across a tranquil lake. Both
have now passed away, the ancient art and the modern, and
nothing has taken their place that can lessen regret or
awaken hope. See the article Cairo.
Fn»irons To the east of Cairo is a bold spur of the mountains
oi Cairo, known as El-Gebel El-Mukattam. Beneath it, and to the
north of the citadel, is the cemetery of Kait Bey, remarkable
for the splendid tombs of the Memlook Sultans., The most
beautiful of these is that of Kait Bey from which it takes its
name, but those of the Sultan Barkook and of El-Ghooree
must not be passed by unmentioneck At a little distance to
the north-east is the Gebel el-Ahmaror “the Red Mountain,”
and southward of this on the rocky tract is petrified wood
499
Egypt.
in large quantities strewn on the surface. The space be¬
tween Cairo and the Nile, varying from a mile to a mile
and a half in breadth, is occupied by plantations which were
made by Ibraheem Pasha during his father’s rule. Formerly
this side of the city was, as the other three are still to a great
extent, bounded by lofty mounds of rubbish; these he caused
to be removed, and by doing so conferred a great benefit upon
the inhabitants, as well as by planting with trees the interven¬
ing space. By irrigating this tract very freely by a steam-
engine he considerably lessened the good he had effected,
rendering the western part of the city somewhat damp. To
the south of Cairo are a great cemetery containing the tomb
of the Imam Esh-Shafe’ee, and an aqueduct, built by the
Sultan El-Ghooree, which conducts water from the Nile to
the Citadel; and further, the Roman fortress of Egyptian
Babylon, now called Kasr-esh-Shema, and chiefly occupied
by a Coptic convent, as well as the small town of Masr El-
’Ateekah, which is all that remains of the famous metropo¬
lis El-Fustat. It contains no remarkable edifices; in its
immediate neighbourhood however is the oldest mosque in
Egypt, that of ’Amr, the Muslim conqueror of the country,
but it has been so frequently repaired and almost rebuilt,
that it is impossible to form any idea of its original appear¬
ance. Opposite to Masr El-’Ateekah, from which it is
separated by a very narrow branch of the Nile, is the island
of Er-R6dah, containing the famous Mikyas or Nilometer,
and Ibraheem Pasha’s garden, which was beautifully laid
out after the European manner by the late Mr Traill, a
Scottish horticulturist.3
The chief place on the western bank of the river near El-Geezeh.
Cairo is the small town of El-Geezeh, opposite Masr El-
’Ateekah. El-Geezeh is best known as having given its
name to the three most famous pyramids of Egypt, which
are, with the small ones in their neighbourhood, called by
both natives and the Franks the Pyramids of El-Geezeh.
These marvellous structures stand on the slightly elevated
border of the low Libyan range, not more than a quarter of
a mile beyond the limit of the cultivated land. Before de¬
scribing them it is necessary to form some idea of the great
necropolis to which they belong.
The city of Memphis stood on the western bank of the Necropolis
Nile about ten miles above Cairo. The kings and people of Mem-
who dwelt there chose the nearest part of the desert as Pllis-
their burial-place, and built tombs on its rocky edge, or
excavated them in its sides. The kings raised pyramids
around which their subjects were buried in smaller sepul¬
chres. The pyramids were grouped together, and often
there is a considerable distance from one group to another.
It must be borne in mind, however, that many pyramids
have been nearly or wholly destroyed;. yet as the largest
undoubtedly remain, the general features of the necropolis
cannot be much changed. From the citadel of Cairo we
obtain a good view of the several groups. First, opposite
to us, but a little to the south, are the three great pyramids
of El-Geezeh, two of which exceed all the others in magni¬
tude ; at some distance farther south we see those of Aboo-
Seer, likewise three in number, of much smaller dimensions ;
and not so far beyond them the great pyramid of Sakkarah,
called from its form that of Steps, with smaller pyramids in
its neighbourhood. Farthest of all, after a wider interval,
are the two large pyramids of Dahshoor, which approach in
size the great structures of El-Geezeh. There are more to
1 Modern Egyptians, loc. eit.
2 Arab or Moorish architecture must be held to have originated with Muslim nations. Many things it certainly owed to Byzantine;
hut as we have no example which does not present the most remarkable essential differences, we cannot say it was the offspring of that
style any more than we can assert that Greek architecture was derived from Egyptian.
3 This gentleman, during the many years for which he was occupied in forming the garden of Er-R6dah, introduced various foreign trees
and plants, and gained much information respecting the botany of the country. By his premature death a true friend of science has
been carried away, and one who possessed beyond any of his contemporaries the combined knowledge and abilities needed by a describer
of the Egyptian Flora, who should supply the deficiencies of Forskal and Delile. That task he did not live to execute, to the lasting de¬
triment of science and the regret of his many friends.
500
EGYPT.
Egypt.
Pyramids
of El-
Geezeh.
Great Py¬
ramid.
the south as far as the Feiyoom, the last being that of
El-Lahoon, but none to the south of the pyramids of
Dahshoor can be included within the Memphite necropolis.
That great tract, which was also the burial-place of Helio¬
polis, extended, if we measure from the ruined pyramid of
Aboo-Ruweysh, somewhat to the north of those of El-
Geezeh, to the southernmost pyramid of Dahshoor, through¬
out a space of nearly twenty miles, in almost every part of
which some sepulchres have been discovered, while it can¬
not be doubted that many more await a fortunate explorer.
The road to the pyramids of El-Geezeh from the town
whence they derive their modern appellation, is through cul¬
tivated fields diversified by villages in palm-groves. As we
approach them, these structures do not give us that idea of
size that we had expected from our first distant view ; and
until we stand at their feetwe do not appreciate their vastness.
But as we endeavour to scan the height of the Great Pyra¬
mid, when about to commence its ascent, we fully realize a
result that human labour has not achieved elsewhere. The
very dimensions—a height of half a thousand feet, four
sides each measuring the seventh of a mile—are in them¬
selves gigantic; but when we know that this huge space is
almost wholly solid, containing a few chambers so small as
not to be worthy of consideration in calculating its contents,
we discover that no monuments of man’s raising elsewhere
afford any scale by which to estimate its greatness.
The present perpendicular height of the Great Pyramid
is, according to the late General Vyse’s excellent work,
450 ft. 9 in.; and its present base 746 ft. 0 in. It is about
30 feet lower than it was originally, in consequence of
much of the outer masonry having been torn off, as well as
the casing-stones; and its base is likewise smaller. Gen.
Vyse gives the former height at 480 ft. 9 in., and the former
base at 764 ft. 0 in. Like all the other pyramids, it faces
the cardinal points. At the completion of the pyramid the
faces were smooth and polished, but now they present a se¬
ries of great steps formed by the courses of stone, and are
in some places (particularly in the middle of each face, and
at the angles, and about the entrance) much broken. The
ascent is easy though fatiguing, and the traveller is amply
rewarded by the view which he obtains from the platform,
about 32 feet square, at the summit. The prospect of the
fertile plain and valley on the one side, and of the undulat¬
ing barren surface of the Great Desert on the other, as
well as of the pyramids and tombs beneath, is alike remark¬
able from its character and the associations which it calls up.
The examination of the interior is no less interesting. All
other tombs but the Memphite pyramids and those which
were simply pits were not closed, the upper chambers be¬
ing intended for the performance of funeral rites when the
family of the deceased visited his sepulchre. These pyra¬
mids, however, were most carefully closed. The cham¬
bers, which contained the bodies of the king, and of those
(doubtless of his family) who were sometimes buried in the
same structure, were without sculptures, and scarcely orna¬
mented in any way, being sometimes wholly plain. The
passages leading to them were only large enough to admit
a sarcophagus, and after the king’s burial were closed by
the lowering of heavy stone portcullises, and the blocking
up of the entrance. The desired object was security, and
we must not, therefore, expect beauty or grandeur in cham¬
bers constructed for this purpose, although we cannot fail
to admire their massive and gloomy aspect.
The entrance to the Great Pyramid is not far from the
middle of the northern face, 49 ft. 0 in. in perpendicular
height from the base. The fallen stones and rubbish have,
however, raised a mound which reaches nearly to the en¬
trance, the masonry about which having been torn down,
we gain some idea of the construction of the pyramid. In
this manner the passage has lost somewhat of its length.
The passage itself is 3 ft. 11 in. high, and 3 ft. 5^ in. wide,
and is lined with fine limestone. It descends at an angle of
26° 41 1 At a distance of 63 ft. 2 in. from the beginning of the
roof of the present entrance, a second passage commences
from this, taking an ascending direction. The entrance of
this new passage is obstructed by great blocks of granite
which entirely fill it, and have been passed by means of an
excavation around them. We thus enter the ascending
passage, which is of the same breadth and height as the for¬
mer, and inclines at an angle of 26° 18'. The stones which
line its roof and sides are very rough, and it has evidently
been left unfinished. After ascending this passage for a dis¬
tance of 109 ft. 7 in., we reach the Grand Passage, which,
from its greater dimensions, presents a comparatively imposing
appearance. It ascends at the same angle as the last, while
a horizontal passage runs beneath it to a chamber to be sub¬
sequently mentioned. Just within the Grand Passage is
the mouth of the Well, an irregular pit, partly excavated
in the rock, leading to the lower portion of the first pas¬
sage. Its object was probably to afford an exit to the work¬
men who had been engaged in closing the ascending pas¬
sage. The Grand Passage is 7 ft. 2 in. in width at its
base, 28 ft. high, and 156 ft. long. The blocks which
compose its sides gradually approach, every course above
the second projecting a little, and on each side is a stone
bench. At the end of this passage a horizontal one com¬
mences, of much smaller but unequal dimensions, and 22
ft. 1 in. in length, leading to the Grand Chamber, commonly
called the King’s Chamber, which it enters at the eastern
end of its north side. This, which is the principal sepulchral
chamber (unless, indeed, there be an undiscovered one of
greater importance), is lined with red granite, and measures
in length 34 ft. 3 in., in width 17 ft. 1 in., and in height
19 ft. 1 in. It is altogether plain, and contains only a
sarcophagus of red granite, which is equally unadorned.
Above this chamber are five small ones, which may be
called entresols, evidently designed to lighten the pressure
of the superincumbent masonry, particularly as the upper¬
most of them has a pointed roof. Four of these were dis¬
covered by the late Gen. Howard Vyse, who found in them
quarry-marks, bearing the names of Shufu and Num-shufu,
the former of whom had been previously identified with the
builder of this pyramid mentioned by Herodotus, Diodorus,
and Manetho. These chambers are reached with difficulty,
and chiefly by forced passages. The horizontal passage
beneath the Grand Passage must now be described. This
is but 3 ft. 10 in. high, and 3 ft. 5jr in. wide for the first
92 feet of its length, and then we descend a step and find
the passage to be 5 ft. 8 in. high for 17 ft. 11 in. farther,
until it enters the u Queen’s Chamber,” as it is usually
called, at the eastern corner of its north side. This cham¬
ber is 18 ft. 9 in. long, and 17 ft broad, and its extreme
height is 20 ft. 3 in. It has a pointed roof, of great blocks
of stone, inclined upwards and meeting in the middle.
Within it is the entrance of a forced passage. The remainder
of the first passage, beyond where the first ascending pas¬
sage leads to the most interesting parts of the structure,
remains to be noticed. It continues below the forced en¬
trance to the ascending passage for a distance of 239 ft. 10
in., being cut through the rock on which the pyramid is
built. For this space its inclination and proportions do not
change, but it then becomes horizontal for 27 ft., termi-
r>r> 107-109 °rrh rTfr0.10 ** ^ksorvations on the Entrance Passages in the Pyramids of Gizeh,” in Vyse’s Pyramids of Gizeh, vol. :
. .minipfmn +>,,> v, \ t>s entrance passages of other pyramids, and the circumstance that they were always closed at t
the nole-star nntUt V11*’8’ 6 °w fact of this one’s having pointed, at the period of its erection, to « Draconis, which was th
j o e ic^ai ec as more than accidental. Nevertheless, as above mentioned, the pyramids face the cardinal points
/
EGYPT.
501
Egypt.
Second
Pyramid.
Third Py¬
ramid.
Smaller
Pyramids,
nating at the entrance of an excavated chamber 46 ft. in
' length, and 27 ft. 1 in. in breadth, but of irregular and in¬
considerable height. There is no doubt that this chamber
was left unfinished at the closing of the pyramid. Beyond
it the passage continues, opposite to where it entered the
chamber, and extends horizontally 52 ft. 9 in. into the rock
in the same direction.
Manetho calls the founder of the Great Pyramid Suphis
I., but Herodotus names him Cheops, and Diodorus Sicu¬
lus Chembes, or Chemmis. His hieroglyphic name Shufu,
or Khufu, according to the pronunciation of different dia¬
lects, was found, as before mentioned, by General Vyse,
in the quarry-marks of one of the chambers above the
King’s, and occurs in the inscriptions of the neighbouring
tombs of private individuals. The name of Num-shufu,
Manetho’s Suphis II., occurs with that of Shufu, both in the
quarry-marks and in the tombs: he appears to have ruled
jointly with Shufu, and it is not improbable that he was also
buried in this pyramid.
The Second Pyramid stands at a short distance to the
S.W. of the Great Pyramid, which does not very much ex¬
ceed it in magnitude, though far superior in its construc¬
tion. It has a base of 690 feet 9 inches square, and is 447
feet 6 inches in height, being more steep than its larger
neighbour. It is chiefly remarkable on account of a great
part of its casing having been preserved, extending about a
fourth of the distance from the summit. The ascent is thus
rendeied very difficult, especially as when one has climbed
on to the cased portion, he can see nothing of the lower
part of the building, and thus feeling as if upon a pyramid
in the air, is very liable to become dizzy. There are two
entrances, both at the north side, from which, and other pe¬
culiarities, it appears probable that it was originally much
smaller than now, and that, after its first completion, it
was enlarged, and a new entrance and sepulchral chamber
added. Herodotus and Diodorus Siculus ascribe its erec¬
tion to a king whom the former calls Chephren and the latter
Kephren, the brother and successor of the builder of the
Great Pyramid. Diodorus says, that according to some he
was named ChabryTs, and was the son of the latter sovereign.
These are all variations of the name Shafra or Khafra, of an
Elephantinite, Manetho’s Sephres, the second king of the
Fifth Dynasty, who was about contemporary with Shufu.
The Third Pyramid is almost in a line with the other
two, but of much smaller dimensions, being only 203 feet in
height, and 354 feet 6 inches square at the base. It is con¬
structed beautifully, and in a costly manner, and in these re¬
spects is unexcelled, if equalled, by any other pyramid.
The exterior was anciently cased altogether, or in part, with
granite, but this has been generally torn off. General Vyse
opened it, and found that it had been previously ransacked.
In it he discovered a very beautiful sarcophagus (which was
unfortunately lost at sea on its way to England), as well as
part of a mummy-case, bearing the name of King Menkaura,
and the body of a workman,1 both of which are now in the
British Museum. Herodotus and Diodorus ascribe the build¬
ing of this Pyramid to Mykerinos, whom some, according
to the latter, called Mecherinos; but Manetho makes it the
work of Queen Nitokris. The former sovereign is Mane¬
tho’s Mencheres, the fourth ruler of his Fourth Dynasty,
and the latter ends his Sixth Dynasty. This apparent in¬
consistency is explained, as the Chevalier Bunsen first re¬
marked,2 by the construction of the pyramid, which has two
principal chambers, and was evidently enlarged after its first
completion, so that we may fairly suppose that it is the se¬
pulchre of both Mencheres and Queen Nitokris.
Near the three large pyramids are six smaller ones; three
of these are near the east side of the Great Pyramid, and
Egypt.
three on the south side of the Third Pyramid. They were
probably the tombs of near relations of the kings who founded ''■“■“v""''
the great pyramids. The space around the pyramids is Tombs,
occupied by almost countless tombs, some built of stone,
others excavated in the sides of the rock on which the py¬
ramids stand, while others are simply pits with sepulchral
chambers leading from them. The most interesting of
these occupy a square bounded on the east by the Great
Pyramid, and on the south by the Second, and are the se¬
pulchres of the subjects of Cheops and other kings for the
most part of the same period. These tombs, which are of
inconsiderable dimensions in comparison to many at Thebes
and elsewhere, are all built of stone, and have inclined walls,
so as to resemble truncated pyramids. They usually con¬
tain several small chambers, the walls of which are deco¬
rated with most remarkable painted sculptures, pourtraying
the every-day life of the Egyptians at that remote age,
with short inscriptions of an explanatory character. The
absence of representations of the gods and of the other sub¬
jects connected with religion, would lead one to suppose
that at this time their belief was purer than at later periods,
did not the inscriptions show this to be a false conclusion.
Other similar tombs stand to the east and south of the
Great Pyramid; and in the former direction are the princi¬
pal sepulchral grottoes hewn in the side of the elevated
rocky tract on which the pyramids stand. Some of these
excavations bear similar representations to those of the tombs
already mentioned. To the east of the Second Pyramid is
the Great Sphinx, one of the most characteristic monuments Great
of this wonderful necropolis. It is a recumbent andro- Sphinx,
sphinx, or man-headed lion, 188 ft. 9^ in. in length,3 hewn
out of a natural eminence in the solid rock, some defects
of which are supplied by a partial stone-casing, and the legs
are likewise added. Steps lead to its front where are a
sanctuary and tablets, but these are covered by the sand,
which, after the hollow has been cleared, speedily fills it
up again. Not far to the westward of the Sphinx is the re¬
markable excavation known as Campbell’s tomb, chiefly
consisting of a large pit surrounded by a trench. It was
discovered by General Vyse, whose name is honourably
connected with the most important discoveries in the ne¬
cropolis of Memphis. The causeways leading to the Great
Pyramid and to the Third, the former of which so greatly
excited the admiration of Herodotus, are well worthy of a
careful examination. The only pyramid which stands to
the north of this group is that of Aboo-Ruweysh, which is Pyramid
in so ruined a condition as scarcely to deserve a.visit. It of Aboo-
lies about five miles to the north of the Great Pyramid. Ruweysh.
Southward of the Pyramids of El-Geezeh, the first ob- Pyramids
jects of interest are those forming the similar group of Aboo- of Aboo-
Seer, of much smaller dimensions, the largest being aboutSeer-
the size of the Third Pyramid. They are on the elevated
edge of the Libyan chain, about seven miles from the Third
Pyramid, and are four in number, three being large, and
the fourth very small. The Northern Pyramid of Aboo-
Seer appears to have been the tomb of Shura or Soris, the
first king of the Fourth Dynasty.
About two miles further in the same direction, are the Pyramids
Pyramids of Sakkarah, the greatest and most remarkable ofof Sakka-
which is called the Pyramid of Steps. The tract around rah.
them appears to have been the principal burial-place ofpyramid
Memphis, from its nearness to the site of that city, and the of Stei)Sl
number of the sepulchres. The Pyramid of Steps has a
height of 196 feet 6 inches, and its base formerly measured
at the north and south sides 351 feet 2 inches, and at the
east and west, 393 feet 11 inches. Beneath it are numerous
passages and a gallery, which must, for the most part, have
been made subsequently to the completion of the structure.
1 This body has been erroneously supposed to be that of king Mykerinos.
3 Brugsch, lleiseberichte aus Aegypter, p. 336.
2 Egypt's Place, vol. ii., p. 165, et segq., and 210, et seqq.
502
E G Y P T.
Egypt. In the centre is a very lofty and narrow chamber, and near
/-m-s it a small one, which was lined with blue tiles. In the
latter was an inscription containing the name and titles of a
very early king, the former reading Ra-nub-rokhee, or Nub-
rokhee-ra, which may correspond to Manetho’s Necherochis
or Necherophes, the name of the head of the Third Dynasty.
In the tract between the Pyramids of Sakkarah and Aboo-
Seer are the remains of the Serapeum, and the burial place
of the Bulls Apis, both discovered by M. Mariette. They
are inclosed by a great wall, having been connected, for the
Serapeum was the temple of Apis. The tomb is a great
subterranean gallery, whence smaller passages branch off,
and contains many sarcophagi, in which the bulls were
entombed. Not the least important result of this dis¬
covery is the certainty that Serapis was a form of Osiris,
and that his name was Osir-hapi or Osiris-Apis,1 as Sir
Gardner Wilkinson had long previously suggested.2 The
other pyramids are of comparatively little interest. There
are also some curious private tombs, among which may
be particularized a large grotto excavated in the face of
the rock overlooking the valley, which is remarkable for
being vaulted on the principle of the true arch, but without
a key-stone. It is of the time of Psammitichus II. of the
Twenty-sixth Dynasty, being, as Sir Gardner Wilkinson re¬
marks, one of the two earliest known examples of the arch
in stone, though, as he adds, there are brick arches at
Thebes of the time of Amenoph I. of the Eighteenth
Dynasty.3
Site of The site of Memphis is marked by mounds in the culti-
Meraphis. vated tract to the east of the Pyramids of Sakkarah, and
near the village of Meet-Raheeneh. Of the great temple
of Ptah, or Hephaestus, its tutelary divinity, there are no
remains above ground, except a few blocks of stone and
some broken statues, one of which is a fine colossus of
Rameses II., which stood most probably in ancient times
before one of the principal entrances of the temple. It is
of white chert and beautifully executed, representing the
king in a standing posture. It has fallen to the ground,
and part of its legs has been broken off; nevertheless it has
suffered inconsiderable damage elsewhere, so as to be still
one of the finest specimens of Egyptian art. The original
height was more than 40 feet.4 * The site of Memphis being in
the cultivated tract, and near the modern capitals of Egypt,
its monuments have alike suffered from the destructive
power of nature, and from the barbarism of those who have
used them as quarries or defaced them from motives of
fanaticism. The Pyramids have not escaped man’s violence,
but their vastness has generally defied his attacks.
Pyramids a distance of about five miles to the south of the Pyra-
of Dah- mid of Steps is the northernmost of the Pyramids of Dah-
sboor, shoor, an interesting group, of the history of which nothing
certain is known. Two of these are of stone, and three of
crude brick. The former exceed in size all the other Pyra¬
mids except the First and Second of El-Geezeh, and have
remarkable chambers within them. The Northern Stone
Pyramid has a base of 700 feet, and a height of 826 feet 6
inches, and has lost somewhat of its size, having originally
measured 719 feet 5 inches, and 342 feet 7 inches. Some of
the casing remains. It has an entrance in the northern
face, leading to three chambers of similar construction to
the Grand Passage in the Great Pyramid. The Southern
Stone Pyramid is distinguished by the peculiarity of its
form and by having two entrances, one in the eastern face
and the other in the northern. The lower portion has an
angle of 54° 14' 46”, but the inclination then changes to
42° 59' 26”. It has been supposed that it was suddenly
completed, and had been originally intended to be much
loftier, but the method in which the pyramids were built
renders this unlikely; and it seems rather to have been
given this form to gratify a whim of the founder, especially
as the entrances in different faces afford a similar peculi¬
arity. Its base is 616 feet 8 inches, and its height 319
feet 6 inches. At its southern side is a small brick Pyra¬
mid. The Northeimand Southern Brick Pyramids of Dah-
shoor are to the east of those already described. They are in
a very ruined state, being merely low mounds, and one
cannot decide which of them is that of Asychis mentioned
by Herodotus, for it can scarcely be doubted to be one of
these.
It would be ungrateful to conclude this necessarily brief
notice without mentioning to whom we are indebted for
the most important discoveries made in the necropolis of
Memphis. Among the earlier explorers were Belzoni, by
whom the Second Pyramid was opened, Salt, and Caviglia,
who made interesting excavations in the Great Pyramid and
in its neighbourhood. But the late General Howard Vyse
undertook a complete examination of the series of Pyramids,
and having secured the valuable assistance of Mr Perring
and an able staff, carried out this project with well-merited
success. His most valuable discoveries have been noticed
above, and it should be remembered that by the outlay of
his private fortune he accomplished results that have been
unexcelled by any expedition supported by the funds and
the influence of a government. Dr Lepsius, the head of
the Prussian Expedition, opened many tombs near the Py¬
ramids of El-Geezeh and Sakkarah, and has published in
his magnificent work (Denkmaler aus Aegypten und Aethio*
pien) the most interesting sculptures which they contain,
M. Mariette, aided by the French government, recently
discovered the Serapeum, and the tomb of the Bulls Apis.
Many others have explored this great necropolis with various
success.6
The voyage up the Nile from Cairo may now be de- Ascent of
scribed. The traveller usually embarks at Boolak or Masrthe
El-’Ateekah. The objects of interest which he first sees
have therefore been mentioned in speaking of those towns
and of the environs of Cairo. Not far south of Masr El-
’Ateekah the mountain and desert approach very near the
river on that side, and soon after the wide opening of a
valley is seen. Beyond it is a bold promontory of the east¬
ern range which gradually recedes and then becomes pa¬
rallel with the river for some distance, leaving but a narrow
strip of cultivated land. Behind the village of Tura, the
ancient Troja, are the quarries named after it, and a little Quarries of
further to the south are those of El-Maasarah. These are Tura and
great excavated chambers and passages, which are entered El-Maa-
by large square apertures in the steep face of the mountain.sarah-
Hence were taken the finer blocks of limestone, employed
in the construction of the Pyramids of El-Geezeh. Tablets
in both quarries record the quarrying executed under dif¬
ferent sovereigns.6 South of the quarries the character of
the eastern bank continues unchanged, and presents no re¬
markable object until we reach the promontory of the sheykh
Aboo-Noor, which will be subsequently mentioned. The
western bank, on the contrary, is broad and fertile, abound¬
ing in villages, and above its palm groves rise in the dis-
l Brugsch, Reiseberichtc aus Aegypten, p. 27, et seqq. 2 Materia Hieroglyphica, p. 21, and Vocab. MS. addition.
Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. L, pp. 368-9.
4 This colossus is the property of the British Museum, but no steps have been taken to remove it to this country. As Sir Gardner
W^mson remarks, “when the Turks have burnt it for lime, it will be regretted.” {Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. i., p. 373.)
. °r an accoant of the Pyramids, or copies of the bas-reliefs in the tombs around them, see General Vyse’s Pyramids of Gizeh, and the
folio plates published under the same title; Sir Gardner Wilkinson’s Modern Egypt and Thebes ; Mrs Poole’s Englishwoman in Egypt;
L/epsius s Benkmdler and Briefe aus Aegypten und Aethiopien ; Brugsch’s lieiseberichte aus Aegypten, &c.
6 Vyse’s Pyramids of Gizeh, vol. iii., p. 93, et seqq.
EGYPT.
Egypt, tance the picturesque and massive forms of the long series
of pyramids. Considerably beyond those of Dahshoor,
which may be considered as the most southern of those in
the Memphite necropolis, are the two Pyramids of El-Me-
taneeyeh, which are too small to be seen from the river,
Pyramid of and yet farther the solitary Pyramid of Meydoom, com-
Meydoom. monly called the False Pyramid. This is a structure of
considerable size, having a base of about 400 feet, and a
height of about 310 feet. In consequence of blocks having
been pulled off its sides for building purposes, it has the
appearance of being built in two degrees, the lower of
which is much greater than the upper, while the fallen
stones around its base make it seem as if raised upon an
eminence to increase its apparent size, and hence its name.
The entrance has not been discovered, and as it is so far
from Memphis it may have escaped the spoliation which
the other pyramids suffered in ancient times.1 Its position,
rising alone above the rich valley and desert beyond, with¬
out any object by which to measure its size, render this py¬
ramid, especially when seen from some distance across a
broad part of the river to the north, a very striking and pic¬
turesque object. I here is nothing else worthy of a visit on
Renee- the western bank until we reach the town of Benee-Suweyf,
Suweyf. about seventy miles by the course of the river from Cairo.
Benee-Suweyf is a busy town, being the port of the Fei-
yoom. A road leads hence to that province, in a north¬
westerly direction. After crossing the Bahr-Yoosuf, a
branch of which waters the Feiyoom, we pass through the
opening in the Libyan range, which leads to that province,
leaving on our right the ruined brick Pyramid of El-Lahoon,
so called from an adjacent village.
Feiyoom. The Feiyoom, including its lake, is a pear-shaped tract,
its narrowest part being to the west, extending into the
desert, and measuring in its greatest length about thirty
miles, and in its greatest breadth about twenty. The
part now cultivated is more than two-thirds of this extent
from the east. At the north-western extremity is the great
lake of El-Karn, which is long and narrow, and fills the
northern portion of the valley. A branch of the Bahr-
Yoosuf, as already mentioned, flows through the opening
leading to the Feiyoom. This canal soon spreads into
many streams, two of which, after joining into a single
course, carry off the superabundant waters of the inunda¬
tion into the lake of El-Karn, while they contribute with
the others to irrigate the cultivable tracts.
Labyrinth. The site of the famous Labyrinth first claims our notice
after entering the Feiyoom. Its position may be known
by a ruined crude brick pyramid, that of Hawarah, which
is spoken of by both Herodotus and Strabo, and may be
called the Pyramid of the Labyrinth, The remains of the
Labyrinth itself, which had been previously known, were
first carefully examined by the Prussian Expedition, headed
by Dr Lepsius, in 1843, and much information was gained
respecting it. The structure was so ruined, however, that
the results were not as decisive as might have been hoped.
Yet the plan was to some extent made out, and the build¬
ing shown to have contained a great number of very small
chambers, as ancient writers had said; and the discoverv of
royal names of the Twelfth Dynasty, particularly of Anien-
emha III. to whom Manetho ascribes the founding of the
Labyrinth, leaves little doubt that this king was the Mceris
who built the Labyrinth according to the classic writers.
Notwithstanding, the name Mceris seems to have been ap¬
plied to more than one sovereign, although there is little
503
doubt that of these the most important was Amenemha III. Egypt.
His prenomen Ma-en-ra, probably corrupted into Ma-ra,
appears to have originated Mceris, and is certainly suffi¬
ciently similar to afford some argument for the identity of
Amenemha III, with Moeris of the Labyrinth. The
use of this building has not been distinctly ascertained,
Manetho indeed makes it to have been the founder’s tomb,
but it is most probable that he was buried in the pyramid,
which, however, the Egyptian historian may have regarded
as part of the Labyrinth, since it is evidently connected with
that structure. It seems not improbable that the Laby¬
rinth itself was a kind of council-house where the represen¬
tatives, at first of the different kingdoms, and afterwards of
the various nomes, met to transact the general business of
the country, and where the records of these assemblies were
preserved. Such an explanation seems best to suit the ac¬
counts of ancient writers and the character of the building,
but it cannot be regarded as more than hypothetical.
Not far beyond the site of the Labyrinth is the capital Of
the province, usually called “ El-Medeeneh” or “ the City,”
and “ Medeenet-El-Feiyoom,” “the City” or “ Capital of
the Feiyoom,” close to the mounds of the ancient Ar-
sinoe, or Crocodilopolis. It is a small but flourishing town.
The only monuments of antiquity in its neighbourhood are
the remains at Beyahmoo somewhat to the north, and the
great broken tablet at Begeeg, at a smaller distance to the
south. The former are two structures supposed by some to
be pyramids, and the latter is a record of the time of Seser-
tesen I., which, since it bears the figures of several divini¬
ties, throws some light upon the religion of ancient Egypt
at the remote period of his reign, which we may date as
having commenced early in the twenty-first century before
the Christian era. This is usually called an obelisk, but it
must rather be regarded as a very tall and narrow stela or
tablet, upwards of forty feet in height.
In this part of the Feiyoom, to the north of El-Medee- Lak®
neh, may be traced the remains of that remarkable hydrau- Moens*
lie work the Lake Mceris, or, more properly, the Lake of
Mceris, since Mceris is doubtless the name of the king by
whose orders it was dug. A French engineer, of whom men¬
tion has been made already in this article, M. Linant, was the
first to determine the position and character of this famous
work of antiquity ; and the results of his investigations are
in accordance with the opinions of some who had previously
noticed the subject in published works. To M. Linant
certainly is due the merit of having settled a controversy of
no little importance, and the Egyptian Society of Cairo
deserves our thanks for the publication of his most interest¬
ing memoir.2 The Mceris who gave his name to the lake
was probably Amenemha HI., the king who can scarcely
be doubted to have been the founder of the Labyrinth. The
object of the Lake Mceris was to regulate the irrigation
of the Feiyoom, very anciently the Crocodilopolite Nome,
and afterwards the Arsinoite; and it was valuable on account
of its fisheries. It seems rather to have deserved the name
of a very large reservoir or broad canal than that of a lake.
Notwithstanding the drying up of the Lake Mceris, the
Feiyoom is still an important and fertile province. It pro¬
duces very large quantities of grapes ; and the fields of roses,
cultivated for the sake of rose-water, present a remarkable
appearance.
The great Lake of El-Karn is perhaps the most interest- Eake of
ing object in this part of Egypt, Its name, Birket-el-Karn, El-Karn.
signifies “ The Lake of the Horn,” or “ Projection,” by
^ Mr Harris of Alexandria remarked to the writer that the statement of Herodotus that Cambyses oj>ened ancient sepulchres at Mem¬
phis (iii. 37) probably indicates the period at which most of the pyramids were rifled, since those opened in modern times have generally
been found to have been carefully closed subsequently to their having been plundered. b J
a More than ten years ago the Egyptian Society was formed at Cairo, and afterwards the Egyptian Association. The former has pub¬
lished the Memoire sur le Lac Mceris, noticed in the text, and reports of proceedings, and the latter, a useful volume of miscellanea. It is
to be feared that both these societies have fallen into decay chiefly through the neglect of travellers, who would do well to encouraue such
useful institutions. h
504 E G Y F T.
Egypt- which an island is intended, and not its general form, as has
been supposed. It is, as already stated, according to Sir
Gardner Wilkinson, about 35 miles long, 7 broad at its
widest part, and is not deep, as far as has been ascertained.
The water is brackish and unwholesome, although derived
from the Nile, which has at all seasons a much higher level.
It is bounded on the south by tracts in a state of cultiva¬
tion, or deserted for want of labourers though anciently cul¬
tivated, and on the north by the Libyan desert, above which
rises a bold range of mountains; and it has a strange
and picturesque wildness. Its northern shore was anciently
cultivated, at least in part, but is now entirely waste. Near
the lake are several sites of ancient towns, and the temple
called Kasr-Karoon distinguishes the most important of
these. That temple, however, being devoid of sculpture,
and doubtless of the Roman period, could not attract atten¬
tion except in a region so barren of monuments. Not far
from it are other remains of still less interest. After this
cursory view of the Feiyoom we may return to the Nile
and continue our southward course.
Not far south of Benee-Suweyf the eastern chain is washed
by the river at the picturesque promontory of the sheykh
Aboo-Noor, whose tomb stands on its summit. From this
point as far as the town of Menfaloot the mountains on the
east are close to the Nile, leaving a narrow space of culti¬
vable land, or none at ail, while on the contrary the western
bank is far broader than before. For forty miles nothing
remarkable attracts the eye except the lofty mounds of
ancient towns, until one sees the well-proportioned minaret
of a mosque in the large village of Semeloot, said to have
been erected by the architect, of the mosque of the Sultan
Hasan at Cairo. Not far beyond, the river washes the
Gebel-et picturesque cliffs of Gebel-et-Teyr, or the Mountain ot
Teyr. Birds, part of the eastern range. Upon its summit stands
a Coptic convent, called the Convent of the Virgin, Deyr-
el-’Adra. One of the monks of this convent usually climbs
down the steep face of the mountain by a dizzy path, and
swims to the traveller’s boat to solicit an alms as a fellow
Christian ; an appeal not to be slighted, however low one’s
opinion of the Coptic Church may be. In this part of Egypt
we first begin to notice the entrances of grottoes in the face
of the eastern mountains, but none of these for some dis¬
tance are known to be of any interest. Not far beyond
Gebel-et-Teyr is the town of El-Minyeh, on the western
bank, a place wearing a cheerful aspect. Opposite El-
Minyeh are quarries and sepulchral grottoes, the most re¬
markable of the latter being at a site called El-K6m el-
Ahmar, or “ the Red Mound.” These are of the time of
the Fourth and Sixth Dynasties; but they have recently
sustained so much damage that they do not repay a visit,
except from one who is a student of hieroglyphics. The
governor of El-Minyeh, an ignorant Turk, used these
ancient tombs as quarries; and had it not been for the in¬
terference of Mr Harris of Alexandria, the more important
grottoes of Benee-Hasan would have shared the same fate
at his hands.
Grottoes of 1'he first remarkable objects above El-Minyeh are the
Benee- sepulchral grottoes of Benee-Hasan, just mentioned, which
Hasan. are inferior to none in Egypt for beauty and interest. They
are excavated in the face of the eastern mountains, which
are here very low and sloping, and separated from the river
alone by a small extent of debris and desert, and a very
narrow strip of cultivable land. There is a large island be¬
neath, and the channel that runs between it and the eastern
mountains is dry for a great part of the year. The grot¬
toes are almost in a line near the summit of the moun¬
tain, and at no great height above the river. The two
northernmost are remarkable for having porticoes, each sup¬
ported by two polygonal columns of an order which is believed
to be the prototype of the Doric. Most of the grottoes are
adorned with sculptures and paintings which pourtray with
eminent truthfulness and character the manners of the Egypt.
Egyptians of the remote period at which they were executed,
for they are monuments of the Twelfth Dynasty, dating
about b.c. 2000. The persons who were entombed here
were governors of what must have been an extensive dis¬
trict, the chief town of which was doubtless not far distant.
The tombs generally consist of a chamber of large dimen¬
sions, having sometimes a portico before it, and a niche
with seated figures of the chief persons buried in it at the
extremity, and pits leading to sepulchral chambers. The
principal apartment is sometimes supported by pillars cut
out of the rock, and vaulted. Its walls bear representations
of the diversions of the occupant during his life-time, and
of his varied occupations, in scenes depicting hunting, fish¬
ing, games, feasts, the processes of agriculture, and the like.
The figures of beasts and birds, more especially the latter,
are characterized by a remarkable fidelity and beauty, and
there can be no doubt that Egyptian art had attained a
greater excellence at this time than it possessed under the
Fourth Dynasty, although it was not until the rule of the
Eighteenth Dynasty that it rose to its highest perfection.
A little to the south of these grottoes, in a ravine, is the
Speos Artemidos, a small rock temple of Pasht, the Egyp¬
tian Diana, and some sepulchres of little interest.
A few miles to the south of the Speos Artemidos are two
sites, one on either side of the river, which were marked,
within the memory of persons now living, by most impor¬
tant monuments which have since been destroyed by the
barbarism of the Turks. That on the right bank, near the
large village of El-Ashmooneyn, the ancient Hermopolis Mag¬
na, was part of a magnificent portico, bearing the names of
Philip Aridaeus, Alexander iEgus, and Ptolemy Lagus,
all that stood of the temple of Thoth ; w hile on the opposite
side of the river were considerable remains of the edifices
of the town of Antinoe, lounded by Hadrian. But while
we regret the destruction of such interesting records, we
must not charge either the Turks or the native Egyptians
with all the mischief of this kind which is perpetrated,
though our sorrow is increased by the reflection that to
European travellers, not excluding the heads of more than
one scientific expedition, must be charged no small share
in the destruction or mutilation of the monuments. The
apathy of the Turks, who cannot comprehend the value of
the records of any but their own nation (and happy would
they be could they blot out much of those annals) ; the
vulgar desire of every traveller, especially of our owu
country and of America, to leave his name cut in every
monument as a witness of his Vandalism, and to aid in its
destruction by carrying off' a fragment; the cupidity of the
natives excited by this Frank custom of cutting pieces out
of sculptures so as to produce the most deplorable results;
and worst of all, the selfishness which has induced savans
to take away part of a valuable monument to the ruin of
the rest, in order to embellish a museum and gratify a
patron,-—all these causes have done more than time, or fana¬
ticism, or the rage of an enemy, would have effected in a
similar period.
A short distance south of Antinoe is the town of Mel-
lawee on the western bank, and a little farther, but on the
other side of the river, the promontory called the Gebel-
esh-sheykh Sa’eed, which is honeycombed with grottoes,
some of which are shown by their sculptures to be very
ancient, but are so ill preserved as to require but a short
examination. A little beyond, however, in the district of
Tell-El-’Amarineh, or the Mound of El-’Amarineh, a small Tell-El-
fertile tract where the eastern mountains recede, noted, E\marineh.
like Benee-Hasan, for the turbulent and thievish propensi¬
ties of its inhabitants, are very curious remains of a town.
This place has been identified with Alabastron, or with the
Psinaula of the Itinerary of Antoninus, but it is not impro¬
bable that it was deserted long before the Greek and Ro-
EGYPT.
505
Egypt.
])eroot-esh
Shereef.
Asyoot
(Lycopo-
lis).
Kaw el-
Kebeereh
(Antasopo-
lis).
man rule in Egypt. It was the principal seat, or the capi¬
tal of a foreign race of sun-worshippers who gained the
chief power in Egypt towards the close of the Eighteenth
Dynasty, and it was most likely destroyed when they were
overthrown, and not subsequently rebuilt. In the moun¬
tain behind it are very curious sculptured grottoes, in which
were buried the subjects of these foreigners, and from them
we obtain much information respecting the people and their
religion, a very pure form of sun-worship. The representa¬
tions are chiefly of the king, his queen, and their children,
distributing presents to the soldiers and others, of acts of
worship to the sun, and of temples, as well as gardens and
villas. Dr Lepsius has published a valuable series of these
records in his great work.1
On the western bank of the Nile, a little to the south of
Tell-El-’Amarineh is the small town of Deroot-esh-Shereef,
supposed to be on the site of the Thebai'ca Phylace, which
was a strong place, guarding, as its name imports, the
northern boundary of the Thebai's. About 20 miles to the
south is the town of Menfaloot on the same side of the river,
which has a decayed appearance from the manner in which
the stream has encroached upon, and washed away, part of it.
Opposite to Menfaloot in the eastern range are extensive
crocodile-mummy catacombs. There is nothing of note
during the next 25 miles of the river’s course, which is very
winding, and therefore difficult to navigate, until we reach
the village of El-Hamra, the port of Asyoot. This town, the
capital of Upper Egypt, or the Sa’eed, that is of the whole
country above Cairo, and the residence of its governor, lies
inland, about two miles from El-Hamra, in a richly culti¬
vated plain. The town with its beautiful mosques, two of
which, one of the Memlook style, and the other of the Turk¬
ish, are not unworthy of comparison with those of the me¬
tropolis, and its Constantinopolitan palace, surrounded on
three sides by verdant fields, and having behind it a fine
rounded spur of the western chain, which here, for the first
time, is near the river, presents a picturesque appearance
to one who approaches it. On entering Asyoot he is not
disappointed, for the excellence of the goods and provisions
sold in the well-built chief market, and the solid look of the
houses, indicate activity and prosperity. And it is not a
little remarkable that this was an important town at least
3500 years ago, and has thus outlived Thebes and Memphis,
Tanis and Pelusium. The ancient Egyptian name was
Ssut, or probably Ssiut, but the Greeks called it Lycopolis,
on account of the worship of the dog-headed or wolf-headed
divinity of the place. This was Hepuher, who seems to have
differed from Anubis in his name alone. In the mountain be¬
hind Asyoot are some ancient grottoes, one of which is of
great size, but their sculptures have unfortunately suffered
much, and there is little to see in them after ascending the
hill. The view of the valley and the town beneath is however
an ample reward for the trouble. Thirty miles further by the
course of the river, and on the eastern bank, is the village of
Kaw el-Kebeereh where was anciently Antseopolis ; the in¬
teresting remains of the temple of Antaeus, which stood here
early in the present century, have entirely disappeared
through the encroachment of the river, and also, it is be¬
lieved, from having been used as a quarry by the Turks. A
few miles beyond this, the lofty part of the eastern range
called the Gebel-esh-sheykh El-Hareedee, a famous Mus¬
lim saint, hems in the river on one side for a short dis¬
tance. It soon however retires again, and the valley on
that side becomes broader than usual. Here, a short way
from the river, stands the small town of Akhmeem, the
ancient Chemmis, or Panopolis. No remains of import¬
ance mark this site. About 22 miles farther by the
course of the river, on the western bank, is the important Egypt,
town of Girga, which was, until a comparatively recent pe-
riod, the capital of the Sa’eed. The rise of Asyoot, how- Girga.
ever, and the agency of the river which is gradually wash¬
ing it away, have contributed to its decline, and it wears a
dilapidated aspect. Near it must have been situated the
very ancient city of This, whence the First and Second
Dynasties took their name. Probably This stood not far
from the sacred city of Abydos, the site of which is a few
miles from Girga, in a south-westerly direction, on the bor Abydos.
der of the Libyan desert, which is separated from the Nile
by a broad tract of cultivated country. Two interest¬
ing edifices render Abydos worthy of a visit. The south¬
ernmost of these is a temple of Osiris, in which we find
the names of Rameses II. and his father Sethee I., by whose
orders it seems to have been constructed. It is so choked
with sand and rubbish that little can be seen of its sculp¬
tures, and its plan can scarcely be ascertained; it is very
desirable that it should be cleared. The other structure is
believed by Sir Gardner Wilkinson2 to be the famous temple
of Osiris, the chief divinity of Abydos. It is smaller, and in
aworse state of preservation than the other temple, and among
its sculptures are the same names, those of Sethee I. and
Rameses II. Hence was taken the famous list of Pharaohs,
known as the Tablet of Abydos, which is now one of the
most valuable objects in the British Museum.3 In the desert
near by are many sepulchres, which are chiefly remarkable on
account of the interesting antiquities which have been dis¬
covered by clearing them out. The sanctity of Abydos
as a reputed burial-place of Osiris, rendered this a favourite
necropolis of the ancient Egyptians from very early times,
and the extent of that of Memphis seems to have been partly
owing to the same superstition.
At a distance of more than 40 miles from Abydos, but Bender a
in nearly the same latitude, is the village of Dendera on the (Tentyra).
western, or rather southern, bank of the Nile. Before
reaching it we pass the small town of Farshoot at the mouth
of the great canal, called the Bahr-Yoosuf, and the large
village of Hoo, marking the site of Diospolis Parva. Op¬
posite the latter place are some sepulchral grottoes in the
eastern chain, called those of Kasr-es-Seiyad which is be¬
lieved to occupy the position of Chenoboscion. They con¬
tain names of kings of the Sixth Dynasty, and that of
the head of the Fifteenth, but the representations which
occupy their walls are not of an unusual interest. Dendera,
however, is remarkable as giving its name to the first well-
preserved and unencumbered temple that is seen in a voyage
up the Nile. This is the famous temple of Athor the Egyp¬
tian Venus, who presided over the town of Tentyra or Ten-
tyris, the capital of the Tentyrite Nome. It stands on the
mounds of the town about a mile and a half from the Nile.
As this temple gives a good idea of Egyptian architecture
as applied to such buildings, it must be described with some
care, although but briefly.
The temple is surrounded by a great wall of crude brick,
a stone portal in which faces its front. The portal is
adorned with sculptures representing the Emperors Domi-
tian and Trajan engaged in acts of worship before several
divinities, whose names occur, as well as those of the so¬
vereigns, in the accompanying inscriptions. A wall of brick
has been recently built from each end of this portal to the
front of the temple, thus forming a narrow passage termin¬
ating at the entrance of the portico. The portico is about
135 feet in width, and is one of the richest and most beau¬
tiful structures of the kind. It is supported by four and
twenty columns, four deep, nearly fifty feet in height, and
having a diameter of somewhat more than seven feet at the
1 Denkmdler, abth. iii., bl. 91 et seqq. Compare Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. ii., p. 71 ; Transactions of the Royal Society of Literature
second series, vol. i. 2 Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. ii., p. 112.
3 Wilkinson’s Materia Hieroglyphica, part ii., pi. ix.; Horce MEg., p. 100-103.
VOL. VIII. 3 s
E G Y P T.
506
Egypt, thickest part. The capitals have a full face of Athor sculp-
tured on each of their four sides, and above these a kind of
shrine, or small temple. The portico is not seen to advan¬
tage in front, as it is buried to a considerable height in
heaped-up rubbish, which partly conceals the intercolum-
niation that connects the three columns on each side of
the entrance. But on descending into the interior, we are
struck with the grandeur and justness of its proportions,
and the richness of the sculptures which adorn its walls. It
is, however, like the rest of the temple, of higher merit as
regards its architecture than its sculpture, for the latter art
had declined under the Greek and Roman rule to a much
greater degree than the former. The sculptures are of the
same kind as on the portal, representing offerings made by
some of the earlier Caesars; and on the ceiling are various
mystical subjects, probably of an astronomical import, and
the famous Zodiac from which an extravagant idea of the
antiquity of the temple was deduced before hieroglyphics
were interpreted. The greater part of the back-wall of the
portico was the front of the temple before this portion was
added. This inner part consists of three considerable cham¬
bers, an isolated sanctuary, and numerous small apartments.
The first of these is a hall, supported by a double row of co¬
lumns, three on each side, of a rather heavy form, for they
have, beneath the capital formedof the block with the faces
of Athor, and the shrine, another capital of a cup-shape. This
hall is entered by a doorway in the middle of the back-wall
of the portico, and passing through it we reach a second
and third chamber of the same breadth but shorter, and
then the sanctuary. The entrance of this chamber is in
the same line with the others, but it is much narrower and
isolated by a passage running round it. On each side of
the chambers and passage are many small apartments,
twTo passages to the exterior, and a staircase; and there
are singular inclined passages in the walls, two of which are
entered from the sides of the portico. All these chambers
and passages, excepting the two last mentioned, are pro¬
fusely covered with sculptures and inscriptions of a religious
character, and chiefly depicting and narrating the piety of
the sovereigns by whom the temple was erected. The royal
names have not always been filled in, the rings remaining
vacant; but when they have been sculptured, they are gene¬
rally those of the last Cleopatra, and Caesarion, her son by
Julius Caesar. The staircase already mentioned is on the left-
hand side of the second chamber behind the portico, and
conducts us to the roof of the temple. Here are a sort
of chapel and some small chambers, one of which is
very interesting, because its sculptures relate to the story
of Osiris. The exterior of the temple is as completely
covered with sculptures as the interior. Among the figures
represented here are those of Cleopatra and Caesarion; but
they cannot be supposed to convey any resemblance, since
they belong not alone to a conventional art, but almost to
its lowest period. There are two smaller temples near the
great temple of Athor, one of Isis, and the other of the kind
called a Typhonium. Both are of the Roman time.
Kine. On the opposite side of the Nile, a little above Dendera,
is the town of Kine, between which and Arabia some traffic
is carried on by the route through the desert to El-Kuseyr
on the Red Sea. The best of the porous water bottles
which are used throughout Egypt are manufactured here, as
are the great water jars, called “ bellasee,” which the women
carry, at the large village of Bellas, a few miles higher on
the western bank. Opposite to Bellas are the villages
called Kuft or Kift, marking the site of the important town
of Coptos, which was the emporium on the Nile of the Ara¬
bian and Indian trade under the Ptolemies; and somewhat
to the south, the inconsiderable town of Koos, the ancient
Apollinopolis Parva, which succeeded to the trade of Cop- Egypt,
tos, under the Muslims, until Kine supplanted it. On the
other, that is, the western bank, a little higher, is the small
tow n of Nakadeh, which the people call Nagadeh, w here
are Roman Catholic and Coptic convents. A short dis¬
tance beyond Nakadeh are the northernmost of the re¬
mains of Thebes.
The monuments of Thebes do not present from afar the Thebes,
imposing appearance of the Pyramids of Memphis. Placed
for the most part at a distance from the Nile, as well as
from one another, and having on the western side the pic¬
turesque form of a much higher mountain than any near
Memphis, rising behind them, they do not strike those who
see them from the river or its banks. Most of them are
not indeed visible from the Nile excepting when it is at its
height. The stalely colonnade of the temple of El-Uksur,
on the very bank, is, however, not unworthy the magnifi¬
cence of Thebes, and when one approaches the other monu¬
ments his utmost expectations are exceeded by the grandeur
of El-Karnak, the beauty of the palace-temple of Raineses
II, and the mysteriousness of the tombs of the kings. No¬
where else is the mythology, the history, the very life and
manners of the Egyptians of old times so vividly brought
before his eyes as in the sculptured and inscribed monu¬
ments of the capital of the greatest Pharaohs.
It will be necessary to say a fewr words as to the position
of the principal monuments, and respecting the city which
they adorned, before entering into a more detailed descrip¬
tion. Thebes, or Diospolis Magna, is called in the hiero¬
glyphic inscriptions Ap-t, or with the article prefixed, T-ap,
and Amen-ei, or the abode of Amen. The Copts write the
former name rctTre, which, according to the Memphite dia¬
lect, is pronounced Thaba,1 and this explains the origin
of the Greek &rjj3aL. In the Bible it is mentioned as
HDN ft,] No-Amon, a name of difficult etymology. The
date of its foundation is unknown, but remains of the time
of the close of the Eleventh Dynasty have been found (cir.
B.c. 2100), and it is reasonable to suppose it to have been
at least as ancient as the commencement of that line, the
first of Diospolite kings. Under the sovereigns of the
Twelfth Dynasty it must have become a place of import¬
ance, but it probably declined during the troubles of the
Shepherd period. With the Eighteenth Dynasty it at¬
tained its highest prosperity, and maintained it during the
Nineteenth and Twentieth. To this period its greatest
monuments belong. Then its decline evidently commenced;
but from the manner in which Homer mentions it,2 Thebes
must have been still a great city in his days or not long be¬
fore, for we can scarcely suppose that he did not speak of
its condition in his own time, being doubtless unacquainted
with the state of Egypt at the period of the Trojan war.
After this it suffered severely from the barbarian violence
of the Persians, and then of Ptolemy Lathyrus ;3 so that in
Strabo’s time the Thebans inhabited villages as now, and
there was no longer a city.4
The monuments of Thebes, exclusive of its sepulchral Monu-
grottoes, occupy a space on both sides of the river, of which menu,
the extreme length from north to south is about two miles,
and the extreme breadth from east to west about four. The
city was on the eastern bank, where is the great temple, or
rather collection of temples, called after El-Karnak, a modern
village near by. The temple of El-Karnak is about half a
mile from the river in a cultivable tract. More than a mile
to the south-west is the temple of El-Uksur, on the bank
of the Nile. On the western bank was the suburb bearing
the name Memnonia. The desert near the northernmost
of the temples on this side almost reaches the river, but
1 Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. ii., pp. 136-7.
3 Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. ii., pp. 253-4.
2 Iliad, ix. 381-384.
4 Strabo, Geogr. xvii., i.
EGYPT.
507
Egypt- soon recedes, leaving a fertile plain generally more than a
v*""”'' mde in breadth. Along the edge of the desert, besides
the small temple just mentioned as the northernmost, are
the Rameseum of El-Kurneh, and that of Medeenet-Haboo
less than a mile farther to the south-west, and between them,
but within the cultivated land, the remains of the Ameno-
phium, with its two gigantic seated colossi. Behind these edi¬
fices rises the mountain, which here attains a height of about
1200 feet. It gradually recedes in a south-westerly direc¬
tion, and is separated from the cultivated tract by a strip of
desert in which are numerous tombs, partly excavated in
two isolated hills, and two small temples. A tortuous valley,
which commences not far from the northernmost of the
temples on this bank, leads to those valleys in w'hich are
excavated the wonderful tombs of the kings, near the highest
part of the mountain which towers above them in bold and
picturesque forms.
Temple of The temple of El-Uksur must be first described, as it is
El-Uksur. nearest of the edifices to the river, and but an appendage
to the great group of El-Karnak. It takes its name from
the small town of El-Uksur, or Abu-l-Haggag, incorrectly
called Luxor, which is built in and around part of it, thus
injuring its effect, and rendering examination difficult. It
differs from most Egyptian temples in not facing the river,
but this is accounted for by its connection with the temple
of El-Karnak, from the southern approaches to which a long
avenue of sphinxes (now wholly ruined) leads to it, termi¬
nating at its entrance. This is a massive portal with wings,
200 feet in width, before which is a very fine obelisk of red
granite. Its fellow, which stood on the western side, was
removed by the French to Paris in 1831, and now adorns
the Place de la Concorde. Both have beautifully cut hiero¬
glyphic inscriptions. The height of that which remains is
about 80 feet. It is adorned with three vertical lines of hiero¬
glyphics on each side, in which are celebrated the praises of
Rameses II. The other obelisk differs alone from this in
being slightly shorter.1 Close to the winged portal are three
seated statues of red granite ‘representing Rameses II.; a
fourth has been destroyed. The wings of the portal are
covered with sculptures of remarkable interest, representing
occurrences in the war of Rameses II. with the Kheta or
Hittites, in the early part of his reign.2 On the left wing
is depicted the defeat by the Egyptians, led by their king,
of the confederate peoples under the walls of the stronghold
called Ketesh,3 which corresponds to Ashteroth-Karnaim
mentioned in the Bible. The king, Rameses II., is repre¬
sented, according to the Egyptian custom, of a gigantic
size, standing in his chariot, which he has urged into the
midst of the hostile force, whose warriors fall by his well-
directed arrows. The Egyptians, on the other hand, sus¬
tain no loss, as in all such representations, which are there¬
fore of a very partial character. It is difficult to understand
how a warlike and civilized people could have thought the
glory of a victory heightened by the imputation of cowardice
to their adversaries, and that they should in such instances,
to which the battle-scenes do not afford a single exception,
have sacrificed truth to vanity. On the right wing is re¬
presented the camp of the Egyptian army during the same
war. This has been sculptured over another scene, of
which, owing to the falling out of the plaster with which it
had been filled, part may be now seen. All these represen¬
tations are in sunk relief, and beautifully executed.
The entrance to the temple is contracted by the construc¬
tion of a modern wall, through the small door of which we
enter a great court choked by the huts of the town, among
which stands a mosque. It is surrounded by a double row Egypt,
of columns, the capitals of which have the form of the bud
of the papyrus. A ruined portal with wings forms the end
of this court, and with it commences the older part of the edi¬
fice, which has a more southerly direction; and its southern¬
most part in like manner turns a little more in that direction,
that is, from the river, though not so remarkably. Some
deviation was probably rendered necessary by the course
of the Nile. The second court is much obstructed by rub¬
bish, but free from huts; nothing is seen of it but a mag¬
nificent avenue of fourteen columns, having capitals of the
bell-shaped flower of the papyrus, which led from its portal
to that of the next court. The columns are about 60 feet
in height, of fine form, and elegantly sculptured. They
were raised by Amenoph III., whose name is the oldestwhich
occurs on them and in the rest of the temple. Behind this
is another court, which has a double row of columns on
each side, and at its end a portico supported by columns
four deep. This court is much ruined. Beyond it are
several chambers of the time of Amenoph III., and in the
midst of them an isolated sanctuary, the sculptures of which
bear the name of Alexander ASgus, in whose reign it was
built, in the place, no doubt, of one destroyed by the Per¬
sians under Cambyses or Ochus, as Sir Gardner Wilkinson
remarks.4 Most of these apartments are in a dilapidated
state.
Although there is an approach to the temple of El-Karnak Temple of
from that of El-Uksur, the grand entrance was towards the El-Karnak.
river, and from that entrance must commence a regular
examination. This extraordinary assemblage of buildings
consists of a great temple and several smaller structures, sur¬
rounded by a massive crude brick wall of enclosure. There
are other remains similarly inclosed, which were connected
with the great temple.
The grand entrance is through a propylon or portal with
wings, more than 360 feet wide, for this is its measure above
the rubbish which is piled up around it. It was never
sculptured, nor was its surface smoothed. It presents,
therefore, a rude appearance, and is much ruined, a great
part of the left or northern wing having been demolished.
The court, of which the propylon forms the front, measures
329 feet in width, and 275 in length, having on each side
a gallery with a single row of columns, and a double colon¬
nade, of which one column alone stands, formed an avenue
from its entrance to that of the hypostyle hall beyond. On
the right side a temple of older date interrupts the side gal¬
lery, extending 50 feet into the court. Its front is formed by
a propylon, about 90 feet wide, on each wing of which
Rameses III. is pourtrayed in the act of slaying prisoners
before Amen-ra. The interior of this temple consists of a
court which has on each side a row of Osiridean pillars, and
at the end another row of such pillars with columns behind
them. A hall or portico supported by eight columns is next
to the court, and beyond it are other apartments. Nearly
all the sculptures are of the reign of Rameses III., but the
names of later sovereigns occur. On the other side of the
great court is a small structure which may be called a
chapel, or three chapels. The most interesting sculptures
in this part of the group of temples are outside the eastern
portion of the south wall of the great court, for here is the
famous list of countries and towns subdued by, or tributary
to, Sheshonk I., or Shishak, the head of the Twenty-se¬
cond Dynasty. Among the names in the list is that of the
kingdom of Judah, and those of several places in the do¬
minions of Rehoboam and Jeroboam I.5 At the end of the
1 The inscriptions are given by Rosellini, Monumenti Storici, No. cxvii.
2 See Rosellini, Monumenti Storici, Nos. civ.-cvii.; and above, section ii.
3 Lepsius reads the first character of this name “ k,” from its being thus rendered by Hephaestion, in the name of one of the decans.
Chronologic der Aegypter, i., p. 69.
4 Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. ii., p. 245. 5 Champollion, Lettres, p. 99; Rosellini, Monumenti Storici, No. cxlviii.
1
508 E G Y P T.
Egypt- court is a fine portal, the wings of which are much ruined.
This is the entrance to the great hypostyle hall, the most
magnificent work of its class in Egypt. Its length is 170
feet, and its width 329 ; it is supported by 134 columns,
the loftiest of which are nearly 70 feet in height, and about
12 in diameter, and the rest more than 40 feet in height,
and about 9 in diameter. The great columns, 12 in num¬
ber, form an avenue through the midst of the court from
the entrance, and the others are arranged in rows very near
together on each side. There is a transverse avenue made
by two rows of the smaller columns being placed farther apart
than the rest. This great hall is therefore crowded with
columns, and the effect is surprisingly grand. The specta¬
tor, being generally unable to see beyond those which are
immediately around him, perceives the vast dimensions
which, if viewed from a distance, might lose their effect.
The forest of columns seems interminable in whatever di¬
rection he looks, producing a result unsurpassed in any
other Egyptian temple. The partial ruin of its stone
roof, and of some of the columns, render the hall the
more picturesque, and make us wonder at the force which
must have been expended in attempting to demolish it.
This grand hall was built by Sethee I., the head of the
Nineteenth Dynasty (cir. b.c. 1340), and sculptured partly
in his reign and partly in that of his son and successor
Rameses II., who has sometimes effaced his father’s name
to substitute his own. Thus it commemorates, not in
its grandeur alone, but by its sculptures, the magnificence
and power of these two great Pharaohs. The sculptures
of the interior of the walls represent these kings making
offerings to the gods, and the like subjects occupy the great
columns. Far more interesting are those which adorn the
exterior of the walls, and record the achievements of the
same kings, those of Sethee I. being on the north wall, and
those of Rameses II. on the south. The former are of
much greater interest than the latter, as far as we can
judge, and in this respect inferior to none in Egypt. The
scenes on the north wall are arranged in three compart¬
ments, of which the upper one has been nearly destroyed.
In them the king is represented of a gigantic size charging
in his chariot, and putting to the rout his enemies, captur¬
ing their strongholds, and returning home in triumph. The
chief nations are the Kheta or Hittites, the Ruten { Luten)
or Lydians, who were apparently in those days not seated
in Lydia hut near to Mesopotamia, the Shasu, the people
of the land of Shari, of Rernenen {Lemencn) Hermon or
Armenia, and of Kanana {Kanaan) or Canaan. Among
the captured places is Ketesh or Ashteroth-Karnaim, which
was in those days the most important stronghold between
Egypt and Mesopotamia. There is also a long list of coun¬
tries, cities, and tribes conquered or ruled by the king,
among which we find Nahareena, that is Aram-naharaim,
or Mesopotamia, Kesh, Kush, or Ethiopia, &c. The battle-
scenes of Rameses II. on the south wall do not, as far as
they are seen, equal these in interest. Here also is a list
of the king’s conquests and possessions, and on the w^est
side of a wall which joins this one at right angles, forming
the side of a court of the southern approach to the temple,
is a representation of the capture of Askalena or Askalon,
and an inscription recording a treaty between Rameses II.
and the Kheta, concluded in the twenty-first year of the
king’s reign. The back of the hypostyle hall is formed by
a ruined propylon bearing the name of Amenoph III., and
then at a distance of about 50 feet is another propylon, en¬
tirely ruined. In the space between these propyla, which
was a court, stands a beautiful obelisk of red granite, up¬
wards ot 70 feet high, raised by Thothmes I. The frag¬
ments of its fellow, which was more to the north, strew the
giound. Behind the second of these propyla is another
granite obelisk 92 feet high, and inferior in size to no other
known Egyptian obelisk excepting that of San Giovanni
Laterano at Rome. This great obelisk of El-Karnak is a Egypt,
monument of Queen Amen-numt who came to the throne in v ,t-
the year b.c. 1458 or 1457, and an inscription on its pedestal
records the period which elapsed (nineteen months) from the
time that it was begun to be cut in the quarry until its com¬
pletion in Mesori (the twelfth month) of the queen’s six¬
teenth year (b.c. 1442). The fellow of the great obelisk,
which stood to the south of it, has been broken, and its
fragments occupy its place. Beyond the great obelisk is
the chief sanctuary, a structure almost entirely of granite,
divided into two apartments, which was built under Philip
Arrhidaeus, in the place, no doubt, of one destroyed by
Cambyses or Ochus. The space between the hypostyle
hall and this sanctuary is extremely ruined, the huge stones
being piled up in heaps as though an earthquake had over¬
thrown the temple. But this destruction is doubtless to be
ascribed to human violence, having probably been effected
by the Persians, or Ptolemy Lathyrus, or both. Behind
the sanctuary are fragments of a very ancient part of the
temple bearing the name of Sesertesen L, the first king ot
the Twelfth Dynasty, who came to the throne cir. b.c. 2080.
Considerably farther is a large oblate building of the time,
of Thothmes III., which affords a remarkable example of
architectural caprice, its columns having inverted shafts and
capitals, and its cornices being likewise inverted. Behind
this and a stone wall of enclosure are ruined chambers, and
far beyond, directly behind the centre of the great temple,
in the crude brick wall of enclosure is a handsome portal,
never finished, bearing the name of Nectanebes I.
The southern approach to the temple of El-Karnak from
that ofEl-Uksur is, as before mentioned, by a ruined avenue
of sphinxes, which, when near the great structure, terminates,
and two other avenues commence. The westernmost of these,
which is of colossal rams, conducts to a temple situated not far
to the south-west of the first court of the great temple, which
we approach through a stately portal bearing in its inscrip¬
tions the name of Ptolemy Euergetes I. The front of the
temple, before which was another avenue of rams, is a pro¬
pylon, which is almost uninjured. Behind it is a court
having a double row of columns on each side and at the
end, and again behind this is a hall supported by eight
columns, and many small chambers. This temple was
dedicated to Khuns, the third member of the Theban
triad. It was commenced under the Twentieth Dynasty,
and continued by the later kings of the Twenty-first. A
small edifice having sculptures of the time of the Greek
and Roman rule stands on the west of the court of this
temple.
The avenue of sphinxes, which branches off at the same
place as does that of rams leading to the temple of Khuns,
takes an easterly direction and terminates where another
begins at right angles to it, which connects the southern
courts leading to the great temple with a separate enclo¬
sure. I he latter contains a lake which has the shape of a
horse-shoe, and the remains of sacred sti’uctures. At the
northern extremity of the avenue, which is of criosphinxes,
is a propylon forming the front of a large court which ter¬
minates in a second propylon, which, like the other, is much
ruined. Beyond this, but not in exactly the same direc¬
tion, after a vacant space, the approach continues through
two smaller propyla, the second of which is nearly de¬
stroyed. Each fronts a court, and at the end of the
second of these courts was the great side entrance to the
temple. The first and second propyla were, like the crio¬
sphinxes, monuments of King Har-em-heb, or Oros, of
the Eighteenth Dynasty, and were partly built of materials
of a temple or palace of the foreign sun-worshippers whom
he overthrew. The third propylon is more ancient, since
it bears the names of Thothmes III. and Amenoph II., as
well as of subsequent kings: the age of the fourth is not
certain : the name of Rameses II. occurs here, but it may
Egypt, have been founded before his time. There is an enclosure
in the angle formed by the third and fourth propyla with
the great temple, which contains a sacred lake.
Adjoining the great crude brick wall of enclosure at its
north-eastern portion is another containing the ruins ot an
important temple. The chief approach is through a stately
portal of the Ptolemaic period, in the crude brick wall.
The temple to which it conducted was very beautiful and
costly, as we can judge by its remains, which show with
how much violence it was destroyed. It seems to have
been founded under the Eighteenth Dynasty. There are
two small temples or chapels, one of the time of Achoris and
the other of that of the supposed Amyrtaeus and Nectanebes
I. in the same enclosure. Another crude brick enclosure of
small dimensions, near the south-east corner of that of the
great temple, contains some unimportant remains of a small
edifice.—-The preceding brief description will convey some
idea of the magnitude of the temple of Amen-ra at Thebes,
with its appendages, since a mere enumeration of its various
parts, with their date and a few of their most important
sculptures, has occupied so much space. But no one who
has not seen that wonderful assemblage of ruins can picture
to himself the massiveness of its castle-like propyla, the gran¬
deur of its hall of columns, the beauty of its great obelisk,
and the sublimity of its heaped-up ruins. In that work of
two thousand years, amid the records of the might and of
the fall of Egypt, the past ushers up a long train of great
historic figures, from Sesertesen I. and the Shepherd times
to Rameses II. the conqueror, to Shishak, who subdued
Judah, to the Persian conquest, and to the final ruin of the
“ City of Thrones” by Ptolemy Lathyrus, after its last noble
struggle. In the great hall, undisturbed by any living thing,
we seem to hear the sacred music of the priests and to see
the pomp of the returning victor as he passes on to the sanc¬
tuary to pay his vows. And when we stand before the lofty
obelisk rising above the mass of ruins and pointing heaven¬
wards, like the monument of a devoted city and people, we see
the fulfilment of God’s decree, “ No shall be rent asunder.” 1
In describing the monuments on the western bank at
Thebes, it will be best first to notice the remarkable temples
and remains of temples, excepting the two small ones
among the tombs, and then to give some account of the
necropolis. It has been already mentioned that the great
suburb which stood here was called the Memnonia.
Setheum; Beginning our examination from the northward, the first
object of interest is the Setheum, a small temple of Se-
thee I., which the natives call Kasr-Er-Rubeyk, at the
ruined village of El-Kurneh. A portico originally sup¬
ported by ten columns, of which two have fallen, extends
along the whole front of the building. Three entrances
lead to the interior of the temple : the middle one of these
is the door of a hall having twelve columns. From this
apartment we pass into several small chambers, which are
of no particular interest, like the ruined chambers which
we enter from the northern door. The southern door is
the entrance of a separate part of the edifice, which con¬
tains a small hall supported by two columns, and three
chambers behind it, the middle one of which was a sanc¬
tuary or chapel, devoted, as its sculptures show, to the wor¬
ship of Rameses I., the father of Sethee I. The inscriptions
of the temple tell us that it was dedicated to Amen-ra by
its founder Sethee I., and continued by his son Rameses II.,
and his grandson Menptah.
Rameseum The great temple of Rameses II., which may be called
of El-Kur- the Rameseum of El-Kurneh, but is commonly though in-
nel1, correctly known as the Memnonium, is situated at a distance
of about a mile to the westward of the Setheum, and is like
it on the edge of the desert, which here is much farther
from the Nile than it is near the other temple. Notwithstand¬
ing that its condition is so much more ruined than that of
other edifices here, the beautiful architecture of what re¬
mains, and the historical interest of its spirited sculptures,
render it altogether second alone in its attractions to the
great pile of El-Karnak. A propylon, 225 feet in width,
of which a great part has been thrown down, forms the
front of the edifice. Through its portal we enter a spacious
court, 180 feet in width and 142 in length. It had ori¬
ginally a double colonnade on either side, every column of
which has been destroyed, while the side walls have been
entirely demolished, and the end wall partially. On the
back of the propylon are sculptured a battle and other
scenes of a campaign in the king’s eighth year. In this
court is one of the most wonderful objects at Thebes, a
colossal statue of Rameses II., broken in pieces, exceeding
in its weight and equalling in its dimensions any other
known Egyptian statue. It was of a single block of red
granite, and must have been transported hither from the
quarries of Syene, notwithstanding that its weight was, ac¬
cording to Sir Gardner Wilkinson’s computation, about
887 tons, 51 hundredweight.2 It was 60 feet in height,
representing the king seated on his throne, and was
placed on the left side of the entrance to the second court.
Of that court, happily, there are more remains than of the
first. Its width was about 170 feet and its length about
140, so that it was not much smaller than the other court.
It had a double colonnade on each side and at the end, and
but a single colonnade at the front. All these were ot
columns having capitals of the form of the papyrus bud, ex¬
cepting eight of the ten forming the front row, that is, all
of that colonnade but the two extreme columns, and, in like
manner, the corresponding ones of the opposite row, which
were square Osiridean pillars, or pillars formed of a square
block, having in front a figure of Osiris. Many ot the
columns and pillars have been demolished, nevertheless
those which yet stand enable us to judge how magnificent
this part of the temple must have been. On what remains
of the front wall of the court, that is, on its northern half,
are very remarkable sculptures which must not be passed by
unnoticed. Here is a great scene representing a battle be¬
tween the Egyptians, led by Rameses II., and the Kheta
or Hittites, near the strong city of Ketesh or Ashteroth-
Karnaim. The king of Egypt is pourtrayed routing the
chariots of the enemy, who flee in disorder towards Ketesh,
across a double moat, beyond which and beneath the city
a strong force of regular infantry endeavours to protect
their retreat. This was doubtless the decisive action of
the campaign against the confederates, which must be re¬
garded as the most important of those which distinguished
the reign of Rameses II.3 Higher up on the same wall is
a procession of priests bearing small statues of kings, the
first of which is that of Menes, the earliest sovereign of
Egypt, the second of Munt-hotp, a king of the Eleventh
Dynasty, and the subsequent ones of the kings of the Eigh¬
teenth and Nineteenth Dynasties as far as Rameses II.,
with whom the series terminates.4
Next to the second court is a hypostyle hall, which is the
most admirable part of the temple. It measures 100 feet
in length and 133 in breadth, and originally contained
forty-eight columns in eight longitudinal rows, each con¬
sisting of six columns. A central avenue is formed by
twelve lofty columns, about 36 feet high, which have capitals
of the shape of the papyrus-flower, while the columns on
each side, about 24 feet high, have capitals of the shape of
the bud of the same flower. The elegance of the form and
the justness of the proportions of all these columns is not
equalled in any other Egyptian temple, and render this one
1 Ezek. xxx., 16.
3 Rosellini, Monumenti Storici, Nos. cix., cx.
2 Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. ii., pp. 144-5.
4 Lepsius, Denkmaler, abth. iii. bl. 163.
510
Egypt.
EGYPT.
Ameno-
phium.
Vocal
Memnon.
of the most beautiful structures of its kind. Happily
although much injured, it has suffered less from violence
than the first and second courts. On its front wall, to the
left as one enters, are curious sculptures, representing the
rout of a hostile force and the capture of a town, the walls
of which the Egyptians ascend by means of scaling-ladders:
llameses II. and six of his sons lead the army. On the
end wall are religious subjects, and a series of the sons and
daughters of Kameses II., whose legitimate offspring they
seem to have been, twenty-six in number, twenty-three sons
and three daughters. At the temple of Wadee-es-Suboo’a
in Nubia were represented, according to Lepsius, a much
larger number of children of this king.1
Beyond the hypostyle hall are two smaller chambers, the
first of which is entered by a doorway in the middle of the
end wrall of the hall. It is supported by eight columns, and
has on its walls representations of mythological or religious
subjects. It is chiefly remarkable, however, for its astro¬
nomical ceiling, one of the most precious records of ancient
Egyptian science.2 Behind this is a ruined chamber, which
seems to have been of the same dimensions. The other
apartments which must have adjoined these are entirely
demolished. The description which Diodorus Siculus gives
from Hecataeus of Abdera of the Tomb of Osymandyas
agrees best with the Rameseum of El-Kurneh ; and his
mention of the sacred library is in accordance with the
character of the sculptures of the first chamber beyond the
hypostyle hall, as well as with the statement in several
papyri that they were written by the scribes in this temple,
in which, or attached to which, was a kind of college.3
To the south-east of the Rameseum of El-Kurneh, at a
distance of less than half a mile, a mound, just within the
cultivable plain, marks the site of a magnificent temple of
Amenoph III., which may be called the Amenophium, and
which, there is reason to believe, was destroyed by Cambyses.
Of the obelisks and colossi which stood on either side of the
approach to the Amenophium, all are thrown down except
the two gigantic statues, one of which is known as the Vo¬
cal Memnon. The latter, indeed, was broken, but after¬
wards restored. These colossi stand about a quarter of a
mile to the south-east of the mound where are the scanty
remains of the temple. They are of hard gritstone, mono¬
lithic, and about 47 feet in height, with pedestals about 12
feet high. They represent a king, Amenoph III. (as their
inscriptions attest), seated on his throne. Smaller though
colossal standing statues of the king’s mother, Queen Mut-
em-wa, and of his wife, Queen Taya, rest against the space
between the sides of the throne and the legs of the great
statues, one at either extremity; while there are remains
of another statue of Queen Taya, of smaller size, which
stand between the feet. The colossi are a little less than 60
feet apart; a distance judiciously chosen, so that they should
neither seem smaller than they actually are, by being placed
too far from each other, nor should be so near as to appear
but a double statue. As they now stand in the midst of the
fields, far away from human habitations or ancient temples,
bearing in their mutilated forms the marks of successive
ages, as well as of barbarian violence, calling up the story
of Egyptian greatness so long departed, and the poetic tra¬
ditions of Greece once believed, reminding us of those who
have stood here before the rising of the sun to hear the mys¬
terious sound, and have themselves passed away with their
religion and their power, while they have kept their places
as watchmen overlooking the change of empires and of
faiths, they are not dumb, and their inarticulate voice tells Egypt,
us more than did that of Memnon in old times.
The Vocal Memnon is the more northern of the two, and
is, as before mentioned, imperfect. It was broken in the
midst either by the barbarism of Cambyses, or by an earth¬
quake, more probably the former,4 but long afterwards re¬
paired. It presents in consequence a very shattered ap¬
pearance, and the other colossus gives us a better idea of
what the pair must anciently have been. Many Greek and
Latin inscriptions on the Vocal Statue record the visits of
those who were with Hadrian, and of others, and relate that
they heard the voice of Memnon. There is thus satis¬
factory evidence to show that some sound was frequently
heard here at sunrise; and the only dispute is whether it
was produced by a physical cause, or was an imposture of
the priests. The former appears to be the more probable
view, as such a deception could hardly have been carried
on so long without detection ; and its being a natural occur¬
rence does not seem impossible from the examples we have
of sounds resembling that which is described as having
been heard here by the ancients.
Less than half a mile from the mound of the Ameno- Medeenet-
phium, in a south-westerly direction, within the desert, is the Haboo.
group of temples known as those of Medeenet-Haboo. This
name is that applied by the Arabs to a town, which appears
to be that called Papa in the Roman times. The ruins of
its houses obstruct the temples, more especially the larger
of the two. The smaller temple may be first described, Small tern-
since it is nearer to the river, to the eastward of the other, pie.
We first enter a ruined court which was never completed,
and which had a colonnade whereof two columns alone yet
stand, at its end, a little before the first propylon of the
temple, which bears the name of Ptolemy Lathyrus and
that of Auletes among the sculptures of its gateway. Be¬
yond this is a court which had a colonnade on each side, and
a propylon, much smaller than the other, at the end. Most
of its columns have fallen, and the propylon has also suf¬
fered much. On the latter we see the names of Tirhakah
the Ethiopian, and later sovereigns. Beyond this is another
court, and then the chambers of the temple. The chief
of these is an isolated sanctuary, with a gallery around it
having square pillars and fluted columns like those of cer¬
tain of the tombs at Benee-Hasan. The sanctuary is orna¬
mented with sculptures of sovereigns of the Eighteenth
Dynasty, including Queen Amen-numt.
To the south-west of this temple is a very remarkable Palace,
structure, which differs in its use and architecture from any
other ancient monument in Egypt. It is the only palace
that has been preserved, although the temples have been
supposed to have been likewise palaces, or palace-temples.5
After passing between what seem to have been lodges*
we arrive at the main part of the palace of Rameses III.
This consists of two towers on each side of a court ending
in another tower, beneath which is a gateway conducting
to the great temple. On the front of each of the two towers
first mentioned Rameses III. is represented slaying his ene¬
mies before Amen-ra, and below is a series of captured
chiefs. The inscriptions that remain tell us that these are
the chiefs of the Kheta, or Hittites, the Amari, or Amorites,
the Tokkaree, or Carians, the Khairetana (Khairetaan) of the
sea, or Cretans (Cherethim), the Tuirkha (Tuirsha) of the
sea, and of other peoples whose names are partly or wholly
destroyed. On the walls of the chambers are curious sculp¬
tures representing the private life of Rameses III. Among
1 Lepsius, Denkmaler. abth. iii., bl. 179. 2 Id., bis. 170, 171. 3 Chronologic der Aegypter, i., p. 39, 53.
4 Uomp. Paus. Attic, i., 42. 1 * ^
Ihe size and character of the only chambers in the temples which could have been used for habitation render it most improbable that
^ priests and scribes resided in them, except perhaps on the occasion.of some important ceremonies which may have lasted a con-
kl< ci a e time, and it is most likely that the royal abodes were usually extensive pavilions constructed of no stronger materials than the
muses o t ic people, and this view the representations of the ton.bs seem to support. The temples, however, were called pealaces.
EGYPT.
511
Egypt, these the king is pourtrayed playing at a game like that of
draughts with one of his daughters, while another stands
by him. They are all represented naked.
>i3reat tern- The great temple of Medeenet-Haboo is directly behind
Ple- the palace through which was, as already mentioned, the
approach to it, and is a monument of the same king Ra¬
ineses III., a sovereign inferior alone as a conqueror to
Rameses II., the greatest ruler of Egypt. Both the mag¬
nificence of its architecture, and the high interest of its
sculptures, render it one of the most interesting edifices at
Thebes. It is much obstructed by the remains of the town
that formerly stood in and around it.
The first propylon cannot be less than 200 feet wide.
It is partly destroyed, and much of it is hidden by the
remains of the town. On its wings the king is repre¬
sented slaying prisoners before the gods, and acts of wor¬
ship are also depicted. The court, of which this propylon
is the front, is about 110 feet in length and about 135
in breadth, and has a colonnade on either side, forming a
gallery. The gallery on the right side consists of seven
Osiridean pillars, that on the left, of eight columns having
capitals of the form of the papyrus-flower, affording a re¬
markable example of the irregularity of Egyptian architec¬
ture. This court is nearly filled with rubbish. At its end
is a second propylon, on the left wing of which Rameses
III. is represented bringing captives of the Tokkaree, or
Carians, before Amen-ra. Passing through the granite por¬
tal of this propylon we enter the second or peristyle court,
the finest part of the temple. This court measures about
123 feet in length and about 133 or somewhat more in
width, thus exceeding in size the first court, contrary to the
usual practice of ancient Egyptian architects. It has a
single colonnade at the front and on either side, and a dou¬
ble one at the end. The colonnade at the front and that
facing it are each of eight Osiridean pillars, while that be¬
hind the latter is of columns with capitals of the papyrus-
bud, and the side colonnades consist each of five similar
columns, one of which, on the left side, has fallen. Hap¬
pily this court is less choked than the other, and one
can form some idea of its original splendour. The Chris¬
tian inhabitants of the town, the ruins of whose church are
seen in the court, defaced many of the sculptures, and par¬
ticularly the Osiridean pillars; nevertheless the general ef¬
fect is not lost, and one is struck by a simple grandeur,
which is unsurpassed in any similar Egyptian structure.
The sculptures of the walls are of especial interest, and a
short description of them must therefore be given. On the
back of the left wing of the propylon a series of sculptures
relating to the wars of Rameses III. commences and extends
along the wall on the left side of the court. The rout of the
Rebu or Lebu, perhaps Libyans, is depicted, the triumphant
return of the king, the bringing of prisoners before him on the
field of battle, and the like; and besides these are subjects
pourtraying ceremonies. On the right side-wall is a curi¬
ous representation of the celebration of the Panegyry of
Amen-ra Generator, which, from the detail in which it is
given, affords us considerable insight into the manner in
which such solemnities were kept.1 On the end-wall, and
on part of each side-wall are depicted the many children of
Rameses III. A door in the wall first mentioned conducts
to the inner part of the temple, which occupies but little
less space than the two courts just described. It is entirely
choked with rubbish.
The sculptures of the exterior of this edifice next claim
our attention, none of which have been mentioned ex¬
cepting those which occupy the face of the first propylon.
On the north, or rather north-eastern wall, is a remarkably
interesting series of sculptures commemorating the events
of foreign wars of Rameses III., and equalling in the im¬
portance of their subjects and the boldness with which they
are executed any other records of the kind in Egypt. In
the first representation, which is to the extreme right, we
see Rameses III. going to war; in the second is depicted
the rout of a people called the Tamhu ; and in the third,
prisoners of the Tamhu and Mashuash are brought before
the king, while scribes count the hands, &c., which have
been cut from the slain, showing their number to have been
12,535. Then weapons, probably taken from the enemy, are
counted. The next scene is very complicated, and repre¬
sents a great battle with the Tokkaree or Carians, whose
army is defeated by the Egyptians. The Tokkaree fight in
chariots of two horses and in waggons drawn by four oxen.
Mercenaries or allies who are called Khairetana, (Chere-
thim or Cretans) fight in the army of Egypt. The scene
which follows this is one of the most spirited of Egyptian
sculptures, and if compared with the similar Assyrian bas-
reliefs in the British Museum, shows the great superiority of
the best Egyptian art over that of Assyria. The king, who,
is passing through a marshy country in his chariot, encoun¬
ters three lions, and having smitten two of them with his
javelins, turns round to meet the third which is about to
spring. The next subject is the most remarkable of the
series, since it represents a sea-fight, in which the Egyptian
fleet defeats that of the Khairetana (Cretans) and the Tok¬
karee (Carians), while Rameses and his army aid their coun¬
trymen from the shore. Thus, probably, the Cretans, in
whose navies the Carians fought of old, according to a tra¬
dition which Herodotus relates, lost the empire of the sea.
Rameses then receives the praises of his warriors, and the
hands of the slain are brought before him and numbered.
Next he leads prisoners, who are of the Tokkaree and
Rebu, before the gods of Thebes. The other battle-scenes
of the series represent the capture of strong places, the
carrying away of captives, &c. On the end wall the king
is pourtrayed setting forth on an expedition, and on the
other side-wall, the south-west, is a long calendar, which
appears to occupy the whole wall. Not far from the Ra-
meseum, to the southward, is a small Ptolemiac temple con¬
taining three chambers. Farther in the same direction is
a great lake, over which in ancient times it is probable that
the funeral processions passed. At more than half a mile
in a south-westerly direction from the lake is another small
temple of Roman times, having an isolated sanctuary and
other chambers.
The private and royal tombs must now be briefly noticed,
but from their great number, and the variety of the paint¬
ings which occupy their walls, it will not be possible to give
as detailed an account of them as has been given of the
other monuments. Two temples which are situate in the ne¬
cropolis likewise require a notice. The tombs, as before men¬
tioned, occupy some of the space at the foot of the moun¬
tains, or are excavated in their sides towards the valley, and
in two isolated hills, excepting the tombs of the kings, which
are cut in the sides of two secluded valleys to the westward.
Beginning from the north, we first see the entrances of
grottoes in the low spur of the Libyan chain behind the
Setheum. Several of these have a series of square aper¬
tures, leaving pillars to support the roof, so as to form a kind
of portico, behind which is a chamber or chambers, having
pits, from which open other chambers for sepulture. Some
grottoes here, and others extending towards the Rameseum,
are inhabited by the people of El-Kurneh, whose village is
ruined. At the foot of the mountains, as well as on their
least steep sides, here and throughout the necropolis, are the
entrances of many mummy-pits. On the spur above men¬
tioned are brick pyramids, for the most part nearly de¬
stroyed ; and in the wide tract beyond, where the mountains
recede, are very remarkable sepulchres of the time of the
Egypt.
Necropolis.
i
Ancient Egyptians, vol. vi., pi. 76.
512 EGYPT.
Egypt. Twenty-sixth Dynasty. These are extensive excavations,
—profusely sculptured almost entirely with hieroglyphics, hav¬
ing before their entrances open courts hewn in the rock,
and entered through crude brick propyla, from which walls
of enclosure of the same material extend around the courts.
The largest of these, and indeed of all those known at
Thebes, is the tomb of Pet-amen-apt, a priest whose date is
not fixed, but who probably lived towards the close of the
Twenty-sixth Dynasty, or the beginning of the Twenty-
seventh.1 Sir Gardner Wilkinson says that “ the area of
the actual excavation is 22,217 square feet, and with the
chambers of the pits 23,809, though, from the nature of its
plan, the ground it occupies is nearly one acre and a quar¬
ter.”2 Almost all the passages and chambers are covered
with hieroglyphic inscriptions on a small scale, and the few
sculptures are of a religious character. At the end of the
Asaseef is a temple which was approached by a very long
avenue of sphinxes now entirely demolished. The temple
is at the base of a steep cliff, and is partly excavated in the
rock, and partly built of masonry. The latter portion is al¬
most wholly destroyed. A portal of red granite which
formed its entrance yet remains, bearing the name of
Thothmes III., cut over the erased name of Queen Amen-
numt. A second granite portal stands behind this, almost
close to the rock. At some distance to the left of this are
two small chambers, one of which is remarkable for the
form of its roof, which is vaulted by horizontal stones, of
which the two uppermost meet in the centre, all being cut
internally, so as to form an arch. The excavated part of
the temple consists of an oblong chamber of moderate di¬
mensions, another of smaller size with a cell on each side,
and at the end a sanctuary. All these, excepting the sanc¬
tuary, are of the time of Queen Amen-numt and Thothmes
III., and have vaulted roofs. The sanctuary bears the
sculptures of Ptolemy Physcon, affording a remarkable con¬
trast to the delicate style of those of the chambers which
lead to it, and it is flat-roofed.
The isolated hill of the sheykh ’Abd-El-Kurneh (proba¬
bly a mistake for ’A'bid-El-Kurneh, meaning “ the Devotee
of El-Kurneh”), presents a singular appearance from the
plain, since on that side it is honeycombed by the entrances
of tombs. Several of these, like some of those first men¬
tioned, have porticoes before them hewn in the rock, and
many have very interesting paintings, representing scenes of
domestic life, funeral ceremonies, arts, trades, &c., in their
upper chamber or chambers. These have, unfortunately,
suffered greatly from the cupidity of the natives, and the
disgraceful Vandalism of European travellers. Farther
towards Medeenet-Haboo is a similar isolated hill, called
Kurnet-Mara’ee, which contains a few grottoes of the same
description, and in the valley between this and the main
mass of mountain are many other interesting grottoes. At
one extremity of this valley, at some distance behind the
Rameseum, is a small edifice with a high enclosure of crude
brick walls. It is a temple of Athor, of the Ptolemaic pe¬
riod, and has a small portico and three chambers, in one of
which, the side chamber to the left, is a curious sculpture,
of which the subject is the judgment of a soul by Osiris.
Hence we may infer that this was a temple attached to the
necropolis, and the same appears to have been the case
with that of the Asaseef, since there deceased royal person¬
ages receive divine honours, as though they were buried in
the vicinity. Beyond the other extremity of this valley is
the secluded valley, called that of the Tombs of the Queens
from its containing the sepulchres of queens and princesses
of the Eighteenth, Nineteenth, and Twentieth Dynasties.
I hese are similar to the tombs of the kings, which are next to
be described, but are not large, nor are the subjects on their
walls, which seem generally of little interest, well preserved.
A long and winding valley, the entrance to which is an Egypt,
opening in the mountains behind the Setheum, leads to two
other valleys, that of the Tombs of the Kings, and the Tombs of
Western Valley. Both of these contain royal sepulchres, the kings. |
but those of the former are more important than those of
the latter, as far as is known, for this may contain unopened
tombs. The sepulchres in the Valley of the Tombs of the
Kings are twenty or twenty-one in number. Nineteen are
sculptured, and are the mausolea of kings, of a queen with
her consort, and of a prince, all of the Eighteenth, Nine¬
teenth, and Twentieth Dynasties, unless we make Rameses
I. the earliest of these sovereigns to have been head of the
Nineteenth Dynasty, instead of including him among the
rulers of the Eighteenth. One tomb is without sculpture,
and there is likewise an unsculptured passage running for
a considerable distance into the mountain which may per¬
haps be regarded as the commencement of a tomb never
completed, making the twenty-first. Their plan is always
the same in its main particulars, but they differ greatly in
extent, in consequence of having been commenced at a
king’s accession, or even before (since one of them is the
tomb of an heir-apparent), and continued throughout his
reign, like the pyramids of Memphis. Their paintings
and painted sculptures likewise do not present remarkable
varieties, since they are almost wholly of a religious cha¬
racter, and principally refer to the future state. They are
remarkable for the manner in which they illustrate the
Egyptian religion, and the beauty of their execution; but
their mysterious and intricate nature forbids any detailed
description of them in the present article. The plan of one
of the most interesting sepulchres may however be de-
. scribed. The tomb of Sethee I., commonly called Belzoni’s,
since that explorer first opened it since ancient times, is in
the freshest state of preservation, except in its outer part,
although the miserable barbarism of modern travellers is
yearly lessening its beauty. We enter by a staircase, and
pass along a steep passage, which terminates in a deep pit,
now filled up. Thus far the subjects and inscriptions which
occupy the walls, are unfinished, showing that the tomb was
not completed. Immediately beyond the pit the part dis¬
covered by Belzoni commences with a hall 26 feet by 27,
supported by four square pillars, the walls of which are covered
with very beautiful painted sculptures, including the cele¬
brated procession of the four races. To the right of this
is another chamber, supported by two columns, the sculp¬
tures of which were never commenced, having only been
drawn in outline. From the left side of the former chamber
we descend a flight of steps, which leads to a passage, an¬
other flight of steps, and then another passage ending in a
chamber 17 feet by 14, from which we pass into a hall 27
feet square, having six square pillars, and on either side a
small chamber. This forms the portico of the great sepul¬
chral hall, the most splendid part of the tomb, which is of
an oblong form, 19 feet in length and 30 in breadth, with
an arched roof. In the midst, in a depression, was a splendid
sarcophagus of alabaster, and on its removal blocks of stone
were found filling up the entrance of an inclined descent which
was cleared for 300 feet by Belzoni, without its termination
being discovered. It is not improbable that the king was
buried in a chamber at the end of this passage. The great
sepulchral hall is covered with beautiful painted sculptures,
and on its ceiling are astronomical or astrological represen¬
tations, resembling the astronomical ceiling of the Rame-
seum of El-Kurneh. A door in the left side of the sepul¬
chral hall leads to a chamber which has two square pillars,
and on the same side is a cell; there is another chamber on
the opposite side. A large apartment, which was left un¬
finished, is behind that in which was the sarcophagus, and
is the last of those contained in the tomb, if the inclined
1 Horae sEg., pp. 68, 69.
3 Mo 'em Egypt and Thebes, vol. if, p. 222.
Egypt.
Arment
(Uerrnon-
this).
Isne (Lato-
polis).
EGYPT.
513
descent does not lead to other unknown ones. From the
entrance to the end of this chamber is a distance of about
300 feet.
The tomb of Rameses III. is among the most splendid
of the royal sepulchres. Its length a little exceeds 400
feet, but from the nature of the rock its sculptures are less
delicately executed than those of the tomb of Sethee I.
In cells on either side of its passage, a little within the en¬
trance, are interesting paintings illustrating manners and
customs, in one of which is the celebrated representation
of the harpers.
The tombs which have been found in the Western Valley
are only four in number, and but two of these contain paint¬
ings. The latter are of Amenoph III. and of King Skhai or
Skhee, a sovereign who appears to have come to the throne
in the year B.c. 1475 or 1474, though some suppose him to
have been of the sun-worshippers who succeeded Amenoph
III. The former is decorated with paintings in a very good
style, but unfortunately they have sustained much damage ;
the latter is historically interesting as a record of an uncer¬
tain king, but its paintings are of poor execution. Nowhere
perhaps are we so forcibly struck by the feeling of the an¬
cient Egyptians with respect to death and the future state,
as in the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings, and in the se¬
pulchres themselves. The desolateness of the spot, apart
from all signs and sounds of life, fitted it for the solemn use
to which it was assigned, and those long dark passages, and
lofty chambers, on whose walls we see the awful punish¬
ments of the wicked, and the rewards of the good, show us
the most secret mysteries of the Egyptian religion in a
manner suited to their greatness. The Pharaohs, whose
valour and whose piety we have seen commemorated on the
walls of their stately temples, are worthily entombed in these
marvellous sepulchres; and herewe takeour farewell of them
and of Thebes, knowing well that the world has since pro¬
duced no monuments excelling those of “ the City of Thrones.”
Not far south of Thebes, on the western bank, is the
large village of Arment, the old Hermonthis, where stands
a picturesque temple built by Cleopatra. It has two courts,
having colonnades, and three chambers around which was
also a colonnade, of which but one column now stands. It
is of small dimensions, having been the Typhonium attached
to the great temple of Hunt, the divinity of the place,
which has been razed. On the other bank of the river, a
little higher, at Tod, anciently Tuphium, is a small Pto¬
lemaic temple. Not far beyond, and about 20 miles above
Thebes, by the course of the stream, are the “ Gebeleyn”
or “ Two Mountains,” on the western side of the river,
where the sandstone begins. The town of Isne, the an¬
cient Sne, called by the Greeks Latopolis, is likewise situate
on the western bank, about twelve miles higher, and is re¬
markable as containing a very fine Egyptian monument, the
portico of its great temple of Kneph. This is in the heart
of the modern town, and until lately was much choked
with rubbish. Mohammad ’Alee having, however, caused
it to be cleared, its beautiful proportions can be appreciated.
It is supported by twenty-four lofty and massive columns,
six in front, and four deep, having capitals of various forms,
of which those alone in corresponding positions on opposite
sides are of the same description, a deviation from regularity
of which we do not see examples previous to the Greek rule.
The columns and walls are covered with minute sculptures
of the bad style of the period when the portico was erected,
that of the Caesars. It contains the hieroglyphic names of
Claudius, Vespasian, Titus, and other emperors as late as
Severus. The back is, however, more ancient, since it
bears the name of Ptolemy Epiphanes, being the front of
the older temple of which nothing more is known for cer¬
tain to remain. Upon the ceiling is a Zodiac, from which Egypt-
this monument was supposed to have been of very great
antiquity before the interpretation of hieroglyphics had been
discovered. On the other bank of the Nile, on the site of
Contra Latopolis, is a small temple of the Ptolemaic and
Roman periods.
A few miles above Isne, where both the Libyan and Eilethyas.
Arabian chains approach the river, are the curious remains of
Eilethyas. There is a small temple of the Ptolemaic time, and
two little sacred edifices of the period of the Pharaohs, but
the most interesting monuments are the tombs and the fort.
The former, which are excavated in a hill, are very remark¬
able as illustrating history, husbandry, &c.; and in one of
them is the very curious inscription of its occupant Aahmes,
chief of the mariners, recording his services to early kings
of the Eighteenth Dynasty.1 The fort is a large enclosure
of crude brick,2 which was a place of importance as early
as the Shepherd war, for it is mentioned as the “ Fort of
Seben,” that is of Eilethyas, in a part of the inscription above
mentioned, which relates to the time of that war. The god¬
dess of the place was Seben, or Lucina (Eilethyia), who was
especially regarded as the protector of Upper Egypt.
Having proceeded about twelve miles to the southward Adfoo
we reach the large village of Adfoo, which represents the (Apollino-
town called by the Greeks Apollinopolis Magna, the great Polls Wag"
temple of which yet stands in a comparatively perfect state, na^'
and is one of the most stately monuments of ancient Egypt,
although of a time at which art had greatly declined. It
was dedicated to Har-het, the god of the place, whom the
Greeks called Agathodaemon. Unfortunately mounds of rub¬
bish within and around it, as well as the huts of the village,
some of which stand, or stood until recently, on its roof, injure
the effect, and prevent a complete examination of the temple.
The great propylon which forms the front of the temple
measures about 226 feet in width, and is, like the rest of the
edifice, in a good state of preservation. The sculptures upon
its front represent acts of worship by Ptolemy the Elder,
son of Auletes, who is pourtrayed slaying prisoners. The
portal between the wings of this propylon is the entrance
to the temple, of which the first part is a great court about
161 feet long and 140 broad, with a colonnade along its
front and each side, of columns with various capitals front¬
ing covered galleries. At the end is a portico having 18
columns, 6 in front and 3 deep, about 82 feet broad and
46 long measured within, beyond which are a hall and pas¬
sages and other chambers, the most important of which is an
isolated sanctuary. This part of the temple, commencing
with the portico, is much choked with rubbish, which often
reaches to the roof. The wall of the great court is con¬
tinued so as to inclose the further portion of the temple,
leaving a passage around it. The sculptures show that it
wras probably commenced by Ptolemy Philopator and com¬
pleted at the end of the Greek monarchy, though an in¬
significant additional subject was added by Claudius. Not
far from the great temple is a smaller one of the sort called
Typhonia, containing two chambers, around which runs a
gallery supported by Typhonian columns.
About 23 miles above Adfoo the mountains on either Gebel-es-
side, which had for some distance confined the valley to a Silsileh.
narrow space, reach the river and contract its course. They
are low but steep and picturesque, and in their western side
are seen the entrances of excavations. They receive the
appellation of Gebel-es-Silsileh, a name derived from the
earlier Silsilis. The most interesting of the excavations is
a rock-temple in which is pourtrayed the defeat of a negro
nation by King Har-em-heb, or Oros, of the Eighteenth
Dynasty: here, also, are subjects depicting acts of worship
paid to Nilus and Sebak. To the southward of this, and
1 De Rouge Tomleau d’Ahmes; and Champdlion, Lettres, pp. 197, 198.
2 For an account of the Egyptian system of fortification, see Wilkinson in Trans. Royal Society of Literature, new series, vol. iv.; and
Popular Account of the Ancient Egyptians, vol. i., pp. 407-409.
vol. vin. 3 x
I
514
EGYPT.
Egypt.
Kom-
Umboo
(Ombos).
Aswtin
(Syene).
'’’be First
I'utaract.
also facing the river, are the entrances of several excavated
tombs, the representations in which are not of a remarkable
character. Beyond these are three chapels of the time of
the Nineteenth Dynasty. On the opposite side are very
important quarries where much of the materials of the great
temples was cut, especially under the Eighteenth and sub¬
sequent Dynasties.
Beyond Gebel-es-Silsileb, although the mountains re¬
cede, the tract of cultivated land is extremely narrow, and
sometimes the desert touches the river: this is partly owing
to the sinking of the level of the stream, which, as mentioned
in an earlier part of this article, was very anciently re¬
strained by some barrier at Silsilis. About eleven miles
above that place is the extremely picturesque temple of
Ombos, placed on a rocky eminence called “ K6m-
Umboo,” or “the Hill of Umboo.” It stands within a
great enclosure of crude brick walls, which we see on every
side, except that towards the river. There is a portal in this
wall of the time of Queen Amen-numt and Thothmes III.
The great temple is double, one-half having been dedicated
to the worship of Sebak, and the other to that of Har-oer or
Aroeris. It consists of a portico of fifteen columns, where¬
of two have fallen, the foremost of which were connected
by a wall of intercolumniation having two entrances, be¬
hind which is a smaller portico and remains of chambers,
including the two sanctuaries. The earliest name here is
that of Ptolemy Philometor,1 unless Champollion be right
in saying that the name of Epiphanes is also found in the
temple,2 which appears to have been completed by Ptolemy
Auletes. There were also remains here of a smaller Ptole¬
maic temple which have been washed away by the river.
Nothing remarkable occurs between Ombos and Syene,
a distance of about twenty miles. The valley is confined to a
very narrow space by the mountains, which take bold forms
on both sides near the latter place. Just before we reach
it, we see the Island of Elephantine, where is the famous
Nilometer of the Roman time. The town of Aswan, which
represents the ancient Syene, stands amid palm-trees on the
eastern bank opposite to Elephantine. It is a considerable
place, of greater political than commercial importance, and
has succeeded to an older town of the same name, the ruins
of which occupy the river’s bank, and a granite hill to the
south. Among them may be mentioned a pier, which has
a well which is most probably the Nilometer constructed
by ’Amr, the Muslim conqueror of Egypt. In the ruined
town is also a small temple of Roman date. Farther to the
south is its extensive Arab cemetery, which is full of curious
tombstones bearing inscriptions in Cufic characters. In the
granite hills to the eastward are the quarries whence were
taken so many of the obelisks and statues which adorned
the Egyptian temples.
The bed of the river above Aswan is obstructed by
numerous rocks and islands of granite, one of the latter of
which, that of Saheyl, is interesting on account of the
numerous hieroglyphic tablets and inscriptions at its south¬
ern part. This island is almost a mile and a half above
Aswan, and at the distance of another mile from it begin the
rapids called the First Cataract, caused by the granite rocks,
which almost entirely choke the river. The Cataract is so
inconsiderable, that during the inundation, boats favoured
by a strong northerly wind can pass it without aid, though
at other times it is necessary to hire natives, who drag
them through, but then the principal rapid has a fall of only
five or six feet,3 and that is not perpendicular. Never¬
theless the roaring of the troubled stream, and the red
granite islands and rocks which stud its surface, through
which our boat threads its way, give the approach a wild
pictui esqueness until we reach the open stream, less than
two miles farther, and the beautiful isle of Phiiae suddenly
rises before the eyes, completely realizing our highest idea Egypt,
of a sacred place of ancient Egypt.
Philae is beyond the proper limits of Egypt, but as it is Philse.
usual to describe it in noticing Aswan and the rapids, some
account of it w ill here be given, which is the more desirable
as it contains very beautiful and interesting monuments,
and was held in high reverence by the ancient Egyptians
as a burial-place of Osiris. It is very small, being only a
quarter of a mile long, and about 500 feet broad. On
its granite rock is a little alluvial soil and some vegetation,
with a few date-palms, but its verdure has been exaggerated,
and its beauties are little owing to it. On the east side is
a small but very picturesque temple, now hypaethral, of the
Greek and Roman time, and unfinished. It is 48 feet in
width and 63 in length, and has 14 columns with capitals
of various forms, connected by intercolumnal walls. The
great temple of Isis stands to the westward of this. Its
front is formed by a propylon, before which is a kind of
court, to be afterwards described. The portal bears the
name of Nectanebes I., but the wings were added by the
Ptolemies, makingthe entire width about 122 feet. Through
the portal we enter a court, on the right side of which is
a gallery fronted by columns, behind which are several
small chambers, and on the left side is a separate small
temple of Athor, the main entrance to which is by a door
and passage in the left w ing of the great propylon. This
small temple commences with a portico having four columns
with the faces of Athor sculptured in high relief upon each of
its sides above the capital. Beyond this are three chambers
behind one another, above the door of the first of which is
a Greek dedication by Ptolemy Physcon, or Euergetes II.,
and the two Cleopatras. The temple was, however, com¬
menced by Epiphanes. The court of the great temple, or
that of Isis, is bounded by a second propylon of smaller
dimensions than the first, and forming the entrance to the
portico, which is a very elegant structure raised on ten
columns, eight of which are at the back and one on each
side. It is partly hypaethral, an open space being left be¬
tween the two columns last mentioned. The beautiful forms
of the columns, and the bright remains of colour on them
and the walls, with the effect of the sunlight through the
aperture of the roof, produce a most graceful and pleasing
effect. Behind this hall are several small apartments, one
of which, reached by a staircase, contains very curious
sculptures relating to the story of Osiris. The temple
appears to have been commenced by Ptolemy Philadelphus
(whose name is the earliest found there), and was continued
under the Roman emperors. The court before the temple
remains to be noticed. It is bounded by twro galleries with
columns in front. One of these is about 250 feet long, and
is built close to the western side of the isle terminating at a
small temple of Athor near its southern end. This edifice,
which is much ruined, was supported by columns with the
block adorned with faces of Athor above their capitals, of
which six stand; it was raised by Nectanebes I. The eastern
gallery, which is shorter than the other, is not parallel with
it, and thus shows that this court was not part of the great
temple, but rather an approach to it. The other remains
are of minor importance, and the same may be said of the
ruins of a temple on the neighbouring large island of Bige.
A few words must be said respecting the eastern and
western deserts. The latter desert is remarkable for two 'Western
valleys besides those called the Oases. The first of these desert,
valleys is that of the Natron Lakes to the westward of the
Delta, containing four Coptic monasteries, the remains of
the famous anchorite settlement of Nitria. To the south¬
ward of this, and parallel to it, is a sterile valley called the
Bahr bela-Ma, or “ River without Water.” Yet farther to
the southward is the Little Oasis (Oasis Parva), about 100
1 Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. ii., p. 282.
2 Lettres, p. 173.
3 Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. ii., p. 294.
EGYPT.
515
Egypt, miles from the Nile in E. Long. 29°., nearly due west of
the town of Bahnese. It contains remains of little interest.
Within 200 miles due south of this oasis is another, of
which the usual appellation is Wah ed-Dakhileh, where,
near the town of El-Kasr, is an Egyptian temple of the
Roman period. This, according to Sir Gardner Wilkin¬
son,1 is the most flourishing of the oases. About half-way
between this oasis and the Nile at Thebes lies the Great
Oasis (Oasis Magna). Here, near the town called El-
Kharigeh is a considerable temple of the Persian and sub¬
sequent times ; and in the same oasis are other ruins of the
period of the Ptolemies and Caesars. The Oasis of Jupiter
Ammon, that of Seewah, is not far from the coast at a great
distance to the westward, and it is not properly included
in Egypt. Various Arab tribes occupy this desert besides
the settled inhabitants of the oases.
Eastern In the eastern desert must be mentioned the town of
desert Es-Suweys, or Suez, anciently Arsinoe, a small place at the
head of the gulf to which it gives its name. To the south¬
ward, a little below lat. 29°, are the secluded Coptic con¬
vents of St Antony and St Paul near the sea. Farther
south are the porphyry quarries of Gebel-ed-Dukhan, ex¬
tensively worked under the Romans, and the granite quar¬
ries of Gebel-el-Fateereh. Considerably more to the south,
at El-Hammamat, on the old way from Coptos to Philoteras
Portus are the Breccia Verde quarries, which were much
worked from very early times, and have interesting hiero¬
glyphic inscriptions. At Gebel Zabarah are emerald mines
now abandoned as unproductive. At the various mines,
and on the routes to them and to the Red Sea, are some
small temples and stations, ranging from the Pharaonic to
the Roman time. Along the shore of the sea are the sites
of several ancient ports, the most important of which were
Myos Hormos and Berenice, and the modern town of El-
Kuseyr. The northern part of this desert is occupied by
the Maazee Arabs and smaller tribes as far as the Kuseyr
road, beyond which are the ’Ababdeh, an African tribe very
different from the Arabs in appearance, and to the south of
these, to the east of Lower Nubia, is the Bisharee tribe, a
people also of African race.
SECTION IV.
STATISTICS.
Govern- Egypt is governed by a Pasha of the family of the late
ment. Mohammad ’Alee, in virtue of the firman of the 13th of
February 1841, by which the government of that province
of the Turkish empire was conferred on him, and on bis
then living family, the members of which were to succeed
him by seniority; by that firman the governor of Egypt was
to recognise all laws and treaties enacted and concluded by
the Porte ; the imposts and revenues of Egypt were to be
collected in the name of the Sultan, one-fourth of the re¬
venue was to be transmitted yearly to Constantinople, the
army, limited to 18,000 men, the officers above the rank of
major to be appointed by the Sultan oti the nomination of
the Pasha, and ships-of-war to be built only by express per¬
mission of the Porte. The non-fulfilment of any of these
conditions would cancel the concessions then granted.
Under the Pasha the several departments of the admi¬
nistration are presided over by ministers and councils.
These offices were mostly created by Mohammad ’Alee,
and are great improvements on the former system of govern¬
ment, although necessarily filled by creatures of the higher
power. The principal offices are that of the minister for
the internal administration of the affairs of the state, that for
foreign affairs, and those for war, marine, finance, and public Egypt,
instruction, a tribunal of commerce, and councils of health
in Cairo and Alexandria. The provinces into which Egypt is
divided are governed by officers called Mudeers, and the sub¬
divisions of those districts by Mamoors and Nazirs. The
Mudeers are Turks, but native Egyptians were appointed
by Mohammad ’Alee, and since by his successors, to the
inferior posts. The government employes, as clerks, &c\,
are chiefly Copt scribes.
By the firman of investiture, the army was reduced to Army.
18,000 men, but since the war with Russia it has been very
much increased, and, as is well known, the Egyptian con¬
tingent not only forms a large portion of ’Omar Pasha’s
army, but has very honourably distinguished itself. When
on the peace-footing it is variously distributed throughout
Egypt, but the artillery is confined to Cairo and Alexan¬
dria, and a considerable garrison of regular infantry is always
maintained in both those cities. Each Mudeer has under
his orders a corps of irregulars, and about five regiments of
regular cavalry are generally stationed in Upper Egypt.
According to reliable information obtained in 1849, the fol¬
lowing is the scale of pay per month :—private soldier, 15
piasters; corporal, 20 ; sergeant, 25 ; sergeant-major, 30 ;
lieutenant, 300; captain, 500; major, 2000; lieutenant-
colonel, 2750 ; colonel, 4000. The privates receive rations
and clothing, and the officers, rations. The commissioned
officers of the cavalry and artillery receive rather more, viz.
lieutenant, 360 piasters; captain, 600; colonel, 5000. A
soldier in the irregular cavalry (who finds his own horse)
receives 112^ piasters, and in the irregular infantry 65, in
either case everything included. The pay of the Egyp¬
tian army is, therefore, good ; but the common soldiers ge¬
nerally receive orders on the treasury, in lieu of money,
which are not presentable for some months, and are not al¬
ways honoured when due, The regular troops are recruited
by impressment, every village being required to furnish its
quota, but the irregulars are volunteers—Turks and Alba¬
nians. In the last war the Pasha also maintained a force of
Arab horsemen. A regiment of regular infantry is com¬
posed of four battalions of 1000 men each, divided into
eight companies, of which one is a grenadier and another a
light company, and four guns are attached to each regiment.
A regiment of regular cavalry consists of six squadrons,
each of 192 men, a battery of horse artillery, of six compa¬
nies, and one of foot artillery, of eighteen companies. The
irregulars (horse and foot) are divided into corps of 400 men.
each commanded by a “ chief of four hundred.”-2
Since the conclusion of the Syrian war, until the present Navy,
struggle, the navy has been totally inactive. At the former
period it numbered 11 ships of the line, 6 frigates (one
moved by steam-power), 5 corvettes, 9 brigs (3 being
steamers), and 2 cutters. Some of these were constructed
in the naval yard at Alexandria, but the larger number
were contracted for in Europe. Great care was bestowed
on the formation of the navy, and the establishments con¬
nected with it at Alexandria, but the Egyptians do not seem
to be a maritime people, or, at any rate, their men-of-war
have none of the tautness and neatness of European ships
of the class.
Mohammad ’Alee devoted considerable attention to the Colleges
establishment of colleges and military schools, besides send- andschools.
ing young men to Europe for purposes of scientific study.
In Cairo and its environs he founded several elementary
schools3 of a higher order than the native schools of the
same class (mentioned in Section I. of this article), a school
of languages, now at Boolak, a printing-press at Boolak,
which, however, has been principally used for the publica-
1 This account of the deserts is chiefly taken from Sir Gardner Wilkinson’s Modern Egypt and Thebes, vol. i., p. 382, et seqq.; and ii.,
p. 353, et seqq. 2 Private information. See Mengin, Histoire, vol. iii., p. 135 ; and for details respecting the Navy, lb., p. 143.
3 Government Schools are of three classes or grades, and in all number about fifty in the whole country.
516
EGYPT.
Egypt.
Manufac¬
tories.
Culture of
cotton.
Agricul¬
ture.
Taxation,
&c.
Revenue.
tion of works on military and naval sciences, &c., though
some valuable books (among these the Thousand and One
Nights) have issued from it at the expense of private indi¬
viduals ; and a school of medicine at the Kasr-El-’Eynee,
between Cairo and Masr El-’Ateekah. At El-Khankah
and in its neighbourhood, he placed a military hospital and
a school of medicine, a veterinary college, an infantry school,
and a school of music ; at El-Geezeh, a cavalry school; and
as Tura, one of artillery. A civil hospital likewise exists
in Cairo, and another at Alexandria.1 The dock-yard and
arsenal of Alexandria, with the gun-factory at the village of
El-H6d el-Marsood, organized by French officers, are very
creditably conducted. Indeed all these establishments are
remarkably well designed and carried out, when we consi¬
der the lamentable deficiency of similar institutions in the
East, and the bad organization of the few that exist there.
Mohammad ’Alee also promoted manufactures, and esta¬
blished large manufactories of cotton, silk, and woollen goods,
tarbooshes, &c., and, especially in Upper Egypt, sugar-re¬
fineries. Ibraheem Pasha was much opposed to his father’s
policy, and in pursuance of his own views he laid out ex¬
tensive plantations of olive and other trees, erected power¬
ful steam-engines for the irrigation of his lands, and on all
his estates endeavoured to encourage agriculture. It can¬
not be doubted that had he lived the correctness of his con¬
viction that Egypt is an agricultural, and not a manufactur¬
ing country, would under his rule have been fully verified.
Mohammad ’Alee introduced cotton, and largely cultivated
it; the Turkish grandees found that from it they were able
to extract more gain than from other field-produce, and
large tracts were speedily devoted to its culture. The ne¬
cessity, however, of excluding the waters of the Nile has
caused several destructive inundations, and the cotton, being
a monopoly of the Pasha has not tended to enrich the pro¬
ducer.2 It may truly be said that the agriculture of the
country is in the hands of the government, unless Sa’eed
Pasha have made very extensive alterations in the system
carried out by his father. By the seizure of almost all private
lands, by enormous government monopolies, and by heavy
taxation on all the fruit of their labour, Mohammad ’Alee
effectually destroyed every feeling in the Fellah beyond the
mere desire for daily bread ; and the cruelty and oppression
of subordinate officers rendered his condition more wretched
than these exactions alone would have done. The agricul¬
turists are compelled to sell their produce to the Pasha at
his own price, and he again sells it to the consumers, and
for export, at an arbitrary tariff, by which he secures an
exoi'bitant profit. This rule applies always to some kinds
of produce (as cotton, flax, &c.), and very often to all, al¬
though such is not invariably the case.
The principal taxes are direct taxes on land, which, with
indirect exactions from the Fellahs, amount to nearly one-
half of the entire revenue of Egypt, the poll-tax, a species
of income-tax (firdeh) of about one-twelfth of a man’s an¬
nual income, with a maximum of 500 piasters; the tax on
palm-trees, water-wheels, &c. To these sources of revenue
must be added the profits obtained by the sale of produce,
custom-dues at the sea-ports, and a duty paid by the inha¬
bitants of Cairo and other large towns on all kinds of grain,
with other custom-dues, tax on fisheries and freight. The
total revenue may average about 3,000,000 of pounds ster¬
ling.3 The fullest published table of the revenue and ex¬
penditure of Egypt is perhaps that given by Mengin for the
year 1833 ; since that time few great alterations have taken
place in the country; but it must be received with caution,
as we believe it is derived from government statistics, which
in eastern countries are generally distorted for state pur¬
poses. It will, however, be found useful as giving the rela- Egypt,
tive amount of various sources of income, and heads of
expenditure.
Revenue for 1833.4
Land-tax  225,000
Capitation, or poll-tax  70,000
Duty on grain    36,000
Profit on other produce  90,000
Do. on linen   12,000
Do. on silks  9,500
Customs and Octroi duties at
Alexandria:  6,000
Damietta and Boolak  7,353
Old Misr  1,601
Suez and El-Kuseyr  6,000
Derawee  250
Fisheries of El-Menzeleh  2,750
Duty on salt, boats, and fish  3,500
Do. on merchandise entering from Syria by land 200
Profit on lime, plaster, and stone  4,400
Do. on liquids  2,771
Do. on senna  260
Do. on fisheries and Octroi of the Feiyoom  580
Do. on hides, dressed and undressed  7,000
Octroi of Upper and Lower Egypt  3,200
Tax on dancers, &c  500
Do. on beasts for slaughter  2,000
Do. on jewellery and lace    450
Do. on inheritances  1,200
Do. on Wekalehs and Bazaars in Upper Egypt.. 400
Tribute paid by the rayahs   640
Profit on the mint  3,000
Do. on mats  800
Do. on natron and sal-ammoniac  1,000
Do. on soda (Alexandria)...,  300
Tax on palm-trees     4,000
Freightage of government vessels  2,400
Total 505,055
Expenditure for 1833.
Purses.
Army    120,000
Principal officers of government  39,859
Employes  20,000
Pensions  9,500
Caravan of Pilgrims  2,200
Manufactories  21,600
Government works  18,000
Tribute to the Porte    12,000
Navy  60,000
Palaces    10,000
Rations of employes  5,000
Irregular cavalry   6,500
Bedawees  5,000
Machinery, &c  15,000
Boat-yard (Boolak)  3,300
Military schools  1,500
Printing-press    350
Dock-yard (Alexandria)  15,505
Pasha’s kitchen  4,000
Materiel of war  14,000
Forage  2,500
Purchase of clothing and jewels, &c  14,000
duce.
Total  399,814
The principal field-produce for the same year was as Field-pro-
follows:
Hundred-weights.
Cotton 114,500
Sugar  8,558
Henneh (hinne)... 35,000
Flax  18,000
Nitre  15,784
Ole p®*
Indigo  77,300
Opium   14,500
Silk  6,450
Ardebhs.
Wheat  1,450,000
Beans  700,000
Barley  650,000
Maize  160,000
Millet  750,000
Lentils  70,000
Rice   80,000
Linseed  22,000
Sesame Seed.... 18,000
1 For much information on the hospitals and medical schools, &c., see Clot-Bey, Apergu General, vol. ii., pp. 394-448.
2 Personal observation. 3 Modern Egyptians ; and Mengin, Histoire Egypt sous Mohammed Ali, vol. iii., p. 150, et seqq.
4 Mengin, 76.
EGYPT.
517
Egypt. According to the annual report issued by the Custom-
house at Alexandria, the total amount of exports in 1853
Imports was L.3,472,000, and of imports from all parts L.2,670,000.
ami ex- Great Britain, Austria, and France, are the countries prin-
ports. cipally trading with Egypt, and the exports and imports to
and from those countries were :
Great Britain. Austria. France.
Exports  L.1,787,546 L.389,000 L.491,000
Imports  1,153,000 310,000 242,000
The same report gives the following table of exports :
Wheat (quarters) 706,000 To Great Britain 405,000
Beans „  215,000 ... 169,000
Barley „   62,000 ... 50,000
Indian Corn „   47,000 ... 46,000
Linseed „   20,000 ... 18,000
Sesame Seed,,   32,000
Cotton (bales) 181,000 ... 100,000
1’lax „    44,000 ... 35,000
Wool „   22,000 ... 11,000
Henneh „   5,300
Measures.
The total value of manufactures imported was L.475,000,
of which Great Britain contributed L.353,000; and the
number of merchant-ships that sailed in 1853 from the port
of Alexandria was 1191, of which 944 were with cargoes,
and 247 in ballast. The imports are principally timber,
woollen caps (tarbooshes), cochineal, copper, and copper
wire, coal, cloth, drugs, tin-plates, iron wire, fruit (fresh and
dry), oil, paper, jewellery, &c., sugar, cotton, woollen and
silk stuffs, glass, &c. From Syria, India, and the East are
imported shawls, silks, tobacco, spices, coffee, &c., and from
the south, elephant-tusks, hides, castor-oil, senna, colocynth,
and slaves; of the latter about 5000 are annually brought
from the interior, of which some 1500 are sold in Egypt.
The following shows the amount of the principal exports
to Europe for the years 1850-54, both inclusive :
Bales Cotton.
1850  146,387
1851  121,439
1852  270,168
1853  148,829
1854  150,943
Do. Flax.
29,549
30,715
26,243
30,799
15,269
Ardebbs Wheat.
961,171
1,163,949
783,004
815,629
1,011,695
Do. Beans.
474,420
465,380
370,920
320,239
394,167
Do. Barley.
180,006
178,782
131,948
68,771
114,428
The Egyptian measures are : The “ fitr” or space mea¬
sured by the extension of the thumb and first finger; the
“ shibr” or span ; the common cubit = 22§ inches, the cubit
of about 25 inches, used principally for Indian goods, and
the cubit of about 26^ inches, used for European cloth.
Of the measures of land, the feddan was equal to about l Egypt.
English acre and one-tenth ; it is now less than an acre. -
It is divided into “ keerats” or 24ths, and consists of 333^-
kasabehs or rods. The kasabeh is 22 “ kabdahs,” and the
kabdah, about 6^ inches, or the measure of a man’s fist wild
the thumb erect. The Egyptian league vari-.s in Upper
and Lower Egypt, and is stated to be, in the former, equal
to a journey of an hour and a half, and in the latter, to one
hour’s journey. The “ ardebb” is equal to very nearly 5
bushels, and consists of 6 “ weybehs,” and each weybeh of
4 “ rubas.”
The weights are the “kamhah” (or grain of wheat), the 64th Weights,
of a “ dirhem,” and 4th of a “ keerat.” It is equal to about
f of an English grain. The “ habbeh” (or grain of barley)
is the 48th of a dirhem and 3rd of a keerat, and = ||§-
English grain. The keerat, or carat, is the 24th of a mit-
kaland = from 2^f f to 3 English grains. The dirhem
= 47§ to 48 English grains. The mitkal = weight of a
deenar = from 71 tV to 72 English grains. The “ wukee-
yeh” or ounce = from 571^ to 576 English grains. The
“ rati” or pound = from 1 lb. 2 oz. 5| dwt., to about 1 lb. 2
oz. 8 dwt. troy. The “ wukkah” or oke = from 3 lb. 3 oz.
13| dwt. to 3 lb. 4 oz. troy. The “ kantar” or hundred¬
weight = from 98 lb., less 200 grs., to about 98 lb. avoir
dupois.
European sovereigns and dollars are current in Egypt; Money,
the former being now equivalent to about 100 piasters, the
latter, if French, to about 20 piasters, and if Spanish (pillar-
dollars), to about 22 piasters ; but the value of these coins
is constantly changing. The Spanish doubloon, and Vene¬
tian sequin are also current, and so are Constantinople
coins. Of native coin the “ faddah” (or para) is equal to
of a farthing, and there are pieces of 5, 10, and 20 fad-
dahs. The “ kirsh,” or Egyptian piaster, contains 40 fad-
dahs, and is equal to 2§- pence. These coins are of silver
and copper. Of gold coins there are the “kheyreeyeh”
of 4 piasters, and the kheyreeyeh of 9 piasters (but the
value of these coins has recently depreciated), and pieces
of 5, 10, 20, and 100 piasters. The “ riyal beledee,” or na¬
tive dollar, is equal to 90 paras, but is only a nominal money,
as is the “ kees,” or purse, which contains 500 piasters, and
the “ khazneh,” or treasury of 1000 purses. For the
weights, measures, and money we are indebted to the
Modern Egyptians. (r.s.p.)
%
518 E I C
E I D
Ehren- EHRENBREITSTEIN (J.e. Broad stone of honour), a
breitstein town of Rhenish Prussia, government of Coblentz, on the
li right bank of the Rhine, immediately opposite Coblentz,
Eichstadt. wjtj1 wi1ic}1 ^ is connected by a bridge of boats. Pop.
(1849) of town 2198; military, 1783. The town stands
at the foot of a rocky precipitous height rising 772 feet
above the river, and occupied by the celebrated fortress of
Ehrenbreitstein, one of the strongest places in Europe.
The fortress was originally a Roman castrum: and during
the middle ages it was the stronghold of the electors of
Treves, who in later times occupied the palace at the foot
of the rock, now used as a granary. The French under
Marshal Boufflers, aided by the celebrated Vauban, in vain
besieged it in 1688. In 1799, however, it fell into their
hands, after a siege of fourteen months, in which the gar¬
rison vvas reduced to such a state of famine, that a pound
of horse flesh sold for 30 kreutzers, or somewhat more than
Is. The French blew up the defences when they evacu¬
ated it on the peace of Luneville. Since 1814, Prussia has
expended large sums in the reconstruction of this fortress.
It is defended by about 400 pieces ..''cannon, and on three
sides the escarped rocks and steep slopes would bid defiance
to almost any attack. Its weak point is on the N.W., where
three successive lines of defences have been constructed.
The platform on the top of the rock (serving for a parade-
ground) covers vast arched cisterns capable of containing a
three years’ supply of water for the garrison, furnished from
springs without the walls. There is also a well sunk 400
feet deep in the rock, and communicating with the Rhine.
The castle of Ehrenbreitstein has been celebrated by Lord
Byron, in the following magnificent stanza:—
Here Ehrenbreitstein, with her shattered wall
Black with the miner’s blast upon her height,
Yet shows of what she was when shell and ball
Rebounding idly on her strength did light:
A tower of victory ! from whence the flight
Of baffled foes was watch’d along the plain ;
But Peace destroy’d what War could never blight,
And laid those proud roofs bare to Summer's rain,
On which the iron shower for years had pour’d in vain.
Childe Harold.
EIA, or Er, is the pure Icelandic or Scandinavian for
island. Hence the termination eij in names of places de¬
notes that they are islands; as Ramsey, the isle of rams;
Shepey, the isle of sheep, &c. Eia is also sometimes used
for water; and hence the names of places near water some¬
times terminate in ey.
EICETT1, a sect of Syrian monks of the seventh cen¬
tury, who used to recite their prayers dancing with the nuns
or other females who frequented the monasteries. In this
they pleaded the example of Miriam the sister of Moses.
They were soon suppressed.
EICHHORN, Johann Gottfried, celebrated for his
works on biblical criticism, was born in 1752, at Dorren-
zimmern, in the principality of Hohenlohe-Oehringen. After
having been for some time rector at OhrdufF, he was in 1775
appointed professor of oriental languages at Jena, and in
1788 professor of philosophy at Gottingen, where he died
in 1827. His principal works are the Introductions to the
Old Testament, 3 vols. 1780-83—to the Apocryphal Books,
4 vols. 1795—and to the New Testament, 1 vol. 1804 ;
Universal Repertory of Biblical Literature, 10 vols. 1787—
1810; History of the World, 5 vols. 1799-1814; History
of the three last centuries, 6 vols. 1803; History of the
Nineteenth Century, 1 vol. 1817; History of Literature, 12
vols. 1805-12; and on the Hebrew Prophets.
EICHS1ADT, a town of Bavaria, circle of Middle Fran¬
conia, on the Altmuhl, 54 miles N.N.W. of Munich. It is
the capital of a small principality formerly belonging to the
prince-bishops successors of St Willibald, but secularized in
1801, and in 1817 given to Prince Eugene Beauharnois,
Duke of Leuchtenberg. It is a neat and well-built town ;
and is the seat of a bishop and of an appeal court for the circle. Eidor
The castle formerly occupied by the prince-bishops is now ll
the summer residence of the ducal family, and contains the EldoorapL
celebrated Brazilian cabinet and other collections. The
cathedral, a Gothic edifice founded in 1259, contains many
curious monuments of bishops and canons, the shrine and
statue of St Willibald to whom the church is dedicated,
and some good paintings. The church of St Walpurgis
contains the bones of that saint, in a small recess above the
altar, inlaid with gold. From these, at certain times in the
year, there flows a stream of oil, to which are attributed cer¬
tain healing qualities. There are anumberof other churches,
a capuchin monastery, a nunnery, ecclesiastical seminary,
Latin school, public library, and several museums; manufac¬
tories of earthenware, hardware, and woollen goods, with
breweries and stone quarries. About a mile from the town
is Willibaldsburg, a castle standing on a height, and the re¬
sidence of the bishops till 1725. In the vicinity is a hand¬
some monument, erected by the citizens to Prince Eugene
Beauharnois. Pop. 7000.
EIDER, or Eyder, ariver of Denmark, having its source
in a small lake 8 miles S. of Kiel, flowing generally west¬
ward, and falling into the German Ocean at Tonningen,
after a course of 90 miles, for 70 of which it is navigable.
It forms with the Kieler Canal a navigable connection be¬
tween the North Sea and the Baltic.
EIDER DUCK. See index to Ornithology.
Eider Down, the down of the eider duck. The eider
duck plucks off the down from its breast for the purpose of
making its nest, which it continues to renew as often as de¬
prived of it, until its breast becomes quite bare.
In commerce this down is sold in balls about the size of
a man’s fist, and weighing from three to four pounds. It is
so remarkably fine and elastic, that if one of these balls be
opened and cautiously held near a fire to expand, it will fill
a quilt about five feet square. Supplies of it are received
chiefly from Norway, Iceland, and the Faroe Islands, where
the birds abound. There are two kinds of it, sea-weed
down and grass down. The former is the heaviest, but not
so easily cleaned as the other.
EIDOGRAPH (etSos and ypd<£ci)), a very ingenious in¬
strument for copying drawings, either upon a reduced or an
enlarged scale, invented in 1821 by Mr Wallace, professor
of mathematics in the University of Edinburgh.
The instrument is represented in the annexed figure.
The beam, AB,
which is made of
mahogany, slides
backwards and for¬
wards in a socket,
C; and the socket
turns on a vertical
axis, supported by
the fulcrum, D,
which stands on a
table. There is a
slit in the beam,
through which the
axis of the socket
passes, so that,
when the beam
slides in the socket,
a portion of it
passes on each side
of the axis. There
are two equal
wheels, E, E, be¬
low the beam, which turn on axes that pass through pipes
fixed at A, B, near its extremities; and a steel chain passes
over the wheels as a band, by which a motion of rotation
may be communicated from the one to the other. There
E I N
Eigne are two arms, F, F, which slide in sockets along the lower
Jl face of the wheels, just under their centres; at the extre-
Einsiedeln. q. 0f one arm) there is a metal tracer, with a handle
attached to it, by which its point may be carried over the
lines in any design ; and at H, the extremity of the other
arm, there is a black-lead pencil fixed in a metal tube, which
is ground to fit exactly into a pipe, so as just to slide up or
down. In using the instrument, the pencil, in its tube, is
raised by a thread which passes over a pulley, and it de¬
scends again by a weight with which it is loaded.
From the perfect equality of the wheels, it is easy to see
that, if the arms attached to them be placed parallel in any
one position, they will retain their parallelism, although one
of the wheels, and consequently both, be turned on their
centres. Supposing, now, that BC and AC, the parts into
which the axis is divided at the centre, have any proportion
whatever to each other, if the distances of the tracing point
G, and pencil point H, from the centres of their wheels,
have the very same proportion, then it follows, from the
elements of geometry, that the tracing point G, the centre
C, and the pencil point H, will be in a straight line ; and
further, that CG and CH, the distance of these points from
the centre, will have to each other the constant proportion
of CB to CA, or of PIG to AH. Such being the geome¬
trical property of the eidograph, if the subject to be copied
be fixed to the table on which the instrument stands, and
the tracing point be carried over every line of the design,
the pencil point will trace a copy in all respects similar to
the original. To facilitate the adjustment of the instru¬
ment, so that the copy may have any given ratio to the
original, there are scales of equal parts on the beam and the
two arms; by these and verniers, both halves of the beam,
and equal lengths on the arms, are each divided into 1000
equal parts, and at certain intervals corresponding numbers
are marked on them. By means of the scales, when any
ratio is assigned, the adjustment is made without the least
difficulty. To avoid any derangement by the chain slipping
on the wheels, there are clamps at K and K, which hold it
fast to the wheels at points where it never quits them. They
are slackened when the instrument is adjusted. (See also
Pantograph, and Platometer.)
EIGNE (Norman aisne), eldest; an epithet used in law
to denote the eldest son.
EILAU-PREUSSISCH, a town of Prussia, province of
East Prussia, government of Konigsberg, and 22 miles S.S.E.
of the town of that name. It is chiefly celebrated for the
victory gained there by the French over the united Prussian
and Russian armies on 8th February 1807. Pop. (1849)
2778.
EILENBURG, a town in the Prussian province of
Saxony, government of Merseburg and circle of Delitzsch,
situated on an island in the Mulde, 9 miles N.E. of Leipzig.
Pop. (1849) 9754, chiefly engaged in the manufacture of
cotton and in calico-printing. It is surrounded by walls,
and has an old castle now in ruins. Large quantities of
hops are grown in the vicinity.
EIMBECK, or Einbeck, a town of Hanover, capital of
the principality of Grubenhagen, in the landrost of Hildes-
heim on the lime, 39 miles S. by E. of Hanover. Pop.
about 5700. It is inclosed by old walls and ditches, and
is generally ill-built and dirty. Alexander’s church con¬
tains numerous monuments of the dukes of Grubenhagen.
Eimbeck was formerly celebrated for its beer, and it still has
some breweries; but the chief manufactures are linen and
woollen stuffs, stockings, leather, and chemical products. It
has an active trade in flax and agricultural produce.
EINSIEDELN, a market-town of Switzerland, canton
of Schwitz, on the Sihl, 9 miles N.N.E. of Schwitz. Pop.
sbout 5000. Above the town, on a naked plain 3000 feet
above the level of the sea, stands the famous Benedictine
Abbey of Einsiedeln. It was founded in 906, but has been
E I S 519
several times rebuilt, the present edifice dating from 1719. Eisenach
The building is in the modern Italian style, but is more II
remarkable for size than for architectural beauty. It has Etsleben.
many spacious apartments, a library of 26,000 volumes, a
museum, and a marble chapel with an image of the Virgin.
The treasury was plundered by the French in 1798. Nu¬
merous pilgrims, not only from Switzerland but also from
other countries, annually resort to this abbey, particularly on
the 14th September. The annual average is about 150,000;
and within a fortnight in 1834 no fewer than 36,000 pilgrims
repaired to the shrine. The town contains about 50 or
60 inns, chiefly for the reception of pilgrims. Paracelsus
was born here; and Zuinglius was for some time curate
of Einsiedeln.
EISENACH, a principality of Germany, forming part of
the possessions of the grand duke of Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach.
It consists of one principal and several detached portions,
the former being bounded on the N. by Prussian Saxony, E.
by Saxe-Gotha and Saxe-Meiningen, S. by Bavaria, and W.
by Hesse-Cassel. This principality was formerly an inde¬
pendent possession; but on tbe death of the last duke in
1741, it fell by succession to the dukes of Saxe-Weimar, of
whose dominions it now forms a circle. It has an area of
466 square miles, and in 1853 had 82,321 inhabitants. The
general character of the soil is mountainous, and the grain
produced is not equal to the wants of the inhabitants.
Eisenach, the capital of the above principality, is situ¬
ated at the confluence of the Horsel and Nesse, 42 miles
W. of Weimar. Pop., including suburbs, about 10,000.
The town is surrounded by walls, and is clean and well-built.
It has a handsome ducal palace, several churches and hos¬
pitals, a town-hall, library, mint, gymnasium, normal school,
and school for foresters. The chief manufactures are wool¬
len, linen, and cotton goods, soap, white lead, and leather.
About a mile and a half S. of the town is the celebrated
castle of Wartburg—once the residence of the landgraves
of Thuringia—in which Luther was confined for ten months,
after his return from Worms, under the friendly arrest of
the Elector of Saxony. The chapel in which he preached,
and the cell which he occupied, have been carefully pre¬
served.
EISENBERG, or Eisenburg, a town of Germany,
duchy of Saxe-Altenburg, and 20 miles W. of Altenburg.
It stands on a height not far from the Saale, is surrounded
by walls, and has a castle with an observatory, a town-hall,
and hospital. Manufactures—porcelain, ribbons, &c. Pop.
4800.
EISENSTADT, a free royal town of Hungary, county
of Oedenburg, on the frontiers of Austria, 26 miles S.E. of
Vienna. Pop. 5700. The town consists of three principal
streets, and is surrounded by walls with two gates. It con¬
tains the splendid palace of the prince of Esterhazy, built
by Prince Paul Palatine of Hungary, in 1683, but altered
and enlarged in 1805. The interior is tastefully fitted up,
and the banqueting-hall is capable of accommodating 1000
persons. The park is large, rising in terraces, and orna¬
mented with temples and cascades. It has a large orangery,
containing 400 orange trees, and conservatories with about
70,000 species of exotic plants. The Franciscan monastery
contains the burial vault of the Esterhazy family. On the
north of the town are extensive zoological gardens.
EISLEBEN, a town in the Prussian province of Saxony,
government of Merseburg, and circle of Mannsfeld, 20 miles
W.N.W. of Merseburg. Pop. (1849) 9481. It consists of
an old and a new town (the former being surrounded with
walls and ditches), besides several suburbs. It has an old
castle, and several churches, of which St Andrew’s contains
the pulpit from which Luther preached ; a gymnasium, and
two hospitals. In the vicinity are extensive copper and silver
mines, which afford employment to a large portion of the
inhabitants. Eisleben is celebrated as the birth-place of
520
E K R
Eisteddfod Martin Luther. The house in which he was born has been
|| rebuilt, and is now used as a charity school.
Ekron, EISTEDDFOD (Welsh, from eistedd, to sit), the name
o-iven to the assemblies or sessions of the Welsh bards, at
which poets and minstrels contended for prizes after the
manner of the ancient Greeks. These meetings were dis¬
continued after the year 1568 ; but the old custom has been
revived of late, and annual meetings for the recitation of
prize poems and performances on the harp are now held
under this name. (See Pennant’s Tour in Wales)
EJECTMENT, in Law, a writ or action which lies for
the recovery of possession of land from which the owner
has been ejected, and for trial of tb’e. Ejectment may also
be brought by the lessor against tne lessee, for rent in ar¬
rears, or for holding over his term; also by the lessee for
years who has been ejected before the expiration of his
term.
EKATERINEBURG, the chief town of a cognominal
circle, in the government of Perm, Asiatic Russia. It is
situated on the river Iset, at the foot of the E. declivity of
the Ural Mountains. This town was founded by Peter the
Great in 1723, and is regularly built and fortified. It is
the seat of a mining administration for the district, and has
a mint, museum of mineralogy, mining school, extensive
foundries and forges, and works for the cutting and polish¬
ing of precious stones. Being on the high road from Russia
to Siberia, this place enjoys a considerable transit trade.
Pop. (1851) 15,852, almost wholly employed in the mines,
and in the working of metals.
EKATERINOSLAV, or Jekaterinoslav, a govern¬
ment in the south of European Russia, bounded on the N.
by the governments of Poltava, Kharkov, and Voronez, E.
by the territory of the Don Cossacks, S. by the sea of Azoph
and the government of Taurida, and W. by the government
of Kherson. The district of Taganrog, and the territory of
the Azovian Cossacks belonging to this government, are
separated from it by the territory of the Don Cossacks, and
extend along the N.E. shores of the sea of Azoph. The
area and population are as follows:—
Area in Sq. Miles. Pop. in 1340.
Ekaterinoslav  23,734 787,200
Taganrog  1,680 76,900
Azovian Cossacks  116 6,000
Elatea.
25,530
870,100
The population consists of Russians and Cossacks, with
a considerable admixture of German colonists and other
races. About two-thirds of the surface consist of an open
steppe or plain without trees, and only adapted to pasturage.
This is particularly the case with that large portion lying to
the E. of the Dnieper; to the W. of that river the soil is
much more fertile. The inhabitants are chiefly pastoral, and
possess immense numbers of horses, cattle, sheep, hogs,
goats, &c. They also devote some attention to bees and
silkworms. The grain produced is scarcely sufficient for
home consumption. The other productions are hemp, flax,
peas, beans, vegetables, and fruits.
Ekaterinoslav, the capital of the above government, is
situated on the right bank of the Dnieper, immediately be¬
low the Cataracts, in N. Lat. 48. 27. 20., E. Long. 35. 5. 53.
The first stone of the town was laid by the Empress Cathe¬
rine II. in 1787. It is laid out on a regular plan with broad
rectangular streets, but is still far from being completely
filled up. Pop. (1851) 12,117. It is the seat of an arch¬
bishop, and has an ecclesiastical seminary, gymnasium, and
manufactures of woollens and silks.
EKRON, the principal and most northerly of the five Phi¬
listine states, was originally assigned to Judah, although after¬
wards apparently given to Dan. It was the station of the
ark when taken by the Philistines. Eusebius and Jerome
describe the village as lying between Azotus and Jamnia. It
E L A
is incidentally noticed in the history of the Crusades under Elseothe-
the name Accaron ; and has been identified by Robinson S1“m
with a small Moslem village, five miles south of Ramleh
and now called Akri.
ELiEOTHESIUM, the anointing apartment in the an¬
cient gymnasia and baths. See Baths, and Gymnasium.
ELAINE, the name given by Chevreul to the thin oily
principle of fats and oils. See Chemistry.
ELAM (Elymais), a country frequently mentioned in
Scripture, but not very definitely marked out either by the
sacred writers or by the ancient geographers. It was peopled
originally by a Semitic tribe descended from Elam, whence
its name. In Scripture it is generally connected with Media,
and the Elamites are described among the nations of the
Persian empire, while Susa is said by Daniel to lie on the
river Ulai (Eulasus or Choaspes), in the province of Elam.
It thus seems to have formed a part of the ancient Susiana
—the modern Khusistan—which was bounded E. by Persia
Proper (ancient Persis, modern Ears), W. by Babylonia (the
Arabian Irak), N. by Media, and S. by the Persian Gulf.
By the classical geographers Elymais is generally distin¬
guished from Susiana. The Elymaei and Kissi formed the
ancient population not only of this province, butalso of Persia,
whence, under Elam, the sacred writers often include the
country of the Persians in general. Along with the Uxii,
the Kissi, and the Cossaei, who inhabited the neighbouring dis¬
tricts, the Elymaei were renowned for their skill in archery ;
and from the days of Chedorlaomer, the contemporary of
Abraham, they were frequently the terror of the world. The
prophecy of Jeremiah (xlix. 30-34), that they would be de¬
stroyed by the Chaldaeans, received its fulfilment when
Nebuchadnezzar subjected Western Asia to his dominions,
and his successor Belshazzar established his throne at Susa,
the capital of Elam.
ELAPHEBOLIA, in Grecian Antiquity, a festival in
honour of Diana the huntress. The offering on this occa¬
sion was a cake made in the form of a deer (eAa<^os.) This
festival was instituted, it is said, to commemorate a victory
obtained by the Phocians over the Thessalians, under the
following circumstances: The Phocians, reduced to extre¬
mity by the Thessalians, had resolved, rather than to sub¬
mit to the enemy, to raise a pile of combustibles, and to
burn their wives, children, and effects. This resolution was
approved of by the women ; but when all was prepared, the
Phocians once more engaged the enemy, and utterly routed
them. (Plutarch, De Mul. Virt.; Paus. x. 35; Athen. xv.)
ELAPHEBOLION, in Grecian Antiquity, the ninth
month of the Athenian year, corresponding nearly to our
March. It consisted of thirty days, and took its name from
the festival Elaphebolia, observed in this month in honour
of Diana the huntress. See Elaphebolia.
ELAPS, a genus of poisonous snakes. See Serpents.
ELASTICITY, or Elastic Force, that inherent pro¬
perty in bodies by which they recover their original figure
after any force which has disturbed it is withdrawn. Elas¬
ticity is generally accounted for by the great law of attrac¬
tion. Thus, when a hard body is struck or bent, so that
the component, parts are moved a little from each other, but
not so far as to overcome the power of the attractive force
by which they cohere, they necessarily, on the cessation of
that external force, return to their former state. All hard
bodies are elastic, as steel, glass, and ivory, and many soft
ones, as caoutchouc, silk thread, &c. The great elasticity
of air is a familiar fact. Liquids are also perfectly elastic,
but in the smallest degree.
ELATEA, in Ancient Geography, an important town
and military stronghold of Phocis, situated in the valley of
the Cephissus, on the southern slope of Mount Chemis. By
the Athenians Elatea was regarded as the key of southern
Greece; and it was its seizure by Philip in 338 b.c., that
opened the eyes of that people to the real designs of the
E L B
Elaterium Macedonian prince. The town remained faithful to its con¬
querors, till with the rest of the Greeks they succumbed to
Elbe, the arms of Rome. Considerable Hellenic remains have
1 been discovered at the small village of Lefta, which occupies
the site of Elatea.
ELATERIUM (iXavveiv, to stimulate), a drastic purga¬
tive medicine, prepared from the wild cucumber. It is
chiefly used in the treatment of dropsy.
ELATH, a city of Idumaea. See Akabaii.
ELBA, called Ilya by the Romans, and ^Ethalia by
the Greeks, an island in the Mediterranean Sea lying off the
promontory of Populonium, at about equal distances from
Corsica and the Italian mainland, though somewhat nearer
the latter. Its outline is extremely irregular, and its sides
are indented by numerous inlets and arms of the sea, re¬
ducing its breadth in some places to about 3 miles. The
extreme length of the island is about 18 miles ; its extreme
breadth about 12 miles ; and its area about 150 miles. The
whole length of the island is occupied by a mountain range,
one peak of which (that of Capanna) rises to the height of
about 3500 feet above the sea. The mountains of this
range, though themselves barren, inclose valleys of con¬
siderable fertility. Vines, olives, and mulberries, grow in
large quantities in the island, which also produces wheat,
Indian corn, and vegetables in abundance. Some of the
wine produced in Elba is of excellent quality, and a con¬
siderable quantity of it is annually exported. * The smaller
domestic animals thrive well and are very numerous in the
island; but the larger kinds, such as oxen and horses, are
somewhat scarce. The fisheries off the coast are important.
The iron mines of Elba in modern as in ancient times
are extremely valuable. The great facility with which the
metal is worked, and the abundance in which it is found,
render these mines among the most valuable of their kind
in the world. The ore is dug from a hill, 500 feet high
and nearly 2 miles in circumference, which is itself almost
entirely one mass of ore. When smelted, it is found to
contain on an average about 60 per cent, of pure iron.
Fuel on the island is very scarce; and the ore is conse¬
quently conveyed on shipboard to the adjoining mainland to
be smelted. The total quantity of iron ore annually ex¬
tracted amounts to nearly 20,000 tons, giving employment
to 130 miners. The salt mines of Elba are hardly inferior in
celebrity to the iron ones. About 4,000,000 lbs. are annually
produced, giving employment to about 100 workmen. Be¬
sides Porto Ferrajo, the capital, and the town of Porto
Longone, Elba contains no town of any size or importance.
Campo, Capo Liveri, Marciana, and Rio are mere villages
or fishing stations. In ancient history the name of Elba
very rarely occurs; and in modern times it is chiefly memor¬
able as having been the residence of the Emperor Napoleon
after his first abdication from May 1814 till February 1815.
FYom that time till the present Elba has been an appanage
of the grand duchy of Tuscany. Pop. (1854) 21,559.
ELBE (the Albis of the ancients), a large river of Ger¬
many, which rises in the Biesen Gebirge, or Giant’s Moun¬
tains, between Silesia and Bohemia, and is known at its
source by the Sclavonic name of the Labbe. Its principal
sources are the White Fountain, at the base of the Schnee-
Kuppe, and the eleven fountains of the Elbe in the Nava-
rian meadow. To the number of streams which descend
into Bohemia from the neighbouring mountains it owes its
early increase. After its junction with the river Eger, it
becomes navigable; and, entering Saxony, it passes suc¬
cessively Dresden, Meissen, Torgau, and Wittenberg. In
its course, which is northerly, it receives as tributaries
the Muldau and the Saale ; and running through the ter¬
ritory of Magdeburg and the duchies of Mecklenburg and
Launburg, it discharges itself at last into the German Ocean,
about 70 miles below Hamburg, after a course of 500 miles.
The Elbe has always been an important river in a military
vol. vm.
E L B 521
point of view. With respect to commerce, it is of inesti- Elberfeld.
mable value to the countries of N.W. and central Germany,
being the channel by which they export their surplus pro¬
ducts and receive their imports from abroad. It gives to
Hamburg its command of the navigation far into the in¬
terior, although the voyage is difficult on account of the
numerous sand-banks with which the estuary and the rivers
are encumbered. It communicates with the Flavel by the
canal of Plauen, in the territory of Magdeburg; and at
Hamburg it is connected in like manner with the Trave at
Lubeck. It is also joined to the Weser by a canal running
between Vegesak and Stade. By the railway from Leit-
meritz to Vienna it communicates with the Danube; and
the other railways that touch upon other quarters of the
river supply channels for distributing merchandise through
the various districts which they traverse.
About 40 miles from its source, the elevation of the river
above the level of the sea is only 658 feet; at Schandau it
is 341 feet; at Dresden, 279 feet; and at Arneburg in
Brandenburg only 176 feet.
Formerly 3 entrepots (Pirna, Dresden, and Magdeburg)
and 35 tolls, and numerous corporations of privileged water¬
men, opposed almost insurmountable difficulties to the navi¬
gation : the Austrians and the Saxons could alone navigate
the Upper Elbe, that is, from Magdeburg to where it ceases
to be navigable, and the Prussians and Hamburgers had
the sole privilege of navigating the Lower Elbe. But the
navigation of the river w as definitively regulated by a con¬
vention concluded on the 13th June 182i, between all the
bordering states, viz., Austria, Saxony, Prussia, Hanover.
Denmark (for Holstein and Lauenburg), the grand duchy
of Mecklenburg-Schweren, and the three principalities of
Anhalt. This convention established the principle of free
navigation, allowing every merchant, to whatever bordering
state he might belong, with his own vessel and crew to
navigate the w hole course of the river without interruption ;
the 35 tolls were reduced to 14; the heavy dues which were
levied upon goods of the first necessity were reduced to
those which are paid, one for the cargo {Elbe Toll), and the
other for the ship {Recognitionsgelnihr); and each state was
bound to watch over the portion of river which passed
through their territories, and to preserve it from every¬
thing injurious to the commerce or navigation. But not¬
withstanding these regulations, merchants are still exposed
to vexatious burdens and interruptions. Wood,stones, fruits,
and earthenware, are the principal articles that are, brought
down the Elbe. Corn, salt, and colonial produce are the
principal articles which are carried up, and on these the
greater part of the duties are levied.
Numerous steam-boats now traverse the Elbe, and com¬
municate between that river and London, Rotterdam,
Havre, &c.
ELBERFELD, a large manufacturing town of Rhenish
Prussia, in the government of Dusseldorf, and 19 miles E.
of the town of that name. It is situated in a narrow valley
on both sides of the Wapper, and on the Dusseldorf and
Dortmund railway. The town is long and straggling, with
streets irregular and narrow, and altogether it has a very
dirty and unprepossessing appearance. The river too being
the receptacle of all the sewers, and the refuse of the dye-
works and factories, instead of improving the appearance,
adds to the unseemliness of the town. Some of the newer
parts of the town, however, are to be excepted from this
general description. The town-hall and the new Roman
Catholic church are the handsomest buildings in the place.
It has numerous educational institutions—among which are
the gymnasium and the trade school {Gewerbschule),—a
general infirmary, two orphan asylums, museum, and library.
Elberfeld may be said to have taken its rise almost within *
the present century. In 1817 its population was only 15,681,
while in 1851 it amounted to 39,944. It is at present one of
3 u
522 E L C
Blbeuf he first manufacturing and commercial towns in Germany.
|| The great articles of manufacture are silks and cottons, but
Elchingen. iinen and woollen goods are also made. There are also
extensive bleachfields and dye-works. For the dyeing of
Turkey red Elberfeld stands unrivalled; and large quantities
of yarn are annually sent from Glasgow and other places
in the United Kingdom to be dyed, and are again imported
to be wrought up.
ELBEUF or Elbceuf, a large manufacturing town of
France, in the department of Seine-Inferieure, on the left
bank of the Seine, 12 miles S.S.W. of Rouen. The town
is generally ill-built, although many improvements have
recently been made. The only public buildings worthy ot
notice are the churches of St Etienne and St Jean-Baptiste ;
in the latter of which is a stained glass window, presented
by the cloth manufacturers of the town about the year 1466,
and representing various implements of their craft. Elbeui
bas been long celebrated for its woollen manufactures, and
is at present the chief seat of that branch of industry in
France. Pop. 16,010 ; more than two-thirds of whom, and
also about 2000 of the inhabitants of neighbouring com¬
munes, are employed in the manufactures.
ELBING, a fortified seaport-town in the Prussian pro¬
vince of Prussia, government of Danzig, and capital of a
cognominal circle on the Elbing, 4 miles from where it
flows into the Frische Haff, and 36 miles E.S.E. of Danzig.
Pop. (1849) 21,637. The town is surrounded by old walls
flanked with towers, and by ditches. It is divided into an
old and new town, and has seven gates and eleven suburbs.
In the old town the streets are narrow and the houses lofty,
but the new town is generally well-built. Elbing has a
Roman Catholic, a Calvinist, and five Lutheran churches,
a synagogue, six hospitals, orphan and other asylums, a
gymnasium, and a library. This town is indebted to
Richard Cowle, an Englishman who lived there for some
time previous to 1820, for several of its charitable institu¬
tions, among which is a school of industry for the main¬
tenance of 400 children. Elbing was founded about the
year 1237, and formerly was one of the most important
members of the Hanseatic League. It was united to the
Prussian dominions in 1772. The chief manufactures are
sail-cloth, leather, tobacco, soap, oil, vitriol, pearl ash, starch,
chicory, refined sugar, and woollen cloth. The trade is
very considerable ; but only small vessels can come up to
the town, larger ones being obliged to discharge their car¬
goes at Pillau, at the mouth of the Frische Haff.
ELCESAITES, a Jewish-Gnostic sect who branched
off from the Essenes about the time of Trajan. They seem
to have derived their name from Elcesai their founder. In
their creed they confounded Judaism, Paganism, and Chris¬
tianity. They rejected the Pentateuch and the Pauline
Epistles. They believed their founder had the power of
forgiving sin, and observed the Old Testament ceremonial.
In the second century they were blended with the Ebionites.
ELCHE, the ancient Ilici, a town of Spain, province
of Alicante, and 13 miles S.W. of the town of that name.
Pop. 15,649. The town, which has a very oriental appear¬
ance, being built in the Moorish style, is surrounded by
walls, and divided by a ravine over which there is a hand¬
some bridge. The principal church is a fine edifice, sur¬
mounted by a majestic dome. There is a magnificent old
castle belonging to the Duke of Arcos, on whose estate the
town is built. Elcbe has manufactures of coarse linen and
cotton goods. The town is surrounded on all sides by
extensive plantations of date palms, the fruit of which
constitutes its chief article of export, and is shipped from
Alicante as Barbary dates. This is the birthplace of Don
George Juan, the travelling companion of Ulloa in South
America.
ELCHINGEN, a small village of Bavaria, on the N.
bank of the Danube, 7 miles N.W. from Ulm. Here the
E L E
French under Ney (Oct. 14, 1805) succeeded in forcing Elder
the Austrian position ; for which service Ney was rewarded II,
with the title of Duke of Elchingen. Affinity*
ELDER, a title of office among the Jews, first applied v
to the seventy who assisted Moses in the government. In
the New Testament it is equivalent to the term presbyter,
and is applied to the highest ecclesiastical office-bearers
under the apostles. In Presbyterian churches, elders are
of two classes, viz., those who only rule in the church, and
those who teach as well as rule. In popular phraseology
the term elder is applied only to the former class. See
Presbyterians.
ELDORADO (Span, t/ie Golden Region), the.name
given by Orellana, the lieutenant of Pizarro, to a region
which he pretended to have discovered in South America,
and which he thus named on account of the immense trea¬
sures of gold and precious stones he asserted that he had
seen at Manoa, die capital of the country. From this fiction,
the word Eldorado has become a proverbial term for a region
of boundless wealth and felicity, like the Elysium of the
ancients, or the paradise of Mohammed.
ELEAZAR, the eldest son of Aaron. He succeeded
his father in the high-priesthood, and held the pontificate
during the military government of Joshua. This was also
the name of one of the Maccabaean brothers, who was crushed
to death by the fall of an elephant which he had stabbed in
the belief that it carried Antiochus Eupator.
ELEATIC Philosophy, among the ancients, a name
given to that of the Stoics, because it was taught at ’EAea,
(in Latin Velio), a town of Lucania.
The founder of this philosophy, or of the Eleatic sect, is
supposed to have been Xenophanes, who flourished between
b.c. 540 and 500. This sect was divided into two parties,
which may be denominated metaphysical and physical, the
one rejecting and the other approving the appeal to fact
and experiment. Of the former persuasion were Xenophanes,
Parmenides, Melissus, and Zeno of Elea. They are sup¬
posed to have maintained principles not very unlike those
of Spinoza: they held the eternity and immutability of the
world; that whatever existed was only one being; that
there was neither generation nor corruption ; that this one
being was immoveable and immutable, and was God; and
that whatever changes seemed to happen in the universe
were to be looked upon as mere appearances and illusions
of sense. However, it is supposed by some that Xenophanes
and his followers, speaking metaphysically, understood by
the universe, or the one being, not the material world, but
the great originating principle of all things, or the true God,
whom they expressly affirm to be incorporeal. Thus Sim¬
plicius represents them as merely metaphysical writers who
distinguished between things natural and supernatural, and
who supposed the former to be compounded of different
principles. Accordingly, Xenophanes maintained that the
earth consisted of air and fire; that all things were pro¬
duced from the earth ; that the sun and stars sprung from
clouds ; and that there were four elements. Parmenides
also distinguished between the doctrine concerning meta¬
physical objects, called truth, and that concerning physical
or corporeal things, called opinion. With respect to the
former, there was one immoveable principle; but in the
latter, two that w'ere moveable, namely, fire and earth, or
heat and cold: and in these particulars Zeno agreed with
him. The other bi’anch of the Eleatic sect, the Atomic
philosophers, formed their system from observing the phe¬
nomena of nature: of these the most considerable were
Leucippus, Democritus, and Protagoras.
ELECAMPANE, {Inula Helenium, Lin.) a perennial
plant of a bitter aromatic taste ; formerly much used as an
expectorant.
ELECTION, in British polity. See Parliament.
ELECTIVE Affinity. See Chemistry.
523
ELECTS ICITY.
Introduc- Electricity, from the Greek word jjAixrgo^ electron,
tion. amber, is the name given to a modern science which treats
0f the phenomena and effects produced by the friction of
amber, and other bodies which possess analogous properties.
The science of Electricity, in its most general accep¬
tation, may be divided into four different branches, viz.
I. Ordinary Electricity, or that which is developed by
friction.
II. Galvanism, or that which is produced by chemical
action.
III. Magneto-Electricity, or that which is developed by
magnets; and
IV. Thermo-Electricity, or that which is developed by
heat.
Under these four articles we shall be able, not only to
give a perspicuous and condensed view of those splendid
discoveries which have illustrated the present age, but to
render our account of them much more complete than if
we had treated the subject under the titles of Electro¬
magnetism and Galvanism, which occur so early in our al¬
phabetical arrangement.
In giving a succinct and popular view of the science of
Electricity in the ordinary acceptation of the word, the
subject naturally divides itself into two parts : ls£, On the
phenomena and laws of electricity; and,2c?Zy, on the instru¬
ments and apparatus used in electrical experiments. Be¬
fore we proceed, however, to these topics, we shall give
a brief history of the origin and progress of the science.
HISTORY OF ELECTRICITY.
Thales, The name of the philosopher who first observed that
d. c. 600. amber when rubbed possesses the property of attracting
and repelling light bodies has not been handed down to
our times. Thales of Miletus is said to have described
this remarkable property, and both Theophrastus (b. c.
321) and Pliny (a. d. 70) mention the power of amber to
attract straws and dry leaves. The same authors speak of
the lapis lyncurius, which is supposed to be a mineral call¬
ed tourmaline, as possessing the same property.
Animal The electricity of the torpedo was also known to the
electricity-ancients. Pliny informs us, that when touched by a spear
it paralyses the muscles and arrests the feet, however
swift; and Aristotle adds that it possesses the power of
benumbing men, as well as the fishes which serve for its
prey. The influence of electricity on the human body,
and the electricity of the human body itself, were also
known in ancient times. Anthero, a freedman of Tiberius,
was cured of the gout by the shocks of the torpedo ; and
Wolimer, the king of the Goths, was able to emit sparks
from his own body.
a. i). 415. Eustathius, who records this fact, also states that a cer¬
tain philosopher, while dressing and undressing, emitted
occasionally sudden crackling sparks, while at other times
flames blazed from him without burning his clothes.
Such are the scanty gleanings of electrical knowledge
which we derive from the ancient philosophy ; and though
several writers of the middle ages have made occasional
references to these facts, and even attempted to speculate
upon them, yet they added nothing to the science, and
left an open field for the researches ofmodern philosophers.
Our countryman Dr Gilbert of Colchester may there- History,
fore be considered as the founder of the science of elec- v—
tricity, as he appears to have been the first philosopher Gilbert,
who carefully repeated the observations of the ancients, A‘u‘
and applied to them the principles of philosophical inves¬
tigation. In order to determine if other bodies possessed
the same property as amber, he balanced a light metallic
needle on a pivot, and observed whether or not it was af¬
fected by causing the excited or rubbed body to approach
to it. In this way he discovered that the following bo¬
dies possess the property of attracting light substances:
Amber, gugates or jet, diamond, sapphire, carbuncle,
rock crystal, opal, amethyst, vincentina or Bristol stone,
beryl, crystal, paste for false gems, glass of antimony,
flags, belemnites, sulphur, gum-mastic, sealing- wax of lac,
hard resin, arsenic, sal gem, mica, and alum.
These various bodies attracted, with different degrees of
force, not only straws and light films, but likewise metals,
stones, earths, wood, leaves, thick smoke, and all solid and
fluid bodies. Among the substances which are not ex¬
cited by friction, Gilbert enumerated emerald, agate, car-
nelian, pearls, jasper, chalcedony, alabaster, porphyry, co¬
ral, marble, Lydian stone, flints, haematites, mugris {emery
or corundum), bones, ivory, hard woods, such as cedar,
ebony, juniper, and cypress, metals and natural magnets.
Having thus determined the bodies which were capa¬
ble, as well as those which were incapable, of electrical
excitation, Dr Gilbert was desirous of ascertaining the
circumstances which were most favourable to the produc¬
tion of electricity. When the wind blew from the north
and east, and when the air was dry, the body was excited
in about ten minutes after the friction commenced; but
when the wind was in the south, and the air moist, the
attractive power of the body was greatly diminished, and
in some cases it could not be excited at all.
The celebrated Mr Boyle added many new facts to the Boyle,
science of electricity, and he has given a full account of a. d. 1675.
them in his Experiments on the Origin of Electricity. By
means of a suspended needle, he discovered that amber
retained its attractive virtue after the friction which ex¬
cited it had ceased; and though smoothness of surface
had been regarded as advantageous for excitation, yet he
found a diamond which in its rough state exceeded all the
polished ones and all the electrics which he had tried,
having been able to move a needle three minutes after he
had ceased to rub it. He found also that heat and ter-
sion (or the cleaning or wiping of any body) increased its
susceptibility of excitation ; and that if the attracted body
were fixed, and the attracting body moveable, their mutual
approach would still take place. To Dr Gilbert’s list of
electrics Mr Boyle added the resinous cake which remain¬
ed after evaporating one fourth part of good oil of turpen¬
tine ; the dry mass which remains after distilling a mix¬
ture of petroleum and strong spirit of nitre, glass of anti¬
mony, glass of lead, caput mortuum of amber, white sap¬
phire, white amethyst, diaphanous ore of lead, carnelian,
and a green stone supposed''to be a sapphire.
To these discoveries of Mr Boyle, his illustrious con- Otto Gue-
temporary Otto Guericke added the highly important onericke, born
of electric light. Having cast a globe of sulphur in a glass died
sphere, the glass was broken, and the sulphur ball mount-
ed upon a revolving axis, and excited by the friction of
1 According to Salmasius, the word karabe, the Arabian word for amber, signifies the power of attracting straws. May not nXix.-
Tgo'j (ikiKT^iuvoi Xitioi) come from iXxu, to draw or attract, and a or filament, or ^/av, a leaf ?
524
ELECTRICITY.
History.
Newton,
born 1642,
died 1727.
the hand. By this means he discovered that light and
sound accompanied strong electrical excitation, and he
compares the light to that which is exhibited by breaking
lump sugar in the dark. With this powerful apparatus
Guericke verified on a greater scale the results obtained
by his predecessors, and obtained several new ones of very
considerable importance. He found that a light body,
when once attracted by an excited electric, was repelled
by it, and was incapable of a second attraction until it had
been touched by some other body; and that light bodies
suspended within the sphere of influence of an excited
electric, possessed the same properties as if they had
been excited.
To our illustrious countryman Sir Isaac Newton the
science of electricity owes some important observations.
He seems to have been the first person who constructed
an electrical machine of glass. “ A globe of glass,” says
he, “ about eight or ten inches in diameter, being put
into a frame where it may be swiftly turned round its
axis, will in turning shine when it rubs against the palm
of one’s hand applied to it; and if at the same time a
piece of white paper or a white cloth, or the end of one’s
finger, be held at the distance of about a quarter of an
inch or half an inch from that part of the glass when it is
most in motion, the electric vapour which is excited by
the friction of the glass against the hand will, by dashing
against the white paper, cloth, or finger, be put into such
an agitation as to emit light, and make the white paper,
cloth, or finger, appear lurid like a glow-worm, and in
rushing out of the glass will sometimes push against the
finger so as to be felt. And the same things have been
found by rubbing a long and large cylinder of glass and
amber with a paper held in one’s hand, and continuing
the friction till the glass grew warm.”1 We owe also to
Sir Isaac a beautiful experiment on the excitation of elec¬
tricity on the side of a disc of glass opposite to the side
which was rubbed. Having fixed a round disc of glass at
the distance of one third of an inch from one end of a
brass hoop or ring, and one eighth of an inch from ano¬
ther, he placed small pieces of thin paper within the brass
ring and upon a table, so that the lower surface of the glass
was one eighth of an inch distant from the table. He then
rubbed the upper surface of the glass, and he observed
the pieces of paper “ leap from one part of the glass to
the other, and twirl about in the air.” Upon sliding his
finger upon the upper side of the glass, he also observed
that the pieces of paper, as they hung under the glass, in¬
clined this way or that according as he moved his finger.
The Royal Society had ordered this experiment to be tried
at their meeting of the 16th December 1675; and, in or¬
der to ensure its success, had obtained the above account
of it from Sir Isaac. The experiment however failed, and
the secretary requested the loan of Sir Isaac’s apparatus,
and inquired whether or not he had secured the papers
from being moved by the air which might have somewhere
stolen in. In Sir Isaac’s reply, dated 21st December, he
recommended them to rub the glass “ with stuff whose
threads may rake its surface, and if that will not do, to
rub it with the finger ends to and fro, and knock them as
often upon the glass.” By means of these directions, the
society succeeded with the experiment on the 13th Janu¬
ary 1676, when they used “a scrubbing brush of short
hog’s bristles, and the heft of a knife made with whale¬
bone.”2
Hawksbee, Mr Francis Hawksbee, one of the most active and ingeni-
a. d. 1705. ous experimental philosophers of his age, added many new
facts to the science. In 1705 he communicated to the
Royal Society several curious experiments on what he calls History.
“ the mercurial phosphorus.” He showed that light coul-d
be produced by passing common air through mercury placed
in a well-exhausted receiver. The air rushing through
the mercury, blew it up against the sides of the glass that
held it, “ appearing all around like a body of fire, consist¬
ing of abundance of glowing globules.” The phenomenon
continued till the receiver was half full of air. When the
mercury was made to descend in vacuo from the top to
the bottom of a receiver about twenty-one inches high, it
fell in minute particles, “ like a shower of fire, in a very
surprising manner.” In repeating this experiment with
about three pounds of mercury, and making it break into
a shower by dashing it against the crown of another glass
vessel, flashes resembling lightning, of a very pale colour,
and very distinguishable from the rest of the produced
light, were dashed from the crown of the glass, sometimes
horizontally, and at other times upwards and downwards.
Mr Hawksbee likewise showed that considerable light may
be produced from mercury, by giving it motion before the
receiver was quite exhausted ; and that even in the open
air “ abundance of particles of light are discoverable by
shaking quicksilver in a glass.”
In a subsequent series of experiments on the attraction
of bodies in vacuo, he showed that light was generated
by the swift attrition of amber on woollen; that a purple
light was produced by the attrition of glass on woollen;
and that a considerable light was developed by the attri¬
tion of glass on glass in vacuo, and in common air, or under
water. During the attrition of glass on woollen, Hawks¬
bee “ observed the light to break from the agitated glass
. in as strange a form as lightning',' particularly when he
used some list of cloth that had been drenched in spirit of
wine. In all these experiments Hawksbee was not aware
that the light which he observed was that of electricity.
Like Sir Isaac Newton, Hawksbee used a glass globe
capable of revolving in a wooden frame, and by its assist¬
ance he made a great number of experiments, which are
not sufficiently important to be given in detail. The fol¬
lowing experiment, however, is too interesting to be omit¬
ted. Having coated more than one half of the inside of
a glass globe with sealing wax, which in some places was
an eighth of an inch thick, and therefore absolutely opaque,
he exhausted it and put it in motion. When his hand was
applied to excite it, the form of his hand was distinctly
seen in the concave surface of the wax, as if it had be¬
come transparent. The same result was obtained when
pitch or common brimstone was substituted in place of
sealing-wax.
We have already seen thgt Hawksbee observed the re¬
semblance between the electric spark and lightning. Dr
Wall went a step farther, and compared the crackling and
the flash of excited amber to thunder and lightning. The
crackling he found to be fully as loud as that of charcoal
on fire when the finger was held at a little distance from
the amber after it had been drawn gently and slightly
through a piece of woollen cloth.
One of the most ardent experimentalists of the present Mr Ste-
time was Mr Stephen Gray, a fellow of the Royal Society. Pj1011
In his first paper, published in 1720, he showed that elec- ' ''
tricity could be excited by the friction of feathers, hair,
silk, linen, woollen, paper, leather, wood, parchment, and
gold-beaters’ skin. Several of these bodies exhibited light
in the dark, especially after they had been warmed ; but
all of them attracted light bodies, and sometimes at the
distance of eight or ten inches.
The communication of electricity to bodies not capable
Optics, query 8th.
’ Brewster’s Life of Hir Isaac Newton, p. 307, 308.
ELECTRICITY.
History, of excitation was the next discovery of Mr Gray. An
ivory ball, and various other substances of a metallic, ani-
Dr Wall, ma]) anj vegetable nature, were made to attract light bo-
A D' ' ’ dies by connecting them with strings, wires, or pieces of
wood, with one extremity of an excited glass tube ; and by
suspending pack-threads of different lengths with silken
threads, he was able to transmit the electrical influence
in any direction to distances of 50, 147, 293, and finally
765 and 886 feet.
In order to determine if the electric attraction is pro¬
portioned to the quantity of matter in bodies, Mr Gray and
Mr White made two cubes of oak about six inches square,
the one solid and the other hollow. When suspended by
hair lines, and similarly electrified by an excited glass
tube, both the cubes attracted and repelled leaf brass at
the same time and to the same height. Hence Mr Gray
concluded that it was the surface of the cubes only which
attracted.
The conducting powers of fluids and of the human body
were next ascertained by Mr Gray. Having blown a soap
bubble with an electrified tobacco pipe, he found that the
lower part of the bubble attracted small pieces of Dutch
metal; and when a boy eight or nine years old, and weigh¬
ing 47 lbs., was suspended upon hair lines, he found that
every part of his body exercised a strong electrical action
upon light bodies, and hence he concluded “that animals
receive a greater quantity of electrical effluvia.” When
an excited tube was held above water or quicksilver
placed in little ivory dishes, the fluid was attracted up¬
wards into little conical mounds, accompanied with a snap¬
ping noise and a discharge of light from their summit. In
sunshine small particles of water rose from the top of the
fluid cone, and sometimes a fine stream of water like a
fountain, from which there arose a fine steam or vapour.
Hot water was attracted much more powerfully, and at a
much greater distance, and the steam was more distinct¬
ly visible. Mercury did not rise so high as the water;
but the snapping noise was louder, and continued much
longer, than when water was employed.
Mr Gray now set himself to discover “ whether there
might not be a way found to make the property of electri¬
cal attraction more permanent in bodies.” Having pro¬
cured iron ladles of several sizes, he melted the substan¬
ces given in the following table. They were then set by
in the ladle to cool and harden, and afterwards being re¬
placed on the fire so as to allow what was next the bot¬
tom and sides of the ladle to melt, the ladle was inverted,
and the substance taken out. These bodies at first would
not attract light substances till their temperature was
nearly that of a hen’s egg; but when cold they attracted
ten times farther than at first. In order to preserve these
bodies in a state of attraction, he wrapped them up in flan¬
nel or white paper or black worsted stockings, and then
put them into a large fir box till they were used. The
following is Mr Gray’s list of the electrics thus formed :—
Names.
Weight
Avoird.
Time when
made.
Fine black rosin 
Stone pitch, and black rosin.
Fine rosin and bees’ wax—
Stone pitch 
Stone sulphur 
Shell lack 
Fine black rosin  
Bees’ wax and rosin 
Rosin 4, gum lac 1 part 
10 0
10 4
9 0
10 0
Jan. 31.
Jan. 31.
Feb. 1.
Feb. 1.
Feb. 4.
Feb. 10.
Feb. 10.
Feb. 12.
Feb. 12.
525
Weight
Avoird.
02. 02.
18 0
10 12
23 0
7 12
11 14
9 12
17 8
28
19
30 0
11 4
Time when
made.
Feb. 15.
Feb. 16.
Feb. 23.
Feb. 25.
Feb. 26.
Feb. 26.
Feb. 28.
March 2.
March 20.
March 29.
April 29.
Historv.
Names.
Sulphur 
Stone pitch 
Black rosin  
White rosin 
Gum-lac 
Gum-lac and black rosin .,
Gum-lac 4, rosin 1 part....
Gum-lac, fine black rosin.
Cylinder of blue sulphur..
Large cone of ditto 
Cake of sulphur 
Mr Gray continued for thirty days to observe every one jj. Dufav,
of these bodies, and at the end of that time he found that a. n. 1733.
they attracted as vigorously as at the first or second day,
and some of them continued to preserve their attraction
for more than four months.
While Mr Gray was pursuing his career of discovery in
England, M. Dufay, of the Academy of Sciences, and su¬
perintendent of the Royal Botanic Gardens, was actively
employed in the same researches. He found that all bodies,
whether solid or fluid, could be electrified by an excited
tube, by setting them on a glass stand slightly warmed,
or only dried; and that those bodies which are in them¬
selves least electrical, received the greatest degree of elec¬
tricity from the approach of the glass tube. He found
that electricity was transmitted more easily along pack¬
thread when it was wetted, and that it might be support¬
ed upon glass tubes in place of silk lines ; and in this way
he conveyed it along a string 1256 feet long.
M. Dufay repeated Mr Gray’s experiments on the hu¬
man body, by suspending a child on silken strings; but hav¬
ing suspended himself in a similar manner, he discovered
that an electrical spark, accompanied with a crackling noise,
took place when any other person touched him, and he has
described the prickling sensation like the burning from a
spark of fire, which is at the same time felt either through
the clothes or on the skin. He found that the same effects
took place in other living animals; but that if the carcass of
an animal was suspended, there were no snippings or sparks,
but merely a still uniform light observed in the dark.
The great discovery of M. Dufay, however, was that of Vitreous
two different kinds of electricity, to which he gave the and resin-
name of vitreous and resinous, and the importance of°us electri-
which he did not fail to recognise. He has given theclt^
name of vitreous electricity to that which is produced by
exciting glass, rock crystal, precious stones, hair of ani¬
mals, wool, and many other bodies; and the name of resi¬
nous to that which is produced by exciting resinous bo¬
dies, such as amber, copal, gum-lac, silk, paper, thread,
and a number of other substances. The characteristic of
those two electricities was, that a body with vitreous elec¬
tricity attracted all bodies with resinous electricity, and
repelled all bodies with vitreous electricity ; while a body
with resinous electricity attracted all bodies with vitreous
electricity, and repelled all bodies with resinous electricity.
Two electrified silk threads, for example, repel each
other, and also two electrified woollen threads; but an
electrified silk thread will attract an electrified woollen
thread. Hence it is easy to determine whether any body
possesses vitreous or resinous electricity. If it attracts an
electrified silk thread, its electricity will be vitreous ; if it
repels it, it will be resinous. This important discovery
seems to have been made about the same time by Mr
White, by a series of independent observations.
52(5
ELECTRICITY.
History. Mr Gray repeated and varied the experiments of M.
Dufay, and made many new ones, which our limited space
will not permit us to detail. Like Hawksbee and Dr Wall,
he recognised the similarit}' between the phenomena of
electricity and those of thunder and lightning; and he ex¬
presses a hope “ that there may be found out a way to col¬
lect a greater quantity of electric fire, and consequently
to increase the force of that power, which, by several of
these experiments, si licet magnis componere parva, seems
to be of the same nature with thunder and lightning?
Labours of The discoveries which we have now recounted began
continen- to rouse the activity of the German and Dutch philoso-
tal philoso- pfigrB. To the electrical machine used by Newton and
jnu.s. Hawksbee, Professor Boze of Wittemberg added the
prime conductor, which at first consisted of an iron or tin
tube supported by a man standing upon cakes of rosin ;
but it was afterwards suspended by silken strings. Pro¬
fessor Winkler of Leipsic substituted the cushion in place
of the hand for exciting the revolving globe ; and Profes¬
sor Gordon of Erfurt, a Scotch Benedictine monk, first
used a glass cylinder, eight inches long and four broad,
which he caused to revolve by means of a bow and string.
By these means electrical sparks of great size and inten¬
sity were produced, and by their aid various combustible
substances, both fluid and solid, were inflamed. In 1744
M. Ludolph of Berlin succeeded in firing, by the electri¬
cal spark, the ethereal spirit of Frobenius. Winkler did
the same by a spark from his finger; and he succeeded
in inflaming French brandy and other weaker spirits after
they had been heated. Mr Gordon kindled spirits by a
jet of electrified water. Dr Miles inflamed phosphorus by
the electric spark; and oil, pitch, and sealing-wax, when
strongly heated, were set on fire by similar means.
Leyden These striking effects were all produced by the elec-
phial, 1745. tricity obtained immediately from an excited electric;
but a great step was now made in the science by the dis¬
covery of a method of accumulating and preserving the
electric fluid in large quantities. The author of this great
invention is not distinctly known; but there is reason to
believe that a monk of the name of Kleist, a person of the
name of Cuneus, and Professor Muschenbroeck of Leyden,
had each the merit of an independent inventor. The
invention by which this accumulation was effected was
called the Leyden Jar or Phial, because it was princi¬
pally in that city where it was either invented or tried.
Having observed that excited electrics soon.dost their
electricity in the open air, and that their loss was acce¬
lerated when the atmosphere was charged with moisture
or other conducting materials, Muschenbroeck conceived
that the electricity of bodies might be retained by sur¬
rounding them with bodies which did not conduct it. In
putting this idea to the test of experiment, they electri¬
fied some water in a glass bottle, and a communication
having been made between the water and the prime con¬
ductor, while the bottle was held by an assistant, who
was trying to disengage the communicating wire, he re¬
ceived a sudden shock in his arms and breast, and thus
established the efficacy of the Leyden jar.
Sir \7il- Sir William Watson made some important experiments
liam Wat- at this period of our history. He succeeded in firing gun-
fcuU' powder by the electric spark ; and by mixing the gun¬
powder with a little camphor he discharged a musket by
the same power. He also fired inflammable air by the
electric spark ; and he kindled both spirits of wine and
inflammable air by means of a drop of cold water, and
even with ice. In the German experiments the fluid or
solid to be inflamed was set on fire by an electrified body;
but Sir William Watson placed the fluid in the hands of
an electrified person, and set it on fire by causing a per¬
son not electritied to touch it with his finger.
Sir William Watson first observed the flash of light History,
which attends the discharge of the Leyden phial, and it
is to him that we owe the present improved form of the
Leyden phial, in which it is coated both without and within
with tinfoil. Dr Bevis indeed had suggested the outside
coating, and, at Mr Smeaton’s recommendation, he coated
a pane of glass on both sides, and within an inch of the
edge, with tinfoil; but still the idea of coating the jar
doubly belongs to Sir William Watson.
A party of the Royal Society, with the president at Experi-
their head, and Sir William Watson as their chief ope-mentsof
rator, entered upon a series of magnificent experiments,
for the purpose of determining the velocity of the elec- London^
trie fluid, and the distance to which it could be conveyed.
The French s^avans had conveyed the influence of the
Leyden jar through a circuit of 12,000 feet; and in one
case the basin at the Thuilleries, containing about an acre
of water, formed part of the circuit; but the English
philosophers made a more complete series of experiments,
of which the following were the results :
1. That in all their operations, when the wires have been
properly conducted, the electrical commotions from the
charged phial have been very considerable only when the
observers at the extremities of the wire have touched
some substance readily conducting electricity with some
part of their bodies.
2. That the electrical commotion is always felt most
sensibly in those parts of the bodies of the observers
which are between the conducting wires and the nearest
and the most non-electric substance ; or, in other words,
so much of their bodies as comes within the electrical
circuit.
3. That on these considerations we infer that the elec¬
trical power is conducted between these observers by any
non-electric substances which happen to be situated be¬
tween them, and contribute to form the electrical circuit.
4. That the electrical commotion has been perceptible
to two or more observers at considerable distances from
each other, even as far as two miles.
5. That when the observers have been shocked at the
end of two miles of wire, we infer that the electrical cir¬
cuit is four miles, viz. two miles of wire, and the space of
two miles of the non-electric matter between the observ¬
ers, whether it be water, earth, or both.
6. That the electrical commotion is equally strong,
whether it is conducted by water or dry ground.
7. That if the wires between the electrifying machine and
the observers are conducted on dry sticks, or other sub¬
stances non-electric in a slight degree only, the effects of
the electrical power are much greater than when the
wires in their progress touch the ground, or moist vege¬
tables, or other substances in a great degree non-electric.
8. That by comparing the respective velocities of elec¬
tricity and sound, that of electricity, in any of the dis¬
tances yet experienced, is nearly instantaneous.
In the following year these experiments were resumed
with the view of ascertaining the absolute velocity of
electricity at a certain distance, and it was found, “ that
through the whole length of a wire 12,276 feet, the velo¬
city of electricity was instantaneous.”
One of the most important discoveries of the present
period was that of Sir W. Watson, who proved “ that the
glass tubes and globes had not the electrical power in them¬
selves, but only served as the first movers or determiners
of that power.” In rubbing a glass tube while standing
upon a cake of wax, he was surprised to observe that no
spark could be obtained from his body by any other per¬
son touching any part of him. But if a person not elec¬
trified held his hand near the tube while it was rubbing,
the snapping was very sensible. The great discovery of
ELECTRICITY,
History, plus and minus electricity which was afterwards made by
■"Y'"*'' Franklin, was distinctly announced by Sir W. Watson.
He lays it down as a law, that in electrical operations
there is an afflux of electric fluid to the globe and the con¬
ductor, and also an efflux of the same matter from them.
In the case of two insulated persons, the one in contact
with the rubber and the other with the conductor, he
observed that either of them would communicate a much
stronger spark to the other than to any bystander. The elec¬
tricity of the one, he says, became more rare than it is natu¬
rally, and that of the other more dense, so that the density
of the electricity in the two insulated persons differed
more than that between either of them and a bystander.
Our limits will not permit us to give a detailed account
of the various ingenious experiments which were about
this time made by Le Monnier, Nollet, Winckler, Ellicott,
Jallabert, Boze, Menon, Smeaton, and Miles. In 1746
Le Monnier confirmed the result previously obtained by
Mr Gray, that electricity is communicated to homogene¬
ous bodies in proportion to their surfaces only. M. Boze
discovered that capillary tubes which discharged water by
drops afforded a continued stream when electrified. The
Abbe Nollet ascertained that electricity increases the
natural evaporation of fluids, and that the evaporation is
hastened by placing them in non-electric vessels. M.
Jallabert confirmed the result previously obtained by
Watson, that electricity passes through the substance of
a conducting wire, and not along its surface. Smeaton
found that the red-hot part of an iron bar could be as
strongly electrified as the cold parts on each side of it.
Dr Miles kindled common lamp spirits by a stick of black
sealing-wax excited by dry flannel. Mr Ellicott conceiv¬
ed that the particles of the electric fluid repel each other,
while they attract those of all other bodies. Mr Mowbray
discovered that the vegetation of two myrtles was hasten¬
ed by electrifying them; a result which Nollet confirmed
in the case of vegetating seeds. The Abbe Menon found
that cats, pigeons, sparrows, and chaffinches, lost weight
by being electrified for five or six hours, and that the same
result was true of the human body; and hence it was con¬
cluded that electricity augments the insensible perspira¬
tion of animals.
Disco- Passing over the scientific fables of John Pivati of Ve-
venez of nice, we arrive at that auspicious period when Dr Frank-
Franklin, ];n raise(i electricity to the dignity of a science, and con-
17(i0. / J_nected it with that tremendous agency which had so of¬
ten terrified the moral and convulsed the physical world.
The thunderbolt had frequently descended from heaven
upon its victims ; but mortal genius had now learned to
bring it down in chains, to disarm its fury, and to convert
it into an useful and even a friendly element.
One of the first labours of the American philosopher
was to present, in a more distinct form, the theory of plus
and minus electricity, which Sir W. Watson had been
the first to suggest. He showed that electricity is not
created by friction, but merely collected from its state of
diffusion through other matter by which it is attracted.
He asserted that the glass globe, when rubbed, attracted
the electrical fire, and took it from the rubber, the same
globe being disposed, when the friction ceases, to give out
its electricity to any body which has less. In the case of
the charged Leyden jar, the inner coating of tinfoil had
received more than its ordinary quantity of electricity,
and was therefore electrified positively or plus, while the
outer coating of tinfoil having had its ordinary quantity of
electricity diminished, was electrified or minus.
Hence the cause of the shock and spark when the jar is
discharged, or when the superabundant plus electricity of
the inside is transferred by a conducting body to the de¬
fective or minus electricity of the outside. This theory
527
of the Leyden phial Franklin established in the clearest History,
manner, by showing that the outside and the inside coat-
ing possessed opposite electricities, and that, in charging
it, exactly as much electricity is added on one side as is
subtracted from the other. The copious discharge of
electricity by points was observed by Franklin in his ear¬
liest experiments, and also the power of points to conduct
it copiously from an electrified body. Plence he u^as fur¬
nished with a simple method of collecting electricity
from other bodies; and he was thus enabled to perform
those remarkable experiments which we shall now pro¬
ceed to explain.
Hawksbee, Wall, and Nollet had successively suggested
the similarity between lightning and the electric spark,
and between the artificial snap and the natural thunder.
Previous to the year 1750 Dr Franklin drew up a state¬
ment, in which he showed that all the general phenomena
and effects which were produced by electricity had their
counterpart in lightning. Like the electric spark, light¬
ning moves in a crooked and irregular direction. Light¬
ning strikes the highest and most pointed bodies, and
electricity does the same. They both inflame combus¬
tibles, fuse metals, destroy animal life, produce blindness
in animals, render common sewing needles magnetic, and
reverse the polarity of needles that have been magnetis¬
ed. Notwithstanding these points of resemblance, direct
experiment was still necessary to establish his views. He
waited anxiously for the erection of a spire at Philadel¬
phia, by means of which he might bring down the elec¬
tricity of a thunder-storm ; but his patience being ex¬
hausted, he conceived the idea of sending up a kite among
the clouds themselves. With this view he made a small
cross of two light strips of cedar, the arms being sufficient¬
ly long to reach to the four corners of a large thin silk
handkerchief when extended. The corners of the hand¬
kerchief were tied to the extremities of the cross, and
when the body of the kite was thus formed, a tail, loop,
and string were added to it. The body was made of silk
to enable it to bear the violence and wet of a thunder¬
storm. A very sharp pointed wire was fixed at the top
of the upright stick of the cross, so as to rise a foot or
more above the wood. A silk ribband was tied to the
end of the twine next the hand, and a key suspended at
the junction of the twine and silk. In company with his
son, Franklin raised the kite like a common one, in the
first thunder-storm, which happened in the month of June
1752. To keep the silk ribband dry, he stood within a
door, taking care that the twine did not touch the frame
of the door; and when the thunder-clouds came over the
kite he watched the state of the string. A cloud passed
without any electrical indications, and he began to despair
of success. He saw, however, the loose filaments of the
twine standing out every way, and he found them to be at¬
tracted by the approach of his finger. The suspended key
gave a spark on the application of his knuckle, and when
the string had become wet with the rain, the electricity
became abundant; a Leyden jar was charged at the key,
and by the electric fire thus obtained spirits were inflam¬
ed, and all the other electrical experiments performed
which had been formerly made by excited electrics. In
subsequent trials with another apparatus, he found that
the clouds were sometimes positively and sometimes ne¬
gatively electrified, and thus demonstrated the perfect
identity of lightning and electricity.
Having thus succeeded in drawing the electric fire from
the clouds, Franklin immediately conceived the idea of
protecting buildings from lightning, by erecting on their
highest parts pointed iron wires or conductors communi¬
cating with the ground. The electricity of a hovering
or a passing cloud would thus be carried off slowly and
528
History.
Heath of
Professor
Richman,
A. D. 1753.
ELECTRICITY.
silently; and if the cloud was highly charged, the elec¬
tric fire would strike in preference the elevated conduc¬
tors.
The attention of European philosophers was now di¬
rected to the great discovery of Franklin, and various in¬
dividuals fearlessly sought to repeat his experiments.
Among these Professor Richman of St Petersburg was
one of the most enterprising. He had undertaken a se¬
ries of experiments on the electricity of the atmosphere,
and for this purpose he had erected an electrical gnomon,
which consisted mainly of a Leyden jar, communicating
with an iron rod, which rose four or five feet above the
roof of his house, and an electrometer formed of a linen
thread with half a grain of lead, the angular ascent of
which on the face of a divided quadrant indicated the
force of the accumulated electricity. On the 9th August
1752 Professor Richman obtained from the end of the
rod electrical flashes which could be heard at several feet
of distance ; and if any person touched the apparatus,
a sharp stroke was felt in the hand and arm. On the
31st May 1753 the electric fire exploded from the appa¬
ratus with such a force that it was heard at the distance
of three rooms from the apparatus. On the 6th August
1753 the professor had prepared and adjusted his appa¬
ratus, and having heard the sound of distant thunder, he
left a meeting of the Academy of Sciences, and took with
him his engineer, Mr Sokolow, to draw any interesting
phenomena that might occur. On their arrival at the
professor’s house, the plummet of the electrometer was
elevated four degrees from the perpendicular; and while
the philosopher was describing to his friend the dangerous
consequences that might take place if the thread should
rise to 45°, a tremendous burst of thunder terrified the
imperial city. Richman leant his head over the gno¬
mon to observe the indications of the electrometer, and
in this stooping position, with his head a foot from the
iron rod, a huge globe of bluish-white fire, about the size of
Mr Sokolow’s fist, shot from the iron rod to the professor’s
head, with a report like that of a pistol. The blow was
fatal; he fell back upon a chest and instantly expired.
Sokolow was stupified and benumbed by a sort of steam or
vapour, and the red hot fragments of a metallic wire struck
his clothes and covered them with burnt marks. As
soon as he recovered from his surprise, Sokolow ran out
of the house, acquainting every person with the accident
which had taken place. In the mean time Madam Rich¬
man, alarmed by the thunder-stroke, hastened to the
chamber, and found her husband apparently lifeless, in
the attitude of sitting upon the chest, and leaning against
the wall. Medical aid was instantly obtained, but though
a vein was opened, from which no blood would flow, and
though every attempt was made to restore life by violent
friction and other means, they were all fruitless. A small
quantity of blood dropped from the mouth when the body
was turned, and on the forehead there was a red spot,
from the pores of which a few drops of blood oozed out.
Several red and blue spots, like leather shrunk by burning,
were found on the left side, the back, and other parts of the
body. The shoe upon the Professor’s left foot was burst
open, and a blue mark appeared on the foot beneath the
aperture. There was no corresponding hole in the stock¬
ing, and the coat was uninjured. When the body was
opened, twenty-four hours aftet death,there was no appear¬
ance of injury either in the brain or the cranium: a little
extravasated blood appeared in the cavities below the
lungs, and in the lungs towards the back, which were of
a dark brown colour. The heart, glands, and smaller in¬
testines, were all inflamed; but the entrails were unin¬
jured. About seventy rubles of silver which were in the
left coat pocket were not altered by the electric fluid.
Immediately after the accident the house was filled with History,
a sulphureous vapour. A clock which stood in the corner w-y-w1
of the adjoining room was stopped; the ashes from the
hearth were scattered about the room ; the door-case of
the room was rent asunder, and a piece of the door itself
actually torn off. The Leyden jar was also broken, and
the metallic filings which it contained thrown about the
room.
One of the most active and ingenious labourers in the Labours of
field of electrical science was our countryman Mr John Canton^
Canton. Before his time ithad been assumedasindisputableA- D-1753-
that the same kind of electricity was invariably produced
by the friction of the same electric ; that glass, for exam¬
ple, yielded always vitreous, and amber always resinous
electricity. Having roughened a glass tube by grinding
its surface with emery and sheet lead, he found that it
possessed vitreous or positive electricity when excited
with oiled silk, but resinous electricity when excited with
new flannel. He found, in short, that vitreous or resi¬
nous electricity may be developed at will in the same tube,
by altering the surfaces of the tube and the exciting rub¬
ber, and according as the one or the other is most affect¬
ed by tbeir mutual friction. This he illustrated by the
very beautiful experiment of removing the polish from
one half of the tube. In this case the different electrici¬
ties were excited with *the same rubber at a single stroke,
and, what is very curious, the rubber was found to move
much easier over the rough than over the polished half.
Mr Canton likewise discovered that glass, amber, seal¬
ing-wax, and calcareous spar, were all electrified posi¬
tively when taken out of mercury; and hence he was led
to the important practical discovery, that an amalgam of
mercury and tin was most efficacious in exciting glass when
applied to the surface of the rubber. Mr Canton found also
that any body placed within the electric atmosphere of
another body acquired the electricity opposite to that of
the body in whose atmosphere it was placed; and that
the whole air of a room could be electrified either po¬
sitively or negatively, and made to retain it for a consider¬
able time.
Signor Beccaria, a celebrated Italian, kept up the spi- Beccaria,
rit of electrical discovery in Italy; and in his work on na- a. d. 1753.
tural and artificial electricity, he has given us the results
of many important original investigations. He showed
that water is a very imperfect conductor of electricity,
that its conducting power is proportional to its quantity,
and that a small quantity of water opposes a powerful re¬
sistance to the electric fluid. He succeeded in making
the electric spark visible in water, by discharging shocks
through wires that nearly met in tubes filled with water.
In this experiment the tubes, though sometimes eight or
ten lines thick, were burst in pieces. Beccaria likewise
demonstrated that air adjacent to an electrified body
gradually acquired the same electricity ; that the electri¬
city of the body is diminished by that of the air; and that
the air parts with its electricity very slowly. He con¬
sidered that there was a mutual repulsion between the
particles of the electric fluid and those of air, and that in
the passage of the former through the latter a temporary
vacuum was formed.
The science of electricity owes several practical as w'ell Symmer’s
as theoretical observations to our countryman Mr Robertexperi-
Symmer. In pulling off his stockings in the evening, Mrments’
Symmer had often remarked that they not only gave aA‘ D'
crackling noise, but even emitted sparks in the dark. The
electricity was most powerful when a silk and a worsted
stocking had been worn on the same leg, and it wras best
exhibited by putting the hand between the leg and the
stockings, and pulling them off together. The one stock¬
ing being then drawn out of the other, they appeared more
ELECTRICITY. 529
History, or less inflated, and exhibited the attractions and repulsions
of electrified bodies. Mr Symmer’s first trials were acci¬
dentally made with black silk stockings, but he was sur¬
prised^ find that white ones produced no electricity. Two
white silk stockings, or two black ones, when put on the
same leg and taken off, gave no electrical indications.
When a black and a white stocking were put on the same
leg, and at the end of ten minutes taken off, they were so
much inflated when pulled asunder, that each of them
showed the entire shape of the leg, and at the distance of a
foot and a half they rushed to meet each other. With worst¬
ed stockings, also, nothing but the combination of black
and white produced electricity. As it was troublesome
to electrify the stockings by putting them on and taking
them olf the leg, Mr Symmer excited the stockings by
drawing them on the hand, v/hich, however, produced a
weaker degree of electricity. The electricity was in this
case more permanent, and the effects were more powerful,
when the stockings were new or newly washed. When
an excited white and black stocking are presented to each
other, they attract one another, inclining to each other at
the distance of three feet, catching hold of each other
within two feet, and at a less distance rushing together
with surprising violence, becoming as flat as so many
folds of silk when they are joined. “ But what appears
most extraordinary is, that when they are separated, and
removed at a sufficient distance from each other, their
electricity does not appear to have been in the least im¬
paired by the shock they had in meeting. They are again
inflated, again attract and repel, and are as ready to rush
together as before. When this experiment is performed
with two black stockings in one hand, and two white in
the other, it exhibits a very curious spectacle ; the repul¬
sion of those of the same colour, and the attraction of
those of different colours, throws them into an agitation
that is not unentertaining, and makes them catch each at
that of its opposite colour, at a greater distance than one
would expect. When allowed to come together, they all
unite in one mass. Wlien separated, they resume their
former appearance, and admit of the repetition of the ex¬
periment as often as you please, till their electricity, gra¬
dually wasting, stands in need of being recruited.”
In the course of these experiments Mr Symmer acci¬
dentally threw a stocking out of his hands, and some time
afterwards he found it sticking to the paper hangings of
the room. They stuck also to the painted pannelling,
and often continued for a whole hour suspended upon the
hangings.
Mr Symmer’s attention was next directed to the force
of cohesion between stockings of black and white silk,
and he found that from ten ounces to nine pounds weight
was necessary to separate the stockings, according to
their weight, or according as the rough or smooth surfaces
were in contact.
Mr Symmer likewise found that a Leyden jar could be
charged by the stockings either positively or negatively,
according as the wire from the neck of the jar was pre¬
sented to the black or white stockings. When the elec¬
tricity of the white stocking was thrown into the jar, and
on that the electricity of the black one, or vice versa, the
jar will not be electrified at all. With the electricity of
two stockings he charged the jar to such a degree that
the shock from it reached both his elbows ; and by means
of the electricity of four silk stockings he kindled spirits
of wine in a tea-spoon which he held in his hand, and the
shock was at the same time felt from the elbows to the
breast. Independent of these curious experiments, Mr
Symmer had the merit of having first maintained the
theory of two distinct fluids, not independent of each
other, as Dufay supposed them to be, but co-existent, and,
VOL. vm.
by counteracting each other, producing all the phenome- History
na of electricity. He conceived that when a body is said
to be positively electrified, it is not simply that it is possess¬
ed of a larger share of electric matter than in a natural
state; nor, when it is said to be negatively electrified, of a
less; but that, in the former case, it is possessed of a
larger portion of one of these active powers, and in the
latter, of a larger portion of the other ; while a body, in
its natural state, remains unelectrified, from an equal ba¬
lance of these two powers within it.
Contemporary with Symmer were Delaval, Wilson,
Cigna, Kinnersley, and Wilcke. M. Delaval found that
the sides of vessels that were perfect conductors, were
non-conductors, and that animal and vegetable bodies
lost their conducting power when reduced to ashes. Mr
Wilson discovered that when two electrics are rubbed to¬
gether, the harder ol the two is generally electrified po¬
sitively, and the other negatively, but always with oppo¬
site electricities. Cigna made many curious experiments
by using silk ribbands in place of the silk stockings of
Symmer. Kinnersley, the friend of Franklin, made some
important experiments on the elongation and fusion of
iron wires, when a strong charge was passed through
them in a state of tension; and Wilcke brought to light
many new phenomena respecting the spontaneous electri¬
city produced by the melting of electric substances.
The pyro-electricity of minerals, or the faculty possess- Pvro-elec-
ed by some minerals of becoming electric by heat, and of tricity of
exhibiting negative and positive poles, now began to at-nfinerals.
tract the notice of philosophers. There is reason to be¬
lieve that the lyncurium of the ancients, which, according
to Theophrastus, attracted light bodies, was the tourma¬
line, a Ceylon mineral, in which the Dutch had early re¬
cognised the same attractive property, whence it got the
name of Aschentrikker, or attracter of ashes. In 1717 M.
Lemery exhibited to the Academy of Sciences a stone
from Ceylon which attracted light bodies ; and Linnaeus,
in mentioning the experiments of Lemery, gives the stone
the name of Lapis Electricus. The Duke de Noya had
heard at Naples that Count Pichetti had seen at Con¬
stantinople a stone called tourmaline, which attracted and
repelled light bodies; and in 17.58 he purchased some of
them in Holland, and, assisted by MM. Daubenton and
Adanson, he made a series of experiments with them,
which were published separately.
This curious subject, however, had engaged the atten-Labours of
tion of M. JEpinus, a celebrated German philosopher, who TEpinus.
published an account of them in 1756. Hitherto nothing
had been said respecting the necessity of heat to excite
the tourmaline ; but it was shown by TEpinus that a tem¬
perature between 99-f° and 212° of Fahrenheit was re¬
quisite for the development of its attractive powers. Mr
Benjamin Wfilson, Priestley, and Canton, continued the
investigation; but it was reserved for the Abbe Haiiy
to throw much light on this curious branch of the science.
He found that the electricity of the tourmaline decreas¬
ed rapidly from the summits or poles towards the middle
of the crystal, where it was imperceptible; and he dis¬
covered that if a tourmaline is broken into any number of
fragments, when excited, each fragment has two opposite
poles. Haiiy discovered the same property in the Si¬
berian and Brazilian topaz, borate of magnesia, meso-
type, prehnite, sphene, and calamine. He also found
that the polarity which minerals receive from heat has a
relation to the secondary forms of their crystals, the tour¬
maline, for example, having its resinous pole at the sum¬
mit of the crystal which has three faces, and its vitreous
pole at the summit which has six faces. In the other
pyro-electrical crystals above mentioned, Haiiy has de¬
tected the same deviation from the rules of symmetry
3 x
ELECTRICITY.
530
History, in their secondary crystals which occurs in tourmaline,
-y-'—/ Mr Brard discovered that pyro-electricity was a property
of the axinite; and more recently Sir David Brewster has
detected it, as we shall afterwards see, in a variety of other
minerals.
In repeating and extending the experiments of Haiiy,
Sir David Brewster discovered that various artificial salts
were pyro-electrical; and he mentions the tartrate of pot¬
ash and soda, and the tartaric acid, as exhibiting this pro¬
perty in a very strong degree. He likewise made many
experiments with the tourmaline when cut into thin slices,
and reduced to the finest powder, in which state each
atom preserved its pyro-electricity; and he has shown
that scolezite and rnesolite, even when deprived of their
water of crystallization, and reduced to powder, preserve
their property of becoming electrical by heat. When
this white powder is heated and stirred about by any
substance whatever, it collects in masses like new fal¬
len snow, and adheres to the body with which it is stir¬
red.
F.xperi- In addition to his experiments on the tourmaline, ./Epi-
rr.ents of nus made several on the electricity of melted sulphur;
^Pinus' and, in conjunction with Wilcke, he investigated the sub¬
ject of electric atmospheres, and discovered a beautiful
method of charging a plate of air by suspending large
wooden boards coated with tin, and having their surfaces
near each other, and parallel. iEpinus, however, has been
principally distinguished by his ingenious theory of elec¬
tricity, which he has explained and illustrated in a separate
work which appeared at St Petersburg in 1759. This
theory is founded on the following principles. 1. The
particles of the electric fluid repel each other with a force
decreasing as the distance increases. 2. The particles of
the electric fluid attract the particles of all bodies, and
are attracted by them, with a force obeying the same law.
3. The electric fluid exists in the pores of bodies; and
while it moves without any obstruction in non-electrics,
such as metals, water, &c., it moves with extreme diffi¬
culty in electrics, such as glass, rosin, &c. 4. Electrical
phenomena are produced, either by the transference of the
fluid from a body containing more to another containing
less of it, or from its attraction and repulsion when no
transference takes place.
Electricity The electricity of fishes, like that of minerals, now be-
of fishes, gan to excite very general attention. 'I he ancients, as
we have seen, were acquainted with the benumbing power
of the torpedo, but it was not till 1676 that modern natu¬
ralists attended to this remarkable property. The Ara¬
bians had long before given this fish the name of raad or
lightning; but Redi was the first who communicated the
fact that the shock was conveyed to the fisherman by
means of the line and rod which connected him with the
fish. Lorenzini published engravings of its electrical or¬
gans ; Reaumur described the electrical properties of the
fish; Kaempfer compared the effects which it produced
to lightning; but Bancroft was the first person who dis¬
tinctly suspected that the effects of the torpedo were elec¬
trical. In 1773 Mr Walsh and Dr Ingenhouz proved,
by many curious experiments, that the shock of the tor¬
pedo was an electrical one ; and Dr Hunter examined
and described the anatomical structure of its electrical
organs. Humboldt, Gay Lussac, and M. Geoffrey, pur¬
sued the subject with success; and Mr Cavendish con¬
structed an artificial torpedo, by which he was able to pro¬
duce artificially the actions of the living animal. The sub¬
ject has been more recently investigated by Dr Todd, Sir
Humphry Davy, and Dr John Davy.
I he power of giving electric shocks has been discover¬
ed also in the Gymnotus Electricus, the Silurus Electri-
cus, the Trichiurus Indicus, and the Tetraodon Electricus.
The most interesting and the best known of these singu- History,
lar fishes is the Gymnotus or Surinam eel. Its electrical
organs have been minutely described by Hunter and
Geoffrey ; Dr Williamson, Dr Gordon, and Mr Walsh
have published interesting details of its electrical powers;
and Humboldt has more recently given the most roman¬
tic account of the combats which are carried on in South
America between the gymnoti and the wild horses in the
vicinity of Calabozo.
Among the modern cultivators of electricity, our coun-Mr Caven-
tryman, the late Mr Cavendish, is entitled to a distin-^j1’b°n|
guished place. Before he had any knowledge of thej'^’ le
theory of JEpinus, he had composed and communicated to
the Royal Society a theory of electrical phenomena near¬
ly the same as that of the German philosopher. As Mr
Cavendish, however, had carried the theory much farther,
and considered it under a more accurate point of view,
he did not hesitate to give his paper to the world.
Mr Cavendish made some accurate experiments on the
relative conducting power of different substances. He
found that the electric fluid experiences as much resist¬
ance in passing through a column of w ater one inch
long, as it does in passing through an iron wire of the
same diameter 400,000,000 inches long, and hence he
concludes that rain or distilled water conducts 400,000,000
times more than iron wire. He found that the water, or
a solution of one part of salt in one of water, conducts a
hundred times better than fresh water; and that a satu¬
rated solution of sea-salt conducts seven hundred and
twenty times better than fresh water. Mr Cavendish
likewise determined by nice experiments that the quan¬
tity of electricity in coated glass of a certain area in¬
creased with the thinness of the glass; and that in dif¬
ferent coated plates the quantity was as the area of the
coated surface directly, and as the thickness of the glass
inversely.
Although electricity had been employed as a chemical Chemical
agent in the oxidation and fusion of metals, yet it is to electricity.
Mr Cavendish that we owe the first of those brilliant en¬
quiries which have done so much for the advancement of
modern chemistry. By means of the electric spark he
succeeded in decomposing atmospheric air. By using dif¬
ferent proportions of oxygen and hydrogen, and examin¬
ing the product which they formed after explosion with
the electric spark, he obtained a proportion when the pro ¬
duct was pure water. He was equally successful in the
more difficult experiment of exploding oxygen and nitro¬
gen ; but when he combined seven measures of oxygen
with three measures of nitrogen, he obtained from their
explosion nitric acid. As several foreigners had failed
in repeating this interesting experiment, Mr Cavendish,
aided by Mr Gilpin, exhibited it publicly before the lead¬
ing members of the Royal Society on the 6th of Decem¬
ber 1787.
The decomposition of wrater by tbe electric spark was
first effected by MM. Pacts, Troostwyk, and Deiman ;
and improved methods of doing it were discovered and
used by Dr Pearson, Mr Cutiibertson, and Dr Wol¬
laston.
As a chemical agent, however, electricity was now des- Galvanism
tined to transfer its supremacy to another science. 1 he
great discovery made by Galvani in 1790, that the con- trjcjty#
tact of metals produced muscular contraction in frogs, and
the invention of the Voltaic pile, in 1800, by M. Volta
of Como, have led to the establishment of a new science,
called Galvanism or Voltaic Electricity, which, though now
proved to be identical with common electricity, requires to
be treated in a separate article. The chemical effects of
the Voltaic pile far transcended those of ordinary electrici¬
ty, and enabled Sir Humphry Davy to decompose the earths
ELEC T R I C I T Y.
History, and the alkalies, and thus to create a new epoch in the his-
tory of chemistry.
Coulomb, Contemporary with Mr Cavendish was M. Coulomb,
born 173«, one of the most eminent experimental philosophers of the
died 180G. ]ast century. Anxious to determine the law of electrical
action, he invented for this purpose an instrument called
a torsion balance, which has since his time been univer¬
sally used in all delicate researches, and which is parti¬
cularly applicable to the measurement of electrical and
magnetical actions. iEpinus and Cavendish had considered
the action of the electrical fluid as diminishing with the
distance; but M. Coulomb proved, by a series of elabo¬
rate experiments, that it varied like gravity in the inverse
ratio of the square of the distance. Our countryman Dr
Robison had previously determined, without, however,
having published his experiments, that in the mutual re¬
pulsion of two similarly electrified spheres, the law was
slightly in excess of the inverse duplicate ratio of the
distance, while in the attraction of oppositely electrified
spheres the deviation from that ratio was in defect; and
hence he justly concluded that the law of electrical action
was similar to that of gravity.
Adopting the hypothesis of two fluids, Coulomb inves¬
tigated experimentally and theoretically the distribution
of electricity on the surface of bodies. He determined
the law of its distribution between two conducting bodies
in contact; he measured the density of the electricity in
different points of two globes in contact; he ascertained
the distribution of electricity among several globes (whe¬
ther equal or unequal) placed in contact in a straight
line; he measured the distribution of electricity on the
surface of a cylinder, and its distribution between a globe
and cylinder of different lengths but of the same diame¬
ter. His experiments on the dissipation of electricity
possess also a high value. He found that the momentary
dissipation was proportional to the degree of electricity
at the time ; and that when the electricity was moderate,
its dissipation was not altered in bodies of different kinds
or shapes. The temperature and pressure of the atmo¬
sphere did not produce any sensible change; but the dis¬
sipation was nearly proportional to the cube of the quan¬
tity of moisture in the air. In examining the dissipa¬
tion which takes place along imperfectly insulating sub¬
stances, he found that a thread of gum-lac was the most
perfect of all insulators ; that it insulated ten times better
than a dry silk thread; and that a silk thread covered
with fine sealing-wax insulated as powerfully as gum-lac
when it had four times its length. He found also that
the dissipation of electricity along insulators was chiefly
owing to adhering moisture, but in some measure also to
a slight conducting power.
Experi- Towards the end of the last century a series of experi¬
ments of ments was made by MM. Laplace, Lavoisier, and Volta,
Lavoisier from which ifc appeared that electricity is developed when
and Volta solit^ or bodies pass into the gaseous state. The
1781. ’ bodies which were to be evaporated or dissolved were
placed upon an insulating stand, and made to communi¬
cate by a chain or wire with a Cavallo’s electrometer, or
with Volta’s condenser, when it was suspected that the
electricity increased gradually. When sulphuric acid
diluted with three parts of water was poured upon iron
filings, inflammable air was disengaged with a brisk effer¬
vescence ; and at the end of a few minutes the condenser
was so highly charged as to yield a strong spark of ne¬
gative electricity. Similar results were obtained when
charcoal was burnt on a chafing dish, or when fixed air
or nitrous gas was generated from powdered chalk by
means of the sulphuric and nitrous acids.
Volta. M. Volta, who happened to be at Paris when these ex¬
periments were made, and who took an active part in
531
them, had subsequently observed that the electricity pro- History,
duced by evaporation was always negative. He found
that burning charcoal gives out negative electricity; and
in other kinds of combustion he obtained distinct electri¬
cal indications.
In this state of the subject M. Saussure undertook asaussure.
series of elaborate experiments on the electricity of eva¬
poration and combustion. In his first trials he found
that the electricity was sometimes positive and sometimes
negative when water was evaporated from a heated cru¬
cible of iron ; but he afterwards found it to be always po¬
sitive both in an iron and a copper crucible. In a silver
and in a porcelain crucible the electricity was negative.
The evaporation of alcohol and of ether in a silver crucible
also gave negative electricity. M. Saussure made many
fruitless trials to obtain electricity from combustion, and
he likewise failed in his attempts to procure it from eva¬
poration without ebullition.
Many valuable additions were about this time made to
electrical apparatus, as well as to the science itself, by
Van Marum, Cavallo, Nicholson, Cuthbertson, Brooke,
Bennet, Read, Morgan, and Henley ; but our limits will
not permit us to do any thing more than thus notice their
labours.
The application of analysis to electrical phenomena may Applica-
be dated from the commencement of the present century, tion ofana-
Coulomb had considered only the distribution of electrici-^sis t.°.
ty on the surface of spheres ; but Laplace undertook to in-e ectriclt.v-
vestigate its distribution on the surface of ellipsoids of revo¬
lution, and he showed that the thickness of the coating of
fluid at the pole was to its thickness at the equator as the
equatorial is to the polar diameter, or, what is the same
thing, that the repulsive force of the fluid, or its tension
at the pole, is to that at the equator as the polar is to the
equatorial axis.
M. Biot has extended this investigation to all spheroids M. Biot,
differing little from a sphere, whatever may be the irregu¬
larity of their figure. He likewise determined analyti¬
cally that the losses of electricity form a geometrical pro¬
gression when the two surfaces of a jar or plate of coated
glass are discharged by successive contacts ; and he found
that the same law regulates the discharge when a series
of jars or plates are placed in communication with each
other.
It is to M. Poisson, however, that we are mainly in- M. Pois-
debted for having brought the phenomena of electricity son.
under the dominion of analysis, and placed it on the same
level as the more exact sciences. By assuming the hypo¬
thesis of two fluids, he has deduced theorems for deter¬
mining the distribution of the electric fluid on the surface
of two conducting spheres when they are either placed
in contact or at any given distance; and the truth of
these theorems has been established by experiments per¬
formed by Coulomb long before the theorems themselves
had been investigated.
The cultivation of the new science of Voltaic electrici- Oersted’s
ty had now withdrawn the attention of experimental phi-discovery
losophers from that of ordinary electricity. The splen-0^e^ectro’
dour of its phenomena, as well as its association with
chemical discovery, contributed to give it popularity ’
and importance ; but the discoveries of Galvani and Volta
were destined, in their turn, to pass into the shade, and
the intellectual enterprise of the natural philosophers of
Europe was directed to new branches of electrical and
magnetical science. Guided by theoretical anticipations,
Professor H. C. Oersted of Copenhagen, in 1820, laid the
foundations of the science oi Electro-magnetism. He found
that the electrical current of a galvanic trough, when
made to pass through a platina wire, acted upon a com¬
pass needle placed below the wire; and upon repeating
532
ELECTRICITY.
History, the experiment, he discovered the fundamental law, that
the magnetical effect of the Voltaic current had a circular
motion round the current, or round the conductor, or the
Diseove- wire through which the current passed. M. Ampere
riesofAm-of Paris soon afterwards made the important discovery,
Pere- that two wires conducting electrical currents, when sus¬
pended so as to be capable of motion, attracted each other
when the currents moved in the same direction, and re¬
pelled each other when they moved in opposite directions ;
or, to express the fact more simply, two points of electrical
currents repel each other by their similar sides, and attract
each other by their opposite sides ; so that, as Professor Oer¬
sted remarks, an electric current contains a revolving ac¬
tion, exhibiting every appearance of polarity.
Discove- In 1820 M. Arago, Sir H. Davy, and Dr Seebeck of
ries ot Ara- Berlin, without being acquainted with each other’s labours,
g°, Davy, diSCOvered the power of the electric current to impart
and See- - - 1 - - .... . •
beck.
Discove¬
ries of M.
Savary.
magnetism to iron and steel needles; but the most singu¬
lar discovery on this branch of the subject was made by
M. Savary, who found that small steel needles placed at
different but very short distances from a wire conducting
an electrical current, are magnetised in different directions.
Needles in contact with the wire are magnetised in the
usual or positive direction ; while needles at the distance
of PI millimeter, or ^th of an inch, are magnetised in an
opposite direction, which he calls negative. At the dis¬
tance of two inches from the wire there was a neutral line
in which the needles were not magnetised at all. When
the distance of the unmagnetised needle was increased from
three to eight millimeters it again became positively mag¬
netic, the maximum effect taking place at the distance
of 5^ millimeters. Between the distance of 8 6 and 2P4
millimeters the magnetism was a second time negative,
the effect increasing from S’G to 1P6, and again reaching
the vertical or zero point at 2P4. Beyond the distance
of twenty-three millimeters the magnetism was again po¬
sitive. With different conducting wires M. Savary found,
that within certain limits the maximum intensity is pro¬
duced at a greater distance from the wire, and the num¬
ber of alternations of positive and negative direction is
also greater in proportion, as the wire is shorter in pro¬
portion to the length of the helix. When needles are
placed parallel to the axis of a helix of narrow windings,
they all receive the same kind of magnetism; but when
the electrical charge is increased from one jar to a bat¬
tery of twenty-two superficial feet, six alternations, viz.
three positive and three negative, are obtained. When
Voltaic electricity is substituted for ordinary electricity,
the alternations are destroyed by a continued current, but
appear when the current is established only for an instant.
These curious experiments were followed by those of
ries of Pro-Professor Erman of Berlin, who found that when an elec-
fessor F.r- trical discharge passes through the centre of a circular
man‘ disc of steel, and in a line perpendicular to its surface,
no apparent magnetism is developed; but when a slit is
made in the plate, or a sector cut out of it, the side of
the disc opposite to the slit, or the sectoral opening, ex¬
hibits the opposite magnetism. MM. Gay Lussac and
Welther obtained the same result with a steel ring.
Discove- The discovery of thermo-electricity by Dr Seebeck in
ries of Dr 1822 gave a new impulse to this branch of science. In
Seebeck, studying the influence of heat in Galvanic arrangements,
he was led to believe that magnetism might be developed
in two metals forming a circuit when the equilibrium of
heat in them was disturbed. He accordingly joined a se¬
micircular piece of bismuth with a similar piece of copper,
so as to form a circle by their union ; and when one of the
Discove-
1822.
junctions was heated an electrical current was produced, History,
which could show its existence only by the magnetic
needle, and which exhibited all the magnetical properties
of an electrical current.
In the same year in which Dr Seebeck made this re- Dr Fara-
markable discovery, the rotation of a magnetical needle day’s dis-
round an electrical current, and of a body transmittingcoveries-
an electrical current round a magnet, were exhibited in a
series of beautiful and highly ingenious experiments by Dr
Faraday, whose subsequent discoveries place him at the
head of the cultivators of this most interesting science.
These experiments were followed by those of Arago, Experi-
Barlow, Seebeck, Herschel, and Babbage, in which a re-ments °1
volving plate of copper gives a rotatory motion to a mag‘ Others ^
netic needle conveniently suspended ; but notwithstanding
the ingenuity and talent with which this subject was treat¬
ed by these eminent individuals, it is to Dr Faraday that
we owe a complete analysis and explanation of this curi¬
ous phenomenon.
This explanation was founded on the great discovery Discovery
of the evolution of electricity from magnetism, by which °f magne-
Dr Faraday laid the foundation of the new science of rna»"
neto-electricity. By means of a series of simple and beau-
tiful experiments with the celebrated magnets of Dr Go-
win Knight, and with the powerful magnet of Professor Da¬
niel, Dr Faraday obtained the most unequivocal and strik¬
ing electrical effects, though the intensity of the electri¬
city was very feeble, and its quantity small. He obtain¬
ed a distinct though feeble spark; he succeeded in con¬
vulsing the limbs of a frog by means of a magnet; and he
perceived also the sensation on the tongue and the flash
before the eyes, but he could not effect chemical decom¬
position by magnetism. Besides obtaining these import¬
ant results, Dr Faraday has clearly established the laws
according to which a magnet developes magnetic cur¬
rents. He applies these laws to the explanation of the
reciprocal action of revolving magnets and metals, and he
adduces unquestionable proofs of the production of electri¬
city by terrestrial magnetism.
These important results have been more recently ex¬
tended by Dr Faraday and others. M. Pixii observed
attractions and repulsions in the electricity evolved by
magneto-electric induction; and by an ingenious and
powerful apparatus he obtained a great degree of diver¬
gence in the gold leaves of an electrometer. At the
meeting of the British Association at Oxford in June
1832, Dr Faraday, by means of Mr Snow Harris’s electro¬
meter, subsequently described, succeeded in heating a
wire by magneto-electric induction. By means of the
magneto-electric apparatus of M. Pixii already referred
to, he and M. Hachette decomposed water, and obtained
the oxygen and hydrogen in separate tubes.
In the progress of his electrical researches, Dr Faraday identity of
found it necessary for their further prosecution to esta-the various
blish either the identity or the distinction of the electri-electrici-
cities excited by different means ; and in a paper of great
value, he has established beyond a doubt the identity of
common electricity, Voltaic electricity, magneto-electri-tjav>
city, thermo-electricity, and animal electricity. The phe¬
nomena exhibited in these five kinds of electricity do not
differ in kind, but merely in degree; and in this respect
they vary in proportion to the variable circumstances of quan¬
tity and intensity, which can at pleasure be made to change
in almost any one of the kinds of electricity, as much as it
does between one hind and another. Dr Faraday has given
the following interesting table of the experimental effects
common to the electricities derived from different sources.1
1 The crt8> indicates that the effect at the top of this table is produced by the electricity mentioned in the column at the side.
ELECTRICITY.
History.
Relation
by measure
of ordinary
and voltaic
electricity.
Dr Fara¬
day’s new
law of elec¬
trical con¬
duction.
Faraday’s
theory of
statical
electricity.
533
1. Electricity, Statical
2. Electricity, Dynamic or Voltaic.
3. Magneto-Electricity
4. Thermo-Electricity
5. Animal Electricity
Physiologi¬
cal Effects.
Magnetic
Deflection.
X X
X X
X I X
X ! X
Magnets
made.
X
X
X
X
Spark.
Heating
Power.
X
X
X
True
Chemical
Action.
X
X
Attraction
and
Repulsion.
X
X
Discharge
by
Hot Air.
History.
Dr Faraday was anxious to determine the relation by
measure of ordinary and voltaic electricity; and after va¬
rious excellent experiments, he obtained as an approxima¬
tion, and judging from magnetical force only, “ that two
wires, one of platina and one of zinc, each one-eighteenth
of an inch in diameter, placed five-sixteenths of an inch
apart, and immersed to the depth of five-eighteenths of an
inch in acid consisting of one drop of oil of vitriol, and four
ounces distilled water at a temperature about 60°, and con¬
nected at the other extremities by a copper wire eighteen
feet long and one-eighteenth of an inch thick (being the
wire of the galvanometer coils), yield as much electricity
in eight beats of my watch, or in TfqUis of a minute (or
3"2 seconds), as the electrical battery (of fifteen jars)
charged by thirty turns of the large machine in excellent
order. The same result was found to be true in the case
of chemical force.”
In the course of his investigations relative to electro¬
chemical composition, Dr Faraday was led to observe the
effects due to a very general law of electric conduction
which had not formerly been recognised. He found that
solid bodies assume the power of conducting electricity
during liquefaction, and lose this conducting power during
congelation. The voltaic electricity produced by a bat¬
tery of fifteen troughs, or a hundred and fifty pairs of four-
inch plates powerfully charged, was incapable of passing
through a thin film of ice three-sixteenths of an inch thick ;
but when the ice was melted, the electricity passed in such
quantities as to deflect the magnetic needle 70°. This in¬
sulation, however, exhibited by ice is not effective with
electricity of exalted intensity. In making this experiment
with other solid bodies, Dr Faraday chose those which, be¬
ing solid, at common temperatures, were fusible, and of such
a composition as, for other reasons connected with electro¬
chemical action, led to the conclusion that they would be
able to replace water. When the electric current passed
through the solid body employed, there was no chemical
decomposition ; but when the body was liquefied or fused,
the decomposition took place. The bodies which Dr Fara¬
day found to be subject to this law will be found in our
section on Electrical Conduction. The degree of conduct¬
ing power conferred upon bodies by liquidity is generally
very great. In water it is the feeblest of all; and in the
various oxides, chlorides, salts, &c. it is given in a much
higher degree, some a hundred times greater, than in the
case of pure water.
In studying the phenomena of induction, Mr Faraday has
been led to a beautiful theory of inductive action, which
throws a new light upon every department of electricity.
While Cavendish, Poisson, and other distinguished cultiva¬
tors of the science have considered induction as a force ex¬
cited at a distance, and in straight lines, he has been led to
regard it as an action of contiguous particles, or particles
near each other, consisting of a species of polarity in the
particles of the dielectric or insulating medium through or
across which the electric forces are acting. When an elec¬
trified body induces electricity in a conductor, it does it by Faraday's
'polarizing all the intermediate particles of the dielectric, theory of
that is by exciting the opposite electricities in the particles static^.
near it, and by these particles producing the same effect electricity*
from particle to particle, till it is transferred to the conduc¬
tor. The particles which are thus polarized are not sup¬
posed to be material atoms of the dielectric, but merely
points or centres of force pervading all space and penetrat¬
ing all material bodies. When such contiguous particles
communicate their forces slowly to one another, insulation
or coercion, as it has been called, is produced; and when
rapidly, conduction is the result. This polarization of di¬
electrics has been placed beyond a doubt by the experi¬
ments of Faraday and Matteucci in the case of solids and
fluids, if not for air and the gases. By means of this fine
theory, which has been confirmed by recent experiments,
M. Mosotti has succeeded in explaining the law of electri¬
cal forces discovered by Coulomb.
In an able memoir published at Turin in 1845, M. Plana Researches
has given the results of his researches on the distribution of M.
of the electric fluid on the surface of conductors. With- Plana-
out taking into consideration the cause of the retention of
electricity on the surface of conductors, he has treated the
problem of its distribution in three cases,—in the case where
the spheres are in contact, in the case where they are sepa¬
rated by any interval, and in the case where the separation
is very small compared with the distance of their centres.
He has also given a more rigorous demonstration of certain
principles, on the relations which exist between the thick¬
ness of the electric wire and the forces which emanate
from it. From the simple fact, that free electricity distri¬
butes itself on the surface of conductors, he demonstrates
that the repulsive force in the case of simple physical points
is inversely as the square of the distance.
The distribution of electricity on spherical conductors has Researches
been successfully pursued by English mathematicians. Our °f Caven-
celebrated countryman Mr Cavendish had, so early as 1773,dish-
made great progress in the inquiry. He demonstrated the
remarkable proposition, that unless the electrical force was
in the inverse proportion of the square of the distance, the
electricity would be distributed through the interior of a
charged conductor ; and consequently that this law must be
true, as the electricity is confined to an infinitely thin film
on its surface. We owe also to Cavendish an approxima¬
tion to the true theory of the Leyden phial, and a deter¬
mination of the effects produced by connecting conductors
with fixed wires.
It is by our countryman Mr Green, a self-taught mathe- Researches
matician, that the greatest advances have been made in the of Mr
mathematical theory of electricity.1 “ His researches,” asGreen-
Professor William Thomson has observed, “ have led to the
elementary proposition which must constitute the legitimate
foundation of every perfect mathematical structure that is
to be made from the materials furnished in the experimental
laws of Coulomb. Not only do they afford a natural and com¬
plete explanation of the beautiful quantitative experiments
1 Essay on the application of Mathematical Analysis to the Theories of Electricity and JtfagrnetMia, Nottingham, 1828.
1
534
ELECTRICITY.
History.
Researches
of Prof.
William
Thomson.
Mr Arm¬
strong's
hydro¬
electric
machine.
which have been so interesting at all times to practical elec¬
tricians, but they suggest to the mathematician the simplest
and most powerful methods of dealing with problems which,
if attacked by the mere force of analysis, must have re¬
mained for ever unsolved.” One of the simplest applica-
cations of these theorems was to perfect the theory of the
Leyden phial, a result which (if we except the peculiar ac¬
tion of the insulating solid medium since discovered by Mr
Faraday) we owe to his genius. He has also shown how an
infinite number of forms of conductors may be invented, so
that the distribution of electricity in equilibrium on each
may be expressible in finite algebraical terms,—an immense
stride in the science, when we consider that the distribution
of electricity on a single spherical conductor, an unin¬
fluenced ellipsoidal conductor, and two spheres mutually
influencing one another, were the only cases solved by
Poisson; and, indeed, the only cases conceived to be solv¬
able by good mathematical writers.
The work of Mr Green, which contained these fine re¬
searches, though published in 1828, had escaped the notice
not only of foreign, but even of British mathematicians;
and it is a singular fact in the history of science, that all his
general theorems were rediscovered by Professor William
Thomson of Glasgow, MM. Charles and Sturm of Paris,
and M. Gauss of Gottingen. Professor Thomson, however,
pushed his researches much farther than his fellow-labourers.
He pointed out in 1845 the consistency of Mr Faraday’s
experiments with the new theory; and, guided by an ana¬
logy between the uniform motion of heat and the distribu¬
tion of electricity on conductors, or the attractive and re¬
pulsive forces excited by electrified bodies, lie has shown
how the peculiar electric polarization discovered by Mr
Faraday in dielectrics, or solid insulators subjected to elec¬
tric force, is to be taken into account in the theory of the
Leyden phial, so as to supply the deficiency in Green’s in¬
vestigations.1
From the elementary propositions of Mr Green, Mr
Thomson was led to the beautiful principle of what he calls
electrical images, which is a new and admirable method of
treating a great variety of problems in reference to the dis¬
tribution of electricity on spherical conductors. “ The ef¬
fect,” says Mr Thomson, “ of a body electrified in any
given manner upon an uninsulated sphere, is shown to be
completely represented by what may be called the image
of the electrified body in the sphere; and a simple geometri¬
cal construction is given by which this image may be de¬
scribed. When an electrified body is placed in the neigh¬
bourhood of two uninsulated spheres, an inductive effect is
produced which may be represented by an infinite series of
successive images in each sphere. An algebraic expression
of this result leads to solutions, by means of converging
series, of the various problems which occur with reference to
the distribution of the induced electricity, and the attrac¬
tions exerted by the two spheres. Or, when a single con¬
ductor, bounded by segments of two spherical surfaces cut¬
ting at an angle which is a submultiple of two right angles,
is electrified by the influence of a charged body, the effect
may be represented by a finite number of images disposed
in a symmetrical manner in the circumference of a circle
passing through the exciting body, and cutting the two
spherical surfaces at right angles. The principle of electri¬
cal images in these two cases may be illustrated by a refer¬
ence to the successive images of a candle placed between
two parallel plane mirrors, and to the symmetrically ar¬
ranged images which are seen in the kaleidoscope.”2
One of the most remarkable discoveries in electricity
which has been made in our own day is that of the hydro¬
electric machine, which we owe to Mr Armstrong of New¬
castle. On the 29th September 1840 William Paterson, History,
who attended a steam-engine at Cramlington Colliery, 8
miles from Newcastle, happening to take hold with one hand jir ^rm.
of the lever of the safety valve of the boiler, while his other strong's
hand was in the steam which was issuing from a fissure, hydro-
received an electric shock. The same effect was produced electric
if he touched any part of the boiler, or any iron work con- machlue-
nected with it. The engine-man also found that when one
hand was immersed in the jet of steam he gave a shock to
every person he touched with the other, whether the person
was in contact with the boiler or merely stood on the brick¬
work which supports it, though the shock was greater when
the person touched the boiler. Having heard of these re¬
markable facts, Mr Armstrong went to Cramlington Col¬
liery and observed the phenomena, and having constructed
a steam apparatus, he found that the place where the elec¬
tricity was produced was that at which the steam was sub¬
jected to friction, and that when the boiler was of wrought
iron the electricity was always positive, excepting when he
made the steam pass to the discharging aperture through a
considerable surface of polished brass. In this case the
electricity became very feeble; but when the inside of the
brass tube was moistened with dilute nitric acid, the steam
from the iron boiler became for the first time negatively
electrified. By an insulated brass discharging-rod, consist¬
ing of a metallic plate at one end and a brass ball at the
other, he obtained from 60 to 70 powerful sparks in a mi¬
nute, the plate being plunged in the issuing steam, and the
ball brought into contact with the boiler. Mr Armstrong
was thus led to construct a hydro-electric machine, which
gives sparks 22 inches long, and so large, dense, and rapid
that they frequently resembled a continuous flame. This
machine,' with a boiler 6^ feet long by 3|- feet wide, was
constructed for the Polytechnic Institution, where it has
long excited the admiration of the public.
Mr Armstrong at the very commencement of his inquiry Mr Fara-
communicated his discovery to Mr Faraday, who, with his day 8 ®x*
usual ability, investigated the theory of the machine. He ^a°^tl0n
found that the electricity was produced by the friction of j,yC]r0.
the particles of water upon the discharging tube, and that electric
it was not the electricity caused by evaporation. When machine,
tubes of glass, metal, or wood were used, the electricity of
the steam was always negative, and that of the boiler posi¬
tive, but when a quill tube or a tube of ivory was employed,
“ the boiler received scarcely any charge, and the stream of
steam was also in a neutral state,” showing that the elec¬
tricity was not produced by evaporation. Mr Faraday also
found that the electricity of the issuing current was nega¬
tive, and that of the boiler positive, when oil or oil of tur¬
pentine was carried forward by the current of steam. When
acetic acid was used in the steam globe, the electricity was
neutralized.
Among the able and active cultivators of electrical science, Researches
Sir Snow Flarris deserves a prominent place. He was the of Sir Snow
first who introduced accurate quantitative measures into the ^ams'
investigation of the laws of statical electricity—the unit mea¬
sure by which quantity is minutely estimated—and the hydro¬
electrometer and scale-beam balance by which its intensity
and the laws of attractive forces at all distances are demon¬
strated. Of not less value is the thermo-electrometer, by
which the heating effects of given quantities of electricity
are measured and rendered comparable with the varying
conditions of quantity and intensity. Besides these instru¬
ments, we owe to the same philosopher the discovery of a
new reactive force, by which repulsion and other small
physical forces are investigated and determined by means
of his bifilar balance, founded upon the reactive force of two
vertically suspended parallel threads when twined upon each
’ ®ee Cambridge and Lublin Mathematical Journal, Nov. 1845 ; and Phil. Mag., July 1854, pp. 42-62.
RejJorts of the British Association, 1847, Trans. Sect., pp. 6, 7.
\
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Elemen¬
tary phe¬
nomena
and defini¬
tions.
ELECTRICITY.
535
second, that both these electrics repel the ball after each Phenome-
of them has communicated to it some of their own elec- na and
tricity. Laws.
3. Let us now examine what takes place when the ex-
cited sealing-wax is presented to the ball after the ball has
received electricity from the excited glass, and vice versa.
For this purpose excite the glass tube, present it to the ball
B, and after it has been a few seconds in contact, withdraw
it. The ball has now received electricity from the glass
tube. Let the sealing-wax be now excited and presented
to the ball, the ball, in place of being repelled, will be at¬
tracted by the wax. Reverse this experiment, by first pre¬
senting the excited wax to the ball, and then the excited
glass, and it will be in like manner found that the glass re¬
pels the ball. Hence it follows that
Excited glass repels a ball electrified by excited glass.
Excited wax repels a ball electrified by excited wax.
Excited glass attracts a ball electrified by excited wax.
Excited wax attracts a ball electrified by excited glass.
From which we conclude that there are two opposite
electricities, namely, that produced by excited glass, to
which the name of vitreous or positive electricity has been
given, and that produced by excited wax, to which the
name of resinous or negative electricity has been given.
4. If, when the pith ball B is electrified, either with ex¬
cited glass or wax, we touch it with a rod of glass, its pro¬
perty of being subsequently attracted or repelled by the
excited glass or wax will suffer no change ; but if wre touch
it with a rod of metal it will lose the electricity which it
had received, and will be attracted both by the excited glass
or wax, as it was when they were first applied to it. Hence
the rod of glass and the rod of metal possess different pro¬
perties, the former being incapable, and the latter capable,
of carrying off the electricity of the pith ball. The metal
is therefore said to be a conductor, and the glass a non-con¬
ductor, of electricity.
other at a given angle, and acted upon by a suspended
weight. With the aid of these ingenious instruments he
has carried on a variety of successful inquiries into the laws
of electrical forces, and the laws and operations of electrical
accumulation. In studying the laws of electrical discharge
in the form of lightning, Sir Snow Harris was led to the
invention of a permanent system of conductors for ships, so
perfect that during the last twenty-five years in which they
have been introduced into the British navy no instance has
occurred of the least damage by lightning. Although the
nation has thus gained many thousand pounds per annum,
and hundreds of valuable lives been saved, Sir Snow Harris
has received only the paltry reward of L.5000. Our limits
will not permit us to enumerate the various individuals by
whom the science of statical electricity has been advanced,
either by their researches or their inventions. Among these
we may mention the distinguished names of Peltier, Pouil-
let, Becquerel, Matteucci, Fusinieri, Grove, Wheatstone,
Delarive, Melloni, and Dubois Remond.
PART I.
PHENOMENA AND LAWS OF ELECTRICITY.
Elementary Phenomena and Definitions.
1. If a smooth glass tube, or the glass of a watch, or a
piece of sealing-wax, or amber, be rubbed upon the sleeve
of a cloth coat, or, what is still better, if it be rubbed with
a piece of dry flannel or woollen cloth, it will be found to
have acquired from this friction a new physical property.
This property will be exhibited by holding the body which
has been newly rubbed above small shreds of paper, gold
leaf, or any thin light substances placed upon the table.
These bodies will be instantly attracted to it, some of them
adhering to its surface, others falling back to the table, and
others being thrown off from the body as if they were re¬
pelled from it.
The property which has thus been communicated by
friction is called electricity, the body which acquires the
property is called the electric, the attraction which it exer¬
cises over light bodies is called electric attraction; and when
the attractive power is produced by friction, the body rubbed,
or the electric, is said to be excited by friction, or electrified
or electrized, and the body by which it is excited is called
the rubber.
2. In order to study these phenomena with more preci¬
sion, let a small ball B,1 the size of a pea, made of cork, or
the dry pith of elder, or, what is better still,
of the finely porous pith of the sola tree from
India, be suspended from a stand ACD by a
dry silk thread AB, or a fibre of raw silk.
Having rubbed a large glass tube with a
piece of dry silk, present it to the ball B,
and the ball will be instantly attracted to the n
tube, and will adhere to it. After they have C
continued in contact for a second or two, Fig. i.
withdraw the glass tube, taking care not to touch the ball
with the finger. If the excited glass tube is now a second
time brought near the ball, the ball will recede from it, or
will be repelled by the tube. If, after touching the ball
with the finger, so as to deprive it of its electricity, the
above experiment is accurately repeated with a stick of
sealing-umx in place of glass, the very same phenomena will
be exhibited ; the ball will, in the first instance, be attract¬
ed, and on the second application of the sealing-wax it will
be repelled. Hence we draw two conclusions, first, that
both glass and sealing-wax attract the ball B before they
have communicated to it any of their own electricity ; and,
In the few elementary experiments which we have now
described, the electricity has been produced by friction ;
but the pith ball could have been electrified by a great
variety of other methods, which will be explained in a sub¬
sequent part of this article. In all these cases the effects
are precisely the same, whatever be the source from which
the electricity is obtained ; but as friction is the simplest
means of generating electricity, and as machines and appa¬
ratus have been invented, by means of which it can be thus
produced in great abundance, and accumulated in large
quantities, we shall proceed to describe the phenomena and
law s of electricity as produced by friction.
CHAP. I. ON THE PHENOMENA OF ELECTRICITY PRO¬
DUCED BY FRICTION.
Sect. I.—Description of the Electrical Machine for gene¬
rating Electricity.
Although the friction produced by the strength of the
human arm is sufficient to produce abundance of electricity
for ordinary experiments, yet the aid of mechanism has
been found essential for carrying on electrical investiga¬
tions, and producing powerful electrical effects. The vari¬
ous forms which have been given to the electrical machine
will be described in the second part of this article, under
the head of Electrical Apparatus, so that we shall chiefly
confine our attention at present to a description of the plate-
glass machine. _ _ _ Plate-glass
I his machine, in its common form, is represented m machine.
Plate CCXXI I. fig. 1, where AB is a circular disc of plate- Plate
  CCXXII.
Fig. 1.
1 Light hollow metallic balls, or pith balls covered with gold or silver leaf, are preferable in certain experiments.
536
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Rubbers.
Prime con¬
ductor.
Silk flaps.
Amalgam.
Ronalds’
cylinder
machine.
Fig. 3.
ELECTRICITY.
glass from eighteen inches to two or more feet in diameter,
and from twm to three eighths of an inch thick. This disc
is fixed perpendicular to a horizontal axis, supported by
two uprights E, F, of a mahogany frame, and is capable of
being turned round with any ordinary degree of velocity,
by means of the handle or winch W. The rubbers by
which this disc of glass is rubbed or excited are placed at
the upper and lower end of the disc, as seen in the section,
fig. 2. The two upper rubbers above A, viz. G, H, are
suspended from the top of the frame, and are fixed by
screws to two fiat pieces of wood m, m, which can be
pressed together or slackened by turning the screw s so
that the rubbers G, H may be made to press with the re¬
quisite degree offeree against the disc AB which revolves
between them. The lower rubbers M, N below B, are
supported upon the stand, and are similarly put together.
The rubbers are generally flat cushions of silk or soft leather
stuffed with hair.
The prime conductor CD is a semicircle of hollow brass,
supported on the upright E by means of the solid glass
cylinder R. The two extremities of this conductor, one
of which is seen below A, and the other above B, carry
each a row of brass points, and the transverse piece of brass
tube in which the points are inserted terminates in a var¬
nished wooden ball.
From the upper rubbers an oil silk flap, embracing both
surfaces of the plate, extends to a little above the row of
points on the conductor; and from the lower rubbers a
similar flap extends to a little below the other row of points.
One of these flaps is seen in the figure, but the other is par¬
tially hid by the upright F.
As it has been found that electricity is developed more
copiously when the rubbers are covered with an amalgam
of one part of tin and two of mercury, various compositions
have been tried by philosophers.' The following amalgam,
recommended by Singer, is equal in efficacy to any that has
yet been proposed. Melt two ounces of zinc and one of tin,
and pour into the crucible six ounces of mercury. Shake
the whole together till it is cold, in an iron or thick wooden
box ; and when it has been reduced to a fine powder in a
mortar, mix it with as much lard as will form it into a paste.
The amalgam thus formed must then be thinly spread on
the surface of each cushion ; and when the disc of glass has
been well cleaned from dust, and from black specks or lines,
by means of a little spirits of wine, the mixture is ready
for use.
When a very powerful excitation is required, it is usual
to cover a piece of smooth leather, four or five inches broad,
with the amalgam, and apply it with the hand to the re¬
volving disc ; and it has been found very useful to apply
previously a rag with a little tallow, so as just to give a
slight dimness to the glass.
Although the plate-glass machine is generally regarded
as the best, yet, from its greater cheapness and facility of
construction, the cylinder machine is most commonly used.
We shall therefore describe at present one of those machines
as improved by Mr F. Ronalds. This machine is repre¬
sented in fig. 3, where A is a cylinder of blue glass about
a quarter of an inch thick, supported by the two mahogany
uprights B, B, fixed to the box or case C, which forms the
base of the machine. D D is a copper pipe which supports
the semicylinder E, which is also hollowr, and into which
the pipe D opens. This semicylinder carries on its flat
side the cushion or rubber, the surface of w hich is made
concave to suit the convexity of the cylinder A A. A small
spirit-lamp F, the burner of which consists only of a single
cotton thread, is placed, as shown in the figure, immediately
beneath the mouth of the copper pipe DD. The prime
conductor G, which stands parallel to the cylinder, is a cy- Phenome-
lindrical tube of thin copper, rounded at both ends, and naand
carrying at its middle a row of metallic points, which nearly ^aws-
touch the surface of the glass cylinder. The conductor G
is supported by a hollow glass support H, opening into the
hollow conductor G. Its lower end at II is fixed to the
wooden case C by means of three screws, one of which is
seen at a passing through a circular piece of hard boxwood,
the inside of which, as well as that of the perforation in the
case C, is lined with leather. The lower end of the glass
tube H terminates, like that of D, within the case C, and
a spirit-lamp is in like manner placed beneath it.
By these ingenious contrivances the rubber and the con¬
ductor2 are kept warm and dry, and in damp weather, or in
a close room, where the air is rendered moist by the breath
of the audience, the machine will be found always effective
and in working order. Mr Ronalds is of opinion that the
excitation of the cylinder is promoted by the excitation of
the amalgam by means of the heat. If similar means are
not taken to heat the interior of the glass cylinder, the de¬
velopment of electricity may be promoted by holding a hot
piece of cloth or flannel beneath the cylinder while it is in
operation.
In using an electrical machine a singular but not dis- Ozone or
agreeable odour is invariably felt, which increases with the the electri-
number of sparks taken from the conductor or from electrical cal 0(iour'
jars and batteries. The same smell is felt when lightning
strikes terrestrial objects, and particularly objects in the in¬
terior of an apartment. The origin of this remarkable odour
has been discovered by M. Schoenbein of Basle, the disco¬
verer of gun cotton, and he has given the name of ozone
to the substance which produces it. Ozone is highly odo¬
riferous, and is nothing more than oxygen gas possessing a
particular chemical activity which it receives from electri¬
city. It has very remarkable properties as a chemical agent
which are not possessed by pure oxygen, into which it is
converted at a temperature of 300° Centigrade.
Sect. II.— On the Phenomena of Electrical Attraction and
Repulsion.
If the electrical machine, when thus prepared, is put in Electrical
motion, the two rows of points will collect the electricity attraction
which is generated by friction, and the brass conductor CD, ancl rePu^'
fig. 1, will be filled with the electricity thus produced. By &lon-
means of this electricity the following experiments may be
readily performed.
Exp. 1. If we suspend a pith ball by a slender wire, and
bring the ball near the conductor, it will be instantly at¬
tracted by, and adhere to, the conductor, as long as there
is any electricity left. In this case the electricity imparted
to the ball by the conductor is carried eft' by the conduct¬
ing wire to the hand, and through the body to the earth.
If the pith ball is suspended by a dry silk thread, and
held near the conductor, it will at first be attracted to it as
formerly; but alter it has received as much as it can take,
it will then be repelled by the conductor, from the repulsive
action of the two similar electricities, and it will not again
approach the conductor, till either its own electricity or
that of the conductor has been carried off by the contact of
some conducting body. In either of these cases the pith
ball will be again attracted by the conductor.
Exp. 2. Suspend a little brass ball by a silk thread, and
bring the ball near the conductor, so as to receive electri¬
city from it, and be repelled, as in experiment 1. Then
with the other hand bring another brass ball near to the
first, but on the side of it opposite to the conductor. The
first ball will now be attracted to the conductor in conse-
^ Mosaic gold and the deuto-sulphuret of tin is a good amalgam.
It would he easv to improve this construction by introducing the heated air of other two spirit-lamps into each end of the cylinders.
537
ELECTRICITY.
Laws.
Electrical
bells.
Plate
CCXXII.
fig. 4.
Phenome- quence of having given out its electricity to the second ball;
na and but having received a new charge of electricity, it will be
repelled from the conductor and attracted to the hand or
fixed ball. In this way it will oscillate like a pendulum be¬
tween the conductor and the fixed ball. If in place of the
fixed ball we substitute a bell, the ball will oscillate as be¬
fore, and cause the bell to ring by its successive strokes.
Exp. 3. The beautiful experiment of the electrical bells
is exhibited in fig. 4, where AB is a solid glass rod sur¬
mounted by a brass ball A, and supported upon a wooden
stand. Two arms of brass crossing at right angles are also
supported by the glass rod, and, by means of wires or chains
hanging from their extremities, are suspended four bells
b, b, b, b. From the middle part of each of these cross
arms is suspended a brass ball by silk threads, so that each
ball when put in motion and made to oscillate in a plane
passing through its own cross arm, may strike alternately
the middle bell b' and the one adjacent to it. If the brass
ball is now placed close beneath the brass knob of the
prime conductor, or made to communicate with it, the elec¬
tricity of the conductor will be transmitted through the
brass arms to the balls, and the balls giving out their electri¬
city to the bells, will strike them alternately, and cause
them to ring, the electricity passing off’ through the central
bell b' into the earth.
The experiment may be made more simply by suspend¬
ing three bells, one from the middle, and one from each
extremity of a brass rod, which is hung by its middle part
from an electrified conductor. Two brass balls are hung
by a silk thread between the central bell and the outer ones.
The outer bells are supported by a wire or chain, and the
central one by a silk thread. This central bell, however,
must communicate with the ground by a chain. When the
machine is put in motion, the electricity passes to the outer
bells, and the insulated balls, being attracted and repelled,
strike the outer bells and the inner one, by which last the
electricity passes into the earth.
A still simpler form of the experiment consists in placing
two small bells on separate glass stands, at a quarter of an
inch distance, one of the bells communicating with the
prime conductor, and the other with the ground. A brass
ball is then suspended between them by a silk thread, and
when the machine is wrought, the electricity will pass to the
earth through the bells and the ball, the latter oscillating
between them, and ringing them, as long as the current of
electricity is kept up.
Exp. 4. Take a dozen of threads about a foot long, and
having tied them together at both ends, hang them, by a
loop attached to the upper knot, to the prime conductor.
When the machine is wrought, the threads will separate
from each other, swell out at the middle, and assume a
form approaching to that of a sphere. If the threads are
merely joined at each end, so that their extremities point
to two poles, which may easily be done, they would swell
out, and form, as it were, the meridians of a hollow globe.
This pretty experiment we owe to Mr Wheler.
Exp. 5. Having fastened a piece of sealing-wax to a wire,
and inserted the wire in the hole at the end of the prime
conductor, soften the sealing-wax by the flame of a candle,
and work the machine;—fine fibres of wax like those of
wool will be thrown off, and may be received on paper. By
gently heating the paper, the result of the experiment may
be fixed. These fibres are thrown off by the repulsion of
the electrified particles of wax, which becomes a conductor
when melted. The same experiment might no doubt be
made with melted sugar, rosin, and other substances.
Exp. 6. The experiment of the dancing figures is one of
the finest illustrations of electrical attraction and repulsion.
Take two circular discs of wood or pasteboard, E, F, like
those shown in fig. 5. Cover them with tinfoil, and having
suspended the uppermost from the prime conductor (or from
VOL. VIII.
Fig. 5.
the end D of a metallic rod CD insulated by the glass Phenome-
stand AB, and whose other extremity C communicates by
a chain with the prime conductor), place the other upon a ^ aWS|i~ j
stand G, so that, by means of the screw nut n, it can be ”* v ^
raised or depressed. Place, upon the lower disc small
painted figures cut out of paper, and as soon as the ma¬
chine is wrought the figures will spring upon their feet,
and execute the most extraordinary movements, sometimes
dancing on their heads, sometimes hanging by the upper
plate, and sometimes flying into each other’s arms. If
these figures are cut out of the pith of the sola tree, and if
the arms and legs are made separate, and attached by
threads to the body, the effect surpasses all description. The
circular discs will answer equally well if made of metal.
Exp. 7. Suspend from the prime conductor a small me¬
tallic cup nearly full of water, and having placed in it the
shorter end of a syphon made with a capillary glass tube,
of such a bore that the water will with difficulty drop from
it. When the water is electrified by working the machine,
it will be discharged in a continuous stream from the larger
arm of the syphon ; and if the electricity is powerful, the
current of water will divide itself into several branches. In
like manner, if a condensed air fountain is electrified, the
jet will subdivide itself into minute parts, and suffer great
expansion; but the moment the machine stops it resumes
its original form. In like manner, if a sponge filled with
water discharges the fluid only by drops, it will, when elec¬
trified, let fall an abundant shower, which in the dark will
be luminous.
Exp. 8. In a metallic cup place a piece of lighted
camphor, and when the cup communicates with the elec-
t ified conductor, the camphor will throw off numerous ra¬
mifications, shooting forth its branches like a vegetable in
growth.
An immense number of similar experiments may be
made by placing pith balls under inverted tumblers, and
thin balls of glass within metallic rings; and when the
tumblers and the rings are electrified, the most varied
movements are produced; and the effect is greatly height¬
ened by the accompanying luminosity, which displays itself
in the dark.
The theory of the phenomena which we have now de¬
scribed will be given in a subsequent section.
Sect. III.—On the Phenomena of Positive and Negative
Electricity.
We have already seen that there are two opposition Positive
electricities, which have received the name of positive or and nega-
vitreous, and negative or resinous electricity, the former ^ye. elec‘
being generated by excited glass, and the latter by excited
wax.
In order to examine the properties of these two kinds of
electricity, take four stands like that shown in page 577,
consisting of a vertical rod of glass fixed in a wooden base.
From the top of each stand suspend a single pith ball by a
slender wire, and place the four stands, which we shall
call P, P' and N, N' at some distance from each other on
a table. Electrify the pith balls on P, P' by excited glass,
so as to make them positively electrical; and the pith balls
on N, N' with excited wax, so as to make them negatively
electrical. The following phenomena will then be ob¬
served. If the balls P, F or N, N are brought near each
other, they will repel one another, but if P or P' is brought
near to N or N', the balls will attract each other. Hence
it follows,
That two SIMILARLY electrified bodies P, P or N, N' re- Properties
pel each other, while tivo dissimilarly electrified bodies °f positive
P, N or P', N' attract each other. a.nd neSa'
If, in place of electrifying the balls with the glass and the ^{citleC"
sealing-wax, we had electrified them with the rubber with
3 r
538
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Plate
CCXXII.
fig. 6.
Van Ma-
rum’s ma¬
chine.
Plate
CCXXTII.
fig. 1-5.
Dr Hare’s
machine,
Plate
CUXXII.
fig. 7.
Electri¬
city of mi¬
nerals.
ELECTRICITY.
which they had been excited, we should have found that
the rubber which excited the glass gave out resinous elec¬
tricity, and the rubber which excited the wax vitreous elec¬
tricity. Hence we learn,
That in electrical excitation positive and negative electri-
city are simultaneously produced.
In all electrical machines, therefore, where the plate or
cylinder is made of glass, the conductor which takes the
electricity from the glass will be charged with positive elec¬
tricity ; and as the rubber is negatively electrified, we may
obtain negative electricity from it in the same abundance,
by placing a conductor behind the rubber, and insulating
them both by a glass stand. In the cylinder machine this
is easily done, as shown in fig. 6, which represents a ma¬
chine driven by a wheel and pulley, where E is the nega¬
tive conductor placed at the back of the rubber R, and S
the glass stand by which they are both supported and in¬
sulated.
In the plate-glass machine it is more difficult to unite a
conductor to the rubbers. In Van Marum’s beautiful electri¬
cal machine, shown in fig. 1—5 of Plate CCXXIII. and which
will be more minutely described afterwards, the positive
and negative electricity can be obtained only in succession;
but Dr Hare, of the university of Pennsylvania, has re¬
moved this difficulty by the very ingenious contrivance
shown in fig. 7, of making the plate revolve horizontally,
and thus allowing the positive and negative conductors B,
F to stand like arches in two vertical planes at right angles
to each other.
The circumstances of surface and structure under which
bodies yield the two opposite electricities by friction are
still verv imperfectly understood. Mr Canton found that
the same body gave out opposite electricities when rubbed Phenome-
with different substances. Polished glass, for example, na and
was always positively electrified when excited with flannel Laws-
or silk ; but always negatively electrified when excited by “ v"*"1
the back of a cat. But, what was still more strange, he
found that rough glass acquired negative electricity when
excited by flannel, and positive electricity when excited by
dry oiled silk. Rough quartz has been found to exhibit the
same difference.
A still more extraordinary and instructive anomaly was
observed by Haiiy, in exciting a mineral called hyanite.
Some of the crystals he found to acquire positive electricity
by friction, while others acquired negative electricity. Saus-
sure had announced that they were negatively electrified
by friction ; and when Haiiy obtained an opposite result in
his first experiment, he was led to examine the subject
more carefully, and to make his trials both with the natural
faces and with those produced by cleavage. “ I have,” he
remarks, “ in my collection a crystal whose opposite faces
have presented me with these opposite effects {electricities),
and I can assign no other cause for this singular result
than a certain alteration in the contexture of one of the
surfaces.” Hence Haiiy has given the name of disthene, or
two powers, to this mineral. The remarkable property
which Haiiy discovered in the individual crystal above re¬
ferred to may have arisen from some composite structure
which he did not recognise.
As the property of giving positive or negative electri¬
city by friction has been used as a mineralogical character,
we shall lay before our readers a general view of tbe expe¬
riments which have been made on the subject, which we
have collected from a great variety of sources.
Names of the Excited
Substances.
Smooth Glass
Rough Glass
Quartz, smooth
Quartz, rough
Topaz, smooth
Topaz, rough
Back of a, living cat
Hare skin
White Silk
Black silk
Woollen cloth
Sealing-wax
Baked wood
Sulphur
Resinous bodies
Nature of the Electricity
produced.
f Positive
| Negative
f Positive
| Negative
Positive
Negative
Positive
Negative
Positive
J Positive
\ Negative
j Positive
\ Negative
Positive
Negative
( Positive
\ Negative
f Positive
\
^Negative
| Positive
( Negative
| Positive
( Negative
f Positive
\ Negative
Substances used for Excitation.
Every substance yet tried hut the back of a cat and mercury.
Back of a cat, and sometimes caoutchouc. (Nich. Journ. xxviii. p. 11.)
Dry oiled silk, metals, wax, and resinous matters.
Woollen cloth, human hand, hack of a cat, wood, paper, quills.
Flannel, &c,
Flannel, &c.
Flannel, &c.
Flannel, &c.
Every substance yet used.
Human hand, silk, leather, metals, paper, baked wood, and loadstone.
Other finer furs.
Black silk, black cloth, metals.
Human hand, weasel’s skin, paper, hair.
Sealing-wax.
Hare’s, weasel's, and ferret’s skin, white silk, human hand, brass, silver, iron,
loadstone.
Zinc, silver, bismuth, copper, lead, oligist iron.
Platina, gold, tin, antimony, grey copper, grey cobalt, tellurium, &c.
Rough glass, white wax, sulphur, and all metals except iron, steel, plumbago, lead,
and bismuth.
Hare’s, weasel’s, and ferret’s skin,.human hand, leather, smooth glass, flannel,
wood, paper, iron, steel, plumbago, lead, and bismuth.
Silk, paper, rough glass, wax, lead, sulphur, and the metals.
Flannel, hare’s skin, smooth glass, quills.
All metals but lead.
Lead and all other substances.
All resinous substances.
All bodies but resinous ones.
The most accurate and numerous observations on the
development of electricity by friction were made by the
Abbe Hatiy in reference to the discovery of new characters
of minerals. He rubbed the minerals on a woollen cloth,
and when it was necessary to insulate them, he fixed them
by wax to the end of a stick of gum-lac or Spanish wax.
In this way he divided the mineral kingdom into four classes
of bodies in reference to the electrical character of the
minerals.
Class. I.— Containing minerals which possess the insulat¬
ing property} and acquire vitreous electricity by friction.
Boracite.
Topaz,
Axinite.
Tourmaline.
Mesotype.
Prehnite.
Oxide of zinc.
Sphene.
Carbonate of lime.
Carbonate of magnesia.
Arragonite.
Apatite.
Fluate of lime.
Gypsum.
Anhydrite.
Sulphate of barytes.
1 That is. that they do not require to be insulated or placed upon a substance which does not conduct or carry off electricity, in order
to exhibit their electricity.
ELECTKICITY.
539
Phenorae- Sulphate of strontian. Feldspar,
na and Carbonate of barytes. Apophyllites.
Laws. Carbonate of strontian. Actinote.
v y Sulphate of magnesia. Tremolite.
* ~ Siliceous borate of lime. Diopside.
Nitrate of potash. Epidote..
Sulphate of potash. Stilbite.
Muriate of soda. Analcime.
Glauberite. Nepheline.
Hyalin quartz;. Eyanite.
Zircon. Mica.
Corundum. Made.
Cymophane. Talc transp.
Spinelle. Diamond.
Emerald. Carbonate of lead.
Euclase. Sulphate of lead.
Cordierite. Tungstate of lead.
Garnet. Carbonate of zinc.
Essonite. Oxide of tin.
Idocrase.
Class II.—Containing minerals which possess the insu¬
lating property {excepting anthracite), and acquire re¬
sinous electricity by friction.
Sulphur. Amber.
Bitumen. Mellite.
Retinasphaltum. Anthracite.
Class III.—Containing conducting substances which ac¬
quire, when they are insulated and rubbed, the one order
vitreous electricity, and the other resinous electricity.
Order 1. Substances which acquire vitreous electricity.
Pure silver.
Native silver.
Silver coin.
Pure lead.
Pure copper.
Native copper.
Copper coin.
Pure zinc.
Brass.
Native bismuth.
Native amalgam.
Order 2. Substances which acquire resinous electricity.
Pure platina.
Native platina.
Palladium.
Pure gold.
Native gold.
Gold coin.
Pure nickeL
Native iron.
Hammered iron.
Pure tin.
Amalgam of tin and mercury.
Native arsenic.
Pure antimony.
Native antimony.
Tellurium of Nay gag.
Antimonial silver.
Arsenical nickel.
Arsenical iron.
Oxidulated iron.
Metalloidal oxide of manga¬
nese.
Sulphuret of silver.
Sulphuret of lead.
Copper pyrites.
Grey copper.
Sulphuret of copper.
Graphite.
Common sulphuret of iron.
White sulphuret of iron.
Magnetic sulphuret of iron.
Sulphuret of tin.
Sulphuret of bismuth.
Sulphuret of manganese.
Sulphuret of antimony.
Sulphuret of molybdena.
Chromate of iron.
Oxide of iron.
Jenite,
Black oxide of cobalt.
Oxidulated uranium.'
Wolfram.
Tantalite.
Yttro-tantalite.
Black oxide of cerium.
Class IV.—Containing Substances which acquire resinous
electricity by friction. The insulating property is li¬
mited to the very transparent varieties.
Ruby silver.
Sulphuret of mercury.
Red copper ore.
Oligist iron ore.
Sulphuret of arsenic.
Titanite.
Anatase.
Muriate of mercury.
Chromate of lead.
Phosphate of lead.
Molybdate of lead.
Green carbonate of copper.1
Blue carbonate of copper.
Arseniate of copper.
Dioptase.
Phosphate of copper.
Hydrate of copper.
Sulphate of copper.
Phosphate of iron.
Arseniate of iron.
Sulphate of iron.
Sulphuret of zinc.
Red cobalt.
Green oxide of uranium.
White oxide of antimony.
Red oxide of cerium.
As the causes which determine the production of posi-
Laws.
tive or negative electricity by friction are wholly unknown, Phenome-
and require to be carefully investigated, we must warn the na a,i<i
philosopher against the implicit adoption of all the preceding
determinations. Different results have in many cases been
obtained by different observers, and even by the same ob¬
server while using the same materials; and we could have
greatly enlarged the first of the preceding tables had we
inserted the opposite results of different observers. There
are two points, however, which require to be attended to
in such inquiries: \st, There is a tendency to the produc¬
tion of negative electricity in the substance which has the
least extent of surface; and, 2dly, there is a tendency to
the production of an opposite electricity when the surface
of the body is even minutely scratched.
Besides the chemical nature of the bodies, the kind of Faraday’s
electricity produced by friction depends on various physical Experi-
circumstances in the two bodies. Polish, for example, ments-
tends to produce vitreous, and heat resinous electricity. Mr
Faraday obtained interesting results by rubbing together
the substances in the following table in pairs.
1. Calfskin and Bearskin. 9. White Silk.
2. Flannel. 10. The hand.
3. Ivory. 11. Wood.
4. Quill. 12. Lac.
5. Rock crystal. 13. Metals—Iron, copper, brass,
6. Flint Glass. tin, silver, platinum.
7. Cotton. 14. Sulphur.
8. Linen, Canvas.
If any one of these substances is rubbed against the sub¬
stance above it, it becomes negatively electrified, and if
against the substance beloiv it, the electricity is positive. Mr
Faraday, however, found many exceptions to this rule.
One part of a cat’s skin, for example, was very negative to
another part, and even to rock crystal, and different pieces
of flannel also differed much from each other; a change in
the mode of rubbing, too, made a great difference. A
feather struck lightly against a dry canvas becomes
strongly negative, while the same feather drawn with
a little pressure between the folds of the same canvas
will be strongly positive. When a piece of flannel is
halved, and the two pieces drawn across each other, the
electricity of the two will be of a different kind irregularly ;
or the same piece will have both electricities in different
parts ; or, sometimes, both pieces will be negative, in which
case Mr Faraday thinks that the air must have been ren¬
dered positive and then dissipated.
When we come to describe the hydro-electric machine,
we shall find that w;ater is positive when carried, through
tubes of wood and metal by a stream of steam, the tubes
becoming positive ; and Mr Faraday thinks it will probably
be found to stand above all other substances, even cats’ hair
and oxalate of lime.
Mr Wilson had found that a stream of air directed against
a tourmaline, or glass, or resin, electrified these substances
positively; but Mr Faraday has shown that no electrical
effect is produced unless the air is damp, or holds dry pow¬
ders in suspension. In these cases, the electricity is pro¬
duced by the friction of the particles of water in the one
case, and the particles of powder in the other.
In order to account for the production of electricity by
friction, Dr Wollaston ascribed it to an oxidation; but
this cannot be the cause of it, as electricity is produced by
friction in vacuo, as was shown long ago by Stephen Gray;
and what is a still more decisive objection to this theory,
Gay Lussac found that electricity could be developed by
friction in dry carbonic acid.
Sect. IV.—On Electrical Conduction.
It is obvious, from all the phenomena described in the Electrical
preceding sections, that electricity is communicated from conduction,
1 This salt has often the insulating property, and acquires vitreous electricity hy friction.
540
ELECTRICITY.
Phenome- one body to another. The excited glass or wax communi-
naand cate, as we have seen, their electricity to a pith hall; and
Laws. t]-je e]ectricity of the machine is conveyed first to the prime
conductor, and from that to the bells or other apparatus
which have been already described. If we touch an elec¬
trified pith ball, or any other electrified body, with a rod of
metal of any kind, the electricity of the pith ball will be
instantly carried off; but if we touch it with glass or wax
it will not be carried off. Hence metals are said to be con¬
ductors, and glass and wax non-conductors, of electricity.
Bodies vary greatly in the degree in which they conduct
electricity ; and many of them owe their conducting power
to the water which they contain. The conducting power
of any substance depends on the state of the atmosphere at
the time with regard to humidity, and on the intensity of
the electricity employed. The fbllowin<r tables of con¬
ductors and non-conductors have been collected from diffe¬
rent authors. The bodies are placed in the order of their
conducting or non-conducting power; but it is probable
that this order would be greatly changed if the bodies were
all submitted to a new and uniform examination.
Steam of high elasticity.
Gun cotton.2
List of Conductors.
All metals.
Silver.
Copper.
Lead.
Gold.
Brass.
Zinc.
Tin.
Platina.
Palladium.
Iron heated.
Iron cold.
Charcoal well burned.
Plumbago.
Concentrated acids.
Powdered charcoal.
Diluted acids.
Saline solutions.
Metallic ores.
Animal fluids.
Hot water.
Sea wrater.
Pahr.
Spring water.
List of Nonr Conductors or Electrics.
Gutta percha.
Shell-lac.
Amber.
Resins.
Sulphur.
Wax.
Jet.
Glass.1
Vitrifications.
Mica,
Diamond,
Transparent gems, and }•
All the minerals in Class I. of |
Hatiy’s list. )
Raw silk.
Bleached silk.
Dyed silk.
Wool.
Hair.
Feathers.
Dry paper.
Parchment.
Leather.
Air, and all dry gases.
Baked wood.
Dry vegetable bodies.
Porcelain, 'j
Dry marble, and
Siliceous and argillaceous }•
stones in Class I. of Haiiy’s I
list. J
Camphor.
Caoutchouc.
Lycopodium.
Dry chalk.
Lime.
Phosphorus.
Ice at 0° Fahr.
Ashes of animal bodies.
Ashes of vegetable bodies.
River water.
Ice above —13°
Snow.
Living vegetables.
Living animals.
Flame.
Smoke.
Steam.
Soluble salts.
Rarefied air.
Vapour of alcohol.
Vapour of ether.
Moist earths and rocks.
Anthracite.
All the substances and mine¬
rals in the third class of
Haiiy’s list, as given in
Sect. II.
Powdered glass.
Flowers of sulphur.
Resins rendered fluid by heat.
Glass heated to redness.
Oils, the heaviest being the
best conductors.
Dry metallic oxides.
The most perfect non-conductors of electricity are also
called insulators, from their power of insulating an elec- Insulators,
trifled body, or preventing any of its electricity from escap¬
ing along its support. It is to Coulomb that we owe the
useful discovery that shell-lac is the most perfect of all in¬
sulators ; and hence it is of great value in electrical inquiries.
Coulomb found that the electricity of a pith ball five or six
lines in diameter could be completely insulated by a cy¬
linder of sealing-wax or gum-lac about half a line in di¬
ameter, and eighteen or twenty lines long; that a very
fine silk thread, penetrated and covered wfith melted wax
so as to form a cylinder one-fourth of a line in diameter,
had the same insulating power when its length was five or
six inches; and that an equal degree of insulation could
not be obtained by a fine thread of glass five or six inches
long, or by a hair or a fibre of silk, unless the electricity
insulated was very weak, or the air very dry. Coulomb
found also that the density of electricity insulated by a fibre
of gum-lac was ten times as great as that which could be
insulated by a silk fibre of the same length and diameter ;
and he established the following general law, that the den¬
sities of electricity insulated by different lengths of fne cy¬
lindrical fibres, such as those of gum-lac, hair, silk, §c.,
vary as the square root of the lengths of the fibre.
In examining whether or not positive and negative elec- Conduc-
tricity were conveyed with equal facility by conducting tion of po-
bodies, M. Erman found that there were some bodies which sitive and
completely obstructed the passage of one kind of electricity,
while they afforded a ready passage to the other. As this c
result, however, was obtained by weak galvanic electricity,
the question is still open to examination in reference to or¬
dinary electricity.
Although some bodies are said to be perfect non-conduc¬
tors, yet this is not strictly true. A strong electrical charge
can be made to pass through a thin film of the worst con¬
ductor. Dr Ritchie found that electricity permeated thin
balls of blown glass ; and though in one case he found that
a small invisible aperture bad been made in the glass, yet
in other experiments he could not by any known method
detect the smallest perforation.
It has been long known that imperfect conductors have Influence
their conducting power increased by heat; gases, charcoal, of heat in
glass, ice, and resins when melted, are proofs of this. Dr
Ritchie,3 * * * * on the authority of some accurate experiments, c
is of opinion, that if the body be naturally a pretty good
conductor, the ratio of its conducting power will not be so
much increased by heat as in the case of a less perfect con¬
ductor. Marianini found this to be true with fluid conduc¬
tors, and Dr Ritchie thinks that it is universally true.
An interesting paper on this subject by Sir Snow
Harris, will be found in the Edinburgh Tramactions for
1832; in which the author describes a new electrometer, See plate
and measures the degree of heat excited in metallic bodies CCXXVTI
by voltaic electricity. The results of his inquiries are— ^S8- 1 & 2*
“ That for certain given small forces the differences in the
conducting powers of the several metals vanish, each metal
being equally efficient. 2d. That differences in conducting
power become more apparent within a certain limit, as the
1 Glass of soda is the best conductor, and glass of potash the worst. M. Mathiessen found a species of glass which was absolutely in¬
capable of receiving any electric charge, and he found it to be a glass of soda almost entirely free of potash. The conducting power of
glass increases with its temperature. M. Buff has found from very accurate experiments that the glass of tubes used for chemical ex¬
periments, which is a good insulator, had its insulating power increased by heat nearly as in the following table.:
Temp. Cent. Insulating Temp. Cent. Insulating
o power. power.
200   2582 350   12
250   158 400   8
300   17
\\ hen made in large quantities this substance preserves the form of the sheet of cotton-wool from which it is made. When it is well
rie a c oud of sparks will be produced by drawing it through the hand. 3 Philosophical Transactions, 1828, p. 376.
ELECTRICITY.
541
Phenorre-
na and
Laws.
Influence
of heat in
promoting
conduction.
force of the battery increasesthe exact proportions in
which the differences increase with the increased power the
author had not accurately ascertained. In reasoning on the
several experimental results arrived at, our author traces
the source of these phenomena to certain unknown relations
subsisting between the causes of heat and electricity, and is
led to adopt the principle advocated by Sir H. Davy, that
the excitation of heat in the metal diminishes its conducting
power. He found by several striking experiments that the
electrometer became most sensibly affected by changes of
temperature in the wire transmitting the charge, and that
whether by the common means of heat or cold directly ap¬
plied to it, or otherwise by means of an electrical current;
so that it does not appear to be of any consequence how
the heat is derived by which the conducting power is dimin¬
ished. Hence it follows that the heat excited in a metallic
body during the time of its conduction would tend to im¬
pede the transmission of the electrical current. In certain
cases, therefore, of electricity of low tension, the heat excited
in different metals may be so small as not to interfere with
the transmission of the current, and they may all appear to
conduct equally well in that particular case. With respect
to currents differing in intensity, he found that when the
force was very considerable, the best conductor became the
most heated, from the circumstance of its permitting a
larger quantity of electricity to pass through it. When the
force of the battery became less, then the inferior conduc¬
tor became the most heated; because it is now capable of
transmitting the whole current.
There is however a contingency attendant on experiments
of this kind, which, as observed by Sir Snow Harris in his in¬
quiries into the Elementary Laws of Electricity,1 demands
very especial attention. The author has shown, in the course
of these investigations, that rarefied air does not restrain the
electrical discharge to the same extent as dense air. He found
that a given accumulation on coated glass would strikethrough
twice the distance in air of half the density; and, further,
that an electrical accumulation was transmitted with much
greater facility over a wire when the atmospheric pressure
was removed from its surface ; so much so, that an extremely
fine steel wire became beautifully luminous in a closely ex¬
hausted receiver, in transmitting without fusion a powerful
accumulation which in the atmosphere would dissipate the
metal in red-hot balls. When an electrical discharge there¬
fore is caused to pass over a heated surface in the atmo¬
sphere, as for example, that of iron heated to redness, we
have to take into the account the necessarily rarefied state
of the air in contact with the metal, and which may permit
a free passage along its surface, thereby more than compen¬
sating for any diminished power of conduction in the metal
itself. Unless therefore such experiments be conducted in a
space devoid of air, or nearly so, they can not be well re¬
ceived in opposition to a large class of well established facts,
and must be always more or less inconclusive.
A question arises here, bearing on the relations between
heat and electricity, of no small interest to these branches
of physical science. Is the source of heat material, and if a
material element, is heat a conductor or insulator of ordinary
electrical action? The following are some singularly interest-
. ng experiments relative to this question, by Sir Snow Harris,
^communicated to the Royal Society in 1834.2 Having exa-
m ined the laws of electrical discharge of high tension in air
varying in density, and having fully shown that the resist¬
ance of the atmosphere to the passage of free electricity is
not greater through one discharging distance than through
another, and in no case greater than the existing atmo¬
spheric pressure ; he proceeds to examine the influence of an
atmosphere of variable density and temperature in arresting
the progress of electrical discharge; and he finds, 1. That
the quantity requisite to force a given interval, varies in a Phenome-
simple ratio of the density, so that when the density was
only one-half as great, the discharge occurred with one-half ^ t
the quantity accumulated. 2. That the distance through ~ '■
which a given accumulation could discharge was in a simple ^keaTin
inverse ratio of the density. Thus, as already observed, in moting
air of half the density the discharge from a given accumu- conduction,
lation occurred at twice the distance. Having determined
this, the author endeavours to find whether the influence
of heat was such as to impair or augment the insulating
power of the air, which he does by forcibly retaining a given
volume of air within a glass receiver, and causing given
electrical accumulations to discharge through it, under very
considerable variations of its temperature, viz., from 50 to
300 degrees of Fahrenheit.
The manipulation and apparatus by which all these ex- Apparatus
periments were effected may be thus briefly explained :— used by
Two smooth balls of brass of about an inch and a half injjgr^0VV
diameter were directly opposed to each other within a large
glass receiver connected with an effective air-pump. These
balls could be set at given measured distances between
their nearest points, by means of a sliding brass rod passing
through an air-tight collar and glass plate on the top of the
receiver acted on by a micrometer screw and index. The
air-pump was fitted with a long mercurial gage and a deli¬
cate Fahrenheit thermometer placed within the receiver.
Given quantities of electricity, measured by the unit jar
(Plate CCXXIX. fig. 17), were accumulated on coated glass,
the thermo-electrometer (Plate CCXXVII. figs. 1 and 2) Plate
for measuring the effect of the discharge occasionally placed CCXXVII.
in the circuit, and discharges caused to pass between the fiDs‘ 1 & "•
brass balls within the receiver under a variety of different
circumstances. The temperature of the air contained within
the receiver was raised at pleasure, by means of an external
metallic envelope and a lamp, so contrived as to be removed
at pleasure without disturbing the fixed pieces, which, un¬
der the ordinary pressure of the atmosphere without, re¬
sisted the expansive power of the air contained within the re¬
ceiver, when the volume was required to be the same under
different temperatures, and at the density of the external air.
As a preliminary experiment, a given quantity of elec¬
tricity was accumulated and discharged between the brass
balls within the receiver in air of constant temperature, but
varying in density. By diminishing the density, the dis¬
tance of discharge within the receiver could be extremely
increased. The results of thirty successive experiments
give an invariable effect on the wire of the thermorelectro-
meter, at whatever distance the discharge passed between
the brass balls; showing that the resistance to the passing
shock must have been in each case alike. In order to effect
discharges between the balls in the receiver within the limit
at which the accumulated electricity could force a passage,
the battery was discharged externally to the receiver by a
drop ball falling with force on a small plate of varnished
glass resting on an opposed ball, in connection with the
positive coating; thus impeding the discharge of the battery
up to a given instant. The experiments being now arranged
solely with reference to heat, an accumulated quantity was
effected adequate to discharge over a certain distance be¬
tween the balls in the receiver, in a volume of air of a noted
temperature. This being determined, and the volume
fixed by closing the stop-stock connected with the receiver,
the temperature within was varied from 50° to 300° of
Fahrenheit, but without in any way affecting the result.
The discharge of the battery invariably occurred when the
same quantity had accumulated, or very nearly. The ex¬
periments were sufficiently approximative to show that the
heat had in no degree affected the restraining or insulating
power of the air.
1 Pb.il. Trans, for 1834, p. 230.
On some Elementary Laws of Electricity, First Series.
542
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Experi¬
ments of
Delarive.
Dr Fara¬
day’s new
law of con¬
duction.
ELECTRICITY.
The heated air was now permitted to expand, by opening
the stop-cock under the receiver, and allowing an escape
through the long mercurial gage from beneath the surface
of the mercury below. When full expansion had taken
place, the cock was again closed. This done, the quantity
of accumulated charge in the battery now requisite to pass
between the balls in the receiver was again determined,
which, although necessarily reduced, was found still con¬
stant through all succeeding depressions of the temperature,
from 280° down to the temperature of the external air.
When this was reached, the cock was again opened so as
to allow the mercury to rise in the gage, by which the
final density could be pretty well ascertained. The com¬
parative quantitative accumulations were then found to be
as the diminished density, or very neai'ly so.
The author describes several other forms of these experi¬
ments on the power of heated air to restrain electrical dis¬
charges, but the results were found the same. The insu¬
lating power of the air was found quite independent of the
temperature, and to have reference only to the condition of
density.
The author thinks that we may fairly conclude from
these experiments—
1. That heated air is not, as frequently stated, a con¬
ductor of electricity; and that heat in no way facilitates
electrical discharge through air, except by affecting its
density.
2. Supposing the cause of heat to be a material element,
it must necessarily be an electric or non-conductor; be¬
cause the incorporation of a conducting with a non-con¬
ducting substance is always found to impair its insulating
property—as for example in the case of air charged with
free vapour; whereas in the intimate union of two non-con-
ducto,'s the insulating power is in no way impaired. Since,
then, heat does not impair the insulating property of a given
volume of air, heat, if a substance, should therefore be
an electric, and have insulating properties.
The converse of this reasoning furnishes additional evi¬
dence of this. It is a well-known fact, as we shall here¬
after find, that the excitation of heat in good conductors,
such as the metals, greatly impairs their conductibility; a
result invariably attendant on the mixture of a conducting
with an insulating substance, and even evinced on amalga¬
mating a good conducting metal with a metal low in the
scale of conducting power.
It appears from some recent experiments made by Pro¬
fessor Delarive of Geneva, that the degree of conducti¬
bility of bodies for electricity depends 07i the quantity of
electricity which traverses them. Hence it follows, that, of
two conducting bodies, that which is the most perfect for
an electric current of a given intensity may be the worst
conductor for either a stronger or a weaker current. The
conducting powers of bodies, therefore, ought to be re¬
examined in reference to electric currents of different in¬
tensities ; and when such experiments are made with ac¬
curacy, we may expect that they will lead to great im¬
provements in our electrical apparatus.
Much light has been recently thrown on the conduct¬
ing power of bodies by the researches of Dr Faraday, of
' which we have already given a general account in our
history of electricity. He found that a great number of
solid bodies which were incapable of conducting electri¬
city of low tension, acquired by liquefaction or fusion the
power of conducting it in a very high degree. The follow¬
ing is a list of the bodies which possessed this property :
Water.
Oxides. Potassa, protoxide of lead, glass of antimony,
piotoxide of antimony, oxide of bismuth.
Chlorides of potassium, sodium, barium, strontium, mag¬
nesium, manganese, zinc, copper (proto-), lead, tin (proto-),
antimony, silver. 1 '
Iodides of potassium, zinc, and lead; protiodide of tin, Phenome-
periodide of mercury, fluoride of potassium, cyanide of naand
potassium, sulpho-cyanide of potassium. Laws.
Salts. Chlorate of potassa; nitrates of potassa, soda,
baryta, strontia, lead, copper, and silver; sulphates of soda
and lead; proto-sulphate of mercury; phosphates of potassa,
soda, lead, copper, phosphoric glass, or acid phosphate of
lime ; carbonates of potassa and soda, mingled and separate;
borax, borate of lead, perborate of tin ; chromate of potassa,
bichromate of potassa ; chromate of lead ; acetate of potassa.
Sulphurets. Sulphuret of antimony, sulphuret of po¬
tassium made by reducing sulphate of potassa by hydro¬
gen, ordinary sulphate of potassa.
Silicated potassa; chameleon mineral.
In those substances which soften before they liquefy,
Dr Faraday found it highly interesting to watch the in¬
crease of conducting power as they approached to perfect
fluidity. When borate of lead, for example, is heated by
the lamp upon glass, it becomes as soft as treacle, with¬
out gaining the power of conduction ; and it was only
when brought to a fair red heat by the blowpipe that it
conducted. When it was quite liquid, it conducted with
extreme facility.
The following bodies were found by Dr Faraday to ac¬
quire no conducting power when they assumed the liquid
state.
Sulphur.
Phosphorus.
Iodide of sulphur.
Periodide of tin.
Orpiment.
Realgar.
Glacial acetic acid.
Mixed margaric and oleic
acids.
Artificial camphor.
Cafeine.
Sugar.
Adipocire.
Stearine of cocoa-nut oil.
Spermaceti.
Camphor.
Naphthaline.
Resin.
Gum sandarach.
Shell-lac.
Perchloride of tin.
Chloride of arsenic.
Hydrated do.
Boracic acid and green bottle glass raised to the highest
heat by an oxyhydrogen flame acquired no conducting power.
Flint glass conducted a little when so heated.
When a solid becomes fluid it loses almost wholly its
power of conducting heat, and gains in a high degree that
of conducting electricity, and vice versa ; and hence Dr
Faraday concludes that there is a natural dependence be¬
tween the two classes of facts.
Dr Faraday concludes his very interesting researches on
this subject with the following summary of conditions of con¬
duction in bodies, which, though they apply chiefly to vol¬
taic electricity, are yet true within certain limits for ordinary
electricity.
1. All bodies conduct electricity in the same manner, from Conditions
metals to lac and gases, but in different degrees. of electri-
2. Conducting power is in some bodies powerfully in-calconduc-
creased by heat, and in others diminished, yet without ourtl0n-
perceiving any accompanying essential electrical difference,
either in the bodies or in the changes occasioned by the
electricity conducted.
3. A number of bodies insulating electricity of low inten¬
sity when solid, conduct it very freely when fluid, and are
then decomposed by it.
4. There are many fluid bodies which do not sensibly
conduct electricity of this low intensity; there are some
which conduct it and are not decomposed, nor is fluidity
essential to decomposition.
5. There is but one body yet discovered (periodide of mer¬
cury) which, insulating a voltaic current when solid, and con¬
ducting it when fluid, is not decomposed in the latter case.
6. There is no strict electrical distinction of conductors
which can as yet be drawn between bodies supposed to be
elementary and those known to be compounds.
The experiments of Dr Faraday with ice, in which it
ELECTRICITY.
543
city
Distance
to which
electricity
has been
Phenome- appeared that electricity of exalted intensity passed through
na and it, while it completely stopped voltaic electricity, confirms
Laws. tjie observations of M. Delarive on the relation between the
conducting power and the quantity of electricity which tra¬
verses the conductor ; and the phenomena seem to indicate
that the electric fluid or matter may consist, like solar light,
of different parts possessing different pow ers of conductibi-
lity and other properties, which may facilitate or obstruct
Absorption their passage through solid, fluid, or gaseous bodies. An
of electri- electric current, composed of different currents, may have
some of its component currents entirely stopped by some
bodies, while other currents are transmitted with the greatest
facility, in the same way as certain rays both of light and
heat are entirely absorbed by coloured bodies, while other
rays are copiously transmitted. Non-conductors, like black
bodies, stop every electrical current. Perfect conductors,
like colourless transparent bodies, may transmit every elec¬
trical current, or absorb a small portion of all of them in an
equal degree; while there may be imperfect conductors,
which, like coloured bodies, stop some currents and transmit
others. If this should prove correct, two bodies which,
when used separately, conduct electricity, would be insu¬
lators when joined so as to transmit the electricity in suc¬
cession, in the same manner as two transparent coloured
bodies which separately transmit light copiously are opaque
when combined, the light which each transmits being ab¬
sorbed by the other.
We have already seen that electricity was conveyed
through a distance of four miles. On the ground that these
experiments were made imperfectly, and that an electric
conducted • charge will prefer a short passage through air to a passage
’ of twenty or thirty feet through thin wire, Mr Singers has
expressed his conviction that the results of the experiments
referred to are incorrect. We are unable, we confess, to
appreciate the reasons on which this opinion is founded;
but, even if they have any force, the original fact has been
more than confirmed by Mr F. Ronalds, who erected at
Hammersmith an electrical telegraph on which the inflec¬
tions of the wire composed one continuous length of more
than eight miles. “ When a Canton’s pith-ball electro¬
meter was connected with each extremity of this wire, and
it was charged by a Leyden jar, both electrometers appeared
to diverge suddenly at the same moment; and when the
wire was discharged by being touched with the hand, both
electrometers appeared to collapse as suddenly. When any
person took a shock through the whole length of wire, and
the shock was compelled to pass also through two insulated
inflammable air pistols, one connected with each extremity
of the wire, the shock and the explosion seemed to occur
simultaneously. But when the shock was compelled to pass
through the gas pistols, and any one closed his eyes, it was
impossible to distinguish more than one explosion, although
both pistols were discharged. When people did not look
at the pistols, and when I sometimes charged only one
highly, and sometimes both lowly, they could never guess,
except by mere chance, whether one or both were fired.
Thus, then, three of the senses, namely, sight, feeling, and
hearing, seemed to receive absolute conviction of the instan¬
taneous transmission of electrical signs through my pistols,
my eight miles of wire, and my own proper person^
through These results, interesting as they were some years ago,
telegraphic sink into insignificance compared with the extraordinary
wires and facts with which the operations of the electric telegraph
have made us acquainted. The transmission of electri¬
city through hundreds of miles of wire passing through the
atmosphere, and through 300 miles of submarine wires
stretching from Dover to Ostend, are facts familiar to every¬
body. Experiments have not yet been made to ascertain
submarine
cable.
the distance to which a given electric force will pass through
wires of different lengths and diameters, when insulated
and uninsulated ; but from the opportunities which we now
possess from the extension of the telegraphic system, we
may expect that very interesting results will ere long be
obtained. The completion of the electric current, too,
through immense distances in the ground and in water—as
first noticed through distances of a few miles by Sir Wil¬
liam Watson—is a remarkable fact which requires farther
investigation in reference to Mr Lindsay’s proposal of a
transmarine telegraph.8
Various attempts have been made to measure or rather
to estimate the velocity of electricity in passing along a
conducting wire. Sir William Watson considered it to be
less than any measurable portion of time in passing through
a distance of 12,276 feet or 2| miles, or as he expressed it,
that it passed instantaneously through such a length of wire.
The first attempt to measure the velocity of electricity by
any accurate method, was made by Mr Wheatstone, who, by
an ingenious apparatus, concluded that it moved along a
copper wire at the rate of 288,000 miles in a second.
According to the experiments of MM. Fizeau and Go-
nelli, it moves through a similar wire at the rate of 112,680
miles per second, and through an iron wire at the rate of
only 62,000 miles. Professor Mitchell of Cincinnati found
its velocity to be only 28,500 miles in a second; and Pro¬
fessor Walker of the United States only 16,000 miles
through an iron wire. Along the copper wire between
Greenwich and Edinburgh, its velocity was only about 6500
miles per second ; and along the copper wire (a great part
of which was plunged in water), between Greenwich and
Brussels, only 2300 miles in a second. Dr Faraday ascribes
the enormous differences in these measures, to a certain
extent, to the influence of the conducting bodies in con¬
tact with the wire ; and he is of opinion that the velocity
may vary more than the hundredth of its velocity accord¬
ing as the electricity passes through a wire immersed in
water, or through one suspended at a great distance from
the ground, or one carried along a solid conducting wall.
These experiments on the electric telegraph wires con¬
firm, in a remarkable degree, the sagacious anticipation of
Dr Faraday, who announced, at the time of the publication
of Wheatstone’s experiments, that the velocity of electricity
in the same metallic would vary much “ with the tension
or intensity of the first urging three, which tension is
charge and induction. So if the two ends of the wire in
Professor Wheatstone’s experiment were immediately con¬
nected with two large insulated metallic surfaces exposed
to the air, so that the primary act of induction, after mak¬
ing the contact for discharge, might be in part removed
from the internal portion of the wire at the first instant,
and disposed for the moment on its surface, jointly with the
air and the surrounding conductors, then I venture to anti¬
cipate that the middle part would be more retarded than
before ; and if these two plates were the inner and the
outer coating of a large jar or a Leyden battery, then the
retardation of that spark would be still greater.”3
These interesting anticipations have been proved by a
series of fine experiments made by Dr Faraday with the
telegraphic lines of wire between London and Manchester.
This wire, which is 1400 miles long, is buried in the ground,
and consists of four wires, each 350 miles long. At the
Manchester station the extremities of the first and second
wire were united, and also the extremities of the third and
fourth. At the London station a galvanometer was attached
to the end of the first wire, the ends of the second and third
wire were united by a second galvanometer, and at the end
of the fourth wire was attached a third galvanometer commu-
Velocity of
electricity.
Experi¬
ments of
Faraday.
1 Description of an Electrical Telegraph, tfcc., p. 4. Lond. 1823.
3 Experimental Researches, &c., vol. i.. No. 1, 1833.
See North British Revieiu, No. xliv., p. 547.
ELECTRICITY.
544
Phenome- nicating with the ground. The first galvanometer was then
na and pUt in connection with one of the poles of a pile, the other
Laws. p0]e Qf which communicated with the ground. The needle
of the first galvanometer immediately deviated, but that of
T)r Fara- the second did not move till after a sensible interval, and
day on the tjiat Gp t]ie third a little later still. About two seconds
elapsed before tbe electric current was propagated from the
e ec nci y. ^ ^ ^ the third galvanometer. Upon cutting off the com¬
munication between the first galvanometer and the pile,
the needle of the first galvanometer immediately returned
to zero, that of the second was not displaced till af ter a short
time, and that of the third still later. By establishing or
cutting off the communication between the first galvano¬
meter and the pile, at intervals not very distant, we may in
some degree project along the wire successive electric
wraves, so that the three galvanometers are traversed at the
same instant with three different waves. Finally, if after
cutting off the communication between the pile and the
first galvanometer, we connect this galvanometer with the
ground, the electricity with which the wire is charged will
discharge itself simultaneously by its two extremities, so
that the first and the third galvanometer are traversed by
electric currents in opposite directions. With a telegraph
wire suspended in the air, the three galvanometers deviate
from and return to zero almost exactly at the same in¬
stant.
Mr Bain’s Similar results were obtained by Dr Faraday by the beau-
telegraph. tiful experiment of using three of Bain’s telegraphic appara¬
tuses, in which messages are written chemically by lines
or strokes.of different lengths. When the circuit was inter¬
rupted, as before, at intervals not very distant, the appara¬
tus nearest the pile traced a discontinuous line, composed of
full and distinctly separated strokes, thus, - — —»«—
produced during the intervals when there was a communi¬
cation with the pile. The second and third apparatus, on
the contrary, gave a line composed of full and distinct strokes
united by very delicate ones, thus,     — ; which
showed that the electricity took a certain time to escape
from the wire. When the interruptions of the current are
very near one another, the fine lines become equal to the
full ones, and a continuous line is pro¬
duced.
Sect. V.—Gn the Electric Spark.
Fjlectric Since the discovery of electric light by Otto Guericke
spark. and Dr Wall, the subject has attracted the particular atten¬
tion of philosophers. In exciting a glass tube, or in work¬
ing an electrical machine in the dark, sparks and streams
of light are distinctly visible; but the phenomenon is best
seen when the knuckle or a brass ball is brought near to
an electrified conductor. A bright light, called the electric
spark, passes from the conductor to the knuckle or ball,
and exhibits a great variety of phenomena, varying with
the nature and intensity of the electricity, and with the
form, magnitude, distance, and nature of the bodies between
which it passes.
The electric spark is produced by the action of the posi¬
tive electricity in the conductor, upon the neutral electri¬
city in the knuckle or ball that receives the spark, the
former decomposing the latter. When the attraction
between the two electricities is sufficiently powerful to
overcome the resistance of the air, the two fluids on the
knuckle recombine with a noise, accompanied by a brilliant
spark like the forked lightning in a thunderstorm. This
mode of discharging the electricity of conductors is called
the disruptive discharge, and the distance of the bodies
between which it is made is called the striking distance.
Farm of hxp. 1. Having screwed into the prime conductor a
the spark., brass ball about two inches in diameter, and projecting
about three inches, electrify the conductor positively, and
hold another ball near the first. Long ramified zigzag Phenome.
sparks will pass between the two balls, as shown in fig. 6, na and
where pos. is the positively electrified ball, and nat. the Laws,
one held in the hand in a natural state of electricity. If ^
the ball on the conductor is very small, the spark will be-Plate ^
come a faint divided brush of light. If the ball on the
conductor is electrified negatively, the spark will be as”2- ’ ’ ’
shown in fig. 7, clear, straight, and more luminous. If one
of the balls is positively, and the other negatively electrified,
the forms shown in fig. 6 and 7 wall be combined, as in fig.
8. When, in this last experiment, the distance of the balls
is not too great, the positive zigzag spark will strike the
negative straight spark about one-third of the length of
the latter from its point, the other two-thirds becoming very
luminous. Sometimes the positive spark strikes the nega¬
tive ball at a distance from the negative spark.
Exp. 2. If two conductors P, M, fig. 9, three-fourths of Fig. 9.
an inch in diameter, and having spherical ends, are placed
parallel to each other, at the distance of two inches, so as
to have their ends pointing in different directions six or
eight inches asunder ; then, if P is positively electrified, its
spark will strike the other conductor M in its natural state,
as in fig. 9. If M is electrified negatively, and P con¬
nected with the earth, the conductor M will send the nega¬
tive spark to P, as in fig. 10; and if the conductors have Fig. 10,11.
opposite electricities, the positive spark will appear at one
end, and the negative at the other, as shown in fig. 11.
Exp. 3. Upon the brass stem be, fig. 12, having a fine Fig. 12.
point at c, place a brass ball A, about three inches radius,
so that the point c can be protruded to any distance beyond
the ball, or be drawn within it, as shown in the figure. In
this last state the point produces no effect and the zigzag
spark appears between the balls.
In proportion, however, as the point is protruded, its
transmitting power is increased, and it may be made to
have the same effect as any ball, from the smallest size to
one three inches radius. When the point projects to a
particular distance, it acts as if no ball were present.
Exp. 4. Hold an insulated sheet of paper at a small
distance from a positively electrified conductor, and a
beautiful star with distinct radiations will be thrown upon
the paper. If the conductor is negatively electrical, a cone
of rays, with its base on the paper and its apex on the con¬
ductor, will replace the star.
Exp. 5. If the point of a needle is presented to a posi¬
tively electrified conductor in the dark, the point will be
illuminated with a star; but if the conductor is negative,
the needle will exhibit a pencil or brush of light.
The following experiment illustrates the effect of dis¬
tance on the spark.
Exp. 6. Fix a sharp-pointed wire to the end of the prime Influence
conductor, and having electrified it positively, hold an un-of distance
insulated ball of metal very near the metallic point; a°n ^
succession of small and brilliantly white sparks will pass s^,ar
between them. The white colour will tend to red as the
distance of the ball and the point is increased, and at a
certain distance the sharp explosions will cease, and a
feeble violet light will diverge from the extremity of the
point, covering with its base the nearest half of the sphere.
The influence of the form of the body upon the spark Influence
which it gives is considerable. Professor Hildebrand of of form on
Erlang found that an obtuse cone with an angle of 52 the
gave a much more luminous spark than one with an angle
of 36°, and he found that the parabolic rounding of the
summit, or slight inequalities of surface, are particularly
advantageous in the production of a strong light. 1 he
influence of points on the spark has been already described.
The nature of the body by which the spark is taken Influence
exercises also an influence upon its magnitude and itsofs’jb'on
colour. Professor Hildebrand made some interesting ex- ^'Yrk.
periments on this subject. The pieces of metal had a
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Influence
of the me¬
dium on
the spark;
Plate
CCXXIII.
fig. 13;
and of tem¬
perature.
Colours of
the spark.
Experi¬
ments on
electrical
Hght.
ELECTRICITY.
conical form, and of the same shape and size. When they
were fixed in the same manner at the end of an insulated
conductor, the sparks which they yielded differed much in
extent. The following table exhibits the results of these
experiments, the metals at the head giving the greatest
sparks.
Regulus of antimony. Sulphuret of copper. Lead.
Gold. Tin. Steel.
Silver. Zinc. Tempered steel.
Brass. Iron.
When the spark is white by taking it with a metallic
body, it will under the same circumstances be violet if taken
with the finger. If the spark is taken with ice or water, or
a green plant, its light will be red ; and if it is taken with
an imperfect conductor, such as wood, the light will be
emitted in faint red streams.
The medium through which the spark is transmitted
exercises also a remarkable influence on its colour and form.
A spark capable of passing through only half an inch in
common air, will pervade six inches of the Torricellian va¬
cuum. The apparatus used by Sir H. Davy for examining
the influence of a vacuum, &c. is shown in fig. 13, where
ABC is a bent glass tube, A the wire for communicating
electricity, 1) the surface of quicksilver or fused tin for pro¬
ducing a vacuum, B the tube to be exhausted by the stop¬
cock C, after being filled by means of the same stop-cock
when necessary with hydrogen, and EF the moveable tube
connected with the air-pump. Sir H. Davy found, that in
all cases when the mercurial vacuum was perfect, it was
permeable to electricity, and rendered luminous either by
the common spark or the charge of a Leyden jar. The
intensity of these phenomena varied with the temperature.
When the tube ABC was very hot, the electric light ap¬
peared on the vapour of the mercurial vacuum of a bright
green colour, and of great density. As the temperature
diminished it lost its vividness. At 20° below zero of
Fahrenheit it was perceptible only in considerable darkness.
When the minutest quantity of rare air was introduced'
into the mercurial vacuum, the colour of the electric light
changed from green to sea green, and by increasing the
quantity, to blue and purple. At a low temperature the
vacuum became a much better conductor. A vacuum
above fused tin exhibited nearly the same phenomena. At
temperatures below zero the light was yellow, and of the
palest phosphorescent kind, just visible in great darkness,
and not increased by heat. When the vacuum was formed
by pure olive oil, and by chloride of antimony, the electric
light through the vapour of the chloride was more brilliant
than that through the vapour of the oil ; and in the last it
was more brilliant than in the vapour of mercury at com¬
mon temperatures. The light was of a pure white with the
chloride, and of a red inclining to purple in the oil.
Upon rarefying the air five hundred times in a glass ves¬
sel a foot long and eight inches in diameter, Mr Smeaton
made the vessel revolve rapidly on a lathe, at the same time
exciting it with the palm of his hand. A large quantity of
lambent flame appeared under his hand, variegated with all
the colours of the rainboiv. Though the light was steady,
every part of it was continually changing colours.
In carbonic acid gas the light of the- spark is white and
brilliant, and in hydrogen gas it is red and faint. When
the sparks are made to pass through balls of wood or ivory
they are of a crimson colour. They are yellow when taken
over powdered charcoal, green over the surface of silvered
leather, and purple from imperfect conductors.
The following experiments on the spark and electrical
light are both instructive and entertaining.
Exp. 1. Cover a metallic wire with silk, and form it into
a close flat spiral of not more than twenty-four revolutions,
with the different coils in contact. When a considerable
electric charge (of about two square feet of coated surface)
VOL. VIII.
545
is passed through it, a vivid light resembling that of an ar- Phenome-
tificial fire-work will be seen, even in daylight, originating na anti
in the centre of the spires. M. Nobili considers this light Laws-
as electro-magnetic light, on account of its relation to the
magnetic state of the spiral, and as similar to the aurora
borealis.
Exp. 2. Take a bound book covered with rich gilding,
and, holding it in one hand, bring it near the prime con¬
ductor. The spark will immediately shoot along the gild¬
ing in sparks or streams of green light, and will exhibit the
pattern in the dark, and enable the observers to read the
gilt title of the book.
Exp. 3. In the preceding experiment the letters them- Plate
selves were covered with a metallic film; but if wje con-CCXXIII.
struct an apparatus like that in fig. 14, on which the word 14-
light is left blank in a continuous line of narrow tinfoil
pasted upon glass, and forming several parallel lines, and
apply the ball B to an electrified prime conductor, the word
light will be seen in the dark in luminous letters formed
by the electric spark passing from one piece of tinfoil to the
opposite one. Figures of all kinds may in a similar man¬
ner be delineated electrically.
Exp. 4. Another beautiful experiment, called the lumi- Luminous
nous spiral tubes, is shown in fig. 15, where a number ofsl,irals'
round pieces of tinfoil are pasted spirally upon four glass ^
tubes a, b, c, d, fixed on a board round a central rod of
glass AB, supporting horizontally a wire nm with brass
balls, and capable of turning round the pivot A. Electrify
by sparks the wire at A, and pushing the w ire mn gently
round, the ball at the top of each tube will receive elec¬
tricity from a or b, and a brilliant line of light will appear
to surround each ball in succession, in consequence of
the spark appearing between each of the small circles of
tinfoil.
Exp. 5. The luminous jar shown in fig. 16 is a still more Luminous
beautiful experiment. In one which is now before us, fifty-jar,
five squares of tinfoil an inch square, and each perforated fiS- 16*
with a hole four-tenths of an inch in diameter, are pasted
in five rows on the outside and inside of a glass jar AB,
fig. 16, about five inches in diameter and eleven inches
high. The diagonals of the square pieces are placed hori¬
zontal and vertical, and their points or angles are sepa¬
rated by about one-twTelfth of an inch. The rows of the
tinfoil squares are similarly placed on the inside of the jar,
w ith this difference only, that their horizontal points nearly
touch one another at the centres of the circular holes of the
outer squares. The brass ball A communicates with the
inside squares by a wire, and when it is charged by the
prime conductor, a hundred and ten sparks will be seen at
once in a horizontal, and a hundred and ten in a vertical
direction, when the jar is discharged.
Exp. 6. Take a glass cylinder three inches wide and
three feet long, so fitted up that a brass plate may be let
down from the top of the cylinder, so as to stand at any
distance from another brass plate fixed at the bottom of the
cylinder. When the cylinder is exhausted of air in the
usual manner, and the upper plate communicates with the
prime conductor, and the lower one with the ground, a
brilliant sheet of light will pass from the upper to the lower
plate. If the distance of the plates is ten inches, and if the
charge of a Leyden jar is made to pass from the one to the
other, a continuous body of the most brilliant fire will pass
between them.
The course taken by the electricity in the disruptive
discharge is always in the line of least resistance, or that
in which there is the smallest amount of insulating power;
and if a number of bodies of different degrees of conduct¬
ing power lie in its path, it will find its way through some
and avoid others, as if it had the power of choosing the
easiest and shortest line. The annexed drawing, taken from
an experiment made by Sir W. Snow Harris, is an excel-
3 z
546
ELECTRICITY.
Phenome- ]ent illustration of this interesting property. In figure A,
r'aand o, b, c, d, &c., are de-
v Law3, tached fragments of leaf
gold laid down on a sheet
of paper. A charge of
about ten square feet of
coated glass is then passed
through this interrupted
circuit from P to N, and
the effect produced is shown
in fig. B, where the shaded
parts are the portions of the
leaf gold burned up, and
marking the path of the
electricity, or the line of
least resistance, P, b, d, c,
f g, h, i, N. The pieces c
and k are left untouched,
and also the white portions
of the other pieces, while
the portion h and N are wholly destroyed. This experi¬
ment finely illustrates the course taken by the lightning
which strikes buildings and passes through the apartments
of a house.
From ordinary electrical machines, sparks ten or twelve
inches long have been obtained in rapid succession, by
affixing a ball about twro inches in diameter to the conduc¬
tor, and projecting three or four inches from it, and then
presenting to it a large ball connected with the earth or
with the opposite conductor. When the discharge is made
from a single jar, the striking distance is generally about an
inch ; but if we arrange a number of equal and similar jars,
as shown in the annexed figure, where the course of the
short duration of the light of a spark. The experiment was, Phenome-
we believe, first made by Mr Wheatstone by painting three tia and
unequal sectors of a circular disc with the three prismatic liaws-
colours, yellow, red, and blue. When it is made to revolve
rapidly round its centre, the colours are mixed and form a
grayish white tint. But if we darken the room and illumi¬
nate the revolving disc with an electric spark, the three
colours will be distinctly seen. During the brief duration
of the flash there was not time for the colours to make a
combined impression on the retina and obliterate their in¬
dividual action. This very interesting effect is not owing to
the velocity of the electric light, but to its short duration,
and may be produced by the flash of a copper cap or even
of gunpowder. If we inclose a bright light, or even a can¬
dle, in a box having an aperture in one of its sides prolonged
so that it can pass instantaneously before the light, and
allow it to fall on the revolving disc, the same effect will be
obtained.
This experiment is much more interesting when we use
the revolving discs of the phenakistoscope, or when we place
upon any one of them a few large and distinct letters.
If a light of short duration is thrown upon the revolving -
discs when every figure or word is obliterated, the figures
and words will be distinctly seen.
In like manner a current of fluid or of solid particles dis¬
charged with such a velocity as to appear a continuous
stream, would if illuminated in the dark be exhibited in
separate and distinct portions. The same effect is pro¬
duced in daylight or any other light by viewing through
revolving apertures a continuous stream of this kind, or the
shoot flame of a coal fire, all of which derive their continuity
from the duration of the impression made on the retina by
tlie successive action of their different portions.
p P
Uco
0^
AT
Fig. 2.
discharge is P, p, a, b, c, n, N, we obtain a long striking
distance between the outer coating of the last jar and the
knob of the first. Professor Dove of Berlin has shown that
when such a succession of positive and negative surfaces is
used the length of the spark increases with the square of
the number of jars. If the jars are charged separately and
equally, as suggested by Mr Baggs, and placed quickly as
above directed, very near one another, but so as not to be
in contact, a spark of great length and brilliancy will be pro¬
duced.
When the electricity is discharged by pointed conduc-
Convective tors> •^r Faraday has given it the name of the convective or
discharge, carrying discharge, which consists in the motion of charged
particles either of insulating or conducting matter from
place to place.
Conductive Another species of discharge, called the conductive dis-
isc arge. charge by Dr Faraday, takes place when the electricity is
carried off by the intervening dielectric communicating
their forces either rapidly as in the metals, or slowly as in
spermaceti, air, glass, shell-lac, &C.1
A very pretty experiment has been made to show the
Sect. VI.— On the Nature and Origin of Electrical Light.
Dr Wollaston seems to have been the first person who Nature of
made an accurate examination of electric light, and the electrical
following is all that he has published as the result of his light-
experiments. “When the object viewed is a 6/mc line of'* olI!lston•
electric light, I have found the spectrum to be separated
into several images; but the phenomena are somewhat
different from the preceding (viz. the spectrum of the blue
portion of the flame of a candle). It is, however, needless
to describe minutely appearances which vary according to
the brilliancy of the light, and which I cannot undertake to
explain.”2 M. Biot, in speaking of electric light, remarks, Biot,
“ that if we look through a prism at the sparks which pass
between two conductors oppositely electrified, we shall find
all the colours which compose common light.”3
M. Fraunhofer examined the electric spark in a more Fraun-
philosophical manner. In order to obtain a continuous hofer.
line of electrical light, he brought to within half an inch of
each other two conductors, and united them by a very fine
glass thread. One of the two was connected with an elec¬
trical machine, and the other communicated with the
ground. In this manner the light appeared to pass con¬
tinuously along the fibre of glass, which consequently
formed a fine and brilliant line of light. When this lumi¬
nous line was expanded by refraction, Fraunhofer saw that,
in relation to the lines of its spectrum, electric light was
very different both from the light of the sun and from that
of a lamp. In this spectrum he met with several lines
partly very clear, and one of which in the green space
seemed very brilliant compared with other parts of the
spectrum. He saw in the orange another line not quite so
bright, which appeared to be of the same colour as that in
lamp-light spectra ; but in measuring its angle of refraction,
he found that, its light was much more strongly refracted,
Faraday s Electrical Researches, vol. i. j>. 418.
2 Phil. Trans., 1802.
3 Traits de Physique, toni. ii., p. 459.
ELECTRICITY.
547
Brewster.
Origin of
electrical
light.
Theory of
il. Biot.
and nearly as much as the yellow rays of lamp light. In
the red rays towards the extremity of the spectrum, he saw
a line of very little brightness, and yet its light had the
same degree of refrangibility as the clear line of lamp light.
In the rest of the spectrum he saw other four lines suffi¬
ciently bright.1 In a subsequent paper read at Munich in
1823, Fraunhofer observes, that, by means of the large
electrical machine in the cabinet of the Academy of
Munich, he obtained a spectrum of electric light, in which
he recognised a great number of light lines, and that he
had determined the relative places of the lightest lines, and
the ratios of their intensities. What these positions and
ratios were we have no means of knowing, as we believe
that this distinguished philosopher has not given them to
the public.
The nature of electric light has been more recently ex¬
amined by Sir David Brewster. He had long ago shown
that the light of electricity was refracted singly and doubly,
and polarized exactly like all other light; but his recent
observations were made, like those of Fraunhofer, on the
dark and luminous lines which appear in the spectrum
formed from it by a prism. Fraunhofer examined the
electric light produced in the manner he has described. In
this species of electric light Sir David Brewster observed
the lines described by Fraunhofer, and also its remarkable
difference from that of the sun and a lamp in relation to
the fixed lines of the spectrum. This difference he found
to arise from the fact that certain colorific rays which exist
in solar light do not exist in electrical light, though, in
some parts of the spectrum, other rays of equal refrangi¬
bility are visible. The extreme red space, for example, is
wanting, and, generally speaking, much of the red and
yellow light. Hence the light of the electric spectrum is
qreen at a line or point of a given refrangibility, where it
is yellow in the solar spectrum. These facts confirm in a
remarkable manner the discovery that the spectrum con¬
sists of three superimposed spectra of blue, yellow, and red
light, of equal lengths,2 and receive from that discovery a
complete explanation.
Sir David Brewster examined electric light of various
colours, and produced under different circumstances, and
he found it to differ in its composition in a very remarkable
manner, each variety of electric light varying in the number,
intensity, and position of its bright and defective i’ays. One
species of electric light is as different from another as the
coloured lights produced in the flame of alcohol in which
different saline substances have been dissolved. It wxmld
require almost the lifetime of an individual to examine and
make drawings of this class of phenomena while the light
passes from a violet, through blue, green, yellow, and red,
up to white light. The bright lines which occur in the
green space have a most singular appearance. They shine,
in reference to the rest, with the metallic brilliancy of
silver; and each successive spark, obtained under nearly
the same circumstances, will often present to us these lines
under different intensities and characters.
It has been the general opinion of philosophers that the
electric spark was the electric fluid itself, or, as Biot ex¬
presses it, “ a modification of electricity itself, which had
the faculty of becoming light at a certain degree of ac¬
cumulation.” This eminent writer, however, considered
this opinion as erroneous, and has devoted a whole chapter
to prove that electric light has the same origin as the light
disengaged from air by mechanical pressure, “ and that it
is purely the effect of the compression produced on the air
by the explosion of electricity? In order to establish this
theory, M. Biot has stated, on the authority of several ex¬
periments, “that the intensity of electric light depends
always on the ratio which exists between the quantity of
1 Fraunhofer, Bestimmung, &t\, 1814-15,
p. 29.
electricity transmitted and the resistance of the medium; Phenome-
and he has shown, by an experiment with Kinnersley’s air Tawif
thermometer, “ that at each spark the air of the cylinder, v t
driven by the repulsive force, presses on the surface of * v'*'
mercury, which rises suddenly in the small tube, and falls
back again immediately after the explosion.” “ This indi¬
cation,” he adds, “ proves the separation produced between
the particles of the mass of air where the electricity passes ;
and from what we know of its extreme velocity, it is cer¬
tain that the particles exposed immediately to its shock
ought in the first moment to sustain individually all the
effect of the compression. They ought, then, from this
cause alone to disengage light as when they are subjected
to any other mechanical pressure. Thus one part at least
of the electric light is necessarily due to this cause; and
this being the case, there is no experiment which can lead
us to conjecture that it is not all due to this cause.” 3
These arguments, whatever may be their weight, carry
no conviction to our mind. When we possess two series
of accurate experiments, by which it is proved that light
produced by mechanical pressure in air and gases, of diffe¬
rent bulks, and of different degrees of temperature, rare¬
faction, and condensation, has the same colour, the same
composition, and the same general character, as the light
produced by electricity in passing through jiir and gases
under the very same circumstances, we shall regard this
theory as deserving of consideration.
M. Biot, anticipating the objection that electrical light
is produced in the best vacuum, replies, that a vacuum
such as we can produce is filled with vapours and gas, and
that the barometric one is filled with mercurial vapour.
Still, however, the light produced is not produced by air,
and it should be shown that mechanical pressure is capable
of eliciting light in such a vacuum ; at all events, the light
ought to bear some proportion to the degree of rarefaction,
whereas Sir H. Davy obtained a bright light in the best
vacuum with mercury, and the same light in the best
vacuum with melted tin.
Anticipating another objection from the fact that the
electric spark, when intense, passes through water, M. Biot
gives a double reply, that the water itself is probably
compressible, and therefore, we presume, gives out light
during its compression ; and, ‘Idly, that water always con¬
tains in combination a certain quantity of air, which may
also contribute to the result. It would be desirable, there¬
fore, to ascertain if water, and water with much air, give
out light by mechanical compression.
In explaining the fact that electrical light is violet when
the electricity is feeble, and of a brilliant whiteness when
it is produced by a violent discharge, M. Biot remarks that
“ this variation of tints discloses still further the origin of
the light; for we observe it in substances which burn
according as the combustion is slow or rapid ; that is to
say, according as the oxygen of the air which this combus¬
tion absorbs is more or less rapidly condensed. The light
which sulphur disengages when it begins to inflame is as
violet as that of feeble electricity, but that of sulphur in
vigorous combustion is white? The views upon which this
argument is founded are themselves hypothetical. It is by
no means made out that the colour passes from violet to
white as the intensity of combustion increases; and, in the
very case of sulphur referred to by M. Biot, Sir John Her-
schel has proved, that when it is inflamed in a white hot
crucible, it gives out neither blue, green, nor red rays, but
solely homogeneous yellow light, of a very definite refran¬
gibility, and which contains few of the elements of white
light.
A more philosophical view of the probable origin of elec- gir jj
trical light has been hinted at by Sir Humphry Davy, in Davy’s
theory*
Edin. Trans., vol. xii.
TraiU de Physique, tom. ii., p. 463.
ELECTRICITY.
548
Phenomc- his paper of 1822, already quoted. “The circumstance,”
nasmd sayS jie) “ that the intensity of the electrical light in the
Laws. mercurjal vacuum diminishes as it is cooled to a certain
point, when tlie vapour must be of infinitely small density,
and is then stationary, seems strongly opposed to the idea
that it (electrical light) is owing to any permanent vapour
emitted constantly by the mercury. The results with tin
must be regarded as more equivocal; because, as this sub¬
stance cannot be boiled in vacuo, it may be always suspected
to have emitted a small quantity of the rare air or gas to
which it has been exposed; yet, supposing this circumstance,
such gas must be at least as highly expanded as the vapour
from cooled mercury, and can hardly be supposed capable
of affording the dense light which the passage of the charged
Leyden phial through the vacuum produces.
“ When the intense heat produced by electricity is con¬
sidered, and the strong attractive powers of differently elec¬
trified surfaces, and the rapidity of the changes of state, it
does not seem at all improbable that the superficial particles
of bodies, which, when detached by the repulsive power of
heat, form vapour, may be likewise detached by electrical
powers, and that they may produce luminous appearances
in a vacuum, free from all other matter, by the annihilation
of their opposite electrical state.
“ In common cases of electrical action, the quantity of the
heat generated by the annihilation of the different states
depends upon the nature of the matter on which it acts;
and in cases where electrical sparks are taken in fluids,
vapour or gas is always generated; and in elastic fluids,
the intensity of the light is always greater the denser the
medium.”1
Discoveries About the same time that Sir H. Davy was occupied with
of Dr Eu- these I'esearches, Dr Fusinieri was engaged in those beauti-
sinieri. ful experiments on electric light which have added so greatly
to our knowledge of its nature and origin. The results of
these experiments, which seem to have been commenced
in 1821, were published in successive years. In 1825 there
appeared in the Journal of Pavia a most interesting com¬
munication, of which the following is a brief abstract, rela¬
tive to the transport of ponderable matter in the electrical
discharges of ordinary machines; and, in 1831, another of
equal importance on the transport of ponderable substances
by lightning.
Dr Fusinieri has proved that the electric spark which
issues from a brass conductor, and traverses air, contains
brass in the state of fusion, and incandescent molecules of
zinc.
When the spark issues from a globule of silver, it contains
in its passage through air silver in fusion, and incandescent
molecules of the same metal.
If the spark which issues from silver traverses a plate of
copper, the silver which it contains passes also through the
copper in perforating it, and in traversing even a space of
several centimeters, if the passage is oblique from the one
surface to the other.
In this passage a portion of the transported silver is de¬
tained in the aperture which is made in the copper, and
another portion follows the current, and penetrates the ball
which receives the electric spark.
When the electric spark issues from a ball of gold, and
passes into air, it contains gold in a state of fusion, and also
incandescent molecules of gold.
If the spark from gold traverses a plate of silver, the
gold contained in the spark traverses the plate in piercing
it.; and in traversing a space of several centimeters in the
silver, if the direction of the passage is oblique, a part of
the transported gold remains in the silver, and spreads itself Phenome-
over the two surfaces of the plate, and another part accom- na and
panics the electric current, and penetrates the ball which Laws,
receives the spark. The gold spread over the polished sur-
face of the silver appears in the form of a thin circular stra¬
tum upon the surface where it enters, and upon the surface
where it leaves the plate. The very same result takes place
if the spark passes from brass to silver.
These strata or metallic spots are so exceedingly thin,
that after a certain time they are volatilized and disappear.
Dr Fusinieri also found that in each passage of the spark
there was an opposite and reciprocal transport of the two
metals. In a spark from silver to copper, part of the cop¬
per is transported to the silver, as well as the silver to the
copper ; and the same reciprocal transfer takes place in a
spark from gold to silver.
Accompanying this reciprocal transport, there are two
strong and opposite percussions produced by the transported
metal, one at the point where it is detached, the other at
the point where it enters the other metal. These two per¬
cussions show themselves, by two opposite cavities which
contain the same metal, in such a state as to indicate fusion. ‘
Here the transported metal exerts two pressures in opposite
directions.
In passing from one metal to another, the electric current
leaves the first metal in the second, and takes with it a small
quantity of the second.
The electric spark which issues from a metal into air con¬
tains a group of molecules, the most central of which are
in a state of simple fusion, and the exterior ones are in a
state of greater or less combustion, from their contact with
oxygen, according as the metal is more or less oxidable;
and the matter thus contained in the spark is endowed with
a force of spontaneous expansion.2
From these highly interesting facts Dr Fusinieri draws
the following important conclusions respecting the nature
and origin of electric light. 1. The electric spark is not
formed by a pure fluid, or by any imponderable fluid. 2.
The heat and light of the spark proceed from the ignition
and combustion of the particles of ponderable matter. 3.
The presence of air produces on the spark two distinct
effects, the one to hinder its free expansion in space, the
other, by supplying oxygen, to promote the combustion of
the exterior molecules of the group, while the central mole¬
cules are luminous from ignition and fusion alone. 4. In
gases without oxygen, the material molecules which com¬
pose the spark ought to be simply in a state of incandescence
and fusion, without any combustion of the exterior particles
of the group, in the same manner as this takes place for the
central parts of the spark in common air. 5. In gases de¬
prived of oxygen, as well as in a vacuum, the molecules
which compose the spark ought to be incandescent; that
is, in a state which fits them to emit light and heat; a phe¬
nomenon of the same kind as those inflammations which
chemical experiments prove to take place even without the
aid of oxygen, in so great a number of other combinations,
or even without there being any new combinations, by the
sole effect of division of parts.
In a later memoir on the transport of ponderable sub¬
stances by lightning, published in the Ann. delle Scienze
del Regno Lomb. Veneto for 1831, Dr Fusinieri has shown,
by a series of laborious and beautiful observations, that
lightning leaves in houses and on trees traces of ferruginous
and sulphureous substances which it contains; and he infers
that iron exists in the clouds, having been attracted3 from
the earth, and principally from mountains, where the mines
1 Phil. Trans , 1-822, pp. 72, 73.
Dr Fusinieri likewise found that the electric spark obtained between the two poles of the voltaic pile, terminated either by metals
or charcoal, contains also particles of these substances extremely divided, and in a state of combustion.
3 I he iron may be carried off by the lightning which issues from the ground in cases where the clouds are negatively electrified.
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Law of
electrical
attraction
and repul¬
sion.
Coulomb’s
torsion ba¬
lance.
Plate
COX XIV.
fig.l.
Law of the
repulsive
force.
Fig. 2.
ELECTRICITY.
549
are more abundant, and where storms generally begin to
form. Hence, as Dr Fusinieri supposes, we may connect
this fact with meteoric stones, and with the magnetic cur¬
rents which surround the globe.
That the electric spark is a flame, and consists, like all
other flames, of incandescent molecules in a state of minute
subdivision, will, we think, be now admitted by every philo¬
sopher ; and it cannot fail to be observed how singularly
this result harmonizes with the varied composition of elec¬
tric light of different kinds and colours, as ascertained by
Sir David Brewster by means of prismatic analysis;—and
from the comparison which he is making between the
composition of electric light consisting of different ponder¬
able substances, and that of flames in which the same pon¬
derable substances exist in a state of incandescence, there
is reason to expect that these two widely separated classes
of phenomena may be strictly identified.
Sect. VII.— On the Law of Electrical Attraction and
Repulsion, and the Attraction of Spheres and Planes.
It is obvious, from the simplest experiments, that the
force of electrical attraction and repulsion diminishes with
the distance. In the theories of yEpinus and Cavendish
nothing more than this simple fact has been assumed.
Newton had supposed that the forces of electricity and
magnetism decreased with the cube, or some higher power,
of the distance. Lord Stanhope inferred, from reasonings
not very conclusive, that the law was the same as that of
gravity; and Dr Robison, so early as 1769, ascertained,
from more than a hundred experiments, that the repulsive
force diminished according to a power of the distance whose
exponent was 2,06, or very nearly as the square of the dis¬
tance.
The accurate determination, however, of the law of
electrical attraction and repulsion was left to Coulomb.
The apparatus which he employed for this purpose, and
which is known by the name of the torsion balance, is re¬
presented in Plate CCXXIV. fig l, where ABCD is a glass
cylinder, which is covered with a plate of glass AB thir¬
teen inches in diameter. This plate is perforated with
two holes e and a, the former being intended to receive a
tube of glass eG two feet high, carrying on its upper end a
torsion micrometer, consisting of a graduated circle MN,
an index M, and a pair of pincers, opened and shut by a
ring, for holding a slender silver wire GH, whose lower end
H is also grasped by a similar pair of pincers made of cop¬
per, and about a line in diameter. Through a hole in these
copper pincers there passes a horizontal needle cd. This
needle consists of a silk thread or a straw covered with seal¬
ing-wax, but the end of it, at d, about eighteen lines long,
is a cylinder of gum-lac. It is terminated at c by a ball of
the pith of elder about two or three lines in diameter, and
at d by a vertical plane of paper covered with turpentine.
A circular band of paper EF, divided into 360°, is pasted
round the cylinder on a level with the needle, and at the
hole a there is introduced a small cylinder ab, the lower
end of which, made of gum-lac, carries another ball b of
the pith of elder. The instrument is adjusted when a line
passing through the centre of the silver wire GFI at P
passes also through the centres of the balls b and c, and
points to the zero of the graduated circle EF.
Having fixed a brass pin BC, fig 2, with a large head
B, into a handle of sealing-wax AC, and having electrified
the ball B, Coulomb communicated its electricity to the balls
b, c. They accordingly repelled each other, and the needle
cd turned round through a certain arch. By turning, how¬
ever, the micrometer button in the direction NP, he twisted
the wire GH, and caused it to return to its first position,
and point to the zero of the scale. When this is done, the
force of torsion has been made to balance the repulsive force
of the two balls b, c ; so that, by comparing the forces of Fhenome-
torsion which balanced the repulsive forces at different dis-
tances of the balls, he obtained measures of the repulsive v y
force at these distances. When the distances were 36°, '■
18°, and 18^°, he found the angle of torsion, or the force of
torsion, which is proportional to the angle, to be 36°, 144°,
and 575^; that is, at half the distance the force is four
times greater, and at a. fourth of the distance the force is
nearly eight times as great. Hence he concluded that the
repulsive force of two small globes charged either with posi¬
tive or negative electricitg is inversely as the squares of the
distances of the centres of the globes.
In applying the same method to determine the law of Law of
the attractive force which takes place between two oppo- attrac*
sitely electrified bodies, M. Coulomb met with a difficulty,tive force*
arising from the attractive force increasing in a greater ratio
than the force of torsion. From this cause it was difficult
to prevent the balls from coming into contact, and a delay
was created, during which part of the electricity had escaped.
By providing against this difficulty, he obtained results which
led to the conclusion that the attractive force of two small
globes, 07ie electrified positively and the other negatively,
was in the inverse ratio of the squares of the distances of
their centres.
In order, however, to confirm this result by an entirely
different method, he employed the apparatus shown in
fig. 3, where BC is a vertical stand of wood, carrying a Fig. 3.
horizontal arm of wood AB, divided into inches, upon
which there slides another piece of wood ED, to which is
suspended, by a fibre of silk fe, a horizontal needle of gum-
lac cd, fifteen lines long, carrying at one end, and perpen¬
dicular to the needle, a circle of gilt paper d, seven lines
in diameter, and at the other end a ball c of gum-lac. A
globe of copper a foot in diameter, or a globe of paper
covered with tinfoil, resting on four insulating cylinders of'
glass, coated with sealing-wax, is then placed upon a stand,
so that it can be raised or depressed, and fixed in any posi¬
tion, its horizontal diameter passing through dc.
This apparatus is adjusted by placing the globe so that,
when the moveable piece E is at zero of the scale on BA,
the centre of the circle d may just touch the globe. When
this is done, place the piece E at three inches on the scale,
so that the distance of d from the globe will be three inches,
and then the distance of d from the centre of the globe will
be nine inches. Let the globe be now electrified by the
spark of a Leyden jar; then, if a conductor is made to
touch the plate d, the globe will communicate to it the op¬
posite electricity upon removing the conductor, and the
globe and the plate will attract one another. Cause the
needle cd to oscillate through an arch of about 20° or 30°
from the line where the force of torsion is nothing, and
observe the time in which a given number of oscillations,
suppose fifteen, is performed. Repeat the very same
experiment when the piece E is placed at twelve and
eighteen inches on the scale ; that is, when the distances
of the centres of the attracting bodies are eighteen and
twenty-four inches. In doing this, Coulomb obtained the
following results :
Distances of
centres.
9
18
24
Number of
oscillations.
15
15
15
Time in which they
were performed.
20
40
60
As the oscillations in the preceding experiments are
produced by the attraction of the globe and plate d, in
the same manner as the oscillations of a pendulum are
produced by the force of gravity; then, since the time in
which a given number of oscillations is performed is in¬
versely as the square root of the attractive force, and if
we assume that the attractive force is inversely as the
squares of the distances, or 9, 18, 24, or 3, 6, 8, then
it will follow that the time of oscillation is proportional to
550
ELECTRICITY.
Laws.
Phenome- these distances. These times will consequently be 20",
na and 4i"? arKl 54", if the attractive force is inversely as the square
of the distance; but by experiment the times were 20",
40", and GO”. The difference is, therefore, almost nothing
at 18 inches of distance, but it is nearly TL.th at 24 inches.
Coulomb has applied a correction to the number 54”, in
consequence of the loss of electricity by the two bodies
during the four minutes which the experiment occupied.
He found by experiment that the action was diminished
jJg-th of the whole per minute, and consequently -j^th of
the whole in four minutes. Hence, VlO: V9 = 60" : 57",
a result which now differs only ^th from 60”, the time de¬
termined by experiment. Hence it follows, that by both
methods of observation, the law of action is the same for
attractive as it is for repulsive forces.
We are not aware that these experiments of Coulomb
have been repeated and confirmed by other philosophers.
Experiments with the torsion balance and contact plane
are very difficult and precarious, and it is almost impos¬
sible to estimate with accuracy the loss of electricity in
the two charged conductors during the performance of
the experiment.
Under these circumstances, Sir Snow Harris of Ply¬
mouth has resumed the subject, and, by new methods of
observation and instruments of great accuracy, he has
confirmed the law given by Coulcomb, both in the case of
simply electrified conductors, and in bodies upon which
given quantities of electricity have been accumulated. A
more particular account of these instruments, and of the
method of applying them, will be given in a subsequent
part of this article.
The law of the attractive force is easily obtained when
the opposed surfaces are parallel planes or rings ; but in the
case of spherical conductors and bodies of other forms, the
conditions become more complicated. Considering the dis¬
tribution of the electricity on the spheres to be uniform,
and the whole force exerted to be as the number of attract¬
ing points directly, and as the squares of the distances be¬
tween the respective points inversely, Sir Snow Harris has
shown that the forces between tivo spheres will be inversely
ns the distances between their nearest points multiplied into
the distances between their centres.
Harris’s ex- In order to submit this result to the test of experi-
periments ment, he used two spheres whose radius was an inch, and
on the at- obtained by means of his electrical balance the following
tractions ofresults;
spheres
and planes
Experi¬
ments of
Sir Snow
Harris.
Distance of
Centres of
Spheres.
2-2
2- 5
2-8
3- 0
Distance of
nearest Points
hy experi¬
ment.
0-2
0-5
0’8
1-0
Calculated Distance
of the Points in each
Sphere in which the
Force maybe supposed
to be collected.
0'664
1117
1-496
1-732
Force in
Grains.
12-0
4-25
2-25
1-75
same. Thus two circular planes of unequal diameter do Phenomo-
not attract each other with a greater force than that of two 11 a a'1'!
similar areas, each equal to the lesser. In like manner, the Law8-
attractive force between a ring and a circular area of the
same diameter is equal to that exerted between two similar
rings, each equal to the former.
4. The attractive force between a spherical segment
and an opposed plane of the same curvature, is equal to
that of two similar segments on each other.
Sect. VIII.— On the Dissipation of Electricity by the Con¬
tact of Air, and by Imperfect Insulation.
If we place an electrified body upon a mass of gum-lac, Dissipa-
which is the worst of all conductors, or the best insulator of tion of
electricity, we shall find that, in a certain time, the w hole electricity
of its electricity has disappeared. In like manner, if we air'
suspend the same body under the same circumstances by a
long fibre, or very small cylinder of gum-lac, we shall also
find that in this last case the electricity will wholly disappear
in a certain time ; but the time in this last case will be much
longer than in the first case. If we perform the same ex¬
periments in rarefied, moist, or hot air, we shall find that
the electricity disappears faster than in condensed, dry, and
cold air.
In all these cases the electricity is said to be dissipated;
and it becomes an interesting as w'ell as a most useful in¬
quiry to determine the separate influence of these different
causes in carrying off the electricity of electrified bodies.
The only observations which we possess on this subject
we owe to the ingenuity and industry of M. Coulomb.
By means of the torsion balance he determined, in four
days—two in May, one in June, and the last in July—the
ratio of the electric force lost per minute to the total mean
electrical force of the body, the electrical density varying
in the five or six experiments which were made in each
day. The following were the results :—
These results confirm the law deduced from theory, and
Sir Snow Harris has established its truth more com¬
pletely by extending it to several new cases, the most im¬
portant of which, with the deductions, are as follows :
1. Twro spheres at the distances in column 1, exert the
same force as two circular planes of equal areas at the dis¬
tances in column 3.
2. The attractive force of two opposed conductors is not
influenced by the form or disposition of the unopposed por¬
tions. The attractive force, for example, is the same,
whether the opposed bodies are merely circular planes,
or planes backed by hemispheres or cones. Two hemi¬
spheres also attract each other with the same force as the
spheres of which they are hemispheres.
3. 1 he force between two opposed bodies is directly as
the number of attracting points, the distance being the
May 28.
Ratio of the
Force Lost.
1_
40
1
38
42
42
May 29.
Ratio of the
F’orce Lost.
Mean’40l
J.
56
2_
6l
54
1
58
f
54
501
June 22.
Ratio of the
Force Lost.
1
134
J.
11
_1
13
1
13}
1
121
July 2.
Ratio of the
Force Lost.
1
14
JL_
19
_1
30
f
19
1
20}
Hence, in reference to the state of the atmosphere on the
days of observation, we have
May 28  
May 29  
June 22 
July 2 
Mean Ratio
of Force Lost
per Minute.
1
40}
J_
56|
J_
12f
1
204
Barometer
Inches.
28-3
28-4
27- 11
28- 2
Thermome¬
ter of
Reaumur.
154°
154
15f
15f
Hygrometer
of Saussure.
75°
69
87
80
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Effect in a
vacuum.
Dissipa¬
tion by
imperfect
insulation.
ELECTRICITY.
By examining the results for each day in the first of the
preceding tables, it will appear that the ratio of the electric
force to the whole force is a constant quantity during the
same day, or when the air has the same degree ot moisture.
Hence it follows,
1st, That the loss of electricity is proportional, in the
same state of the air, to the electrical density ; from which
it follows, as Coulomb has shown,
2d, That the ratio of the force lost in a minute to the
total force, is double of the ratio of the loss of intensity of
each body to the total density.
From a great number of experiments made with balls of
different magnitudes, and when the quantity of electricity,
as well as the electrical density of each ball, were very dif¬
ferent, he found,
3d, That the ratio of the dissipation oj the electric force
during a minute, to the total force, is uniformly a constant
quantity.
By using a globe a foot in diameter, cylinders of all
lengths and magnitudes, circles of paper and of metal, &c.,
he found,
4th, That when the air was dry, and the degree of elec¬
tricity not great, the ratio of the decrease of the electrical
density to the density itself is always a constant quantity,
whatever be the form or the magnitude of the electrified
body.
By using pith balls, and balls of copper and sealing-wax,
he found,
5th, That the law of dissipation is not influenced by the
nature of the body.
It. appears, from the second of the preceding tables, that
the dissipation increases with the degree of moisture, as
indicated by Saussure’s hygrometer; and, by comparing
the observations, he concluded,
6th, That the diminution of the repulsive force, or, what
is the same, of the electric density, is proportional to the cube
of the weight of the quantity of ivater dissolved in a given
quantity of air. He found also,
7th, That the dissipation of electricity increases with the
temperature.
In the course of these valuable researches Coulomb as¬
certained that there was no dissipation along the fibre which
supported the electrified bodies which he employed ; and
he found also that there were other causes of dissipation,
which produced effects of a considerable amount, and which
yet remain to be discovered.
But though electricity is thus retained on the surface of
bodies by the bad conducting power of air, it is not, as
might have been expected, entirely dissipated in a vacuum.
M. Becquerel has proved that in a vacuum so perfect that
where the atmospheric pressure is only the 25th of an inch,
a body preserved its electricity for ten days ; and he has
more recently shown in his Treatise on Electro-Chemistry
by means of a gold-leaf electroscope, that if an electrified
body is placed in a perfect vacuum, at a distance from ob¬
jects that could act upon it electrically by influence, such a
body will preserve a certain quantity of electricity for an
indefinite time.
Having thus determined the laws of dissipation by the
contact of air, Coulomb proceeded to inquire into the
causes of dissipation along imperfectly insulating bodies.
The experiments which he performed for this purpose were
made on the same days with those made on the dissipation
by air, so that he was able to determine by calculation the
portion which was lost by aerial contact, and the portion
lost by imperfect insulation.
When a highly electrified ball was suspended by a silk
fibre, the dissipation of its electricity was much more rapid
than it should have been by the contact of the air, and
therefore a part of it was owing to the imperfect insulating
power of the silk thread. But when the intensity of the
551
electricity was diminished to a certain degree, the silk fibre Phenome-
was as good an insulator as the gum-lac. A cylinder of na and
gum-lac eighteen lines long did not cease to insulate per- ^ Paws. ^
fectly till the degree of electricity was nearly triple of that ^
which is insulated by the silk fibre.
Coulomb likewise found, that when a silk thread, or hair,
or any fine cylindrical electric, began to insulate perfectly,
the electrical density of the body which was insulated was
proportional to the square root of the length of the sup¬
port ; that is, if a silk fibre one foot long insulates perfectly
when the electrical density is D, it will require a fibre four
feet long to insulate perfectly when the electrical density is
2 D, or double.
M. Coulomb’s experiments seem to have been made only
with one kind of electricity. M. Biot, however, found that
the dissipation was nearly the same, whether the insulated
body was electrified negatively or positively.
Sect. IX.—On the Distribution of Electricity.
When any body is electrified by presenting it to theDistribu-
prime conductor, the electricity, though it enter at one tion of
part of the body, is obviously distributed over the whole electricity,
of it, as every part of the body gives distinct indications of
its new state. It becomes an interesting inquiry, therefore,
to ascertain by what powers the electricity is thus distri¬
buted over the body ; to determine whether it is distri¬
buted throughout the substance of the body, or only on its
surface ; and to discover the laws of its local distribution,
whether it exists on single bodies, on two or more equal or
unequal bodies placed in contact, and on bodies of different
forms.
These various topics have been treated by Coulomb with
that ingenuity and sagacity which distinguish all his labours;
and his torsion balance is the principal apparatus which was
found necessary.
In order to determine whether electricity was distributed
over conductors by a repulsive force between the particles
of the electric fluid, or by some affinity or electric attraction
for one body in preference to another, he found, by using
a pith ball and a ball of copper, that the pith ball received
exactly one-half of the electricity of the ball of copper, and
that the ball of copper had no more affinity or electric at¬
traction tor the electric matter than the pith ball. This
experiment was varied by using a disc or circle of iron ten
lines in diameter, and a paper disc of the same size. In
this case also he found that the electricity was equally dis¬
tributed between the two discs ; and he obtained the same
result by using various other substances, and performing
the experiments with a large torsion balance, with globes
of five or six inches diameter.
In all experiments of this kind, the two balls must be
allowed to remain a short time in contact, as several seconds
elapse before an imperfectly insulating ball is capable of
acquiring from the other half of its electricity. When the
experiment is made with circular discs, the surface of the
one must be placed symmetrically on the surface of the
other.
In order to determine whether the electricity pervaded Superficial
the whole substance of the conductor, or was distributed on distribu-
its surface, Coulomb provided an electrometer, consisting tion of
of a small circle of tinsel, suspended by a fibre of gum-lac, electricity-
which, when suspended in a cylinder of glass, is so ex¬
tremely sensible that a force equal to the sixty thousandth
part of a grain was sufficient to repel the ball of the needle
through an arch of more than ninety degrees.
The conductor whose electrical state he proposed to exa¬
mine was a solid cylinder of wood four inches in diameter,
and pierced with several holes four lines wide and four-
deep. This cylinder was then supported upon an insulat¬
ing stand, and electrified by sparks from a leaden jar. He
Experi¬
ments by
Biot;
Plat;
COXXIV.
fig. 4.
Fig. 5.
bv Fara¬
day.
ELECTRICITY.
then took a small circle of gilt paper called the proof
plane' one and a half line in diameter, and about the
eighteenth part of a line in thickness, and he insulated
it at the extremity of a cylinder of gum-lac a line in dia¬
meter.
Having electrified the tinsel of his electrometer, he
brought the proof plane into contact with the surface of
the electrified wooden cylinder, and upon presenting the
circle to the electrometer it repelled the tinsel with great
force. The proof plane was then introduced into one of
the holes of the cylinder, so as to come in contact with the
bottom of the hole, and rest upon it. When it was taken
out, without touching the sides of the hole, and presented
to the electrometer, it gave no indications of electricity. In
the first case, the proof plane carried otf electricity from the
part of the surface which it touched ; but in the second
case it carried off none, so that their was no electric matter
in the interior of the cylinder, even at the depth of four
lines.
These curious results, thus established by accurate ob¬
servation, may be proved by two very pretty experiments,
which have been given by Biot. Let S, fig. 4, be a sphe¬
roid of conducting matter, suspended by a perfectly insu¬
lating fibre A of gum-lac. Form two cups B, C, made of
gilt paper or tinfoil, or any other conducting material, so as
to fit exactly the spheroid when united, and fix to each of
them an insulating handle L, L of gum-lac. Electrify the
spheroid S, and holding a cup in each hand by the handles
L, L, apply them, as in the figure, to the surface of the
spheroid. Upon withdrawing the cups, it will be found
that they have abstracted from the spheroid S all its elec¬
tricity, and that so completely, that it will not affect the
most delicate electrometer, while the cups will be found to
possess the same quantity of electricity which originally
existed in the spheroid.
The other experiment of M. Biot is shown in fig. 5, where
AB is an insulated cylinder, moveable round a horizontal
axis, and which may be turned by the winch H, composed
of several rods of glass. Around the cylinder there is
wrapped a metallic ribband CD, whose extremity D ter¬
minates in a semicircle, and is attached to a silk cord F.
This apparatus is made to communicate with an electroscope
E, composed of two linen threads carrying twro pith balls.
When the metallic ribband is electrified, the balls and the
threads will diverge. Upon unrolling the metallic ribband,
by pulling the silk thread F, the pith balls at E collapse,
and indicate a diminution of the electrical repulsion ; and if
the ribband be sufficiently long, compared with the electric
charge given to the apparatus, the separation of the balls
may become quite insensible; but they will again diverge,
and indicate an increase of electrical intensity, if we again
roll up the ribband upon the cylinder.
Dr Faraday has demonstrated the superficial distribution
of electricity by some elegant experiments. Having made
a cylinder of metallic gauze, or a trellis of iron wire with
meshes not very wide, he places it on a horizontal disc of
metal resting on a pillar of glass. When the interior surface
of the cylinder is electrified, the electricity passes to its ex¬
terior surface notwithstanding its easy communication with
the inner surface. If the cylinder is so powerfully electri¬
fied as to yield vivid sparks, a mouse or any other animal
placed within it wdll experience no shock.
The same truth is finely demonstrated by another expe¬
riment of Dr Faraday. By means of a ring of wire AB,
he forms a conical muslin bag ACB, and supports it upon
a glass stand BD. When the bag is electrified, its interior
surface is tound by the proof plane to be entirely free of Phenome-
electricity ; but if by means of the insulated silk thread S' C, na and
we pull it outside in, it will be found that the electricity
has passed to the outside of
Laws.
the cone. In like manner, if
by means of the thread C S
we pull it back to its first
position, we shall find that the
electricity has again passed
into the outer surface of the
bag.
Having thus ascertained that
electricity occupies the sur¬
faces of conductors, the next
point to determine is the law
Fig. 4.
of its distribution in bodies of different forms, that is, toc ricl -v'
ascertain its intensity, or the electrical density, at different
points of the surface.
The following was the method used by Coulomb for this
purpose: In the balance with which he made his first ex¬
periments he suspended his needle by a fine silver wire.
He then took a cylinder of gum-lac, and having bent it as Plate^
shown at ced, he attached to it a circle of gilt paper d, five CCXXtv.
or six lines in diameter, and the eighteenth part of a line £•
thick. Having electrified the body whose electrical density
was to be ascertained, he electrified the disc, carried by the
needle by means of an insulated pin as formerly, and then
touched the circle d with any part ot the body where he
wished to ascertain the electrical density. I his circle was
then placed in the balance, and the quantity ot its electri¬
city measured. Hence, as the quantity which the circle
acquires by its tangential contact with the body is either
the same as that of the point which it touches, or propor¬
tional to it, it became easy to ascertain the .electrical density
of different points of conductors, by touching those points
with the circle d, and subsequently measuring its electricity.
During the time, however, which elapses between different
observations, a part of the electricity will be dissipated, so
that an error is necessarily introduced in comparing the
electrical density of any two points a and b. In order to
correct this error, he proceeds thus: Having measured the
electricity in a, he then, after an interval, suppose of three
minutes, measures the electricity in b. He then re-measures
the electricity in a three minutes after he measured the
electricity of b, and the mean of these two measures for a
will be the electrical density of a at the time when that ot
b was measured.
By the method now7 described Coulomb measured the dis- Distribu-
tribution of electricity on a conducting sphere, and he found tion ofele<>
that the electrical density was the same on every part ot it. |UC(‘^V °a" j
In a similar manner Coulomb found that the electrical on the’ gur.
density on the middle of a cylinder is to that ot its ex- facR 0f a
tremity as 1‘00 is to 2*30; that the density ot the middle cylinder,
was to that of a point two inches, from the extremity, as
LOO to L2o ; and that the density in the middle was to that
of a point situated in the hemisphere which terminated the
cylinder, and one inch from its extremity, as LOO to L80.
Hence it appears that the electricity is very much con¬
densed upon the two last inches at the extremity of the
cylinder, and that it varies very slightly from the middle to
within two inches of the extremity.
From various experiments, conducted in a way analogous Relative
to that already described, Coulomb obtained the following ^
results relative to the manner in which the electrical fluid t^."Sgi0t)es
distributes itself between two globes A, B, of different in contact
diameters, after they have been placed in contact, and se-
1 The employment of the proof plane, shown in Plate CCXXIV., fig. 6, as used by Coulomb, has been objected to by Sir Snow Harris.
M. Delarive agrees with Sir Snow that in bodies of an irregular form it may not give correct results, and proposes to use a simple
electroscope with a very light ball, and having the same electricity as the body to be examined. The degree of repulsion which it ex¬
periences ac different points will be the measure of their electricity.— Treatise on Electricity, vol. i., p. 81.
ELECTRICITY.
553
Phenome- parated, so that the electricity is distributed uniformly over
na and their surfaces.
Laws.
Ratio of the Radii
of the Globes.
Two equal
globes.
Two un¬
equal
globes.
Ratio of the Surfaces
of the Globes.
Ratio of Electri¬
cal Densities.
to
B
1
2
4
8
Infinity.
B A B
to 1 1 to 1
4 1-08 ... 1
16 1-30 ... 1
64 1-65 ... 1
Infinity. 2-00 ... 1
In order to explain this table, we shall take the case of
two globes inches and 24 inches, which were actually
used by Coulomb. The small globe of 6^ inches having
been electrified, it was touched with the other globe of 24
inches, and when they were separated, so that the electri¬
city of each was uniformly diffused over their surfaces, it
was found that the quantity of electricity possessed by the
large globe was to that possessed by the small one as HT
to 1; but as the surfaces of the two globes are as 14#8 to 1,
a greater ratio than the other, it follows that the two globes
are not charged w ith electricity in a ratio as great as that of
their surfaces; that is, a given area on the small globe con¬
tains a greater quantity of electricity, or has a greater elec¬
trical density, than the same area in the large globe. The
electrical densities in the third column are therefore found
by dividing the ratio of their surfaces by the ratio of the
quantities of fluid which they contain, and the quotients will
be the ratio of the densities given in the third column.
Thus, in the present case, 14-8 -S- 11-1 =r 1-3333, the elec¬
trical density of the small globe inches in diameter, that
of the large one of 24 inches being 1.
Such is the electrical state of two electrified globes when
placed at a distance. It now becomes a curious point to
ascertain how the electricity is distributed when one or
more equal or unequal globes are in contact. When two
equal globes are in contact, the thickness of the stratum
of electricity, if it varies in thickness, or the electrical den¬
sity if it is equally thick, is nothing at the point of contact,
but increases from the point of contact equally in different
azimuths to the opposite point of the globes, where it is a
maximum. This law- of increase varies with the ratio of
the diameters of the globe.
In the case of two equal globes, the electrical densities
at different distances from the point of contact were as
follows:—
Distances from the
Point of Contact.
0°
20
30
60
90
180
Ratio of Electrical
Densities.
0
0
1
3 72
4-78
503
When two unequal globes are in contact, the one being
ttcice the size of the other, the density of the small globe
was almost nothing at 30°. From 60° to 90° it increased
in the ratio of 10 to 17, and from 90° to 180° in the ratio
of 75 to 100.
When the one globe was four times the size of the other,
the density of the small one was nothing up to 30°, from
30° to 45° it rose to 1, at 90° it was 4, and at 180° it was
5-72. The density of the large globe was nothing to the
fourth or fifth degree from contact. From this point it in¬
creased rapidly, and from 30° to 180° it was almost uniform.
If we separate the two unequal globes, a curious phe¬
nomenon takes place. At a certain distance, which is not
great, the point of the little globe which was in contact
with the larger globe, and which had no electricity, now
shows negative electricity till they are farther separated.
At a certain distance the electricity becomes asrain no¬
thing, and at a greater distance the same point becomes
positive.
When the large globe is eleven inches in diameter, and
VOL. Till.
the small one eight, and both positively electrified, the Phenome-
point of the large globe which touched the small one is naand
always positively electrified, whatever be the distance of Ijaws-
the two. The similar point of the small globe, however,
will be negatively electrified till the distance of the two
is one inch, at which distance the electricity becomes no¬
thing, and beyond it it becomes positive. If the small
globe is only four inches in diameter, the same pheno¬
mena take place, but at the distance of two inches and
five lines.
When six equal globes, two inches in diameter, wrere Several
placed in one line in contact, and electrified, and then equal
examined by the torsion balance, Coulomb found that the globes-
electrical density of the first was to that of the second as
148 to 100, and that of the first to that of the third as
156 to 100. When twelve similar globes were similarly
placed, the density of the first was to that of the second as
150 to 100, and that of the first to that of the sixth as 170
to 100. When twenty-four similar globes were similarly
placed, the electric density of the first was to that of the
second as 156 to 100, and to that of the twelfth as 175 to
100. At equal distances from the extremities of the row the
electric densities were equal, and the density always least
in the middle.
The last series of Coulomb’s experiments which we A globe
shall notice at present, are the higly important ones rela- ancl a
tive to the distribution of electricity betw een a globe and cylin<ler-
cylinder. When the globe was eight inches in diameter,
and the cylinder thirty inches long, he obtained the follow¬
ing results:—
Diameter of Cylinder.
Mean Electric Density of the
Globe to that of the Cylinder.
24 lines 1 to 1-30
12 1 ... 2-00
2 1 ... 9-00
Hence the electrical densities of different cylinders are in
the inverse ratio of the power f ths of their diameter, which
approaches very much to unity when the diameter of the
globe is very much greater than that of the cylinder.
When the globes are different, and the cylinders remain Different
the same, the electric density of the cylinders will vary as globes and
the diameters of the globes, if their diameters are much®f^e^y*
greater than that of the cylinder. Hence, calling D the11
mean electric density of the globe, d that of the cylinder,
R the radius of the globe, and r that of the cylinder, we
have d —
than r.
9
/wDR , mY) R .
  —or a , when R is much greater
y|. r ' 8
Coulomb found the constant co-efficient m to he
48
Sect. X.— On the Action of Points, and on Electrical
Potations.
The influence of points in silently drawing off electricity Action of
from a conductor has already been mentioned, and also points,
their influence in discharging electricity from any conduct¬
ing body in which they are fixed. Both these effects are
distinctly seen if a person insulates himself by standing on
a stool with glass feet, placed near an electrified prime con¬
ductor. If he takes in his hand a rod of metal with a ball
at one end and a sharp point at the other, and holds the
point at a certain distance from the conductor, he will be
able to electrify himself in consequence of drawing the elec¬
tricity from the conductor, whereas if he holds the ball at
the same distance, he will receive no electricity at all. On
the contrary, if he connect himself with the prime conduc¬
tor by a chain till he is charged with electricity, and then
throws aside the chain, he will not be able to discharge the
electricity quickly from his body by holding out the ball,
whereas if he holds out the rod with the point, the electri-
4 A
ELECTRICITY.
554
Phenome- city will be rapidly discharged from it, and will be seen
na and streaming out from it in the dark.
Laws. rpjie experiments contained in the preceding section
afford a beautiful and satisfactory explanation of the action
Action of 0f points. We have already seen that the electricity com-
pomts ex- mnnicated to a cylinder is so distributed that the electrical
p ame . density of the extremity is 2*30, while that at the middle is
1 ; and that when the electrical density of a globe is 1,
that of a cylinder two lines in diameter and thirty inches
long is 9. But we may consider points as cylinders of
small diameter and great length, and, following the result
now mentioned, we shall find that the electrical density at
the rounded extremity of a cylinder two lines in diameter
Plate will be 9 X 2#3 = 207, while that of the globe which the
OCXXIV cylinder touches is only one. In order to make this plain,
fig. 7. we have represented in fig. 7 a cylinder or rod AB, in
which the ordinates of the curve McN represent the elec¬
trical density at different points of the cylinder, or the thick¬
ness of the stratum of electricity at these points. The or¬
dinate cd being 1, the ordinates AM and BN will be 2-3.
But it may be shown, from the law of repulsion, that the
re-action of the electric fluid upon the adjacent air varies
as the square of the thicknesses of the electric strata, or
as the squares of the electric densities. Hence the squares
of the ordinates cd, AM, or 1, and 2‘30 X 2,30 = o'27, will
represent the re-action at d and A ; that is, the electric fluid
will have five times the tendency to escape at A, from what
it has at d.
Fig. 8. When the point A is connected with a ball B, as in fig.
8, the tendency of the electric fluid to escape at A will be
seen from the ordinates of the curve BM, the ordinate at A
being very great. We have already seen that the ordinate
AM, or the electrical density at A, is 207 times as great
as the electrical density at B. Hence 207 X 207 =
428’49 will represent the tendency of the electricity to
escape from A, the tendency to escape from B being only
one. But this tendency to escape is resisted by the air:
and as the amount of resistance varies with the density,
moisture, and temperature of the air, there will obviously
be some degree of electrical density which will overcome
that resistance. This result experience completely con¬
firms, for even in the common state of the air a very great
quantity of electricity is not necessary to make its way from
a pointed conductor.
This tendency of points to discharge their electricity
against the resisting air, enables us to perform some beau¬
tiful electrical experiments, in which a motion of rotation
is effected.
Electrical Exp. 1. If one, two, or any other number of wires are
rotation, placed, as in fig. 9, so as to have beneath their centre of
fig- 9- gravity, A, a hollow cup, which rests on the top of an insu¬
lated stand AB ; and if the points m, o, n, p of these wires
are made short, and are turned in the same tangential di¬
rection ; then, if we connect them with the prime conduc¬
tor by a chain C, so as to electrify them, the electricity will
issue from each point; and as it will be resisted by the air
against which it presses, the arms will turn round in a di¬
rection opposite to that in which the electric fluid is dis¬
charged, in the very same manner as the rotatory motion is
effected in Barker’s mill. In the dark a stream of light
will exhibit the discharge of the electricity, and when the
velocity of rotation becomes sufficiently great, the four
streams will form a beautiful circle of light.
Electrical Exp. 2. The Electrical Orrery, as it is called, is founded
orrery, on the same principle. A •spherical ball of metal S, fig.
fig. 10. 10, representing the sun, has its inner concave surface sup¬
ported on a pivot on the top of an insulated stand CD.
I rom the ball S extends a wire SE, the turned-up extre¬
mity of which supports upon a pivot another ball E, which
represents the earth, having a wire passing through it, and
carrying at one end a small ball M, representing the moon,
while the other end is bent into a sharp point m. A sharp Phenome-
point H is also fixed to the arm EF. If these balls are "a and
electrified as in the last experiment, by a chain A connect- ^ Law^ y
ing them with the prime conductor, the discharge of elec- |
tricity from the point H will give a rotatory motion to the
arm CE and the earth E, while the electrical discharge
from the point m will give a rotatory motion to the moon
M round the earth E. In this manner the moon revolves
round the earth, while the earth and moon are together car¬
ried round the sun.
Exp. 3. By the same principle a chime of bells may be Electrical
rung in a more elegant manner than that which is exhibited bells,
in fig. 4, Plate CCXXII. Five cross arms of wire are made
to revolve upon the pivot A of an insulated stand AB, as
shown in fig. 11, and each wire has its extremity pointed Fig. 11.
and turned in the same direction. To one of these arms C,
which is purposely made longer than the rest, is suspended
a glass ball or clapper b, by a silk thread ab, and imme¬
diately behind it a rod CD. Eight bells are placed upon
the stand, and if a chain connects the point A with the
prime conductor, the discharge of the electricity from the
points will move the cross arms round, and cause the clap¬
per b to ring the bells during its revolutions.
Exp. 4. The electrical inclined plane, shown in fig. 12, Electrical
acts upon the same principle. Two straight parallel wires, ln1^n1"ed
MO, NP, are stretched upon the insulating stands M, N,
O, P, fixed on a base of wood. Across these wires is placed
a wire ab, having another wire cd at right angles to it,
terminated by two bent points lying in a plane passing
through cd, and at right angles to ab. When the apparatus
is electrified by a chain, the electricity is discharged at the
points a, b \n a vertical plane, the wires revolve, and the
wire cd rolls up the inclined plane, in opposition to the force
of gravity.
Sect. XI.—Explanation of the Phenomena of Electrical
Attraction and Repulsion.
In order to explain the phenomena of attraction and re- Electrical
pulsion which have been already described, we must avail
ourselves of several principles which have been either pre-
viously deduced from experiment, or which may be readily
proved.
]. The electric fluid has a tendency to escape from all
electrified bodies, whether conductors or non-conductors,
in consequence of the mutual repulsion of its particles.
2. The electric fluid is prevented from escaping from
bodies so rapidly as it would otherwise do, by the pressure
of the air with which they are surrounded, and which is it¬
self a bad conductor of electricity.
3. If the pressure of the air is increased, the escape of
the electricity is diminished; and if the pressure of the air
is diminished, the escape of the electricity is increased.
4. In conductors the electric fluid passes with the ut¬
most facility and rapidity among the material particles, and
does not seem to be in any way acted upon by them.
5. In non-conductors the electric fluid escapes from them,
and moves among their material particles with difficulty ;
so that there is some force by which the electric fluid ad¬
heres to or is detained by the material particles of non¬
conducting bodies.
With the aid of these principles, we are now able to ex¬
plain the three different cases of electrical attraction and
repulsion.
1. When the tivo bodies are non-conductors. Let A be pjate
a fixed electrified non-conducting body, and B another of CCXXIV.
the same kind capable of moving. The particles of the fig. 13.
electric fluid in A will repel each other ; but this repulsive
force cannot produce any motion on the centre of gravity
of the ball, as their united tendency is to produce rest.
The same is true of the repulsive force of the electric fluid
*
ELECTRICITY.
555
Phenome- in B. Let us suppose that A and B are both electrified
naand positively, or both negatively, then the repulsion between
Laws, eiectric flui(i in ^ anci tjiat in g wiU cause B to re-
^ cede from A, because the electric fluid in B adhering as
it were to the particles of B, cannot recede from A with¬
out taking the body along with it. In like manner, if A
is positive and B negative, or vice versa, the attraction of
the positive electric fluid for the negative electric fluid
will cause the electric fluid in the moveable body B to
approach to that in A, and by its bringing the material
particles along with it, will produce the phenomena of at¬
traction.
Hence it follows that the attractions and repulsions of
non-conducting bodies are produced by the attractions and
repulsions of the electric fluid, which, from its adhesion to
their matter, causes them to partake in its motion.
Figs. 14 & 2. When the one body is a non-conductor, and the other
15, a conductor. Let A, fig. 14 and 15, be a fixed and non¬
conducting body, and B a moveable and conducting body.
When these two spheres are separate, the electric fluid is
distributed on the surface of each in a stratum or thin shell
of equal thickness ; but when they are brought near each
other, the fluid is distributed as in fig. 14, when A and B
are oppositely electrified, and as in fig. 15, when they are
similarly electrified; the space between the dark circles
and the dotted outlines representing the section of the stra¬
tum of electrified fluid upon each sphere. The arrange¬
ment of the fluid in fig. 14 is produced by the attraction of
the fluid in A for the fluid in B, and vice versa, producing
an accumulation of it on each sphere on the sides nearest
one another ; and the arrangement of the fluid in fig. 15
is produced by the repulsion of the two opposite fluids, pro¬
ducing an abstraction of the fluid from the sides nearest
one another, and an accumulation of it on the sides farthest
from each other. But since the non-conducting sphere A
is fixed, the adhesion of its fluid to its material particles
cannot produce any motion ; and since there is no adhesion
between the fluid in the conductor B and its material par¬
ticles, these particles, or the body which they compose, can¬
not move along with the fluid. The accumulated fluid,
however, at the points O, O, figs. 14 and 15, tends to escape
from the spheres in virtue of the mutual repulsion of its
own particles ; but it is restrained by the pressure of the
air, which re-acts upon it. But the pressure of the air is
an uniform force on every part of the sphere; and as the
force with which the electric fluid resists this uniform pres¬
sure is greatest at the sides O, O, the ball B, in fig. 14,
will recede in virtue of this force from A; and the ball B,
in fig. 15, will from the same cause approach to A. The
attraction, therefore, of the two opposite fluids in fig. 14
produces, through the agency of the atmosphere, a repul¬
sion of the moveable sphere; and the repulsion of the
similar electric fluids in fig. 15 produces, through the
same agency, an attraction of the moveable to the fixed
sphere.
Hence it follows that the attractions and repulsions of
two bodies, one a conductor and the other a non-conduc¬
tor, are merely apparent, and are produced solely through
the agency of the atmosphere.
3. When the two bodies are conductors. In this case the
phenomena will be nearly the same as in the last; for, by
making A a conductor, we have only removed the adhe¬
sion between its fluid and the particles of which the body
is composed, a force which was not brought into play in
case 2, owing to A being fixed.
In the preceding observations we have taken no notice
of the decomposition of the natural electricities of the two
bodies, as the reader is not yet prepared for this considera¬
tion. We have supposed one of the spheres to be fixed
and the other moveable, merely to simplify our illustrations ;
but it is obvious that the same effects would have been pro¬
duced, but only with different degrees of intensity, if the
two spheres had been moveable.
In order to show that apparent attractions and repulsions
may be produced by the mere resistance of the air, and
without any mutual action between the particles of the two
bodies which are attracted and repelled, M. Biot has em¬
ployed a very happy illustration, on which we have ventured
to make a slight improvement. Let B, fig. 16, be a glass
globe filled with water, and suspended by a string A. Make
a hole in two opposite points of it C and D, from which
the water can flow, and having closed them with wax, fill
the globe with water. With a burning mirror MN, whose
focus is at C, condense the sun’s rays RR, and melt the
plug of wax at C. The water will instantly rush out, and
the globe B will move away from M as if it had been re¬
pelled by the mirror. Repeat the same experiment by
placing the mirror at M'N', and throwing the sun’s rays
upon the opposite plug D by reflexion from the plain mir¬
ror mn. The plug D being melted, the water will flow out
at D, and the globe B will approach to M, N, the mirror
having appeared to repel the globe in the first case, and to
attract it in the second, though the motion in both cases
arises neither from attractive nor repulsive forces, but merely
from an unbalanced pressure at D when the water flowed
out at C, and an unbalanced pressure at C when the water
was discharged at D.
Sect. XII.—On Electrical Induction, or the Decomposition
of the Combined Electricities by Actions at a distance.
In the preceding sections we have considered the pheno- Electrical
mena of electricity as produced by friction, and as com- induction,
municated or transmitted by conductors to other bodies.
But it has been found that electricity may be developed in
bodies by the mere influence of an electrified body placed
at a distance, and we shall now proceed to investigate the
laws which regulate this interesting class of phenomena.
Let AB be a cylindrical conductor supported horizon- Plate
tally upon an insulating stand S, and having hemispherical CCXXV.
ends at A and B. Suspend from the points A, B, C, D, %• 1-
E, F, similar pairs of pith balls attached to wires or linen
threads, and, having insulated it carefully by the stand S,
touch it with the finger in order to see that it contains no
free electricity. Let an electrified sphere M be now
brought near it, so that A, B, M are in the same straight
line, and that no spark can pass from M to B. When this
has been done, it will be observed that the pith balls di¬
verge as in the figure, the divergency being a maximum at
A and B, and equal at these points, becoming less at C
and D, where it is also equal, and still less at E and F,
where the equality of divergence still exists. Between E
and F there will be found some neutral point where the
pith balls exhibit no divergence, and this point will shift its
position according to the distance of the electrified body
M. If we now suspend an unelectrified pith ball by a silk
thread, and bring it near to different parts of the cylindri¬
cal conductor, we shall find that it is attracted to it in all
places except the neutral point between E and F.
This neutral point is never found in the exact middle of
the cylinder between E and F. Its position varies with
the distance of the body M, and with the intensity of its
charge. In every case, however, it is nearer to the extre¬
mity B next the sphere M, than the distant extremity A.
From these experiments we are led to the important and
curious result, that an unelectrified body may be electrified
by the influence of an electrified body acting upon it at a
distance. The electricity is in this case said to be induced,
and the phenomenon is called electrical induction.
If we now electrify the pith ball which was suspended
by a silken thread, and bring it near to the cylinder AB,
we shall find that it is attracted one half of the cylinder
ELECTRICITY.
556
Phenome- from A, for example, to the neutral point between E and
na and an[j repelled by the other half from B to the same neu-
Ijaws. traj p0jnt>
From this experiment we infer that the electricity on
one half of the cylinder, from one extremity to the neutral
point, is positive, while the electricity in the other half is
NEGATIVE.
Bring the electrified pith ball near the electrified body
M, and it will be found that, if it was formerly repelled from
B, it will be attracted by M, and vice versa ; so that we
conclude that the electricity induced upon the half of the
cylinder nearest the electrified body is always opposite to
that of the electrified body.
If we now measure the electricity of the body M, both
before and after the preceding experiments, and make al¬
lowance for the dissipation of it through the agency of the
adjacent air, we shall find that no part of its electricity has
been communicated to the cylinder AB ; and if, while the
cylinder AB is electrified by the inductive influence of M,
we either remove M to a distance, or discharge its electricity
by touching it with the finger, the electricity of the cylinder
AB will instantly disappear. In like manner, AB will re¬
cover itselectrical state the moment that M is brought near it.
Hence it follows that the positive and negative electrici¬
ties developed in a conducting body by the presence of an
electrified body are not communicated to it by that body,
but have existed in a state of combination in the substance
of the conductor, and have only been separated from their
state of combination by the action of the electrified body.
As the intensity of the positive electricity, as well as its
quantity, is the same in one half of the conductor as that of
the negative electricity is in the other half, and as there is
no remaining or free electricity in the cylinder AB when
the body M is withdrawn, it follows that the union or re¬
combination of the two electricities has neutralized or sa¬
turated each other. But as the two united electricities
have not been destroyed by their union, they exist in a
new state, which is called the natural electricity of bodies.
The electricity, therefore, which thus naturally resides in
conductors, consists of equal quantities of positive and nega¬
tive electricity, which neutralize each other’s action, and
are consequently incapable of producing any of the pheno¬
mena offree electricity, or of a portion of positive or nega¬
tive electricity existing in a separate state.
With these explanations, we are now able to understand
how the cylinder AB is electrified by the influence of the
electrified body M. We have clearly proved, by direct ex¬
periment, that bodies similarly electrified repel each other,
while bodies oppositely electrified attract each other; and
we have shown in Section X. that this repulsion and attrac¬
tion does not take place between the material particles of
the bodies, but between their electricities, or the electric
fluids which they respectively contain. Hence we may
enunciate the law in the following manner :—Similar elec¬
tricities repel each other, and dissimilar electricities attract
each other. Now when the sphere M, which we shall sup¬
pose to be electrified positively, is brought near the cylin¬
der A B, in which the electricity exists in its natural or
combined state, it will repel all the positive electricity, and
attract all the negative electricity, overcoming the tendency
which each has to diffuse itself in virtue of the mutual re¬
pulsion of its own particles, and the tendency which the
two opposite electricities have to recombine by their mu¬
tual attraction. Hence all the negative electricity will be
attracted to and occupy the half F B of the cylinder, and
all the positive electricity will be repelled, and occupy the
remoter half EA. If M is negatively electrified, the
opposite effects will be produced. Let the body M be now
withdrawn, the repulsive and attractive forces which it ex¬
ercised upon the natural electricity of AB will cease, and Phenome-
the two electricities, separated by its action, will recombine na and
by their mutual attraction, as well as by the mutual repul- Laws-
sion of the particles of each, and the cylinder A B will be
restored to its natural state of electricity.
The principle of electrical induction which we have now Electrical
illustrated enables us to give a satisfactory explanation of attraction
the phenomena of attraction which have been described in exPlained-
Section II. It was there shown that electrified bodies at¬
tracted light and unelectrified bodies that were brought near
them ; but it will now appear that these apparently unelec¬
trified bodies were first electrified by induction, and, in con¬
sequence of the decomposition of their natural electricities,
were attracted by the excited body. Thus, if M (Plate plate
CCXXV. fig. 1), is an electrified body placed in a perfect CCXXV.
vacuum, and A B a small light body suspended near M, E
and capable of moving towards it, then A B will be so elec¬
trified by the influence of M, that the electricity of the
same name as that of M will be accumulated in the half
FB of the cylinder, and the other electricity in the half
E A. But the electricity of M attracts that of B F more
powerfully than it repels that of EA, and consequently the
light body A B will be attracted to M in consequence of
the previous decomposition of its native electricity. If this
decomposition cannot be effected by M, or if it takes place
with difficulty, the body AB will not be attracted, or will
be attracted less readily.
M. Biot has illustrated this position by the following simple Biot’s ex¬
experiment. Suspend by fine silk threads two small balls of periment.
equal dimensions, one of them being made of pure gum-lac,
and the other of gum-lac either gilt on its surface or covered
with a thin plate of tinfoil. When these two balls are placed
beside each other, and at a small distance, bring near them
an electrified tube of glass or sealing-wax, and it will be seen
that the gilt ball will be more strongly and easily attracted
than the other. The uncoated ball of lac will not begin to
be attracted till after a certain time, when the decomposi¬
tion of its natural electricity has been effected ; and thus
its electrical state will continue after the removal of the
electrified body. The first ball, though gilt, acquires also
in this manner a permanent electricity, because the gum of
which it is composed is impregnated with the electricity de¬
veloped at its surface, and both of them are in this respect
assisted by the contact of the air, which, under the influence
of the electrified body, tends especially to carry off from
them the one of the two electricities, which is repelled by
this body, while it has less effect upon the other, whose
proper repulsive force is concealed by attraction. Hence,
says M. Biot,1 we observe in general, that insulated bodies
which have for some time been under the influence of an
electrified body, end in having an excess of electricity of a
kind opposite to its own, and the effects of which are seen
when they are withdrawn from the influence of that body.
In examining the action of M upon AB, fig. 1, we sup¬
posed that no change took place in the electrical condition
of M ; but this is not the case, for the body A B, as soon
as its natural electricity has been decomposed, begins to
re-act upon M, through the agency of its separated electri¬
cities. These separated electricities not only tend by their
attractive and repulsive forces to change the distribution of
the free electricity which exists in M, but also to decompose
its natural electricity, and thus to increase its free electricity
by one of the two separated electricities. When this change
has been effected upon the electrical state of M, its action
upon A B will also change. It will decompose a new quan¬
tity of the natural electricity of A B, and distribute the
positive and the negative electricities of which it is composed
in the halves AE, BF; and these new portions will again
re-act upon M, till a permanent equilibrium is effected
1 Traiti de Physique, tom. ii., pp. 283-4.
ELECTRICITY.
557
Laws.
Plate
CCXXV.
fig. 2.
Phenome- among all the attractive and repulsive forces which are thus
naand brought into play.
Supposing such an equilibrium to be established between
the two bodies M and AB, we shall proceed to examine
the phenomena which are produced by the introduction ot
a third body. For this purpose let AB represent the con¬
ducting cylinder, and M the electrified body, as in fig. 2.
Let an insulated conducting body O, in its natural state of
electricity, be now brought near A B, so as to touch it, and
let us suppose that the electricity of M is positive, and con¬
sequently that the electricity in the half B E is negative,
and that in A E positive. If we now remove the body O,
and examine its electrical state, we shall find that it has
acquired positive electricity, and we shall observe that the
divergency of the pith balls at A has diminished, while their
divergency at B has increased. If we again remove the
cylinder A B from the influence of M, or remove M from
it, we shall find that A B is charged with negative electri¬
city. Previous to the contact of O with A, the positive
electricity in A E repels the negative electricity in M, and
attracts the negative electricity in B E. Hence it contri¬
butes by both these actions to weaken the attraction of the
positive electricity in M for the negative electricity in B E,
and its repulsion for the positive electricity in AE. But
when, by the contact of the third conductor O with the end
A of A B, we withdraw a portion of the positive electricity
in AE, we at the same time increase the attraction between
M and BE, and the repulsion between M and A E, by di¬
minishing the force by which that attraction and repulsion
were weakened. Hence the increased action of M will decom¬
pose an additional portion of the natural electricity of A B,
drawing the negative part of it to EB, and repelling the
positive part of it to A E. The electricity, therefore, which
is accumulated at B or in E B is greater than that accumu¬
lated at A or in EA, because the third conductor O has
taken away a part of the positive electricity in A E. Hence,
when we remove A B from the influence of M, so as to allow
its separated electricities to re-combine, there is an excess
of negative electricity, with which of course A B will be
found charged. It is therefore obvious that the divergency
of the balls should be greater at B than at A, as was found
to be the case from the excess of negative electricity which
existed at B while the cylinder was under the influence
of M.
In the experiment, as above described, the third conduc¬
tor O was insulated, and could therefore carry off only a
portion of the positive electricity in AE, corresponding to
its size: but if we use a conductor which communicates
with the ground, the whole of the free electricity in AE
will escape; the pith balls at A will exhibit no divergency,
while those at B will diverge still more than they did for¬
merly ; and this divergency will suffer no diminution by
again touching the end A with the insulated conductor. If
the conductor AB is now removed out of the influence of
M, the divergency of the balls at B wall be still further aug¬
mented. The cause of these phenomena is very obvious.
When all the positive electricity in AE has escaped into
the earth, it no longer counteracts the action of M upon
BE, so that this action is augmented ; and the consequence
of this is, that M decomposes a fresh portion of the natural
electricity of AB, the positive part of which passes off, by
the mutual repulsion of its own particles, into the earth,
while the resinous part is collected in BF, and increases
the divergency of the balls at B. Hence, when AB is re¬
moved from the influence of M, the excess of negative elec¬
tricity will be greater than previously, and the divergency
of the balls at B wall increase conformably with observa¬
tion. The very same phenomena will be observed if the
body M is charged with negative electricity, and may be
described in the very same words by changing only the
terms positive for negative and negative for positive.
The subject of electrical induction, on which Coulomb Phenome-
had thrown so much light, has been recently studied by M. naand
Mohr, a German philosopher. Having insulated a cylinder Jjaws'
AB, Plate CCXXV. fig. 1, 65 centimeters in length, he ^v^
placed a positively electrified body M at the distance of 1
centimeter from the extremity B. In this case the neutral
point was found at the distance only of 1 centimeter from
B, so that the negative electricity occupied only 1 centi¬
meter in length of the surface of the cylinder, while the
positive electricity occupied 64 centimeters. By increasing
the distance of M from B, or by diminishing the charge of
M, the space occupied by the negative electricity would
have been increased, and that occupied by the positive di¬
minished, the former, however, being always inferior to the
latter.
In making experiments of this kind, great care must be
taken to prevent any of the electricity of the charged sphere
M passing into the insulated conductor, either by the mois¬
ture of the intervening air, or the shortness of the interven¬
ing space.
If we connect AB with the earth, after removing it from
the sphere M, it will be found charged with an excess of
the electricity opposite to that of M.
In all these experiments on induction, the charged sphere
M, the inducing body, suffers no loss of electricity from
having exercised its inductive action.
CHAP. II. ON THE ELECTRICITY PRODUCED BY HEAT,
PRESSURE, AND SEPARATION OP PARTS.
In the preceding chapter we have given a general and
popular view of the phenomena of electricity, and we have
explained the remarkable phenomena of electrical induc¬
tion. In our experiments and observations on these sub¬
jects we have made use of the electricity which is gene¬
rated by the friction of tubes of glass or sticks of sealing-
wax, or which is obtained from the common electrical ma¬
chine. But electricity can be obtained from various other
sources, and its properties are the same, from whatever
source it is obtained, provided it is used in the same quan¬
tities and of the same intensity.
As there is no part of the science more interesting to the
general reader than that which relates to the different modes
in which electricity can be obtained from organized and un¬
organized bodies, we shall enter fully into this branch of
the subject, and shall treat, in successive chapters, of the
electricity produced by heat and pressure, by change of
form and separation of parts, by animal bodies, and by the
elements of our atmosphere.
Sect. I.—On Pyro-electricity, or the Electricity produced
in Minerals by Heat.
In our history of the science we have already given a Pyro-elec-
general view of the progress of discovery in this interesting tricity,
branch of electricity. We shall now, therefore, proceed to
describe the phenomena which are developed by heat in
various minerals and artificial salts.
1. On the Pyro-electricity of Tourmaline.
The tourmaline is a very common mineral, which crys- Tourma-
tallizes in long slender prisms. Its primitive form is an line,
obtuse rhomb, the axis of which coincides with the axis of
the prism. It has also one negative axis of double refrac¬
tion, which is coincident with the axis of the rhomb; and it
possesses some remarkable properties in reference to the
absorption of common and polarized light, which will be de¬
scribed in another article. This mineral acquires vitreous
electricity by friction; and when two tourmalines are rubbed
L
558
ELECTRICITY.
Hatty’s
vitreous
electro¬
scope.
Plate
ccxxv.
fig. 3.
Hatty’s
resinous
electro¬
scope,
fig. 4.
Hatty’s
general
apparatus,
fig. 5.
tocrether. the one acquires vitreous and the other resinous
electricity.
In order to observe the electricity which heat developes
in certain minerals, we have found it convenient to use the
thin internal membrane of the Arundo Phragmites, which
was cut with a sharp instrument into the smallest pieces, or,
what is still better, the thin transparent scales which cover
the buds of several plants of the genus Pinus, and which
are pushed off at the expansion of the bud in spring.
These minute fragments are well dried, and the pyro-elec¬
tricity of any mineral is determined by its power of lifting
one or more of these light bodies after the mineral has been
exposed to heat. When we wish, however, to determine
the kind of electricity which is developed in any pole ot a
mineral, we must employ a small instrument, called an elec¬
troscope, such as that used by Haiiy, which is shown in
Plate CCXXV. fig.3, where AB is a needle of silver or brass,
terminated on one side by a globule B of the same metal,
and on the opposite side by a small bar or narrow plate G
of transparent Iceland spar, fixed to A by wax or any other
means. This needle carries at its middle point D a cup of
rock-crystal (garnet is preferable), by which it rests on a
steel pivot at the upper end of the piece of wire D, fixed
in a cylinder E of gum-lac or sealing-wax. A small weight
G is made to move along the arm BD to balance the
needle in a horizontal position. In order to prepare this
little instrument for observation, take the lever by the end
B, with the right hand, and with two of the fingers of the
left hand press two of the opposite faces of the crystal G,
and then place the lever upon its pivot D. Haiiy calls this
apparatus a vitreous or positwe electroscope.
The resinous or negative electroscope, which is shown in
Plate CCXXV. fig. 4, differs from the preceding only in
having a simple needle of silver or copper AB, with two
globules A, B at its extremities, and having a cup C of the
same metal. In order to prepare this electroscope for use,
a stick of sealing-wax is rubbed with a piece of woollen
cloth, and then made to touch one of the globules of the
needle, which is immediately repelled.
In order to determine the kind of electricity generated
in any pole of a crystal by heat, we have only to apply it to
either of these electroscopes. If it attracts the globule of
the vitreous electroscope, or repels that of the resinous one,
its electricity will be resinous; and if it repels the globule
of the vitreous one, and attracts that of the resinous one, the
electricity will be vitreous.
Haiiy used another apparatus in his experiments with
tourmaline, which he considers preferable to all others. A
rectangular plate of metal hk, bent up at right angles at its
two ends h, k, is balanced on a steel needle ab by a cup of
agate x, which is confined by a circle of silver and two
screws s, z. Towards the extremities of the lower surface
of the plate hk are fixed two silver wires pi, uy, having a
slightly oblique direction, and terminated by two silver
globules i, y. The use of these little balls is to lower the
centre of gravity of the apparatus, so that the plate hk may
always remain supported during its revolution on the pivot.
Let us now suppose that we wish to determine the two kinds
of electricity which exist in the poles of a tourmaline. Take
one of the Spanish crystals, which is the best for the pur¬
pose, both from their thinness and their strength, and hav¬
ing heated it either at the fire or at the flame of a spirit-
lamp, by holding it in a pair of iron pincers with a wooden
handle, place it at mn, as shown in fig. 5, in the two notches
made on purpose in the bent-up pieces h, k; and having
held near its poles in succession a stick of excited sealing-
wax, that pole, v, will be the vitreous one which is attracted
by the wax, and the other, r, the resinous one which will
be repelled by it.
After measuring the intensity of the electricity in dif- Phenome-
ferent points of the tourmaline, Haiiy found that the elec- na and
tricity was distributed nearly in the same manner as in a ^ aw^' t
cylindrical conductor electrified by induction. The vitreous
electricity was a maximum near one extremity of the crys¬
tal, and gradually diminished towards the middle of the
crystal, where it disappeared. Here the resinous electricity
appeared very faintly, and gradually increased towards the
other end of the crystal, near which it was a maximum.
If tourmaline, when rendered electrical by heat, is broken
in pieces, each piece will have a vitreous and a resinous
pole, whether it is broken from the vitreous or the resinous
end, the extremity of the fragment always possessing the
same kind of electricity as that of the pole to which it was
nearest when it formed part of the crystal.
It had been early noticed that the tourmaline became Influence
electrical only at a particular temperature, and that its of heat,
electricity disappeared at temperatures above and below
that particular degree of heat. If we heat the tourmaline
beyond this temperature, and allow it gradually to cool, it
will soon arrive at that temperature (between 30° and 80°
of Reaumur, 99° and 212° of Fahr. according to ASpinus)
at which it exhibits its electrical properties. As the tem¬
perature falls, its electricity becomes progressively feebler,
and finally disappears. Hafiy, however, found that other
changes take place as the cooling of the mineral increases.
At a certain degree of coldness its electricity re-appeared,
and gradually increased till it reached its maximum, when
it again disappeared gradually. But, what was very inter¬
esting, the electricity was not the same as before ; the pole
which was formerly vitreous was now resinous l1 It is ex¬
tremely probable that the same changes would continue to
take place both above and below the temperatures at which
these two opposite states were produced. Haiiy caused the
foci of two burning-glasses to fall upon the poles ot a tour¬
maline, and he observed that, after each pole had acquired
its electricity, it then ceased to act, and finally exhibited an
electricity of an opposite kind.
Haiiy has ingeniously explained the phenomenon of each
fragment of a tourmaline having two different poles, like
the crystal to which it belonged, by supposing that every
integrant particle of a tourmaline is itself a little tourmaline
with its two poles. “ Hence it follows,” says he, “ that in
the entire tourmaline there will be a series of poles alter¬
nately vitreous and resinous; and such are the quantities of
free fluid which appertain to these different poles, that in
all the half of the tourmaline yet unbroken, which manifests
the vitreous electricity, the vitreous poles of the integrant
molecules are superior in force to the resinous poles in con¬
tact with them ; while the contrary obtains in the half which
manifests the resinous electricity; whence it follows that
the tourmaline is in the same state (speaking generally) as
if each of its halves were only solicited by quantities of
vitreous or resinous fluid equal to the differences between the
fluids of the neighbouring poles. Now, if the stone be cut
at any place whatever, as the section can only take place
between two molecules, the part detached will necessarily
commence with a pole of one kind, and terminate with a
pole of a contrary nature.”
Mr Sievright of Meggetland fitted up a tourmaline so as Experi-
to bring the action of its two poles very near each other. It ™eiat.*^
resembles the letter D with an opening in its round part, the
straight line representing the tourmaline, and the two bent jjTjnuS,
portions are pieces of silver wire rising out of two silver
cups, one of which embraces each pole of the tourmaline.
If a pith ball, or a ball of sola, is suspended between the
two ends of the silver wires, it will vibrate in a beautiful
manner, in virtue of their opposite actions. AHpinus, it ap¬
pears, fitted up the tourmaline in a manner somewhat re-
1 This inversion of the poles was discovered by Mr Canton.
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Pyro-elec¬
tricity of
thin plates
of tourma¬
line.
Plate
ccxxv.
fig. 6.
ELECTRICITY.
559
I therefore <£ pounded, he says, a portion of a large opaque
tourmaline in a steel mortar till it was reduced to the finest
dust. I then placed the powder upon a plate of glass, from
which it slipped off by inclining the glass, like all other hard
powders, without exhibiting any symptoms of cohesion, either
with the glass or with its own particles. When the glass
was heated to the proper temperature, the powder stuck to
the glass; and when stirred with any dry substance, it col¬
lected in masses, and adhered powerfully to the substances
with which it was stirred. This viscidity, as it were, or
disposition to form clotted masses, diminished with the heat,
and at the ordinary temperature of the atmosphere it re¬
covered its usual want of coherence.”3
M. Becquerel made some interesting experiments on the
pyro-electricity of the tourmaline. He found that when
the crystal was of a certain length it became electrical both
by heating and cooling ; and that crystals of a greater length
ceased to become electrical by heating. When the length
of the crystal was eight centimeters, or three inches and one
ninth of an inch long, they ceased to exhibit electricity either
by heating or cooling. M. Becquerel remarks, that if this
law is inversely true, that is, for very small lengths, the atoms
of the tourmaline ought to acquire a considerable electrical
•polarity by the smallest changes of temperature}
2 On the Pyro-electricity of the Borate of Magnesia.
The electricity developed in boracite by heat is consider- Borate of
ably less than that of the tourmaline. In 1791 the Abbe magnesia-
Haily discovered the pyro-electricity of this mineral; but
he found it extremely difficult to determine the vitreous and
resinous poles. He naturally expected to find two opposite
poles, as in the tourmaline; but a succession of attractions
and repulsions which took place very rapidly perplexed him
extremely. Considering, however, that the boracite was
a cubical crystal with three axes, and the tourmaline a
rhombohedral one with only one axis, he conceived that the
former crystal has a vitreous pole at the one end of each
axis, and a resinous pole at the other end. This conjecture
he verified by experiment; and the poles were found to be
so placed that each alternate pole possessed the opposite
electricity ; the experiments, however, which are necessary
to establish this result require to be made with great care,
particularly in reference to the repulsive actions, which take
place only within a very limited space; so that, in order to
obtain the repulsion of one of the resinous poles on a body
which is itself in a resinous state of electricity, we must
direct this body exactly to the repulsive point, otherwise it
will be attracted towards the neighbouring points, which are
in their natural state, or nearly so.
It is a curious fact, in reference to the preceding results,
that the boracite has been found by Sir David Brewster
to possess distinct double refraction; and consequently
it cannot, as he concludes, have the cube fjbr its primitive
form, or three axes of crystallization. He infers that its
primitive form is a rhombohedron of ninety degrees, the
form which separates the obtuse and acute rhombohedrons ;
and hence it is a most remarkable circumstance that its elec¬
trical poles should be arranged in the manner described by
Haiiy.
sembling that which has been described. Sir Humphry
Davy has stated the curious fact, which we believe has never
been verified by any subsequent observer, that “ when the
stone is of considerable size, flashes of light may be seen
along its surface.”1
On the Pyro-electricity of thin Plates of Tourmaline.
The electricity exhibited by ordinary crystals of tourma¬
line is very feeble ; and though two good tourmalines, when
floated in water upon corks, will approach and recede from
each other when they are excited by a suitable temperature,
yet these tourmalines are not capable oflifting one another,
or of adhering to an unelectrified body, by decomposing the
natural electricity of the part of it with which they are
brought in contact.
A method of increasing the electrical action of tourma¬
line, and of enabling one large piece to lift another, and
even to adhere to other bodies, has been used by Sir David
Brewster. He cut thin slices out of a large crystal of tour¬
maline so that they had parallel faces perpendicular to the
axis of the original crystal, as represented in fig. 6, where
VVVV is the vitreous face of the plate, corresponding to
the vitreous pole of the crystal; and RRRR the resinous
face; each of these faces being perpendicular to the edge
YR of the prism, and consequently to the axis of the cry¬
stal. When the two faces of the plates thus formed are
ground flat and well polished, one plate will readily lift
another. If we place one of these plates upon a piece of
flat plate glass, placed horizontally upon a table, the tour¬
maline will slip off the glass if the latter is slightly inclined
to the horizon. But if the glass has been previously heated,
the tourmaline plate will adhere to it; and by inverting the
glass, the tourmaline will adhere to it even in that position,
supporting its own weight by its attraction for the glass. The
intensity of the electricity may be easily measured at dif¬
ferent temperatures, by ascertaining the angle of inclination
at which the weight of the tourmaline overcomes its adhe¬
sive force. The plate which exhibits this powerful action
obviously consists of an infinite number of minute crystals
of tourmaline, with vitreous and resinous poles ; and as the
point of maximum intensity is situated near the extremity
of each crystal, all the vitreous poles will be situated in
a plane near the vitreous surface VVVV, while all the
resinous poles will be situated near the resinous surface
RRRR. If a rectangular plate of the same size, like V VRR,
fig. 7, is cut out of a crystal, so that its surfaces are parallel
to the axis of the prism, it will adhere to the heated glass
plate with much less force than in the preceding case. These
plates of excited tourmaline adhere to all metallic bodies, to
wax, and to all minerals that have been tried.2
If there was no mistake in the experiment by Sir H.
Davy, described in a former paragraph, respecting the ap¬
pearance of a flash of light in a mounted tourmaline, it will
doubtless be best verified by mounting several plates of
equal thickness, cut out of a broad tourmaline, placing them
all in the.same plane, and combining their effects in two
wires. A powerful little pyro-electrical battery might thus
be made, from which both a shock and a flash might be
obtained.
Having found that the electricity of plates of tourmaline
was more powerful than crystals of it, Sir David Brewster
conceived the idea of examining its pyro-electricity, when
its fragments were infinitely small, or when it was reduced
to the finest powder or dust. The analogy of magnetic
bodies led to the notion that the pyro-electricity would dis¬
appear, while the results obtained with short prisms in the
form of plates strengthened the opposite opinion, that the
pyro-electricity might even be increased by this process.
1 Elements of Chemical Philosophy, vol. i., p. 130.
3 Edin. Journal of Science, October 1824, No. ii., p. 213.
3. On the Pyro-electricity of the Topaz.
The pyro-electricity of the Brazilian topaz was disco- Topaz,
vered in by Mr Canton in 1760. The Abbe Haiiy detected
the same property in the topaz of Siberia, and found that
the poles resided in the two opposite summits of the second¬
ary form of the crystal. Haiiy at first thought that the
Saxon topazes did not possess pyro-electricity, although
they often preserved excited electricity for more than half
2 See Edin. Phil. Journal, 1819, vol. i., p. 205.
4 Id., 1828, No. xvi., p. 365.
560
ELECTRICITY.
Phenome- an hour when the weather was favourable. He afterwards
na and found, however, that they became electrical by heat if pre-
Laws. viously insulated. Sir David Brewster found pyro-electri-
city in the greenish-blue topazes of Aberdeenshire.
A pyro-electric rotation of a very extraordinary kind was
observed by Sir David Brewster in a specimen of topaz. It
presented itself when he was studying the very interesting
collection of crystals in the cavity AB. This cavity is filled
with the dense fluid which is frequently found in topazes,
in contradistinction to the highly expansible one which often
accompanies it. The circle at V represents a vacuity in
the fluid, which diminishes so perceptibly by the expansion
of the fluid when heated, that there is reason to believe that
it would disappear by an increased degree of heat, like the
vacuities in the expansible fluid. The fear, however, of
bursting so rare and interesting a cavity, prevented the ex¬
periment from being made. The cavity AB contains a
great number of crystals of different forms, not one of which
melts with heat like some of those in other cavities, and al¬
most all of them possess double refraction. When this
cavity was first placed under the microscope there were
five small crystals lying between D and the vacuity V—
one a flat prism, a second a hexagonal plate, a third an
amorphous crystal, and a fourth and fifth two irregular
halves of a hexagon. Upon the first application of heat one
or two of these crystals leapt from their places, and darted
to the opposite side of the cavity. In a few seconds the
others quitted their places one after another, performing the
most rapid and extraordinary rotations ; one crystal joined
another, and at last four of them thus united revolved with
such rapidity, that their respective shapes were completely
effaced. They afterwards separated on the withdrawal of
the heat, and took the position which their gravity assigned
them. On another occasion a long flat prism performed
the same rotation round its middle point; and, on showing
the phenomenon to different persons, the experiment was
so often repeated that the small crystals have been driven
between the inclined edges of the cavity so that they cannot
be extricated. A fine octahedral crystal, however, truncated
in its edges and angles, was afterwards conducted into the
middle at D, where it performed its rotations as indicated by
the concentric circle at the right hand of D. In subse¬
quently applying a high degree of heat the cavity burst, and
scattered its microscopic contents.1
Haiiy observed that the Siberian topazes often preserve
their pyro-electricity during several hours, and sometimes
from twenty to twenty-four hours.
Among some topazes which Haiiy received from M.
Langsdorfj there was one which exhibited resinous electri¬
city at both of its poles, and indications of vitreous electri¬
city in the middle of the crystal. This effect was probably
owing to one or more strata of cavities containing fluids,
which may have interrupted the distribution of the electri¬
city in the same manner as a fissure.
4. On the Pyro-electricity of Mesotype.
Mesotype. Haiiy discovered that some crystals only of this mineral
were electrical by heat; but as he was not able to obtain
complete crystals he detached from its support one about
five and a half lines long, and found the pyramidal summit
to be resinously electrified. Mem. Instit., tom. i., p. 54-55. Phenome-
In the first edition of his Mineralogy, however (yol. iii., p. naand
168), he states that the pyramidal summit exhibits vitreous Laws,
electricity by heat, and the fractured end resinous electri-
city; but in the second edition of his mineralogy he has
omitted altogether that passage, and said nothing whatever
on the subject.
The mesotype of Hatiy’s first edition included the Au¬
vergne mesotype, the apophyllite, the scolezite, and the
nadelstein; and therefore it is difficult to say to which of
these minerals his observations are applicable.
Sir David Brewster found distinct pyro-electricity in the
mesotype of Auvergne.
5. Pyro-electricity of the Scolezite.
The scolezite is a compound crystal, in which the faces Scolezite.
of composition are parallel to the axis of the prism. Sir
David Brewster found it to possess pyro-electricity, the
pyramidal summit having vitreous, and the fractured end
resinous electricity.
6. Pyro-electricity of Mesolite.
The mesolite, which has been separated from the scole- Mesolite.
zite both by distinct chemical and optical characters, is dis¬
tinguished still further by its being composed of four simple
crystals, whose faces of composition are parallel to the axis
of the prism, whereas the scolezite consists of twro prisms
separated by a thin film or vein. Sir David Brewster like¬
wise observed the pyro-electricity of this mineral, and found
that its crystallized summit possessed vitreous electricity,
and its fractured end resinous electricity, when heated.
7. On the Pyro-electricity of the Powders of Scolezite and
Mesolite when deprived of their Water of Crystallization.
In the experiments above recited on the powder of tour- pow<3ers 0f
maline, the mineral had suffered no other change by tritu- Scolezite
ration than that of being reduced to minute fragments. It and Me-
became interesting therefore to compare the pyro-electri- solite.
city of such a powder with that of the powder of a pyro-
electrical mineral on which an essential chemical change
had been induced. With this view Sir David Brewster
reduced to powder the crystals of scolezite and mesolite,
and by the application of heat drove off their water of crys¬
tallization, which is doubtless an essential ingredient in
every mineral species. When the powder was exposed to
a proper heat on a plate of glass, it adhered to it like the
powder of tourmaline ; and when stirred about by any sub¬
stance whatever, it collected in masses like new-fallen
snow, and adhered strongly to the body which was used to
displace it. “ This fact,” says Sir David Brewster, “ is a
very instructive one, and could scarcely have been antici¬
pated. As several minerals differ only in the quantity of
their water of crystallization, the powder which was thus
pyro-electrical could not be considered either as scolezite
or mesolite, but as another substance not recognised in
mineralogy. The pyro-electrical property, therefore, de¬
veloped by the powder, cannot be regarded as a property
of the minerals of which the powder formed a part, but
merely as a property of some of their ingredients. In which
of the ingredients, or in what combination of them, the
pyro-electricity resides, may be easily determined by further
experiments.
8. Pyro-electricity of Axinite.
In his Manual of the Mineralogist and the Geological Axinite.
Traveller, M. Braard has stated that some crystals of this
mineral become electric by heat. Haiiy has confirmed this
observation, but no accurate experiments on the position
and electricity of its poles have been made.
1 See Edinburgh Transactions, 1845, vol. xvi., part i., p. 19 ; or Phil. Mag., Dec. 1847, vol. xxxi., p. 497.
ELECTRICITY.
561
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Calamine.
9. Pyro-electricity of Calamine.
So early as 1785 M. Haiiy discovered the pyro-electri¬
city of this mineral, which being an oxide of zinc, is the
more remarkable, as it is the only metallic body in which
this property is very distinctly developed. Haiiy found
that every crystallized specimen which he tried was pyro-
electrical, and that it acquired this property also by cool¬
ing. His first observations on the return of the electric
action were made on the crystals of oxide of zinc from
Limbourg, near Aix-la-Chapelle; and a portion of the
acicular variety from the Brisgau. In the winter of 1819
he placed a crystal on a window where the temperature
was 11 degrees Cent, below zero, and having left it there
a few seconds he found that it acted very sensibly on a
magnetic needle not insulated. He next placed it in a
room whose temperature was four degrees above zero,
and he observed that its polar action progressively dimi¬
nished and disappeared. He then brought it within a yard
of a fire, and had the satisfaction of observing its polarity
return, the pole which was formerly vitreous being now
resinous.
10. Pyro-electricity of Sphene.
Sphene. Haiiy has found that some crystals of this mineral possess
pyro-electricity, but he has not determined the position or
nature of its poles.
11. Pyro-electricity of Prehnite.
This mineral crystallizes in right rhomboidal prisms.
Haiiy found it to be pyro-electrical, and that its poles are
in a direction corresponding with the smaller diagonal of
the crystal.
Other
minerals.
12. Pyro-electricity of other Minerals.
The property of becoming electrical by heat has been
found by Sir David Brewster to exist in a great number of
minerals ; and he has given the following list of those in
which he succeeded in detecting it:
Calcareous spar.
Beryl yellow.
Sulphate of barytes.
Sulphate of strontites.
Carbonate of lead.
Diopside.
Fluor spar red.
Fluor spar blue.
Diamond.
Yellow orpiment.
Analcime.
Amethyst.
Quartz, Dauphiny.
Idocrase.
Mellite ?
Sulphur native.
Garnet.
Dichroite.
Artificial
crystals.
Oxalate
of lime.
13. Pyro-electricity of artificial Crystals.
In examining the physical properties of artificial crys¬
tals, Sir David Brewster found that several of them, when
well dried, were electrical when heated. The following
is the list of those in which he detected this property.1
Tartrate of potash and soda.
Tartaric acid.
Oxalate of ammonia.
Oxymuriate of potash.
Sulphate of magnesia and soda.
Sulphate of ammonia.
Sulphate of iron.
Sulphate of magnesia.
Prussiate of potash.
Sugar.
Acetate of lead.
Carbonate of potash.
Citric acid.
Oxymuriate of mercury.
Dr Faraday2 has more recently discovered a remarkable
degree of pyro-electricity in oxalate of lime. Having ob¬
tained some of this salt by precipitation, and dried it, when
well washed, in a Wedgewood’s basin, at a temperature of
about 300° Fahr. till it was so dry as not to dim a cold
plate of glass held over it, Dr Faraday remarked that, when
it was stirred with a platina spatula, it became in a few
moments so strongly electrical that it could not be col¬
lected together, but flew about the dish whenever it was
moved from its sides into the sand-bath. This phenome¬
non took place whether the salt was placed in glass, porce- Phenome-
lain or metallic basins, or stirred with glass, porcelain, or na and
metallic rods. When the particles were well excited and Laws,
shaken on the top of a gold-leaf electrometer, the leaves
diverged two or three inches. The same phenomena took
place when it was cooled out of the contact of air. When
it was excited in a silver capsule, and left out of contact
with the air, the powder continued electrical for a great
length of time, proving its very bad conducting power, in
which it probably surpasses all other bodies. Dr Faraday
remarks, that oxalate of lime stands at the head of all other
bodies yet tried, in its power of becoming positively elec¬
trical by heat.
14. On the connection between the Pyro-electricity of
Minerals and their Secondary Forms.
It is well known that the opposite and corresponding
sides of crystals are similar in the number, disposition, and
figure of their faces. Haiiy, however, found that pyro-
electrical crystals deviate from this symmetry, so that there
are certain supernumerary planes at one pole which are not
seen at the other. This is true of tourmaline, boracite,
topaz, and axinite, and may possibly be found to be a ge¬
neral fact among pyro-electrical crystals, though we do not
expect that it will. In the crystals above mentioned, the
vitreous electricity resides in that pole where the supernu¬
merary planes are found, and the resinous electricity in the
other.
This deviation from symmetry as existing in the tourma- piate
line is shown in fig. 8, where A is the vitreous pole at theCCXXV.
summit of a pyramid with five planes, and B the resinous fig- 8.
pole at the summit of a pyramid with three planes.
The deviation from symmetry in the boracite is more re- Plate
markable. The resinous pole at s, fig. 9, is marked with COX XV.
one plane, while the vitreous one has the same plane s with fig- 9;
other three planes rrr, fig. 10. fig. io.
From the preceding facts, Haiiy is of opinion that, dur¬
ing the formation of these crystals, the two electrical fluids
have influenced, in an opposite manner, the laws by which
the crystallization was regulated.
Sect. II.—On the Influence of Heat upon the Electric
Fluid in Metallic Bodies.
The experiments which have been made on this subject influencQ
we owe chiefly to M. Becquerel, of w'hose labours we shall of heat,
endeavour to give a brief account. It had been lopg ago
shown by M. Desaignes that metallic bodies are capable of
electric excitation by heating and cooling. By raising the
temperature of one end of a plate of silver, while the other
retained the temperature of the surrounding air, he suc¬
ceeded in producing contractions in a frog, by making the
nerve communicate with one end of the plate, and the
muscle with the other end. Other philosophers had ob¬
served the influence of heat, and they believed that it in¬
creased the repulsive force of each of the two fluids. In
proof of this they sealed hermetically at a lamp a tube of
glass which had been previously electrified interiorly, and
by raising its temperature it gave very distinct signs of
electricity. M. Becquerel, how ever, has remarked, that the
glass, becoming a better conductor when heated, allowed a
portion of the fluid accumulated in the interior of the tube
to pass; so that the experiment does not prove that the
electrical power of the tube was increased. In order to
determine if any does take place, M. Becquerel made the
following experiment.
Let AB, fig. 11, be a Leyden jar, on the surface of which pig. n.
is fixed a conductor RS. The jar is closed by a cork gg,
through which there passes a rod bb, fixed at its upper end
1 Edinburgh Journal of Science, October 1824, p. 212.
VOL. VIII.
2 Id., October 1825; and Quarterly Journal, No. xxxviii., p. 338.
4 B
.
562
ELECTRICITY.
Laws.
Phenome- to a small glass receiver abc, and carrying at its opposite
na and end a mass of metal P. When the jar has been electrified
interiorly, it is placed in another vessel filled with ice, so
that the conducting rod IIS is without it. The cork gg and
the metal P having been taken out, and the mass P heated
and replaced as in the figure, the iron P will gradually heat
the interior of the bottle without sensibly altering the tem¬
perature of its outer surface, which is surrounded with ice.
If we then present the button S to an electroscope, there
will be perceived an indication of free electricity, and con¬
sequently the heat has not increased the action of the elec¬
tric fluid in the interior of the jar; for if it had done so, the
electricity of the exterior surface would have been decom¬
posed, and the rod RS would have communicated to the
electroscope the repelled electricity.
But though heat exerts no action on the free fluid, this
is far from being true with the natural fluid. When a me¬
tallic wire, which we may call mm', or a series of metallic
molecules m, m, m", &c., connected together by the foice of
aggregation, is connected by one of its ends with a heated
body, such as a piece of red-hot glass, the moment that the
heat enters it this extremity becomes positively electrical,
while the negative electricity is driven to the adjacent mole¬
cules ; but m' receiving the heat of m, m that of m, &c., the
second molecule, which is heated at the expense of the first,
takes from this last its positive electricity, and gives to it
negative electricity, and so on for all the other molecules.
Hence there will arise a series of decompositions and re¬
compositions of the natural fluids while the elevation of
temperature lasts.
M. Becquerel’s next experiment was to place on the upper
plate of Bohnenberger’s gold-leaf electroscope (taking care
to avoid the contact of metals) a platinum wire whose other
end is coiled into a spiral. This outer end is brought to a
red heat by a spirit-lamp, which is soon withdrawn, and the
spiral is then touched with a band of wet paper. After
having made the lower plate communicate with the com¬
mon reservoir, the small band of paper is found to have
carried away positive electricity, and negative electricity re¬
mains free on the surface of the metal. If we repeat the
experiment in an inverse manner, that is, if we hold be¬
tween the fingers the platinum wire by the end opposite to
that of the spiral, and make this last communicate when it
is red hot with a band of wet paper, we shall find that the
band carries away positive electricity. This result, which
takes place also with gold and silver, does not depend on
the electricity which is disengaged during the combustion
of the alcohol, since the experiment did not commence till
the lamp was withdrawn. Nor can it be ascribed to the
presence of water in the band of paper, nor to the alteration
of the latter by the effect of heat, two causes which are ca¬
pable of producing electricity, since the same result is ob¬
tained when we carry away the positive electricity of the
metal by a tube of glass brought to the same temperature
as the metal.
In order to make the experiment in this way, take a
glass tube of a very small diameter, and whose length is
little more than half an inch, and fix to one of its ends a
platinum wire one fiftieth of an inch in diameter, soldering
it with a lamp. A wire of the same metal, but of a very
small diameter, is fixed at the other end of the glass tube,
and the largest platina wire is then put in communication
with one of the plates of the condenser, avoiding the con¬
tact of metals, and the free end of the other wire is held
between the fingers. A red heat is then communicated to
the end of the small tube to which this last wire is fixed.
As its temperature is much higher than that of the other,
which is larger and more distant from the focus of heat, and
as the tube becomes at the same time a conductor of elec¬
tricity, the natural electricity of each wire is decomposed.
According to the disposition of the apparatus, we shall have
the difference of the effects, which will be to the advantage Phenome.
of the small wire, whose end in contact with the tube pos- na and
sesses the highest temperature. In order to obtain this re- Laws,
suit, it is not necessary to use a heat so high as that of a
red heat. By this process we avoid every foreign cause
which is capable of modifying the result.
Iron and copper give similar results; but the electric
effect produced by oxidation is in this case combined with
that of difference of temperature. M. Becquerel has proved
that the oxidation is not the sole cause of the electricity ob¬
tained with oxidable metals ; and he concludes that heat
exerts over the natural electric fluid of all metals a similar
action, which probably varies in intensity in different
metals, according to their nature. With bismuth, tin, and
antimony, the effects are scarcely sensible.
The following is Becquerefs theory of the preceding
phenomenon. It is an incontestable fact that all bodies
contain between their molecules a neutral electric fluid;
and M. Becquerel thinks that a rise of temperature esta¬
blishes round two contiguous molecules an accumulation of
opposite electricities, the quantity of which is proportional
to this temperature, but whose recomposition is effected
without there having been an apparent separation of the
two electricities. It is therefore an electrical effect of mo¬
tion. When the molecules are separated, each of them
takes the excess of electricity relative to the portion of
electricity which surrounds it.
The influence of heat on the natural electricity of metals
may be shown by means of the lamp without flame, in the
two following experiments given by Becquerel. Let AB, Plate
fig. 12, be a copper lamp filled with alcohol, cc a tube, ^
and dd a cork through which there passes a glass tube EF,
covered with a varnish of gum-lac. A cotton w ick passes
through this tube, one end of it going into the alcohol, while
to the other end there is fitted a platina spiral g, which be¬
comes incandescent throughout as soon as its temperatuie
is sufficiently raised. By means of this construction the
platina spiral communicates with the interior of the lamp
only by means of the vapour of alcohol and the wick. If we
now place this apparatus on the upper plate of an excellent
electroscope, whose lower plate communicates with the
ground, and touch the spiral with an ordinary platina whe,
it is evident that we carry off the negative electricity which
the spiral takes during the combustion of the alcohol, and
also the negative electricity furnished by the end of the vviie
which has the lowest temperature. In this case the spiral
will be found to have become positively electrical. If we
touch the spiral with a band of wet paper, a contrary result
will be obtained; the spiral will become negatively elec¬
trical, because the incandescent metal transmits positive
electricity to the wet paper, which is no doubt stronger than
the negative electricity acquired by the spiral during com¬
bustion.
Sect. III.— On the Electricity produced by Pressure.
The electricity produced by pressure seems to have been Expen-
first observed by Alpinus. The Abbe Haiiy subsequent y “enHs .
studied it in Iceland spar, which seems to be more suscep¬
tible of this species of excitation than any other mineia .
If w-e take into one hand a rhomb of this mineral, holding i
by two of its opposite edges, and at the same time fig f}
touch two of its parallel faces by two fingers of the ot icr
hand, and then bring it near to the small needle of the e ec
troscope, it will exhibit vitreous electricity. If the two op
posite planes, in place of being touched, are pressed between
the fingers, a still greater degree of electricity wi e e
veloped. . •
M. Haiiy has observed this property of becoming posi¬
tively electrical by pressure in topaz, especially t le vai it y
which is colourless, euclase, arragonite, fluor-spar, an c
ELECTRICITY.
563
Experi¬
ments of
M. Libes.
Experi¬
ments of
M. Bec-
querel.
bonate of lead, all of them substances which are capable of
being mechanically cleaved into smooth laminae. The ex¬
periments are always most successful with pure and trans¬
parent specimens. Sulphate of lime and sulphate of barytes
do not evolve electricity by pressure.
In all the minerals above named which furnish positive
electricity by pressure, positive electricity is also produced
by friction; and in those substances which develop resin¬
ous electricity by pressure, such as a properly shaped piece
of elastic bitumen, resinous electricity is also produced by
friction. Hence it has been inferred, that in pressing mine¬
rals friction is produced, and that the preceding phenomena
are only those of excitation by friction.
M. Libes, however, has stated a fact which appears to be
hostile to this explanation of the phenomena. He took a
metallic disc insulated by a glass handle, and having pressed
it on the surface of varnished silk, either when single or
several times folded, the disc acquired resinous and the silk
vitreous electricity, and the quantity of electricity increased
with the pressure. In order to ascertain if friction was a
remote cause of these effects, he set the disc lightly down
upon the silk, and rubbing it backwards and forwards so as
to produce the effects of friction, the disc became vitreously
and the silk resinously electrified, a result the very opposite
to that which was produced by pressure.
This curious subject has been recently examined with
much attention and success by M. Becquerel. Having con¬
structed an apparatus for compressing two bodies with a
given quantity of pressure, and also an electrical balance of
Coulomb, whose platinum torsion wire is sufficiently fine to
compare very small electric forces, M. Becquerel sought to
determine the phenomena which took place when two bodies
were placed under the action of a given pressure and then
quickly separated. He found that the excess of electricity
acquired by each body was proportional to the pressure as
long as it was not great enough to disorganize the body;
but if the two bodies are exposed to a certain pressure, and
if this pressure is reduced to one half without changing the
contact, the effect of the pressure lost subsists during a time
which depends on the degree of conducting power, so that
if we immediately withdraw the bodies from compression,
each of them will carry off an excess of the opposite elec¬
tricity greater than that due to the remaining pressure. In
place, however, of separating the bodies when the pressure
has been diminished, let the pressure taken away be re¬
stored, and let this mode of action be several times repeated,
the following results will be obtained :
Let a very thin disc of cork be pressed against a plate of
Iceland spar with a weight of four kilogrammes; without
changing the contact, let this pressure be reduced to one
half, and after a minute let the bodies be separated. The
tension or intensity of the electricity of each disc is repre¬
sented by 170. When the separation took place during the
whole pressure of four kilogrammes, the intensity would
have been 250; and during a pressure of two kilogrammes
it would have been 125, or one half. Hence it appears,
that in the first case the effect produced by the pressure
which was lost still subsisted in part, for it would only have
been 125 for two kilogrammes, in place of 170, as given
by experiment.
In place of separating the bodies when the pressure has
been reduced from four to two kilogrammes, let the pres¬
sure of two kilogrammes which was removed be restored,
and let us repeat several times the alternate action of simple
and double pressures; it will then be found that the disc of
each never possesses a greater electrical intensity than 250
relative to the strongest pressure. From these results M.
Becquerel draws the following conclusions: first, that the
electricity developed by pressure is proportional to the pres¬
sure ; and, second, that when the molecules have been com¬
pressed, the effect of the pressure lost will subsist for some
time, even though the contact has not ceased to subsist.
This is not the case with conducting bodies, seeing that the
two electricities disengaged instantly recombine whenever
the pressure ceases.
The following are some of the numerical results obtained
by M. Becquerel:
Cork
pressed against
Pressures.
Iceland spar.
Polished crystals of sulphate
of barytes   
Polished quartz.,
Sulphate of lime
Intensity of
Electricity.
 1-5
 3-4
 5 6
 6
 1-05
 21
 3-1
 4-2
 63
......3-9
 19
When two insulated discs, one of cork and the other of
caoutchouc, are pressed against each other, the cork after
pressure is negatively electrical, and the caoutchouc posi¬
tively electrical. When the cork is pressed against the
skin of an orange, the cork is positive and the skin nega¬
tive.
When cork is pressed against Iceland spar, sulphate of
lime, fluor spar, sulphate of barytes, the cork is negative
and the minerals positive; but when cork is pressed
against kyanite, retinasphaltum, pit-coal, amber, zinc,
silver, &c., the cork is positive, and the minerals or metals
negative.
When insulated cork is pressed against any part of the
animal body free from moisture, the cork receives an ex¬
cess of negative electricity. The hair and down of ani¬
mals produce nearly as much electricity by pressure as
Iceland spar, but of the opposite kind. Cork pressed
lightly against inspissated oil of turpentine is negatively
electrified.
When two discs of the same substances, such as skin or
amadou, are pressed against each other, the one becomes
negative and the other positive.
The electricity thus developed by pressure is lasting.
Haiiy found it to continue eleven days with Iceland spar.
Sulphate of barytes of Royat parts with it instantly unless
well insulated ; but a well insulated crystal retains it half
an hour. The duration of the electricity seems to be in¬
versely as the conducting power. Becquerel supposes the
internal surface of the body to be, like the Leyden jar,
charged wdth the opposite electricity ; so that dissipation
is prevented by the action of the two electricities.
In these phenomena the electricity never appears till the
bodies are separated.
When the temperature of any body is raised, it has the
greater tendency to acquire negative electricity by friction.
In like manner, by heating Iceland spar, it may be made to
give negative electricity by pressure against cork. If we
cut a piece of well-dried cork into two pieces by a very
sharp knife, and press the cut surfaces against each other,
no electricity is developed; but if one of the pieces is
heated slightly near the flame of a candle, and the pressure
applied, each surface will, when separated, exhibit opposite
electricities. The same is true of two pieces of Iceland
spar.
Sect. IV.—On the Electricity "produced by Cleavage and
Separation of Parts.
It has been long known that electricity is produced dur- Electricity
ing the violent disruption of a body, or by tearing it asun- by separa-
der, or by separating a laminated body, or by breaking ation
body across, or by crushing it, or even by cutting it into
portions.
564 ELECTRICITY.
Phenome- Mr Bennet observed that when an unannealed glass tear,
naand or prinCe Rupert’s drop, was put upon a book, it electri-
Laws. £ecj tjie |?00]i negatively. Mr Wilson noticed that if a
v'—piece of wood, when dry and warm, is rent asunder, one of
the separated surfaces becomes vitreously and the other
resinously electrified. When a stick of sealing-wax is
broken across, one of the surfaces of fracture is vitreously
and the other resinously electrified.
Flash from The electricity developed by the bursting of a Prince
Rupert’s Rupert’s or unannealed glass drop was found by Sir David
drops. Brewster to be accompanied with a flash of light. “ These
drops,” says he, “ have three different cleavages, one like
the lines of a melon diverging from the apex of the drop,
another concentric with the surface of the drop, and another
oblique to the axis. Having laid one of these drops upon
a table in a dark room, and covered it with a plate of thick
glass to prevent any of the fragments from reaching the
eye, the drop was burst by breaking off a part of its tail, and
the whole of it appeared luminous, so that at the instant of
the fracture a quantity of faint light, of the same shape and
size of the drop itself, was distinctly visible. The drop
which gave this singular result was made of flint glass, and
was the largest that he had ever seen. Every other flint
glass drop produced a distinct electrical light; but in none of
them except the large one could he see the luminous shape
of the drop. The same light appeared when they were
burst under water. The small glass drops made of bottle-
glass never exhibited any light at the moment of bursting;
but it was almost always visible, in small sparks, in bottler
glass drops of a larger size.” The same author observed also
a bright electric light when the water-proof cloth manu¬
factured by Charles Mackintosh, Esq., was separated by
tearing it into its two component pieces, which are united
by a thin film of caoutchouc. He found also that the same
light was produced by tearing quickly cotton and other
cloths, and by separating the films of mica. The same
effects are produced by breaking barley-sugar or sugar-
candy.
When the plates of mica, or the laminae of sulphate of
lime, are quickly separated, each of the two plates, when
separated, carry off an excess of the opposite electricities,
the one being vitreously and the other resinously electri¬
fied. If these two plates are again placed together in the
position which they occupied previous to their separation,
and a slight pressure used to make them adhere, M. Bec-
querel found that the same phenomena took place as at the
instant of their first separation, that is, each plate took the
same kind of electricity. This property continued only a
few moments, perhaps till the molecules had taken their
ordinary state of equilibrium, which is aided by increasing
their temperature. The effects above described he found
to be more distinct in proportion as the crystal was more
heated previous to the cleavage.
Cleavage. The electrical phenomena produced by cleavage, and by
tearing asunder and crushing bodies, differ in degree only
from those produced by pressure, as in every case of a
separation of parts there must be an approximation of the
molecules in one direction. If we press, for example, a
piece of caoutchouc in one direction, or draw it out in an
opposite direction till it breaks, the effect of both these
mechanical actions is an approximation of the molecules in
the same direction. Hence the electrical phenomena are
nearly the same. The light produced by the collision of
hard bodies, or by the separation of the parts of bodies, is
no doubt produced by the rapid recombination of the two
electricities when developed at the points of pressure.
Cleavage A very curious phenomenon was observed by Sir David
of jopazes. Brewster during his numerous experiments on the cleavage
of topazes, in which there were cavities containing very
highly expansible fluids. His practice was to make the Phenome-
cleavage plane pass through a fluid cavity, and thus to open Iia and
the cavity and allow its contents to be seen and examined. Laws.
When this was done, the riiost expansible of the two fluids
flowed from the cavity upon the polished and electrified
face of cleavage, and continued to expand and contract
itself alternately, now collecting itself into a drop, and then
expanding itself into a flat disc. These motions continued
till the fluid evaporated; and the effect was no doubt
owing to the electricity produced by evaporation, as well as
to that produced by cleavage.1
The experiments of Mr Wilson on the electricity of Wood
wood shavings belong, to a certain extent, to the present shavings,
section. Having had occasion to work very dry wood that
had lain for several hours over a very large fire, he ob¬
served the shavings adhering to the tools and to everything
that they came in contact with. When the dry wood was
scraped with a piece of window glass, the shavings were
always vitreously electrified ; but when it was chipped with
a knife, the electricity of the chips was vitreous when the
wood was hot and the knife not very sharp, but resinous
when the wood was perfectly cold. The electricity of the
knife was always opposite to that of the chips. The sur¬
face of the shaved or chipped wood was seldom electrified,
but when it was, the electricity was very feeble, and of the
same kind as the weakest of the other two. The wood
used in these experiments was beach and cherry tree.
Sect. V.—On the Electricity of Sifted Powders.
As it has not been determined whether the electricity Sifted
produced by the falling of sifted powders arises from fric- powders,
tion, pressure, or separation of parts, we have thought it
best to describe them in a separate section.
In 1786 Mr Bennet observed that when powdered chalk Rennet’s
was blown from a pair of bellows upon the cap of his gold- experi-
leaf electrometer, vitreous electricity was produced when ments.
the cap was six inches from the pipe of the bellows, and
resinous electricity when the distance of the pipe was three
feet. The vitreous electricity first produced was changed to
resinous by breaking the stream of air in the bellows-pipe
with a bunch of wire, silk, or feathers, or by removing the
pipe so as to make air issue in a wide stream.
When the plate which receives the powders at a distance
of three inches was moistened or oiled, Mr Bennet found
that the electricity was opposite to that produced when the
plate was dry.
When powdered chalk fell from one plate to another
placed upon the electrometer, resinous electricity was pro¬
duced ; and Mr Bennet obtained the same result when he
used red ochre, yellow rosin, coal ashes, black lead, pow¬
dered quicklime, powdered sulphur, flowers of sulphur, sand,
rust of iron, or iron filings.
When powdered chalk was placed on a metal plate upon
the cap of the electrometer, and blown away with the mouth
or bellows, it produced permanent vitreous electricity ; and
the same result is obtained if the chalk is merely blown
over the plate, or if a chalk is drawn over a brush placed on
the plate.
When chalk, or other powders, was sifted upon the cap
of the electrometer, resinous electricity was produced ; but
when the instrument was placed in a dusty road, and the
dust excited by a stick fell upon the cap, vitreous electri¬
city was developed.
The most accurate experiments on the electricity of pow- Experi-
ders were made by Mr Singer. The following results were meats of
obtained by sifting the powders on the cap of a delicate Mr Singer,
electrometer, through sieves of hair, flannel, or muslin, the
sieve being cleaned after every experiment.
See Edinburgh Transactions, 1823, vol. x., p. 27.
ELECTRICITY.
565
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
' v 1
Experi¬
ments of
Mr Singer.
The
following bodies produced
The metals.
The earths.
Oxides.
Acids.
Starch.
Sulphur.
Silex.
AlumLne.
negative electricity:—
Acetate of copper.
Sulphate of copper.
Sulphate of soda.
Phosphate of soda.
Carbonate of soda.
Carbonate of ammonia.
Carbonate of potash.
The following bodies produced positive electricity :—
Wheat flour. Wood charcoal.
Oatmeal. Sulphate of potash.
Lycopodium. Nitrate of potash.
Quassia. Acetate of lead.
Powdered cardamum. Oxide of tin.
Mr Singer obtained the following results by bringing an
insulated copper plate repeatedly in contact with extensive
surfaces of powders spread upon a dry sheet of paper, the
copper plate being brought in contact with the condenser
after every repetition of the touching, until a sufficient charge
was communicated. Very distinct effects were produced
with the alkalies by contact with a copper or silver plate, an
experiment which had failed in the hands of Sir H. Davy.
The pure alkali being broken into small pieces, was exposed
in an open phial for a quarter of an hour to a moderate heat
not sufficient to fuse the alkali. It was then reduced quickly
to a powder in a dry and warm mortar, and distributed
instantly over a dry sheet of card paper, which for some
time continued to attract moisture from the alkali as rapidly
as the alkali absorbed it from the air. The whole operation
was performed as rapidly as possible. The following tables
contain the substances that gave positive and negative
electricity, the copper plate being always electrified op¬
positely to the powders.
Electricity Positive.
Pure potash.
Common pearl ashes.
Carbonate of potash.
Carbonate of soda.
Tartaric acid.
Electricity Negative.
Alumine.
Carbonate of ammonia.
Sulphur.
Rosin.
Silex.
Lime.
Barytes.
Strontites.
Magnesia.
Pure soda.
Benzoic acid.
Boracic acid.
Oxalic acid.
Citric acid.
From the preceding experiments, which were several
times repeated with uniform results, Mr Singer infers that
they are unfavourable to the idea of natural electric energy ;
and he considers the result with sulphur and resin, viz. that
the electricity is similar to that produced by their friction,
as almost establishing the opinion that the contact of dis¬
similar bodies is in general the primary source of electrical
excitation.
CHAP. III. ON THE ELECTRICITY PRODUCED BY CHANGE
OF FORM.
It has been long ago observed that electricity is developed
when bodies change their form, or pass from one state into
another. This important fact is exhibited when melted
bodies pass from the fluid into the solid state, when fluids
are converted into vapour, and when bodies are decomposed
by combustion. The phenomena exhibited in these cases
of change of form are very interesting, and will be described
in the following sections.
Sect. I.—On the Electricity developed during the Melting
and Cooling of Resinous Bodies.
Electricity In our history of electricity we have already given a gene-
of melted ral account of the experiments by which Mr Stephen Gray
bodies. discovered a method of developing electricity by the fusion
and cooling of resinous bodies. In his nineteenth experi- Phenome-
ment he formed a large cone of stone sulphur of thirty naand
ounces avoirdupois, by melting the sulphur in a tall glass. Eaws.
The cone began to attract bodies two hours after it was
taken out of the glass, and the glass itself exhibited a feeble
attractive power. When the sulphur was lifted out of the
glass on the following day, its attractive force was very
strong, and that of the glass imperceptible. In making these
experiments Mr Gray had occasion to place the cone of
sulphur on its base between the two windows of his cham¬
ber, and to invert the glass over it. Whenever the glass
was removed from the cone of sulphur, it exhibited electri¬
cal attraction as strongly as the cone, and they both pre¬
served the property for several weeks. The glass, however,
at last attracted at a less distance than the sulphur, that is,
its attractive force diminished most quickly.
These interesting inquires were resumed by Mr Wilcke Experi-
of Rostoch, who gave the name of spontaneous to the elec- mrent
tricity developed by cooled resins. He found that the sul- "llcke-
phur acquired a strong electricity whether the glass in which
it was fused was insulated or not; but it was always stronger
when the vessels were not placed on electrics, and strongest
when the glass vessel had a metallic coating. The electri¬
city of the glass was always and the sulphur nega¬
tive. The electricity of the sulphur did not appear till it
began to cool and contract, and it was a maximum at its
point of greatest contraction. At this time the electricity
of the glass was a minimum, having previously reached its
maximum at the time when the sulphur was shaken out of
it. Melted sealing-wax becomes negatively electrical when
poured into glass, and positively electrical when poured
into sulphur. Sealing-wax poured into a vessel of baked wood
showed negative, and the wood positive electricity. When
sulphur was poured into wood it was negative, but it ac¬
quired no electricity whatever when poured into sulphur or
rough glass.
iEpinus pursued this subject by melting the sulphur in Of^Epinos.
metallic dishes. The sulphur and the dish showed no elec¬
trical signs when they were cooled, but the moment they
were separated the electricity of each was very strong, that
of the dish being always negative, and that of the sulphur
positive. The electricity invariably disappeared when the
sulphur was replaced in its dish, and reappeared upon their
separation.
If the electricity was abstracted either from the sulphur
or from the dish when they were separated, they both ex¬
hibited, when re-united, the electricity which had not been
taken away, and which always existed on the surfac'e of the
sulphur.
Mr Sanders, a maker of chocolate, having observed that Electricity
the chocolate exhibited electricity during its cooling, com-
municated the fact to Mr Henley, who having previously c oco a e*
repeated the experiments of Mr Gray, resumed the subject.
From several experiments made by Mr Sanders under his
direction, he found that by heating the chocolate over and
over again, the electrical property gradually disappeared;
and that it could at any time be restored by the addition of
a small quantity of olive oil.
The most elaborate series of experiments on this subject Experi-
were made by MM. Van Marum and Van Troostwyck.raents of
The substances which they employed were sulphur, sealing- Ma"
wax, gum-lac softened with rosin, rosin, pitch, and wax. These
substances were all poured when in a fluid state on the sur¬
face of mercury, and all of them, except the sulphur, were
electrical after their removal from the metallic surface.
These soft solids were next melted in insulated vessels of
baked clay, and also in linen and gauze insulated by silk
cords; but though Volta’s condenser was employed, no
proof could be obtained that they had lost any portion ofTheelec-
their natural quantity of electricity. tricity
In order to verify the suspicion that friction was the source faction0
ELECTRICITY.
566
Phenome- of the electricity generated in the melting and cooling of
naand soft solids, they poured them upon copper, tin, lead, glass,
Laws. an(j porcelain, and they invariably found that they acquired
' the same kind of electricity as if they had been rubbed by
the body on which they were poured. In confirmation of
this opinion they found that the lower surface of each plate
was much more strongly electrified than the upper one, and
no difference of effect was perceived when the plates were
even one inch and a half thick. To obtain still more com¬
plete evidence of this conclusion, they melted gum-lac and
rosin, and having suspended plates of copper by silk cords,
they caused the plates to come in contact with the melted
gum, without producing any friction. After the gum was
cooled, and the plates again raised, not a trace of electricity
could be discovered.
From these results their authors infer that the electricity
exhibited in tins class of phenomena is not produced either
by the separation of the fused substance from the electric
on which it is melted, or by the fusion or subsequent cool¬
ing of the body, but that it is generated by the friction
which the particles of the electric bodies undergo when they
disperse themselves over the surfaces of the dishes into
which they are poured. The electricity thus produced is
masked or counterbalanced by the opposite electricity ac¬
quired by the dish, and therefore does not appear till the
one is separated from the other.
Electricity The electricity produced during the congelation of glacial
of congela- sulphuric acid and other substances has probably a similar
tion and origin ; and it is likely that the electrical effects which are
tion^ma" observed when calomel fixes itself by sublimation to the
upper part of a glass vessel, may belong to the same class
of facts. This branch of the subject, however, has been
but very imperfectly studied, and will form a fine topic of
research for some young and active philosopher.
Sect. II.— On the Electricity developed during Evapora¬
tion and the Extrication of Gases.
Electricity The development of electricity during the transition of
of evapora- bodies from the solid or fluid state into the state of vapours
tion. or gases, was first investigated by MM. Lavoisier and La¬
place, with the assistance of M. Volta. Two kinds of appa-
P . ratus were used in these experiments. In both of them the
ments of bodies to be vaporized were insulated by varnished supports
Lavoisier, of glass; and in those cases where the electricity was quickly
Laplace, disengaged, a common electroscope communicating with
and Volta. tiie body was used to indicate it, whereas, when the effect
was likely to take place place continuously, Volta’s condenser
was employed.
Electricity When hydrogen gas was rapidly disengaged from iron
of chemical filings by the action of sulphuric acid, the condenser of Volta
action; afforded a strong spark, and the electricity was negative.
When carbonic acid gas was evolved from powdered
chalk, no sensible spark was educed, but the electricity
generated was negative.
When nitrous acid diluted with two parts of water was
poured upon iron filings placed in six separate vessels, so
as to generate nitrous gas, a distinct negative electricity was
obtained without a spark.
of combus- During the combustion of charcoal in three insulated
tl0n 5 chafing dishes strong negative electricity was generated ;
and a spark could easily have been obtained, by increasing
the quantity of charcoal.
of evapora- Having arranged three insulated furnaces of hammered
tiou. iron, and made them communicate with the electroscope,
water was thrown upon them when heated. In the first
experiment the electricity generated was negative, and in
the other two positive ; a discrepancy which they ascribed
to the cooling which accompanied the evaporation, the posi¬
tive electricity produced by cooling being supposed to coun¬
terbalance the negative effect occasioned by evaporation.
Mr Rennet, before whom Volta had repeated his experi¬
ments in England, published in the Phil. Trans, for 1787
the following interesting facts on the same subject. Having
placed a metallic cup with a red-hot coal in it upon the cap
of his gold-leaf electrometer, he threw a spoonful of water Bennet’s
into the cup. The cup was electrified negatively, while the exIjerl*
ascending column of vapour exhibited positive electricity.
When water is poured through an insulated cullender, con¬
taining hot coals, the descending drops of water are nega¬
tively, and the ascending vapour positively electrified ; and
Mr Rennet regards this as a good illustration of the electri¬
cities of fogs and rain. A more simple and certain method
of making these experiments consists, according to Mr
Rennet, in heating the small end of a long tobacco pipe,
and pouring water into the head. The water, being allowed
to run through the heated end, is suddenly expanded into
steam, and, when projected upon the cap of the electrome¬
ter, exhibits signs of electricity. If the pipe, wdien fixed in
a cleft stick, is fixed on one electrometer, while the steam
is received upon the cap of another, the two opposite elec¬
tricities will be simultaneously exhibited. The vapour of
alcohol and ether exhibits the same phenomena as that of
water, but sulphuric acid and oil generate only smoke, and
exhibit no electrical indications.
M. Saussure devoted much attention to this interesting Experi-
branch of electricity. He confirmed the general results ob- meats of
tained by Volta, Lavoisier, and Laplace, and proved that Saussure.
negative electricity was constantly produced by the eva¬
poration of water. He then determined the degree and
kind of electricity produced by evaporation when it was
carried on in vessels of different metals, and kept at different
temperatures. The apparatus which he employed consisted
of a well-baked vessel of clay, four inches in diameter and
fifteen lines thick, which was insulated upon a clean and
dry goblet of glass. Upon this clay vessel he placed a
crucible, or any other dish powerfully heated ; and this
crucible was made to communicate with the electrometer by
means of a wire. Fifty-four grains of distilled water were
then thrown upon the crucible, and, by means of a time-piece
and an electrometer, he observed the duration of the eva¬
poration, and the intensity and character of the electricity.
In his first series of experiments the crucible was of iron ;
the number of projections of the water varied from 1 to 21,
the time of the projection from 0" to 17’, the duration of
the evaporation from 2^” to 118”, and the degree of elec¬
tricity from 1 to 18 tenths of a line. In ten of these ex¬
periments the electricity was positive, and in six negative.
In four of the negative experiments the strongest electricity
was 7, 13, 17, and 18 tenths of a line, and in four of the
positive experiments the strongest was 3, 3, 5, and 8 tenths;
thus showing, as might have been thought, that the weak
positive electricity was produced by some secondary cause.
Rut in repeating the same series of experiments with the
same iron crucible, he found very different results. The
projections of water varied from 1 to 23, their time from
0' to 14' 10”, and the duration of the evaporation from 2^
to 120”. The electricity was now always positive, and its
intensity varied from 0 to 30 tenths of a line.
When the experiment was repeated with a copper crucible
3J inches wide at top, 2 inches wide at bottom, 3 inches
high, and weighing 57 ounces, the electricity was always
positive, and its intensity varied from 0 to 33 tenths of a
line, the maximum effect taking place when the duration
of evaporation was 165”, a mean between the shortest and
longest times. In another experiment with the same copper
crucible, made under the very same circumstances, the elec¬
tricity was negative at the end of the first projection, but
afterwards became positive, and continued so till the ex¬
periment was complete.
In the next experiment the crucible was of pure silver, \
2f inches wide at top, 1^ at bottom, 12^ inches high, 1^
ELECTRICITY.
587
Laws.
Phsnome- line thick, and weighing 16 ounces. At the first trial,
na and when the evaporation was very slow, the electricity, which
was always very feeble, was thrice negative, and thrice 0.
In a second trial it was also negative at first, but it became
'positive afterwards, and then vanished. In a third trial the
electricity was stronger and negative. The balls of the
electrometer now diverged 3^ lines. It then became positive,
when the balls diverged -j^ths of a line ; and at the third
projection, when it was still positive, the separation of the
balls was so great as six lines.
Saussure’s next experiment was made with a cup of white
porcelain, surrounded with sand in a clay crucible. The
electricity was negative, and the evaporation remarkably
rapid. Its intensity varied from 0 to 8 lines. The same
results were obtained with different porcelain crucibles.
When alcohol and ether were substituted for water, and
the silver crucible used, the electricity was negative. With
the former the greatest intensity was 1 line, and with the
latter 4’2 lines.
From these experiments Saussure infers, with great hesi¬
tation, that the electricity is positive with those bodies which
are capable of decomposing water, or of being themselves
decomposed by their contact with water; and that it is
negative with those which are not decomposed. Fie ascribed
the result with silver to its being adulterated with copper
or other oxidable metals. The negative electricity of burn¬
ing charcoal he supposes to arise from the readiness with
which it loses its heat in contact with water.
Saussure wras unable to procure electricity either from
combustion or by suddenly exploding heaps of gunpowder;
and all his attempts failed to develop electricity, without
ebullition, by evaporation, from large surfaces of wet linen
or white iron.
M. Cavallo followed Saussure in this inquiry, though he
does not seem to have been acquainted with the labours of
the Swiss philosopher. He found that evaporation from
iron produced negative electricity when the iron was free
from rust, but positive when it was very rusty. He found
also that white and clear flint glass produced positive, while
bottle glass evolved negative electricity. From these various
researches it is not easy to deduce anything like a general
principle. The subject indeed requires to be resumed, and
great attention paid to the chemical changes which take
place during the progress of the experiments.
Experi¬
ments of
Cavallo.
Sect. III.—On the Electricity developed in Flame and
Combustion.
Electricity We have already seen in the preceding section, that
of flame. MM. Lavoisier and Laplace obtained distinct indications
of electricity by the combustion of charcoal, and Volta in¬
forms us that he never failed to obtain it. Saussure, on
the contrary, as has been mentioned, never could develop
electricity either by combustion or the explosion of gun¬
powder ; and Sir Humphry Davy equally failed to procure
it by the combustion of iron or of charcoal in air or in pure
oxygen.
Experi- The electrical relations of flame have been subsequently
ments of examined by M. Erman of Berlin and Professor Brande. M.
man. Erman concluded, from some experiments, that the insu¬
lated flames of wax, oil, alcohol, and hydrogen gas conduct
only positive electricity, while the flame of phosphorus con¬
ducts only negative electricity. It was noticed by Mr
Cuthbertson that when the flame of a common candle was
placed halfway between two equal balls, the one positively
and the other negatively electrified, the flame was attract¬
ed to the negative ball, which consequently became very
warm, while the positive ball continued comparatively cold.
In pursuing this idea, Mr Brande placed the flames of Phenome-
various bodies between two insulated brass balls, one of na an(i
which was insulated positively and the other negatively, aws.
and obtained the following results.
JExperi-
Flames, Sfc., attracted to the Negative Ball. ments of
Olefiant gas. Brande.
Sulphuretted hydrogen, slightly.
Arseniated hydrogen.
Flame of hydrogen, weakly.
Sulphuret of carbon.
Potassium in combustion, and its fumes.
Flame of gum benzoin.
Smoke of benzoin.
Charcoal emitted by camphor in combustion.
Resinous bodies in combustion exhibit the same phenO'
mena as charcoal.
Flames attracted to the Positive Ball.
Sulphurous acid vapour.
A small flame of phosphuretted hydrogen, slightly.1
Fumes of white arsenic, slightly.
Large flame of carbonic oxide.
Vapour of burnt sulphur.2
Flame of phosphorus.
Vapour of phosphorus.
Stream of muriatic acid.
Stream of nitrous gas.
Vapour of benzoic acid.
In order to explain these phenomena, Mr Brande sup¬
poses, that since some bodies are naturally negative and
others positive, the positive ones will be attracted by the
negative ball, and the negative ones by the positive ball.
This conjecture was not confirmed by future observation,
and did not lead philosophers to any certain conclusions.
The subject, however, was resumed by M. Pouillet, who
arrived at a general result, which explains in a satisfactory
manner the errors and contradictions of preceding observers.
The first point which occupied his attention was the com- Experi-
bustion of charcoal; and in his earliest experiments he ments of
found with surprise that he could sometimes obtain from it M- Pouib
positive and at other times negative electricity, while atlet-
other times he could not obtain the slightest electrical indi¬
cations. In explaining these discrepancies, he supposed
that one of the electricities was taken by the charcoal, and
the other by the oxygen or carbonic acid; and in order to
determine the truth of this supposition he made the follow¬
ing arrangement. Having taken a cylinder of charcoal, he Combus-
placed it vertically six or eight centimeters below a plate of tion of
brass which rests upon one of the discs of the condenser, charcoal.
The charcoal having a communication with the ground, was
lighted at its upper end without the fire reaching the lateral
surface, and there arose a column of carbonic acid, which
struck the plate of brass, and in a few seconds charged the
condenser. The electricity which the condenser received
from the carbonic acid was always positive, whereas La¬
voisier, Laplace, and Volta made the electricity negative.
When the charcoal was held nearly horizontally, so that the
carbonic acid which was generated could rise only by as¬
cending along the base of the charcoal, which was now
vertical, no sensible effect was obtained ; and when the late¬
ral as well as the upper surface of the charcoal, placed ver¬
tically, was lighted, an uncertain result was obtained.
In order to determine the electricity of the charcoal it¬
self, M. Pouillet placed the base of the cylinder upon the
disc of the condenser; and after lighting the upper end of
it, and keeping up the fire by a gentle blast of air, the con¬
denser was charged, and showed that the electricity taken
by the charcoal was negative. When the charcoal burned
on all its surface, or when it touched the condenser only in
a few points, no electrical effects were observed. In the
1 When the flame was large it was equally attracted by both balls.
2 The direction of the flame could not be determined.
ELECTRICITY.
568
Phenome- last of these cases a small quantity of electricity only can
na and pass by a small number of points, and in the first case the
Laws‘ positive electricity of the ascending carbonic acid was re-
combined with the negative electricity. In order to pro-
Experi- {juce intense and rapid electrical effects, several cylinders
ments of 0p charcoal 0f the same height should be placed on their
Pouillet. en(js, anj near eacb otberj upon a sufficiently large plate of
brass ; and when all the cylinders are made to burn at their
upper ends, and their united columns of carbonic acid re¬
ceived by another brass plate communicating with the con¬
denser, and raised a few inches or even a foot above it, a
strong charge of positive electricity will in a few seconds be
communicated to the brass plate. When the electricity of
the charcoal is required, we have only to unite the con¬
denser to the brass plate upon which the burning cylinders
are placed, and in a few seconds the condenser will be
abundantly charged with negative electricity.
When the combustion is maintained by a current of oxy¬
gen, the electricity is not only much more intense, but is
much more quickly developed; and the gold leaves of the
condenser separate to their maximum divergency in an in¬
stant. The first point, however, to be attended to in every
form of the experiment, is to burn only the upper horizon¬
tal surface, so that the carbonic acid forms and ascends in a
moment, and without touching any other body till it deposits
its electricity on the brass plate. So essential is this con¬
dition, that if we burn even a deep cavity on the circum¬
ference of a vertical cylinder of charcoal, and do this even
with a jet of oxygen, the electrical indications are sometimes
positive and sometimes negative, just as the electricity of
the gas or the charcoal predominates.
M. Pouillet next entered upon the more arduous investi¬
gation of determining whether or not electricity is produced
by change of condition or chemical affinity. V olta had sup¬
posed that carbon, in becoming gaseous, absorbed the posi¬
tive, and left to the remaining solid parts the negative
electricity which we find in them. M. Pouillet, on the con¬
trary, supposed that if electricity is disengaged from two
elements which combine, positive electricity would be given
out by the one and negative by the other; and that when
these elements separate, each of them required to take up
the fluid which they had lost.
Combus- By forming combinations unaccompanied by changes of
tion of condition, M. Pouillet resolved this question. He first tried
hydrogen, that of oxygen and hydrogen. The flame of hydrogen, like
charcoal, gave electricity, sometimes strong and sometimes
feeble, sometimes positive and sometimes negative ; and it
was some time before he discovered the cause of these dis¬
crepancies. That the gases are not very good conductors
of electricity, he found by the following very curious ex¬
periment. Having set a very small spirit-lamp upon a com¬
mon electroscope, and about five or six feet above it a feebly
charged body, such as a stick of electrified rosin or a plate
of glass, he observed that the gold leaves diverged greatly,
though the same charged body could produce no divergence
if held even so near as an inch to the electroscope without
flame. This apparatus enabled our author to discover the
smallest trace of electricity. If we turn the plate of an elec¬
trifying machine, the air of the room is electrified ; and the
flame which ascends in that air is charged at the moment
with electricity of the same name. A pile in action elec¬
trifies the air in the same manner, as the flame of the elec¬
troscope proves. A charcoal fire, or even a lighted candle,
develops carbonic acid electrified positively, which is shown
also by the electroscope. The atmospheric air, in short, is
always electrified: and if it enters a room by any opening,
it will preserve itself in an electrified state so long as to
affect the results of experiments on small quantities of elec¬
tricity.
These causes of error being excluded, M. Pouillet re¬
peated his experiments on the combustion of hydrogen.
The gas was emitted from a glass tube, and the flame, which Phenome.
was vertical, was about three inches long and four or five and
lines broad. The brass plate was now set aside, and the v Laws‘ j
electricity conducted to the condenser by a platina wire,
whose end is coiled into a spiral. The spire is vertical, and
the circumvolutions are sometimes so large as to surround
the flame without touching it, and sometimes so small as to
be completely enveloped in the interior of the flame. When
we approach this flame from the interior outline of the spire,
and keep it ten millimeters distant, we obtain indications of
positive electricity. As the distance of the flame diminishes,
the electricity becomes more and more intense; but when
the flame touches the spire, the electricity becomes weak,
and its nature uncertain. The same thing is observed when
the flame passes to the interior of the spire, and in the di¬
rection of its own axis. Hence there exists round the ap¬
parent flame of the hydrogen a sort of atmosphere, more
than ten millimeters in thickness, charged with positive elec¬
tricity. Positive electricity being thus developed in the
combustion of hydrogen, Pouillet tried to discover the ne¬
gative electricity which must have been set free* He placed
a small spiral in the centre of the flame, and when it was
enveloped on all sides, negative electricity was collected by
the condenser. If we plunge the spire halt way into the
bright part of the flame, no electricity is manifested. Hence Electricity
it follows that the inside and outside of the flame are in op- of flame,
posite electrical states, the former tfjing negative and^ the
latter positive, and that there is an intermediate layer of the
flame where the electricity disappears. On these facts M.
Pouillet thus reasons. In the thickness of the exterior at¬
mosphere of the flame, when the positive electricity appears,
the combination of oxygen and hydrogen is not effected, for
the hydrogen cannot arrive there. Ihe electricity is there¬
fore communicated, and it must come from the oxygen which
predominates on the outside, and which envelopes in some
measure all the jet of hydrogen. I his combined oxygen
must therefore disengage positive electricity, which com¬
municates itself to the neighbouring strata of air sufficiently
heated to conduct it. In like manner the hydrogen pre¬
dominates in the interior of the flame, and the negative
electricity must be disengaged from the hydrogen which
burns, and which it communicates to the excess of uncom¬
bined hydrogen. If this view is correct, it is probable that,
at a certain distance above the flame, the two opposite elec¬
tricities ought no longer to appear, as they must have com¬
bined ; and this is proved to be the case by the fruitless at¬
tempt to collect electricity at a distance sufficiently gieat
above the vertical flame. At the distance, however, of a
few inches, other phenomena appear. I he two electrical
fluids appear there in the same quantity, but they are not
recombined; for if we present a soldered plate of zinc and
copper, the zinc will attract the positive and the copper the
negative electricity.
When the hydrogen issues from a metallic in place of a
glass tube, and a communication is made with the condenser
and not with the ground, the metal tube, which touches the
hydrogen without touching the flame, always takes the ne¬
gative electricity ; and, on the contrary, if the tube com¬
municates only with the gi'ound, it loses in this manner the
negative electricity which it had before taken to the con¬
denser, and the product of the combustion preserves an ex¬
cess of positive electricity.
In pursuing this inquiry in a similar manner, M. Pouillet
found that the flames of alcohol, ether, wax, the oils, fatty
substances, and several vegetable bodies, present exactly
the same phenomenon as the flame of hydrogen. He ob¬
served, however, that the particles of charcoal which float
in all these flames, and which, according to Sir H. Davy,
give them the lustre with which they burn, render them
also more fitted to manifest negative electricity. From
these results M. Pouillet has deduced the general conclu-
ELECTRICITY.
569
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Experi¬
ments of
M. Bec-
querel.
sion, that in combustion the molecules of oxygen tvhich com¬
bine disengage positive electricity, which may be communi¬
cated to the neighbouring molecules not yet combined; and
that the combustible body, on the contrary, disengages ne¬
gative electricity, which can, in like manner, be communi¬
cated to all the neighbouring combustible parts.
The experiments of M. Pouillet were repeated by M.
Becquerel in 1827, on the flames of hydrogen gas or alco¬
hol ; but he commenced them with some reserve, for, as
they were made by means of platina wires plunged in the
flame, he supposed that the phenomena were not only owing
to the electricity disengaged during combustion, but also
to some property which the metals acquired at a certain
temperature. The following is the general fact, without
entering into any of the details of his experiments: A
platinum wire communicates by one end, through the in¬
termedium of a band of wet paper, with one of the plates
of a condenser, the other end being plunged in one of the
envelopes of a flame produced by the combustion of alcohol,
contained in a vessel of copper, which the observer holds
in his hand. The end of the wire may even be placed
without the flame, provided it is so near it as to become
red hot. The wire soon takes a considerable excess of ne¬
gative electricity, which ought not to be ascribed entirely
to that which the alcohol carries off during combustion. In
order to prove this, let us resume the last experiment but
one. As soon as the end of the platinum wire attains a
red heat, let us withdraw the lamp, and touch this end of
the wire with a band of wet paper, or rather with the end
of a tube of hot glass; the effect is the same as when the
wire touched the flame, or was at a small distance from it.
It is very probable that the disengagement of the electri¬
city is due, in this last case, in part to the difference of tem¬
perature between the two ends of the wire, and that the
flame has carried off the positive electricity of the wire, or
the band of wet paper, as the hot glass tube had done.
This opinion is confirmed by the circumstance that the
effect is the same whether we bring the wire to a red heat
in the interior or in the exterior of the flame, neither of
which possesses the same kind of electricity. Notwithstand¬
ing this result, M. Becquerel still admits, that during the
combustion of alcohol and hydrogen, the exterior envelope
of the flame is charged with positive electricity.
M. Becquerel has endeavoured to explain the curious
fact discovered by M. Erman, and already referred to. Hav¬
ing placed upon an electroscope a lamp without flame,
whose platinum wire was kept at a red heat by the burn¬
ing vapour of the alcohol, he held above the spiral the ne¬
gative pole of a dry pile, and the two gold leaves instantly
diverged. He next held the positive pole above the spiral,
but there was now no divergence of the leaves. Hence
the platinum wire afforded a passage only to the negative
electricity. The contrary effect took place when the elec¬
tricity passed from an incandescent wire to another which was
not so ; and hence M. Erman found that the incandescent
wire was reciprocally a conductor and insulator of each fluid.
In order to show that this conclusion is incorrect, M.
Becquerel presented successively to a red-hot platinum wire
the two poles of a dry pile, and it conducted equally well
both kinds of electricity. Besides, as he remarks, it ap¬
pears, from our knowledge of the electrical effects produced
in gaseous combustion, and by increase of temperature, that
part of the air which surrounds the red-hot wire of the lamp
without flame ought to be in a positive state of electricity,
and the wire which is in the middle of the alcoholic vapour
in a negative state. Moreover, it is evident, from what has
been already stated, that the part of the wire which is red
hot ought easily to yield positive electricity to contiguous
bodies. This being admitted, when we present to this wire
the negative pole of a dry pile, there are two reasons why
the negative electricity should neutralize both the positive
VOL. vm.
electricity of the surrounding air, and that of the red-hot
wire which tends to escape from it. The negative elec-
tricity of the wire then becoming free, manifests its action v y
upon the electroscope. In repeating the experiment in an
inverse manner, that is, by causing each of the two electri¬
cities to escape successively by the red-hot wire, as this last
tends to be negative, it neutralizes the positive electricity
which arises, and sets free that of the surrounding air and
of the red-hot end of the wire. It is not therefore neces¬
sary to have recourse to a reciprocity of insulating and con¬
ducting action in the red-hot wire in order to explain the
phenomenon, for the fact admits of an easy explanation on
the properties above explained.
Sect. IV.—On the Electricity of the Solar Rays.
Our readers are no doubt aware that Dr Morrichini and Electricity
others succeeded in magnetizing needles by the action of of the solar
the blue rays in the solar spectrum. Other philosophers ra)'s-
have failed, even in good climates, in obtaining decided in¬
dications of magnetism, so that accurate researches are still
wanting to remove this opprobrium from our experimental
physics. The very same observations are applicable to the
development of electricity by the influence of solar light;
but still it is necessary, in a work like this, that we should
give some account of the experiments from which this elec¬
trical action has been inferred.
In a memoir on the influence of solar light in the pro- Experi-
duction of electric and magnetic phenomena, Professor ments of
Saverio Barlocci of Rome relates the following experiments : Barlocci;
Having formed the prismatic spectrum by the solar rays,
he caused the red rays and the violet rays to fall upon two
discs of blackened copper, each of which was attached to a
copper wire. Two copper nuts sliding upon a vertical glass
rod, and to which the two wires were fixed, allowed the
discs to be brought near each other or separated at pleasure.
A prepared frog was then suspended by the body to the
upper wire, and the legs were placed upon the lower one.
The red rays being made to fall on one disc, and the violet
on the other, the extreme parts of the two wires were
brought into contact, and distinct signs of contraction were
observed in the frog.
M. Matteucci has more recently investigated the same of Mat-
subject. Having exposed to the sun a delicate condensing teucci.
electrometer of gold leaf, he soon perceived the leaves di¬
verge and open themselves on that side of the glass which
was directly exposed to the solar action, as if they had been
attracted by it. Hence he was led to suspect that glass
thus exposed was electrified ; and in order to ascertain this,
he placed some plates of it in the sun, and having in a few
minutes touched them in different places with the ball elec¬
trometer, a perceptible divergence took place. This diver¬
gence was much more apparent when he touched the plates
even lightly with a flat surface, as the effects of the friction
did not afford a doubtful result.
Having inferred from these results that the solar rays
had the power of developing electricity in glass, M. Mat¬
teucci endeavoured to ascertain whether this was owing to
the existence of electricity in the rays themselves, or to the
increased temperature of the glass. He therefore heated a
plate of glass repeatedly, and having tried it with the elec¬
trometer, he never could discover in it any signs of elec¬
trical action. M. Matteucci likewise observed that the glass
plate exposed to the rays of the sun never became electric
if placed beneath another glass plate, or if the face of the
sun was obscured by a cloud.
Dr Faraday likewise made experiments on the solar spec- Experi-
trum, in the same manner as M. Barlocci, with the excep- ments of
tion that he used a very delicate galvanometer in place of a Fara-
frog; but, to use his own words, “ no electricity could be day'
obtained by means of an English sun.”
4 c
570
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Electricity
of vegeta¬
tion.
Research¬
es of M.
Pouillet.
ELECTRICITY.
M. Delarive has still more recently (Bid/. Univers. July
1833, p. 326) stated that, after taking every precaution to
avoid the action of extraneous causes, he could not discover
in the solar rays the slightest trace of electricity.
Sect. V.—On the Electricity produced by Vegetables.
Mr Read seems to be the only author who, previous to
the researches of M. Pouillet, had made any distinct state¬
ment respecting the electricity of vegetable bodies. He
had concluded, from several experiments, that vegetable
putrefaction is always electrified negatively, while the sur¬
rounding atmosphere is electrified positively. It is to M.
Pouillet, however, that we owe all our knowledge on this
subject, and in the present section we shall communicate
to our readers a general abstract of his researches.
That the various parts of plants act upon atmospheric air
is well known. At the expense of the oxygen they some¬
times form a large quantity of carbonic acid gas, which dis¬
engages itself insensibly ; and sometimes they exhale pure
oxygen, proceeding from some combination which goes on
in the interior of the plant.
As carbonic acid gas is electrified vitreously at the mo¬
ment of its formation, from charcoal in combustion, M.
Pouillet conceived that a considerable quantity of electricity
ought to be produced during the exhalation of this acid
from growing plants. This idea was soon confirmed by
experiment, and M. Pouillet was led to the important con¬
clusion that vegetation is an abundant source of electricity,
and is therefore a powerful cause in the generation of the
electricity of the atmosphere.
He took twelve capsules of glass, about nine inches in
diameter, and coated them externally, but only to a dis¬
tance of one or tw o inches tow ards the edge, with a film of
gum-lac varnish. They were then arranged in two rows
at the side of each other, either on a table of very dry wood,
or on a table which was itself varnished with gum-lac.
When they were filled with vegetable mould, they were
made to communicate with each other by metallic wires,
which went from the interior of the one to the interior of
the other, passing over the edges of the capsules. In this
manner all the insides of the twelve capsules, and the
mould which they held, formed only one conducting body.
If electricity is communicated to such a system, it will be
distributed over the twelve capsules, and will remain there,
as it cannot pass into the ground, nor even into the exte¬
rior surfaces of the capsules, on account of the film of gum-
lac round their edges. The upper plate of a condenser is
now put in communication with one of the capsules by
means of a brass wire, and its lower plate with the ground
by the same means ; and these communications are so made
that they may be kept up even for several days. The grain
of which we wish to study the effects is then sown in the
earth in the capsules, and from this moment the laboratory
must be closely shut, and neither fire nor light, nor any
electrical body, admitted.
This experiment was made during the dry north and east
winds of the month of March. During the first two days
the surface of the mould was dried up, and the grains
swelled; the germ projected about a line out of its envelope,
without, however, appearing above the thin stratum of earth
which covered the grain ; and the condenser, after several
trials, gave no signs of electricity. On the third day the
germs had come out of the mould, and began to raise their
points towards the window, which had no shutters. Upon
now trying the condenser, M. Pouillet saw a divergence in
the gold leaves, and he found the electricity to be negative
in the capsules, and positive in the gases which were dis¬
engaged. Hence M. Pouillet infers that the rapid action
which the rising germ exercises on the oxygen of the air
disengages electricity.
The apparatus was then put into its usual state, and after Phenome-
the lapse of some hours the action of the germ again Da and
charged it with electricity. Upon visiting the apparatus Ijaw‘;-
next morning, M. Pouillet found that it gave a very strong
electric charge, and the electricity was of the same kind as
before. During the next eight days the vegetation con¬
tinued active, and at all times of observation, both during
the day and night, the condenser exhibited more or less
electricity, according to the time that had elapsed. After
twelve hours the divergence of the gold leaves was more
than an inch, and the electricity of the earth in the cap¬
sules was always negative. Damp weather followed, and
it was then impossible to collect the least quantity of elec¬
tricity.
M. Pouillet’s next experiment was to make two vegeta¬
tions of corn, two of cresses, one of gillyflower, and one of
lucerne; but he was obliged to maintain in his laboratory
an artificial dryness, by spreading in a very large apartment
several bushels of quicklime broken into very small frag¬
ments, and he also distributed in porcelain saucers several
kilogrammes of muriate of lime, and placed them near the
capsules. The condenser now exhibited a more intense
electricity than before, and in each operation the develop¬
ment of the vegetable action, and that of the accompanying
electrical phenomena, were observed during ten or twelve
days. So rapid was the development of electricity, that
after the first three or four days of vegetation, if the con¬
denser was put into the natural state after one observa¬
tion, and it was then replaced for experiment only dur¬
ing one second, it was found to be charged with electricity.
“ But,” as M. Pouillet observes, “ it is evident that, during
one second, the weight of oxygen which combines and dis¬
engages during a languid vegetation, of only three or four
square feet, is a weight so feeble, and a fraction of a milli¬
gramme so imperceptible, that the electricity which it dis¬
engages is not sensible to the condenser. One is apt to
fear, after this, that the electricity has another source, and
that it can only be developed by some foreign cause; but
upon reflection we see that the earth of the capsules is so
dry that it becomes an imperfect conductor, that the elec¬
tricity is retained, and that it is it which charges the con¬
denser. To be certain of this, it is sufficient to place suc¬
cessively in contact with the condenser, one, twTo, three, or
a greater number of capsules, and we shall see the charge
increase in proportion as the number increases; in short, it
is sufficient to place them in communication with the ground
for a long time, when they will no longer give a charge to
the condenser, and it will be many hours after that before
they communicate a sensible electricity. It is without
doubt this imperfect conductibility of the dried earth which
has rendered it impossible for me to observe until now any
electrical charges during the periods of day or night, al¬
though I took every precaution to observe it, presuming
that if the disengagement of carbonic acid produce resinous
electricity in the ground, the disengagement of oxygen
ought, on the contrary, to produce vitreous electricity.
“ It is perhaps the same cause which has given birth to
another phenomenon, which I have not yet studied suffi¬
ciently to give an exact account of it. It happened twice
that the electric signs had ceased during two or three days,
and that they were then presented in opposite directions,
that is to say, the capsules had exhibited vitreous electricity,
and had continued to exhibit it, with a very weak intensity,
during the rest of the vegetation.”
Sect. V.— On the Electricity of Living Animals.
When we consider the structure of organized bodies Electricity
endued with life and motion, we should naturally expect,
from the phenomena described in the preceding section, amm
that electricity would be developed in the chemical pro-
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Electricity
of the hu¬
man body.
Experi¬
ments of
Saussure;
of Hem-
U.er.
ELECTRICITY.
571
cesses and changes which are incessantly taking place.
During the processes of digestion and assimilation, for
example, in which both solid and fluid bodies are changing
their form, and in the process of respiration, in which the
atmospheric air is decomposed, electricity cannot fail to be
developed in greater or less intensity.
Another source of electricity in animal bodies is no doubt
the friction between the clothing and the skin; and the
electricity thus generated will be more or less intense, ac¬
cording to the state of the atmosphere, the nature of the
clothes, and the constitution and habits of the individual.
But, independent of the electrical phenomena which arise
from these causes, we find in certain fishes a regular system
of electrical organs, by which they either defend themselves
from the attacks of their enemies, or seize the prey which
nature has provided for their use. The curious phenomena
which have been observed relative to these subjects will
be described under separate heads.
Art. I. On the Electricity of the Human Body.
Long before electricity had become a science, electrical
phenomena had been distinctly observed. Cardan relates
that sparks were emitted from the hair of a Carmelite monk
whenever it was stroked backwards; and Faber mentions
a young woman from whose hair sparks of fire always fell
wLen it was combed. Cassandra Buri, a Veronese lady,
often terrified her maid-servants by brilliant sparks, and a
crackling noise, which were emitted when her body was
rubbed, or even touched slightly, by a linen cloth. Antonio
Ciampi, a bookseller at Pisa, emitted sparks from his back
and arms with a crackling noise, whenever he pulled off a
narrow shirt and a piece of cloth which he wore upon his
breast.
Gesner relates that in Germany, where heated stoves
prevailed, it was exceedingly common to observe crackling
flames issue from the shirts of persons who had been pre¬
viously warming themselves at a stove.
The experiments of Mr Seymour on the electricity of
silk stockings that had been w7orn, which w^e have already
detailed, correspond with the preceding facts; and there
are few individuals who have not observed similar electrical
phenomena in changing different parts of their dress.
That the electrical effects exhibited in the human body
are, generally speaking, produced by the friction of the
clothes against the skin, has been proved by the experi¬
ments of Saussure, Landriani, the Abbe Bertholon, and
M. Volta. M. Saussure examined the electricity of his
own body by means of Volta’s electrometer and a condenser,
and he never could discover any electricity in it when he
was perfectly naked, when his clothes were cold, or when
he was in a state of perspiration. In other states of his body
and dress the electricity which did manifest itself was some¬
times positive and at other times negative, without any ap¬
parent cause for these variations. When he bent his body
forwards and raised himself suddenly, the balls of the elec¬
trometer diverged to a considerable distance, and then col¬
lapsed ; but if he drew away his hand wdien the balls were
thus divergent, they continued in this state of divergency,
and exhibited positive electricity. Saussure observed also
that the motion produced by respiration is of itself sufficient
to produce a small quantity of electricity; for when he re¬
mained on the insulating stool in a state of the most perfect
repose that a living being could observe, distinct indications
of electricity were manifested when he laid his hand for
some time on one of Volta’s condensers.
The most complete series of experiments on the electri¬
city of the human body were made by M. J. J. Hemmer of
Manheim. He insulated himself upon a board supported by
glass feet, and then touched for about half a minute a con¬
denser The condenser was then applied to Saussure’s im¬
proved electrometer, and, by means of a glass tube excited
by woollen cloth, he examined the nature of the electricity.
The following are the results of experiments which he made
upon himself on the 21st of February 1786, and wdiich he
has repeated upon persons in every state of body and mind,
and under every variety of dress and temperature.
1. The electricity of the human body is common to all
men. It was found in thirty persons of all ages and sexes;
but it varied in strength in difterent individuals, and was
positive in some and negative in others.
2. The intensity and character of the electricity often
varies in the same person. In 2422 experiments M. Hem¬
mer found it 1252 times positive, 771 times negative, and
399 times imperceptible. Out of 94 experiments made
upon his maid-servant, it was 17 times positive, 33 times
negative, and 44 times imperceptible.
3. The electricity of the body is naturally positive; for
when it is subject to no violent exertion this is always its
character. Out of 356 experiments made upon himself
when sitting at rest, and when the natural heat of his body
was not disturbed, his electricity was 322 times positive,
14 times negative, and 10 times imperceptible.
4. The natural positive electricity of the body is changed
into negative by cold, or is greatly diminished. Out of 62
experiments made upon himself when he came from a tem¬
perature of 32° of Fahrenheit, his electricity was 38 times
negative, 15 times positive, and 7 times imperceptible.
5. The natural positive electricity of the body is changed
into negative by lassitude. Out of 16 times that he walked
backwards and forwards in his apartment, or was otherwise
employed, he found the electricity only once weakly posi¬
tive, 10 times negative, and 5 times imperceptible. In 32
experiments made when he was standing at rest, the elec¬
tricity was 2 times weakly positive and 30 times imper¬
ceptible.
6. The natural positive electricity of the body is changed
into negative by sudden, speedy, and violent motion.
It is obvious from these experiments, that the human
body possesses no electrical organs over which the will exer¬
cises any control, and that its electricity depends on the
chemical and physical changes which are taking place either
in its interior or upon its surface..
It has been supposed that the remarkable phenomena of
spontaneous combustion in the human body are somehow
or other connected with its electrical state ; but we possess
no accurate data by which the truth of this opinion can be
tried.
Some very interesting discoveries have been recently Researches
made respecting the electricity of animals. It has been of M. Mat-
proved by M. Matteucci and M. Dubois Remond, thatteucci-
there are electrical currents in the frog and in all other ani¬
mals, whether cold or warm blooded. According to Mat¬
teucci, the current is more feeble in proportion to the rank
which the animal occupies in the scale of animals. We
have witnessed the fine experiments which he performed at
York in 1844, by severing the lower halves of the thighs
of a certain number of living frogs, and inserting the knee
of the one into the central muscles of the second, and so on.
A voltaic pile was thus formed of six or eight elements,
which was capable of deflecting the needle of a galvanome¬
ter, or producing convulsions in an electroscopic frog. The
direction of the voltaic current was from the interior to the
exterior of the muscle. M. Matteucci also showed that
there was a specific voltaic current in the frog, which is
directed from the feet to the head, and is detected only in
that animal.
The existence of electrical currents in the human bodyExperi-
has been proved by M. Dubois Remond by means of an ments of
extremely sensitive galvanoscope. This instrument con- p* Dubo18
sisted of a coil of wire 16,752 feet or 3|- miles in length, iemon
which made 24,160 turns on the frame upon which it was
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
572
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
ELECTRICITY.
wound. Its diameter was only 0-0055 of an inch. 1 wo
plates of homogeneous platina, fixed one to each end of the
galvanoscope, were immersed in two vessels containing
salt water. When the two corresponding fingers of each
hand are plunged into these vessels, the needle of the gal¬
vanoscope deviates a little from its place ; but as it does not
follow any law, M. Dubois Remond ascribes it to some¬
thing heterogeneous in the skin of the finger, for when
there is an abrasion of the skin or a slight wound in
one of the fingers, the deviation is greater than usual.
When the needle has returned to its place of rest at zero,
the operator, dipping his finger into the vessel, forcibly stif¬
fens or contracts all the muscles of one of his arms, and
immediately the needle begins to move through a space of
30°, indicating an inverse current of electricity, or one which
moves from the hand to the shoulder. The greatest effect
is generally produced by the strongest persons, but some¬
times no effect is produced by particular individuals.
This beautiful instrument has been improved and ren¬
dered more sensitive by Mr Rutter of Brighton, who has
described it in his work on Human Electricity. Upon
Fi \ H.
a circular stand is fixed a pillar, on the top of which is a
moveable bracket with a collar and adjusting screws. An
oval-shaped compact coil of insulated copper wire is sus¬
pended from the bracket by a fibre of raw silk. The ends of
this wire are soldered to small binding screws at each extre¬
mity of the coil, by which contact is made with cups con¬
taining mercury. The coil or helix moves with scarcely
any friction, as its terminals consist of fine silver wire, which
dips into mercury. One of M. Logeman of Haerlem s
horse-shoe magnets, constructed by the process of M. Elias
of HaeiTem, is supported horizontally with its poles as near
as possible to the sides of the helix without touching them.
Wires proceed from the cups of mercury and beneath the
stand, and terminate in plates of platina. A brass index
with an engraved dial plate is fixed on a plate at the top
of the helix. On a separate bench or table are placed two
basins containing about 3 quarts of pure spring or distilled
water.
In using the apparatus, the platina plates are placed in
these basins, and when the index points at 0° the operator
places his hands in the basins so as to be well covered with
water, and not to touch the plates of platina. After the
deviations of the needle noticed by M. Remond have sub¬
sided, clench one hand, firmly contracting the muscles of
that hand and arm to the shoulder, keeping those of the left
hand and arm relaxed. The index will move 4° or 6°.
When the other hand is clenched similarly, the index will
move in the opposite direction to 4° or 6° on the other side
of 0°. By continuing this process the deviation of the Phenome-
needle may amount to 14° or 16°. Mr Rutter has found naand
that children of both sexes can deflect the needle with as ^ Laws-
much force as adults. *~
By forcibly extending the fingers of the hand in place of
clenching it, and at the same time contracting the muscles
of the hand and arm, Mr Rutter has found that the needle
is deflected in a direction opposite to that when the hand
is clenched. The force, however, is not so great as when
the hands are clenched. In order to increase the sensi¬
bility of his galvanoscope he occasionally uses an electro¬
magnet.1
Art. 2. On the Electricity of the Raia Torpedo.
The remarkable property of giving an electrical shock Electricity
possessed bv this fish was known in the time of Aristotle of the tor-
and Pliny, and has been distinctly described by Appian. Ped0-
Redi, Reaumur, Kaempfer, and Bancroft, successively de¬
scribed the phenomena which it exhibited ; and Lorenzini,
so early as 1678, published good engravings of the elec¬
trical organs of the torpedo.
The first person, however, who made accurate experi- Experi¬
ments on the torpedo was Mr Walsh. He confirmed the of
remarkable observation of Ksempfer, that the shock could Wa 8 •
be evaded if the person who touched the animal held in
his breath at the time. Mr Walsh made two series of ex¬
periments on this fish, one when it was placed in the air,
and the other in the water. In the first series he placed
a living torpedo upon a table covered with a wet napkin,
round which stood five persons who were insulated. Hav¬
ing suspended from the ceiling by strings two brass wires,
each thirteen feet long, one of them was made to commu¬
nicate by one extremity with the wet napkin, while its
other extremity was plunged in a basin of water placed up¬
on a second table, on which other four basins of water
stood. The first of the five insulated persons plunged a
finger of one hand in the basin in which the above-men¬
tioned wire was placed, and a finger of the other hand into
the second basin. The second person put a finger of one
hand in this second basin, and a finger of the other in a
third basin, and so on till the five persons formed a com¬
munication with each other by the water in the basins.
The end of the second wire was plunged in the last basin,
and Mr Walsh having taken -the other end of this wire in
his hand, touched the back of the torpedo, when all the
five persons experienced a shock which differed only in force
from that of the Leyden jar. I he shock seldom extended
beyond the touching finger, and out of 200 only one reached
above the elbow. When the torpedo was insulated, it gave
forty or fifty shocks to insulated persons, without any di¬
minution of its force. Mr W alsh found that the shock was
communicable through iron wires and other conductoi s, but
not through air, glass, and other electrics ; and he was
never able either to produce a shock, or move the pith balls
of an electrometer. In the series of experiments in
Mr Walsh held a large and powerful torpedo in both hands
by its electric organs, and after plunging it about a foot
under water, he raised it suddenly to the same height in
air. The instant the lower surface of the fish touched the
water in descending, he received a violent shock, and the in¬
stant the same surface quitted the water in ascending, he ex¬
perienced a still more violent shock. A writhing of the fish
accompanied both these shocks, particularly the last. -*■ e
intensity of the shock under water was scarcely one-fourth
of that at the surface, and not much more than one-fourth
of those given in the air. The number of shocks in a
minute was about twenty, generally two and always one
when he was wholly in the air, and sometimes two whei1
he was below water. When the finger of one hand touched
1 See Mr Rutter’s Human Electricity, chap, vii., Lend. 1854.
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Experi¬
ments of
Ingen-
housz;
#f Hum¬
boldt and
Gay Lus-
sac.
Electrical
organs.
Plate
CCXXVI.
fig. 1.
ELECTRICITY.
573
the upper part, and the thumb of the same hand the lower
part, of a single organ, the shock was twice as great as
when it passed through the arms, and Mr Walsh con¬
cluded that the two sides of the fish are in opposite elec¬
trical states.
Dr Ingenhousz, who repeated and confirmed these ex¬
periments, says that the sensation of the shocks is the same
as if a great number of very small electrical bottles were
discharged very quickly through the hand. M. Spallanzani
found the shocks strongest when the fish was laid upon a
plate of glass. When the animal was dying the shocks were
not given at intervals, but resembled a continual battery
of small shocks. The battery continued seven minutes,
and in this time he experienced 316 shocks. Spallanzani
also found that the foetus gave perceptible shocks like the
full-grown fish.
In the year 1805, MM. Humboldt and Gay Lussac ex¬
amined the properties of the torpedo at Naples, but they
do not seem to have added much to the observations made
by Mr Walsh. They found that a person accustomed to
electric shocks could with some difficulty support the shock
of a vigorous torpedo fourteen inches long; that before
each shock there is a convulsive movement of the pectoral
fins; that the animal must be irritated previous to the
shock ; that the shock may be felt when a single finger is
applied to a single surface of the electric organ ; that an
insulated person will not receive a shock if he touches the
fish with a key or any other conducting body ; and that the
least injury done to the brain of the fish prevents its elec¬
trical action.
At the request of Mr Walsh, Dr Hunter, the celebrated
anatomist, examined the electrical organs of a torpedo
about eighteen inches long, twelve broad, and two thick.
These organs are placed on each side of the cranium and
gills, reaching from thence to the semicircular cartilages of
each great fin, and extending in length from the anterior
extremity of the animal to the transverse cartilage which
divides the thorax from the abdomen. Within these limits
the organs occupy all the space between the skin of the
upper and outer surfaces. This description will be under¬
stood from fig. 1 of Plate CCXXVI., which represents a
female torpedo, the skin B having been flayed from the
under surface of the fish, to show the electric organs A.
The nostrils, in the form of a crescent, are shown at c, and
the mouth, having a crescent form, opposite to the nostrils,
at d. The mouth is furnished with several rows of small
hooked teeth. The bronchial apertures are shown at E,
five being on each side ; F is the place of the heart, gggg
the place of the anterior transverse cartilages, hh the ex¬
terior margin of the great lateral fin, i its inner margin on
the confines of the electrical organ, l the abdomen, mmm
the place of the posterior transverse cartilage, which is
single, united with the spine, and sustains the smaller
lateral fins nnnn on each side; O is the anus, and P the
fin of the tail.
Each organ is about five inches long, and about three
inches broad at the anterior end, and half an inch at the
posterior extremity. Each organ consists wholly of perpen¬
dicular columns reaching from the upper to the under sur¬
face of the body, and varying in their lengths according to
the thickness of the parts of the body where they are placed.
The longest column is about one and a half inch, the short¬
est about one-fourth of an inch, and their diameter about
two-tenths of an inch. The figures of the columns are
irregular hexagons or pentagons, and sometimes have the
appearance of being quadrangular or cylindrical. The
number of columns in the fish examined by Dr Hunter
was 470 in each organ ; but in a very large fish four and
a half feet long, and weighing seventy-three pounds, the
number w as 1182 in each organ. The number of partitions
in a column one inch long was 150. The nerves inserted
into each electric organ arise by three very large trunks from
the lateral and posterior part of the brain ; and when they
have entered the organs they ramify in every direction be¬
tween the columns, and send in small branches on each
partition, where they are lost. Dr Hunter remarks that
there is no part of any animal with which he is acquainted,
however strong and constant its natural action, which has
so great a proportion of nerves; and he hence concludes
that, if it be probable that these nerves are not necessary
for the purposes of sensation or action, they are subservient
to the formation, collection, or management of the electric
fluid.
M. Geoffroy de St Hilaire has more recently examined
the torpedo. He analysed the fluid in the cells of the
hexagonal columns, and found it to consist of albumen and
gelatine ; and, what is very curious, he discovered organs
analogous to those of the torpedo in other species of the
same genus Raia, which do not possess any electrical power.
Some useful observations were made upon the torpedo of observa-
the Cape of Good Hope in 1812 by Mr John T. Todd, tions and
The torpedos of this locality are never more than eight, nor experi-
less than five inches in length, and never more than five, ^"rodd
nor less than three and a half inches in breadth. The
columns of their electrical organs were larger and less nu¬
merous in proportion than those described by Hunter, and
they appeared to be of a cylindrical form. The shocks of
these torpedos were never sensible above the shoulder, and
seldom above the elbow joint. The electrical discharge
was generally accompanied by an evident muscular action,
as shown by an apparent swelling of the superior surface of
the electrical organs. From a great variety of experiments,
which we have not room to enumerate, Mr Todd drew the
following conclusions:—
1. That the electrical discharge is a vital action depen¬
dent on the life of the animal.
2. That the action of the electrical organ is entirely
voluntary.
3. That frequent action of them is injurious to its life,
and, if continued, deprives the animal of it.
4. That when the nerves and the organs are cut, the
torpedo loses the power of giving a shock, though it appears
more vivacious, and lives longer, than those in which this
change has not been produced, and in which the electrical
power is exerted.
5. That the possession of one organ only is sufficient to
produce the shock.
6. That the perfect state of all the nerves of the-electri-
cal organs is not necessary to the production of the shock.
7. That (as was shown by Dr Hunter) a more intimate
relation exists between the nervous system and electrical
organs of the torpedo, both as to structure and functions,
than between the same and any organs of any animal with
which we are acquainted.
In 1816 Mr Todd made another series of experiments
at La Rochelle, principally with the view of determining
whether the torpedo possessed any voluntary power over
the electrical organs, either in exciting or interrupting their
action, except through the nerves of these organs. Shocks
were given by the torpedo even when one half of each elec¬
trical organ was removed ; and also when an incision was
made extending round the circumference of both organs,
so as to leave no attachment between these organs and the
animal except the nerves. When the large lateral carti¬
lages were removed, and a large portion of the surfaces of
the electrical organs denuded, two distinct shocks were re¬
ceived ; but the fish being much injured, soon died. Dur¬
ing these experiments, Mr Todd observed how powerfully
the action of the electrical organs was excited by the cut¬
ting of the scalpel; and on one occasion, when he pressed
on the electrical organ with his left hand, and held the
scalpel wet in the other while cutting the electrical organ,
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
574
ELECTRIC!
T Y.
Observa¬
tions and
experi¬
ments of
Sir H.
Davy;
he received a distinct shock in the right hand through the
scalpel. He observed also that all the nerves of the elec¬
trical organs arise from the medulla oblongata, notwith¬
standing the long course which three of them are obliged
to follow.
Mr Todd informs us that the torpedo called la tremble,
which occurs on the coast between the Loire and the Ga¬
ronne, is eaten by the poorer inhabitants, who carefully
avoid the electrical organs, which are supposed to possess
some disagreeable properties.
In 1814 and 1815, when Sir H. Davy was on the shores
of the Mediterranean, he was desirous of ascertaining Avhe-
ther or not the electricity of the torpedo possessed the
chemical and magnetic powers of that agent. In both
these trials he could neither decompose water, nor influence
a highly delicate magnetic electrometer; and he seems
disposed to infer that there is a stronger analogy between
the common and animal electricity than between common
and voltaic electricity, and that it is probable that animal
electricity will be found to be of a distinctive and peculiar
kind.
This eminent chemist intended to pursue these inquiries,
but his ill health prevented him ; and in his latest illness
he requested his brother, Dr John Davy, to carry on the
of Dr John investigation. Dr Davy accordingly pursued the inquiry
Davy. at Malta, and succeeded in obtaining several important re¬
sults. He placed a needle perfectly free from magnetism
within a fine copper spiral wire one and a half inch long
and one-tenth of an inch in diameter, containing about 180
convolutions, and weighing about four and a half grains.
By the electricity of a torpedo about six inches long, he
succeeded in communicating distinct magnetism to this
needle; and he repeated the experiment with the same
success with fishes of different sizes. Dr Davy likewise
succeeded in throwing into violent motion the needle of a
magnetic multiplier. With every fish he tried he obtained
decisive results, and he met with no instance of a fish which
had the power of magnetizing a needle in the spiral wire
failing to move the needle in the multiplier, though he met
with more than one example of a fish whose electricity was
equal to the latter effect and not to the former. Dr Davy,
however, failed in obtaining any igniting power, or the
faintest spark, by means of the torpedo. He also found
that air was not impermeable to the electricity ot the tor¬
pedo ; but he never could exhibit any influence on the
electrometer, or any indications of attraction and repulsion
Chemical in air. Dr Davy’s experiments on the chemical agency ot
and mag- ^jg Species 0f electricity were highly satisfactory. He de-
netical ef- c0mp0Se(j strong solutions of common salt, nitrate of silver,
and superacetate of lead, and he inferred that the under
surface of the organ corresponds to the zinc, and the upper
surface to the copper extremity of the voltaic battery. In
the deviation of the needle in the multiplier produced by
the torpedo, the action of its under surface corresponded
with the zinc plate, and that of the upper surface with the
action of the copper plate. In like manner, the extremity
of a needle that received polarity from a torpedo when
placed in a spiral wire, had southern polarity when it was
nearest the under surface of the fish, and the other extre¬
mity of course northern. In one experiment Dr Davy
connected the spiral with the multiplier, and having charged
the former with eight needles, a single discharge from an
active fish moved the needle in the multiplier powerfully,
and converted all the needles into magnets, each of them
as strong if one only had been used.
Substance j)r Davy’s next object was to ascertain “ the exact na-
^ans* °r' ture ^'e substance of the electrical organs, or the pecu¬
liar structure of which they are composed.” The electrical
organs when wet weighed only 302 grains ; and when
completely dried by sixteen hours exposure to the boiling
heat of water, they weighed only tw enty-two grains. They
appeared to him to consist of 7*28 of matter not evaporable Phenome.
at 212°, and of 92-72 water. When the electrical organs naand
are immersed in boiling water, they suddenly contract in ^
all their dimensions, and the columns, from pentagonal,
which they generally are, become circular. The electricity
of a small voltaic trough, the shock of which was just per- p®nDs ° .
ceptible, distinctly affected the voluntary muscles of the ’
live torpedo, but did not in the least affect the electrical
organs. Their substances appeared to be neither sensitive
nor contractile by the application of other stimulants; and
hence he infers that these organs “ are not muscular, but
columns formed of tendinous and nervous fibres, distended
by a thin gelatinous fluid.” Dr Davy never could observe
satisfactorily in the fresh fish the horizonal partitions which
Dr Hunter had counted. After describing more fully and
accurately than Dr Hunter the distribution of the three
great trunks of the nervous system, Dr Davy describes the
mucous system, which forms a conspicuous part ot the ana¬
tomical structure of the fish. It consists of several clusters
and chains of glands, distributed chiefly around the electri¬
cal organs, at different depths beneath the cutis, and of
strong transparent vessels of various lengths and sizes open¬
ing externally in the skin for the purpose of pouring out
the thick mucus secreted by the glands, and destined for
lubricating the surface. This system, which wras not no¬
ticed by Dr Hunter, was described, but imperfectly, by
Lorenzini. Dr Davy thinks that this system may not only
be aided by, but also aid the secretion of the mucus. In
comparing the phenomena of the torpedo with those ot
other kinds of electricity, Dr Davy notices the following
points of difference :—“ Compared with voltaic electricity,
its effect on the multiplier is feeble ; its power of decom¬
posing water and metallic solutions is inconsiderable ; but
its power of giving a shock is great, and so also is its power
of magnetizing iron. Compared with common electricity,
it has a power of affecting the multiplier, which, under or¬
dinary circumstances, common electricity does not exhibit;
its chemical effects are more distinct; its power of magnet¬
izing iron and giving a shock appears very similar; its
power of passing through air is infinitely less as is also (it
it possess it at all) its power of producing heat and light.”
These differences have been explained in different ways of Caven-
by different authors. Mr Cavendish endeavoured to ac-dish-
count for them on the principles of common electricity.
Mr Nicholson did the same with much ingenuity. Volta
at first supposed that the superposition of the different cells
in the columns, formed of substances some of which excite
electricity by contact, while others transmit it, corresponds
to that of the metallic and moist conductors of which the
pile is composed ; but he afterwards showed to Sir H. Davy
another form of the pile, which he thought fulfilled the
conditions of the organs of the torpedo ; a pile of which the
fluid substance was a very imperfect conductor, such as
honey, or a strong saccharine extract, which required a cer¬
tain time to be charged, and which, though it did not decom¬
pose water, communicated nevertheless weak shocks when
charged. MM. Humboldt and Gay Lussac were more in¬
clined to compare the action of the torpedo to a chain of
small Leyden phials, like Cavendish, than to the voltaic
pile. In order to explain why no spark is given by the tor¬
pedo, Mr Cavendish proved by experiment that the distance
through which the spark flies is inversely (or rather in a
greater proportion) as the square root of the number of
jars; and hence the torpedo may contain sufficient elec¬
tricity to give a shock, without being able to make it pass
through such a space of air as is requisite for the production
of the spark. He accounted also for the absence of every
appearance of attraction and repulsion, from the known fact
that the shock of a battery so weakly electrified as to be
incapable of passing through a chain, which is the case with
the electricity of the torpedo, is not capable of producing
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Electricity
of thegym-
notus.
Observa¬
tions of
Fahlberg.
ELECTRICITY. 575
any divergency in the pith balls of an electrometer. Mr boldt and Bonpland. The Swedish philosopher succeeded P^®n°^e'
Cavendish corroborated these views by constructing an in obtaining an electric spark from the eel when placed in n*aa^s
artificial torpedo of thick leather, connected with glass tubes the air, by interrupting the conducting chain by two gold v y
and wires, and covered with a piece of sheep-skin leather, leaves pasted upon glass, and a line distant fiom eac ^
which was an exact imitation of the real torpedo. 1 he other; but he never could discover any phenomenon o
battery was composed of forty-nine jars of very thin glass, attraction or repulsion, though he employed very delicate
and contained about seventy-six feet of coated surface. electrometers, and caused very strong shocks to pass
Humboldt has enumerated the following species of the through them,
torpedo which are electrical:—Torpedo narke, ; lor- While MM. Humboldt and Bonpland were in South Of IIum-
pedo unimaculata; Torpedo marmorata ; Torpedo Galvanii. America, where the little streams, and even the basins oj
It is very difficult to preserve the torpedo for experi- stagnant water, are filled with electrical eels, they enjoyed
ments. Dr Davy could not keep them alive for twelve or the finest opportunities of studying the phenomena of their
fifteen days ; and M. Matteucci could not preserve one out electrical action. Having imprudently placed both his feet
of 116 above three days, though the greatest attention was on a fresh gymnotxis, Humboldt experienced a more dread-
paid to them. ful shock than he ever received from a Leyden phial, and
which left a violent pain in his knees, and in almost every
Art. 3.—On the Electricity of the Gymnotus electricus. joint, during the rest of the day. When both he and M.
Bonpland held a fish, the one by the head or by the middle
The electrical eel of Surinam, or Gymnotus electricus, y>os- of the body, and the other by the tail, and, standing on the
sesses electrical organs different from those of the torpedo, ground, did not join hands, one of them received shocks
and exhibits different electrical properties. Its common which the other did not feel; and hence they concluded
size is about three feet in length; though Dr Bancroft was that the eel could direct its strokes where it chose, or to-
told that some have been seen in the Surinam river up- wards the point where it was most strongly irritated, some-
wards of twenty feet long, and whose shock proved im- times discharging them from the whole surface of its body,
mediately fatal. and sometimes from one point only.
Richer was the first person who made known in Europe The gymnoti that had been rendered extiemely tame
the electrical properties of this fish ; and experiments have during their voyage from Surinam to Stockholm were made
been since made upon it by various naturalists. It is from to fast a long time, and when fishes were put into the tub
the observations, however, of Dr Williamson of Philadel- they killed them at a distance, the electrical stroke passing
phia, Dr Garden of Charlestown, and Mr Walsh, that our through a very thick stratum of water. A fresh-caug t
knowledge of its properties is derived; and these may be gymnotus was placed by Humboldt beside little toi toises
summed up in the following manner :— and frogs, which, ignorant of their danger, placed themselves
1. When the gymnotus is touched by the hand, a shock upon its back. The frogs did not receive the shock till
is felt in the fingers, and often as far up as the wrist and they touched the body of the eel. When they recovered
elbow; and when it is touched with an iron rod twelve they leapt out of the tub. Humboldt remarks that this
inches long, the shock is felt in the finger and thumb. gymnotus was not yet sufficiently tamed to attack and
2. If the eel is provoked by one person, the hand of an- devour frogs.
other person held in the water will experience a small Upon cutting a very vigorous fish through the middle of
shock. the body, Humboldt observed that the fore part alone gave
3. When the eel was touched and provoked with one shocks. The shocks, however, are equally strong in what-
hand, and the other held in the water at a small distance, a ever part of the body the fish is touched, though it is most
shock passed through both arms; and the same effect was disposed to dart them forth when the pectoral fins, the
produced when the hand held a wet stick in the water; and electrical organ, the lips, the eyes, or the gills are pinched,
when the same experiment was made by eight or ten per- Humboldt remarks that no person has ever perceived a
sons who joined hands, a shock was also experienced. spark issue from the body of the fish itself. He irritated it
4. When the first of eight persons pinched the tail, for a long time during the night, a.t Galabozo, m per ect
while the last touched the head, they all experienced a darkness, without observing any luminous appearance.
severe shock. The method of fishing the electrical eels by hbVses, as Method of
5. The shock of the eel was found to pass through those described by Humboldt, is too interesting to be omitted in fishing the
substances which are conductors, and to be stopped by a popular article. I he Indians having brought about t in ty gymao i
those which are non-conductors, of common electricity. wild horses, forced them to enter a pool of mu cy wa ^ horses.
6. An insulated person electrified, exhibited no marks of surrounded with fir trees. “ The extraordinary noise cause
electricity ; and pith balls refused to diverge either when by the horses’ hoofs makes the fish issue from tie muc, am
suspended over the eel’s back, or touched by an insulated excites them to combat. Ihese yellowisi am ivit ee s,
person when he received the shock. resembling large aquatic serpents, swim on t e sur ace o
7. Dr Williamson succeeded in making the electricity the water, and crowd under the bellies o tie lorses an
of the eel pass through a small space of air, and exhibit the mules. A contest between animals o so i erent an or-
electric spark when the fish was in the open air; but the ganization furnishes a very striking spectac e. ie n ians,
spark is not visible when the fish is placed in water. provided with harpoons and long s em er ree s, suiroun
In the preceding experiments the gymnotus was in a the pool closely, and some climb upon the trees, the branches
large vessel, supported by pieces of dry timber about three of which extend horizontally over t e sur ace o t ic wa er.
feet above the floor. A small hole having been bored in By their wild cries, and the lengt i o tieir ree s, ey pie
the vessel, a person who held his finger in the stream of vent the horses from running away, and reaching the banks
water which flowed from it experienced a shock when the of the pool. I he eels, stunned by the noise, defend tiem-
eel was irritated. selves by the repeated discharge of their electric batteries.
Dr Williamson threw a cat fish into the same vessel with During a longtime they seem to prove victorious. Several
the gymnotus, and in a short time it gave the cat fish a horses sink beneath the violence of the invisible strokes
shock, and caused it to turn up its belly and remain mo- which they receive from all sides in organs the most essen-
tionless. tial to life, and, stunned by the force and frequency of the
Experiments on the gymnotus have more recently been shocks, disappear under the water. Otheis, panting, with
1 made by M. Fahlberg of Stockholm, and by MM. Hum- with mane erect, and haggard eyes expressing anguish, raise
576
ELECTRICITY.
Phenome- themselves, and endeavour to flee from the storm by which
na and t]-,ey are overtaken. They are driven back by the Indians
Laws' into the middle of the water ; but a small number succeed
in eluding the active vigilance of the fishermen. These re¬
gain the shore, stumbling at every step, and stretch them¬
selves on the sand exhausted with fatigue, and their limbs
benumbed by the electric shock of the gymnoti.
“ In less than five minutes two horses were drowned.
The eel being five feet long, and pressing itself against the
belly of the horses, makes a discharge along the whole ex¬
tent of its electric organ. It attacks at once the heart, the
intestines, and the plexus cceliacusof the abdominal nerves.
It is natural that the effect felt by the horses should be more
powerful than that produced upon man by the touch of the
same fish at only one of its extremities. The horses are
probably not killed, but only stunned. They are drowned
from the impossibility of rising amid the prolonged struggle
between the other horses and the eels.
“ We had little doubt that the fishing would terminate
by killing successively all the animals engaged ; but by
degrees the impetuosity of this unequal combat diminished,
and the wearied gymnoti dispersed. They require a long
rest and abundant nourishment to repair what they have
lost of galvanic force. The mules and horses appear less
frightened : their manes are no longer bristled, and their
eyes express less dread. The gymnoti approach timidly
the edge of the marsh, where they are taken by means of
small harpoons fastened to long cords. When the cords
are very dry the Indians feel no shock in raising the fish
into the air. In a few minutes we obtained five large eels,
the greater part of which were but slightly wounded. Some
were taken by the same means towards the evening.”
The gymnotus is the largest of the electrical fishes. A
fish of three feet ten inches long, obtained by Humboldt,
weighed twelve pounds. The transverse diameter of the
body was three inches five lines. The gymnoti of the
Cano de Bera are of a fine olive-green colour. The under
part of the head is yellow mingled with red. Two rows of
small yellow spots are placed symmetrically along the back,
from the head to the end of the tail. Every spot contains
an excretory aperture, which keeps the skin of the animal
covered with a mucous matter, which, as Volta has proved,
conducts electricity twenty or thirty times better than pure
water.1
Electrical Dr Hunter examined, with his usual skill, the electrical
organs of organs of this fish; and in fig. 2 we have copied his en-
rioti^ym* graving ib in which the skin is removed to show the
Plate structure. In this figure A represents the lower surface of
CCXXVI. the head ; C, the cavity of the belly ; B, the anus ; E, the
fig. 2. back, where the skin remains ; GG, the fin along the lower
edge of the fish ; EE, the lateral muscles of this fin, re¬
moved and laid back with the skin to expose the small or¬
gans ; L, part of the muscle left in its place ; FF, the large
electrical organ ; HHH, the small electrical organs ; mmm,
the substance which separates the two organs ; and n, the
place where this substance is removed. These organs oc¬
cupy nearly one-half of the part of the flesh in which they
are placed, and form more than one-third of the whole fish.
There are two pairs of electrical organs of different sizes,
and placed on different sides ; the large one F occupies the
whole of the lower and lateral part of the fish, constituting
the thickness of its fore part, and extending from the ab¬
domen to near one end of the tail, where it terminates nearly
in a point. The two organs are separated at the upper part
by the muscles of the back, at the lower part by the middle
partition, and by the air bag at the middle part. The lesser
organ stretches along the lower edge of the fish, and nearly
as far as the other, terminating almost insensibly near the
end of the tail. The two small organs are separated from
each other by the middle muscle, and by the bones in which Phenome-
the fins are articulated. The large organ may be seen by na and
merely removing the skin, which adheres to it by a loose LaW8,
cellular membrane ; but in order to see the small organ, the
long row of small muscles which move the fin must be re¬
moved. The electrical organs consist of two parts, viz. flat
partitions of septa, and thin plates or membranes intersect¬
ing them transversely. The septa are thin parallel mem¬
branes stretching in the direction of the fish’s length, and
as broad as the semidiameter of the animal’s body. The
septa vary in length, some of them being as long as the
whole body. In a fish two feet four inches long, the dis¬
tance of the septa was nearly half an inch ; and in the
broadest part of the organ, which was one and a quarter
inch, there were thirty-four septa. In the small organ the
septa have a somewhat serpentine direction. They are only
the fiftieth of an inch distant, and there are fourteen septa
in the breadth of the organ, which is half an inch. The
very thin plates which intersect the septa have their breadth
equal to the distance between any two septa. There is a
regular series of these plates from one end of any two septa
to the other end, 240 of them occupying a single inch.
A number of interesting results were obtained in ISSSDrFara-
with a gymnotus by Dr Faraday. The fish wTas caught in day’s ex-
March 1838. It was brought to the Adelaide Gallery on the penmente
loth of August, but did not feed from the time of its capture
up to the 19th of October, when it killed and eat four small
fish. It subsequently ate one gudgeon, carp, or perch
daily. Dr Faraday obtained from the electricity of this
gymnotus the electric spark, chemical decomposition, and
the evolution of heat. It deflected the needle of a galvano¬
meter, and he made magnets with it. He failed, however,
in producing the attraction of gold leaves. The shock of
the gymnotus was most powerful when one hand was placed
on the body near the head, and the other near the tail. It
resembled “that of a large Leyden battery, charged to a low
degree, or that of a good voltaic battery of perhaps one
hundred or more pairs of plates, of which the circuit is
completed for a moment only.” Dr Faraday concluded
from his experiments that “ a single medium discharge of
the fish is at least equal to the electricity of a Leyden
battery of fifteen jars, containing 3500 square inches of
glass, coated on both sides and charged to its highest de¬
gree ; ” and, great as this force is, he frequently experienced
it to give two and even three shocks with scarcely a sensible
interval of time between them. When the fish wills the
shock, the anterior parts are positive, and the posterior
parts negative.
The following results were obtained by Dr Faraday, and
will be understood from the A
annexed diagram, where AB
is the tub containing the ani¬
mal, supported upon dry wooden
logs. It was 46 inches in dia¬
meter, with a depth of water in
it of 3^ inches. The numbers
show the places where the
hands were put; those across
the fish implying that the
hands touched it: the letters
A,B,C are three different ex¬
perimenters, A being the per¬
son who excited the fish to action. Flg- 7’
When one hand was in the water a weak shock was felt
only in it, whatever part of the fish it touched, and only in
the part immersed. W hen both hands were in the water
at the same parts of the fish, a weak shock was felt only in
the parts immersed.
W hen both hands were at 1,3, or 4, 6, or 3, 6, strong
1 Humboldt notices it as remarkable that no electrical fish is covered with scales.
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Experi¬
ments of
Matteucci.
Silurus
electricus,
fig. 3.
ELECTRICITY.
577-
shocks extended up the arms and even to the breast. The
shock was strongest at 1, 8, and perceptible at 8, 9.
When B’s hands were at 10, 11, four inches from the fish,
whilst A excited it with a glass rod, B received a power¬
ful shock. When A was at 4, 6, B at 10, 11, C at 16, 17,
and D at 18, 19, they all received shocks at the same time,
A and B strongly, and C and D feebly.
When B had both hands at 10, 11, or at 14, 15, whilst A
had but one hand at 1, or 3, or 6, the former got a strong
shock, and the latter a weak one.
When A’s hands were at 3, 5, B’s at 14, 15, and C’s at
16, 17, A’s shock was the most powerful, B’s the next, and
C’s the feeblest.
When A excited the fish with his hands at 8, 9, whilst
B was at 10, 11, B had a stronger shock than A.
When A excited the fish with one hand at 3, B with both
hands at 10, 11 (or along), and C had the hands at 12, 13
(or across), A felt a pricking shock in the immersed hand
only, B a strong shock up the arms, and C but a slight effect
in the immersed parts.
Dr Faraday concludes from all the experiments he has
made that “all the water and all the conducting matter
around the fish, through which a discharge circuit can in any
way be completed, is filled at the moment with circulating
electric power. “ This state,” he adds, “ might be easily
represented generally in a diagram by drawing the lines of
inductive action upon it. In the case of a gymnotus sur¬
rounded equally in all directions by water, these would
resemble generally in disposition the magnetic curves of a
magnet having the same straight or curved shape as the
animal, that is, provided he in such cases employed, as may
be expected, his four electric organs at once.” 1
The subject of electric fishes has been more recently
studied by M. Matteucci of Pisa. The following are some
of the results which he has obtained :—
1. When any part of the body of an electric fish is irri¬
tated, the irritation is transmitted by the nerves to the
fourth lobe of the brain, and then only the electric dis¬
charge takes place.
2. An electric discharge is obtained by irritating a very
small part of a prism of the electric organ of the torpedo.
3. The electric organ of the fish is a nervous fibril in
contact with a small cell filled with albumen ; and as this
cell gives an electric shock when subjected to nervous
action, the two opposite electricities must be separated to
be instantaneously reunited.
4. Each prism of these electric organs is a pile of elemen¬
tary organs upon each of which a nervous filament is spread
normally to the axis of the pile, analogous to a cylinder of
cast-iron inclosed in a helix of metallic wire, and traversed
by the electric current.
* 5. The sum of the electric currents given by the different
slices of the organ of a torpedo is approximately equal to
the current given by the entire organ. In the gymnotus
the strongest discharge is that which is obtained by in¬
cluding the entire length of the animal within the circuit.
6. The electric shock increases with the vital action of
the torpedo. The shock is increased by raising a little the
temperature of the water, and diminished by hindering
respiration or circulation. It is diminished also after a
number of shocks. It is increased by rest, and it becomes
more powerful than usual when the fish is excited by nux
vomica.2
Art. 4. On the Electricity of the Silurus electricus.
The Silurus electricus, of which we have given a drawing
in fig. 3, is a fish about twenty inches long, which is found
in the Senegal, the Niger, and the Nile. It is eaten by Phenome-
the Egyptians, who dress its flesh, and salt its skin as an naand
aphrodisiac medicine. The shock of this fish is distinctly jaws' )
felt when it is laid on one hand, and touched by an iron
rod six feet long held in the other. Its electrical organs,
according to M. Geoffroy, are much less complicated than
those of other electrical fishes. They lie immediately be¬
low the skin, and stretch all round the body of the animal.
Their substance is a reticulated mass, the meshes of which
are clearly visible, and these cells are filled, like those of
other electrical fishes, with an albuminous gelatinous matter.
The nerves distributed over the electric organs proceed
from the brain, and the two nerves of the eighth pair have
a direction and nature peculiar to this species.
Art. 5. On the Electricity of the Tetraodon electricus.
In the cavities of the coral rocks in Johanna, one of the Tetraodon
Canary islands, Lieutenant Paterson discovered the Tetrao- electricus.
don electricus, which he found to possess the properties of
other electrical fishes. It has a long projecting mouth, and
is seven inches long and two and a half broad. The colour
of its back is brown, of its belly sea-green, of its sides yel¬
low, of its fins and tail sandy-green. Its body is covered
with red, green, and bright white spots. It has large eyes,
and its iyis is red, tinged with yellow on its outer edges. It
is found also in the American seas.
Lieutenant Paterson found this fish in water whose tem¬
perature was 56° or 60° Fahrenheit; and having caught
two of them in a linen bag, he had no sooner taken one of
them in his hand than he received so severe a shock that
he was obliged to let it go. He carried the two fishes to
the camp, and though one of them died, and the other was
in a state of great debility, he was able to obtain the evi¬
dence of the surgeon and the adjutant in favour of his dis¬
covery. The former having held it between his hands,
received a distinct electrical shock, and the latter received
a shock by merely touching the fish on its back with his
finger.
Art. 6. On the Electricity of the Trichiurus electricus.
This fish, which we believe is the Trichiurus indicus of Trichiurus
Shaw, inhabits the Indian seas^and has been found to pos- electricus.
sess the power of giving an electrical shock. It has a pointed
snout, and belongs to the family Taenioides, of the order
Acanthopterygii.
Other electrical fishes have been met with, but .the de- Other elec-
scriptions given of them do not enable us to determine trical
whether or not they are the same as those which we have fishes-
described in this section. Mr Maxwell, in his observations
on Congo and Loango, mentions his having found at sea
an electrical fish, which made the sailor who took it ex¬
claim “ that the devil was in the fish.” When examining
it attentively, Mr Maxwell found that his astonishment arose
from his having received an electrical shock. Before each
shock the skin on his back and sides became very tense.
It was like a cod, and weighed thirty pounds. He gave it
to the natives to eat, and they praised it much. No elec¬
trical fish of such a size has, so far as we know, been found,
and it is highly probable that it is a new species.
Sect. VI.— On the Electricity of the Atmosphere.
There is perhaps no branch of electricity so highly in Electricitv
teresting as that which treats of the electricity of the atmo- of the at-
sphere, whether we consider it in reference to ourselves, as mosphere.
beings exposed to its tranquil as well as to its disturbed in¬
fluence, or in reference to the grandeur and beauty of the
phenomena which it exhibits.
1 Faraday’s Experimental Researches, di'c., vol. ii., p. 8, &e.
VOL. VIII.
2 See Phil. Trans., 1847, p. 239, 241.
4 D
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Experi¬
ments of
Le Mon-
nier and
others;
of Bee-
caria;
of Satis-
sure;
of Crosse;
The methods which have been adopted for examining
the electricity of the atmosphere consist in elevating long
vertical rods, the summits of which collect the electricity,
or in extending insulated wires in a horizontal direction, or
in sending up kites into the higher regions.
M. le Monnier, the Abbe Mazeas, Mr Kinnersley, Bec-
caria, Saussure, Ronayne, Cavallo, Read, Crosse, Ronalds,
Schubler, &c., have made numerous experiments on the
electricity of the atmosphere in its ordinary state. Le
Monnier discovered that there was always more or less
electricity in the atmosphere; that there was a regular
diurnal period in which the electricity increased from sun¬
rise, when it was scarcely perceptible, till three or four
o’clock in the afternoon, when it reached its maximum ;
and that it again diminished till the fall of the dew7, wdien
it again increased, and subsequently diminished, till mid¬
night, when it became insensible.
M. Beccaria found that the electricity of the air was al¬
ways perceptible in a clear sky and calm weather. In rainy
weather, without lightning, it always appeared a short time
before the rain fell, and during its actual fall, but disap-
peared soon after the rain had ceased.
Saussure made many important observations on this sub¬
ject. He found that the electricity of the air wras very
strong at nine o’clock in the morning; that it gradually
diminished till six o’clock p.m., when the first minimum
took place; that it afterwards increased to eight o’clock
p.m., when the second maximum took place. It then di¬
minished again with some irregularities till six a.m., when
it reached its second minimum. It then increased again
till eleven o’clock in the evening, when it again became a
maximum. The electricity of the atmosphere has there¬
fore a daily period, like the sea, increasing and decreasing
twice in twenty-four hours. It, generally speaking, reaches
its maximum intensity a few hours after sunrise and sunset,
and descends again to its minimum before the rising and
setting of that luminary. Saussure also observed that the
electricity of the air is strongest during fogs, unless when
they change into rain. Saussure likewise found that the
electricity of clear wTeather is alwTays positive ; and the opi¬
nion of Volta is therefore highly probable, that the electri¬
city of the atmosphere is essentially positive, and that the
negative electricity which appears in rain, snow, and storms,
is derived from more elevated clouds, which are electrified
negatively by the discharge of a portion of their electricity
into the earth or other clouds, in the same manner as an
electrometer acquires negative electricity when it is touched
at the instant that the air is electrified positively.
These results were confirmed by subsequent observers,
whose observations we have not room more particularly to
notice ; but wre shall make no apology for giving some ac¬
count of the more recent and valuable observations of Mr
Crosse and Mr Ronalds. Mr Crosse’s experiments were
made with an insulated copper ware, extending originally a
mile and a quarter in length, and supported upon two masts
from 100 to 110 feet high. The wire was one-sixteenth
of an inch thick. It was subsequently shortened to 1800
feet in consequence of its being exposed to depredations.
From the observations made with this apparatus, which was
in use eighteen months, Mr Crosse deduced the following
conclusions.
1. The electricity of the atmosphere in its ordinary state
is xxwdcrishXy positive. It is always most copious during the
night. It increases at sunrise, diminishes towards noon,
increases again towards sunset, and again diminishes to its
nocturnal minimum.
2. The electrical state of the wire is disturbed by fogs,
rain, hail, snow, and sleet. It becomes negative when they
first come on. It frequently changes to positive, increasing
gradually in strength, and then decreasing, a change from
positive to negative occurring every three or four minutes.
3. The approach of a charged cloud at first sometimes Phenome-
produces positive and sometimes negative electricity. Its naand
intensity increases and then diminishes and vanishes, being Laws,
succeeded by the opposite electricity, which increases to a
higher maximum, and then diminishes and disappears, and
is again followed by the electricity which first appeared.
In general the electricity increases at every repetition, till
sparks issue in a copious stream from the conductor to the
receiving ball, sometimes with interruptions, and again re¬
turning with fresh energy. When this happens, a power¬
ful stream of air issues from the wire and the connecting
apparatus. An explosive stream of electricity rushes from
the one ball to the other at every flash of lightning, and a
brilliant light is thrown upon surrounding objects. When
the lightning increases, it is wise to let it pass into the
ground.
4. The wire is almost as strongly electrified during a
driving fog and a smart rain as during a thunder storm,
and the electricity passes into opposite states in a similar
manner.
5. A very feeble degree of positive electricity occurs in
cloudy weather. When rain falls it changes to negative,
and again becomes positive when the shower is over.
The following table contains a list of the different states
of the air in which its electricity appears, those at the top
of the list being those in which it is most powerful.
1. Regular thunder clouds.
2. Driving fog with small rain.
3. A fall of snow, or a brisk hail storm.
4. A smart shower in a hot day.
5. A smart shower in a cold day.
6. Hot weather after some wet days.
7. Wet weather after some dry days.
8. Clear frosty weather.
9. Clear warm summer weather.
10. A sky obscured by clouds.
11. Mackerel or mottled sky.
12. Sultry weather with light hazy clouds.
13. A cold damp night.
14. Weather during north-east winds, with a sensation of dry¬
ness and cold not shown by the thermometer.
By means of an electrical apparatus, founded on a new Experi-
method of electrical insulation, Mr Ronalds made some in- ments of
teresting observations on Vesuvms at the time of moderate Ronalds,
eruptions, and another series at Palermo during the preva¬
lence of a sirocco. The rod of the electrometer was placed
perpendicularly on the highest pinnacle of Mount Vesuvius,
on the north side of the great crater, and about five hun¬
dred yards distant from it, a ravine being interposed. The
following were the results:
1. The electricity was always positive.
2. The intensity of it increased as the sun rose, unless 0n Vesu-
wrhen it was affected by the explosions of the volcano. Very vlus;
frequent variations took place in the intensity, sometimes
accompanying changes of the wind, sometimes following
explosions from the crater, sometimes attending the approach
of vapour from an aqueous fumerole, when the intensity of
the electricity w'as always increased, and sometimes occur¬
ring without any apparent cause.
3. The black fumes from the old crater diminished the
intensity more frequently than the white fumes, and very
rarely increased it. Mr Ronalds supposes that the black
fumes may be in a negative state; and that the white fumes,
consisting principally of aqueous vapour, sulphuric and
muriatic acids, and sulphur, may, when these vapours a,-e
condensed, and when the sulphur sublimes in the air, be
brought into a positive state; and that these two states of
the two fumes may sometimes act separately on the elec¬
trometer, or sometimes wholly and sometimes partially neu¬
tralize each other, either by induction or position, or by a
discharge from the one to the other.
The observations of Mr Ronalds on the electricity of the at Palermo,
atmosphere during a dry sirocco were made on the roof of
ELECTRICITY.
579
Observa¬
tions of
Schubler.
Page’s hotel, in Palermo. The electricity was always posi¬
tive, the straw electrometer of Volta varying from five to
twenty-one degrees. The electrical phenomena were dia¬
metrically opposite to those of the ordinary state of the at¬
mosphere in serene weather, as the electric tension increases
almost progressively from sunrise till the hottest part of the
day, viz. about three o’clock p.m., when it gradually de¬
clined until sunset.
In the arctic regions in 1819-20, there were no sensible
indications of electricity “ in the summer months, when the
clouds become more dense and frequent, and even when a
slight shower of rain falls.”
A series of most interesting observations have been
made by Professor Schubler of Tubingen, on the elec¬
tricity accompanying the condensation of aqueous vapours
in the atmosphere, as affected by the direction of the Phenome-
winds. They were carried on during thirty months, be- ^
tween January 1805 and August 1811. The Jirst series v aw * y
was made at Ellvanguen, during sixteen months, from Janu- v
ary 1805 to April 1806; and the second at Stuttgard, dnr-
ing fourteen months, from June 1810 to August 1811. Scllut)leri
Ellvanguen is situated 1331 feet above the sea, in 48° 57'
25" of N. Lat., and Stuttgard at 847 feet, in N. Lat. 48° 46'
32". Professor Schubler observed no fewer than four hun¬
dred and twelve atmospherical precipitations. He used the
straw electrometer of Volta, and a simple condenser; and
in storms he never pushed his observations beyond the
600th degree of the instrument.
The following table contains the results of these obser¬
vations.
Direction of the Winds
corresponding to the
Observations.
North 
North-east..
East 
South-east..
South 
South-west .
West 
North-west
The three north winds, \
N.W.—N.—N.E f
The three south winds, \
S.E.—S.—S.W j
The three west winds, 1
S.W.—W.—N.W.... j
The three east winds, \
N.E.—E.—S.E j
All the winds
Number of observed
Precipitations, classed according
to the Nature of their
Electricity.
Positive.
12
11
3
4
5
28
73
25
Negative.
11
12
5
7
13
65
106
32
48
37
126
18
55
85
203
24
161
251
Ratio of the
Number of Positive
and Negative
Precipitations.
100 : 91
100 : 109
100 : 166
100 : 175
100 : 260
100 : 232
100 : 145
100 : 128
100 : 114
100 : 230
100 : 161
100 : 133
100 : 155
Mean Intensity of each of
the two Electricities.
Positive.
131
105
15
19
26
66
75
31
Negative.
99
132
13
10
23
33
39
46
74
57
57
71
75
26
38
72
69
43
Mean Inten¬
sity of the
Electricity,
without con¬
sidering its
Nature.
116
120
13
13
24
44
53
40
75
39
48
72
53
Total Num¬
ber of Preci¬
pitations
observed.
23
23
8
11
18
93
179
57
103
122
329
42
412
From these observations Professor Schubler draws the
following conclusions:—
1. The ratio of the positive to the negative precipitations
follows a regular variation, setting out from the north or
south wind, and proceeding either by the east or west winds.
2. By a north wind, the positive precipitations are a little
more frequent than the negative ones ; by a south wind, the
negative precipitations are more than double the positive ones.
3. The negative precipitations, by the three south winds,
viz. south-east, south, and south-west, are double those by
the three north winds, viz. north-west, north, and north¬
east, the ratio being 114 to 230.
4. The east and west winds hold a mean in this respect.
The former, however, approach more to those of the north,
and the latter to those of the south, the electricity being
oftener negative by the three west winds than by the three
east winds in the ratio of 161 to 133.
5. The electricity of all the observed precipitations is
oftener negative than positive in the ratio of 155 to 100.
6. The mean intensity of the positive electricity is, on
the contrary, more considerable than that of the negative
in the ratio of 69 to 43.1
7. The intensity of the electricity, abstraction being made
of its nature, is the strongest by the three north winds, par¬
ticularly the north-east and north.
8. The electricity is at an average the weakest by the
three south winds. Its intensity is by these three winds in
the ratio of 39 to 75 weaker than by the three north winds.
9. By the three east winds the electricity is in the ratio
of 72 to 48 stronger than by the three west winds.
10. The mean intensity of the electricity of all the pre¬
cipitations, whether positive or negative, observed in all
directions of the ivinds, is almost the same as that of the
electricity of the precipitations observed during the west
winds alone.
11. During the north and east winds the opposite elec¬
tricities appear most distinctly, and almost with equal in¬
tensities. The west winds, and particularly the south,
exhibit, on the contrary, a more feeble electricity, but a
greater number of negative precipitations.
12. The greatest number of electrical precipitations takes
place during west winds, and the least during east winds.
The mean direction of the wind during the whole of the
precipitations is 860-9, making use of the formula of Lam¬
bert, in which the south is marked by 0°, the west by 90°,
the north by 180°, and the east by 270°. The number
860,9 corresponds with the west with four degrees of de¬
clination to the south-west.
With respect to the cause of the phenomena now de¬
scribed, Professor Schubler is of opinion, that at the mo¬
ment of the precipitation of the vapours in our atmosphere,
positive electricity is at first developed, and the negative
appears to arise most frequently from the influence of the
former. The precipitations which first take place during
storms, or passing rains and snows, are commonly positive,
and are soon followed with negative ones of nearly equal in-
1 Considering the quantity of the two electricities as made up of their intensity and the number of times that either of them is ob¬
served, the ratio of the quantities of positive and negative electricity observed will be 690 or 666, nearly that of equality.
580
ELECTRICITY.
Laws.
Observa¬
tions of
Schubler
Phenome- tgnsity. This alternation often happens seveial tinieSj
naand during which the drops of rain, hailstones, sleet, and snow,
continually vary in their size, density, and continuity. At
last the electricity, growing weaker and weaker, ends by
remaining negative ; and sometimes after the storm a rain
falls with negative electricity.
It is, however, not uncommon to see regular and con¬
tinuous rains negative from their commencement, and
during whole days. This fact, together with the feeble
intensity of this kind of electricity, seems to favour the
opinion that it is often owing to the partial evaporation ex¬
perienced by the drops of rain during their fall.1 In confir¬
mation of this he adduces the fact of the negative electricity
of the fine aqueous dust at the foot of cascades, which is
sometimes so strong in large waterfalls as to make the elec¬
trometer diverge more than 100 degrees.
This explanation, Professor Schubler alleges, agrees also
with the great frequency of negative rains in south winds,
and of positive ones in north winds. A current of warmer
air, and consequently more light and more elevated, in the
first case ought to facilitate the evaporation of drops of lain
during their fall; whilst, by the colder north wind, and con¬
sequently more heavy and nearer the surface of the earth,
the clouds have in general a lower position, and the evapo¬
ration of the drops of rain is less easy, and almost nothing.
From these observations it also follows that we must not
infer the negative state of the cloud from the negative elec¬
tricity of the rain which falls from it; for it may happen
that rain coming from clouds slightly positive may become
negative by the partial evaporation of the falling drops.
M. Schubler also remarks, that the great intensity of the
electricity, and the distinct manner in which the two elec¬
trical principles alternately predominate during north and
east winds, seem to arise chiefly from the dryness of the
air during their continuance; to which we must add the
situation of the clouds brought by these winds near the sur¬
face of the earth, the electricity of which may then naturally
exert a more sensible influence upon our instruments.
The positive electricity of the atmosphere was found by
Saussure to increase in intensity in proportion to the height
Gay Lussac^ W]1;C}1L was collected. When MM. Gay Lussac and
and Biot. Biot ascended in a balloon, they collected atmospheric elec¬
tricity from the clouds below them, by suspending a ware
about 160 feet long from the balloon, and stretching it with
a ball of metal. The electricity collected at the upper end
of this thread was very perceptible in their electroscope ;
and when it was examined with a stick of sealing-wax it
was found to be resinous or negative, although the weather
was perfectly serene. This result, though apparently incon¬
sistent with the observations of Saussure and others, has
been shown by M. Biot to be perfectly reconcilable with
them. In fig. 4, Plate CCXXVI., let WW' be the wire,
let us call A the stratum of atmosphere through which the
wire passes, B the stratum above this, and C the stratum
below it; and let us suppose, what is true, that the atmo¬
sphere has positive electricity, which increases with the
height. The positive electricity in the superior stratum A
will attract the negative electricity of the wire WW with a
force equal to + P, and will repel the positive electricity
of WW' with a force equal to + N. The positive electri¬
city in the lower stratum C will do the very same, but in
an opposite direction, and with an inferiqr‘.degree of force,
viz. + p and + n, since the electricity increases with the
altitude. Hence it follows that the negative electricity of
the wire will be attracted towards its upper end by an ex¬
cess of force equal to P —/?, and the positive electricity will
Observa
tions of
Plate
CCXXVI.
fig. 4.
be repelled to its lower end with an excess of force N — w.
To MM. Gay Lussac and Biot, therefore, who observed the
electricity of the wire at its upper end, the electricity should
be negative ; and to M. Saussure and others, who observed
it at its lower end, it should be positive.
Upon the same principle, M. Biot explains a very inte- Experi-
resting experiment made by M. Hermann. A very sen-ment of
sible electroscope with gold leaves is fixed at a certain IIermann<
height in the atmosphere when the weather is clear, and it
there gives no perceptible indications of electricity. A me¬
tallic wire, or any other conductor, placed horizontally at
the end of an insulating rod, is then placed and kept a short
time in a stratum of air a few feet only above tlie electro¬
scope. It is afterwards quickly brought down so as to touch
the electroscope, and the gold leaves diverge with vitreous
or positive electricity ; but if, on the contrary, the insulated
wire is placed and kept a short time in a stratum of air be¬
low the electroscope, and is then quickly raised and made
to touch the electroscope, the leaves will diverge with
negative electricity. In order to explain these opposite explained
results, we must consider that the insulated conductor is by Biot,
charged at each time with the degree of electricity which
belongs to the stratum in which it is placed. When it is
carried rapidly, therefore, so that its state is not quite de¬
stroyed by the contact of the molecules of air among which
it is placed, it will communicate this state to the electro¬
scope. If it comes from above, it will carry to it an excess
of positive electricity; if it comes from below, it will carry
to it a defect of the same electricity, or an excess of nega¬
tive electricity. “ In general,” says M. Biot, “ let + E be
the quantity of free vitreous electricity which the insulated
conductor ought to possess, in order to be in a state of elec¬
trical equilibrium in the stratum of air where the electro¬
scope is placed, so that whilst it has + E, the molecules of
air of this stratum neither give nor take anything from it.
Let it now be carried to a superior stratum, where it takes
E + SE, SE indicating the small excess of vitreous electri¬
city which it has there taken. If we then bring it back
quickly into the stratum of the electroscope, it will have
+ SE too much, and it will communicate this excess to all
bodies that touch it. It will communicate it also to the
electroscope if it touches it promptly, and, until the latter
has lost by the contact of the air this excess which it has
imparted, its leaves will diverge vitreously. On the con¬
trary, when the insulated conductor returns from the lower
region, it has E — SE of vitreous electricity. If we make it
touch the electroscope, the latter will partake of its state.
Then the quantity of vitreous electricity which it will pos¬
sess can no longer be in equilibrium with the influence of
the mass of the surrounding air, and its natural fluid will
be decomposed. But the excess of vitreous fluid which will
result from this cannot cause the gold leaves to diverge,
because its repulsive force will be wholly employed in com¬
pensating that of the exterior electricity E, The repulsive
force, then, of the resinous electricity will alone be exerted,
because nothing compensates it; and the gold leaves will
diverge in virtue of this electricity, until it has been carried
away and neutralized by the immediate and successive con¬
tact of the molecules of air. Experiments of this kind pre¬
sent the unique case of an indefinite medium, which is air, of
which all the molecules are individually charged with an ex¬
cess of electricity of the same kind, adhering to their surface;
so that the entire mass of the medium is found penetrated with
it in a proportion which varies with the altitude. Conse¬
quently the different particles of this medium can only be
at rest from the mutual compensation of their repulsive
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
1 M. Delarive is of opinion, not only that the evaporation thus occasioned must be very feeble, considering that the air is charged and
almost always saturated with humidity ; but that if it did take place, it could not generate electricity, as M. Pouillet has shown that the
conversion of pure water into vapour produces no electricity. He is disposed to seek for the cause of the negative electricity of ram
either in the mechanical action of the air on the falling drops, or in the sudden change of temperature which they experience.
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Electricity
of clouds.
Observa¬
tions of
Canton;
of Luke
Howard;
of Mr
Poggo.
ELECTRICITY. 581
forces combined with their gravity ; and the same condition
is also applicable to conducting bodies which are immersed
in it. Thus, for all these bodies the electrical equilibrium
cannot take place when their natural electricities are com¬
pletely neutralized, but only when they possess an excess
of either electricity which corresponds to the stratum where
they are found, an excess which is vitreous in the atmo¬
sphere when it is pure. If they possess a greater excess of
this same electricity, they will act only in virtue of this
excess upon each other, and upon all the molecules of the
surrounding air. They ought, therefore, to repel one an¬
other mutually. If, on the contrary, the excess of electri¬
city which they possess is less than that which they would
naturally take in the stratum where we place them, the
mass of the medium will act upon each of them in virtue of
this difference, and their natural electricities will be decom¬
posed as far as is necessary to supply what they want of the
electricity of the medium. In virtue of this addition they
will repel the medium as much as the medium repels them,
and will experience no more action from it. But they will
act upon each other with the excess of opposite electricity
which they have acquired; and if the medium is an inde¬
finite fluid composed of particles susceptible of electrifying
itself by contact, this excess will gradually dissipate in
space. Many curious experiments would be necessary to
establish the laws of electrical equilibrium, under circum¬
stances sufficiently different from those which we have been
generally accustomed to consider.”
The electricity of clouds was noticed by some of the
earliest writers on the electricity of the atmosphere. Canton
observed that certain clouds were charged with positive and
others with negative electricity; and he noticed that the
electricity indicated by his apparatus often changed five or
six times in half an hour. This fact was confirmed, as we
have seen, by the observations of Mr Crosse. These irre¬
gularities, however, remained unexplained till Mr Luke
Howard distinctly proved that the electricity at the circum¬
ference of a nimbus is negative, while that of the centre is
positive ; and he suggested it as an interesting subject of
inquiry to ascertain if the negative electricity was descend¬
ing and the positive ascending. Mr J. Foggo undertook
this inquiry, and in 1823 he erected a conductor armed with
a smoking match, and erected from a south window. On
the 12th of March 1824 there was a brisk wind from the
north-west, with frequent showers all around. About three
p.m. large dense clouds, which discharged heavy showers
of hail, passed over the zenith. Between the showers the
electricity was always positive, and the leaves of the elec¬
trometer showed their maximum divergency. So powerful
indeed was the electrical state of the air, that by rubbing
the outside of the glass of a detached electrometer with
soft leather, the leaves opened more than forty degrees.
During the showers, or when the clouds were over head,
though no precipitation took place, the electricity was in¬
variably positive, and so strong that sparks could at any
time be drawn by the finger from the conducting wire.
Mr Foggo likewise ascertained that by taking hold of the
wire he could at pleasure intercept the electric fluid from
reaching the instrument, so that the charge must have been
received from the atmosphere or cloud. When the edge
or the circumference of the cloud was nearly over the con¬
ductor, the electricity became negative, and appeared to
be fully as strong as when it was positive. Mr Foggo,
however, now found that it could not be intercepted as for¬
merly by taking hold of the wire, or by touching it with a
pointed steel rod. Hence he concluded that the electricity
was not proceeding from the cloud as before, but was given
oft' by the earth to the cloud. When the steel point was
presented to the instrument, the divergence was so much
increased as to endanger the gold leaf, and sparks were Phenom»-
heard to pass rapidly between the point and the electro-
meter, while sharp pricks were experienced when the finger j
was brought near the brass cap. “
The subject of the electricity of clouds has been lately Observa-
studied by M. Quetelet,1 who has obtained some very in- J*011®
teresting results. According to his observations, very great 'qiue e e
mistakes have been committed in the classification of showers
of rain into positive and negative. During the same shower
we may have positive or negative electricity according to
the time when we make the observation. When the rain
is falling, the electricity is very powerful; but if we collect
it when there is an inversion of the sign, it may be nothing
or next to nothing. When the air is clear, the upper strata
are positively electrified in reference to the lower, the in¬
tensity increasing upwards. In order to understand what
takes place when a storm cloud passes above any place, let
A" B" 0" D" E"
A B C D E
Fig. 8.
ABODE be the ground in a neutral state, and A'B'C'D E'
a stratum of the atmosphere positively electrified when no
cloud is there ; and A" B" C" D' E" the stratum above it, also
electrified positively, but in a much higher degree. If a
cloud B'C'D' arrives surcharged with positive electricity, its
charge will be unequally distributed; it will be strongest
in the upper part, and the cloud will be enveloped with
strata of air which are relatively negative, and the more so
as the electricity of the cloud is more powerful. To an ob¬
server placed at A, the electroscope above the ground will
give signs of positive electricity. These indications will
grow feebler as the cloud approaches; then the electricity dis¬
appears and becomes negative,w\\\ch will continue even during
the commencement of its passage. The electricity will then
gradually diminish, then disappear, and resume its positive
state when the rain commences. Itwill return to its firstvalue,
after having passed through the same phases, when the cloud
is sufficiently distant to have no influence. The sphere of ac¬
tivity of a cloud is sometimes so great as to extend to several
leagues. It is not uncommon to observe clouds in the horizon
indicating their presence by signs of negative electricity.
M. Quetelet explains more minutely what takes place
when the cloud is positively surcharged, and the rain falls.
The descending shower will carry to the earth the electricity
of the cloud, and with more abundance as the rain is heavy.
While only a few drops have fallen, they tend only to para¬
lyze in part the effects of the negative atmosphere which
encircles the cloud, and which acts on the electrometer,
which, if now observed, might lead us to believe that the
rain is negative. The change of the signs of the electricity
is to a certain extent gradual. In a heavy shower it is al¬
most always instantaneous, and the passage through zero
cannot be observed. In this state of matters all the ob¬
servers below the cloud, and where it rains most strongly,
ought to find the electricity positive. On the margin of the
region where they are placed, the electrometer will mark
zero, and then it will indicate negative electricity more or
1 Sur le Climat de la Belgique.
582
ELECTRICITY.
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Identity
of electri¬
city and
lightning.
Observa¬
tions of
Franklin;
of Dali-
bard;
less powerful. The annexed figure will show by the signs
+ 0 — the indications of the electrometer at the surface of
0
OX — o — -i-
0"^^ - -|-
0 -L
Fig. 9.
the earth on the passage of the storm cloud, or more or less
in its vicinity. When the cloud is very low, so as to touch
the ground, the electrometer will indicate the same electri¬
city as that of the cloud—a fact shown in fogs, which al¬
ways have an intense positive electricity; but when the cloud
touches the ground it ought to lose rapidly its electricity.
When very high positive clouds give only a few drops of
water, the negative atmosphere which surrounds them can¬
not extend its action to the earth, especially if its electricity
is feeble.
When the cloud encounters mountains, it moves towards
them more quickly in proportion to the negative electricity
of their summits, and adheres to them like moderate conduc¬
tors, abandoning successively its electricity. M. Quetelet
informs us that M. Palmieri1 has obtained similar results,
with this difference, that he seems to go too far in denying
the existence of clouds charged with negative electricity,
and limiting the period during which positive electricity is
observed to the time during which the rain falls. M. Quetelet
has frequently observed the rain falling when the electro¬
meter indicated negative electricity
Such are the general electrical phenomena of the atmo¬
sphere during its ordinary changes ; but they appear with
new splendour, and at once rouse the interest of the philo¬
sopher and the dread of the vulgar, when they are exhibited
in the terrific grandeur of thunder and lightning. We have
already seen that various writers had pointed out the iden¬
tity oflightning and the electric spark ; and though Frank¬
lin has obtained the special honour of having been the first
who brought down fire from heaven,
Arripuit fulmen ccelo, sceptrumque tyrannis,
vet he was no more the first wdio snatched the thunderbolt
from heaven, than he was the first who wrested the sceptre
from kings.
When Franklin called the attention of philosophers to
the various points of resemblance between lightning and
the electric spark, he conceived the idea of collecting the
electricity of the atmosphere by means of pointed conduc¬
tors, and of thus preserving buildings from its explosions.
One of the first philosophers who endeavoured to verify
these views was M. Dalibard, who, at the instigation of
Buffon, erected an atmospherical conductor at Marly le
Ville, about six leagues from Paris. An iron rod, forty
feet long, an inch in diameter, and pointed at its upper
end, was erected in a garden upon three large poles, and
insulated by silken strings, and a stool with glass feet. In
M. Dalibard’s absence a thunder-storm appeared on the
10th May 1752, between two and three p.m., and M. Coiffier,
who had the charge of the apparatus, drew sparks with a
crackling noise from the lower end of it. Flaving called
M. Baulet, the curate of the parish, this gentleman con¬
tinued for some time, and in the presence of many of his
parishioners, to draw large sparks of bluish fire from the Phenome-
conductor. A few days afterwards, on the 18th May, M. na an<!
Delors drew similar sparks from a rod ninety-nine feet high, Laws,
erected in Paris. The strongest of them were drawn at
the distance of nine lines, and the conductor afforded sparks
even when the cloud had moved at least two leagues from
above the place of observation. On the 19th day Buffon
obtained, at Montbar, similar evidence of the identity of
electricity and lightning.
In our history of electricity we have already given an of M. Ro-
accountof the observations made with the apparatus by which mas•
Franklin, in the month of June 1752, obtained sparks of
electricity from the atmosphere during a thunder-storm.
Attempts were everywhere made to repeat this remarkable
observation ; and the most successful of these was that of
M. Romas, who, according to a decision of the Academy of
Sciences, had invented the electrical kite more than a year
before it was employed by Dr Franklin. The kite con-His electri
structed by M. Romas was seven feet five inches high, three cal kite,
feet in its greatest width, and with a surface of eighteen
square feet. The string was a cord wrapped round with
copper wire. On the 7th June 1753 this kite was ele¬
vated to the height of 550 feet, by means of a string 700
feet long, and inclined 45° nearly. A silk cord three
feet and a half long was fixed to its extremity, and sus¬
pended a large stone to govern the motion of the kite. A
tube of white iron, about a foot long and an inch in dia¬
meter, was placed near the junction of the string and the
silk cord, as a conductor, from which the sparks were to be
drawn. From this conductor the spectators drew sparks
with their fingers, keys, canes, and swords; and M. Romas
having presented his knuckle, received a shock which struck
him in the elbows, shoulders, breast, knees, and ankles.
Seven or eight persons joined hands, and the shock struck
the feet even of the fifth person. The storm now increased,
and black clouds gathered in the zenith. At the distance
of six inches sparks two inches long were obtained by a
discharging rod. The electricity continuing to increase,
flashes of fire about a foot long, three inches wide, and three
lines in diameter, were frequently received, and the noise
of them was audible at the distance of 500 feet. At this
time he felt the sensation of a spider’s web on his face
when he was five feet from the string. The kite was now
650 feet high, and the wind blowing strong from the east,
when M. Romas saw on the ground, about three feet from
the white-iron tube, three straws dancing up and down be¬
low it. One straw was twelve, another five, and the third
four inches long. The electricity having increased still
more, the longest straw was attracted by the tube, accom¬
panied with three loud sounds, which some compared to the
crack of a postilion’s whip, and others to that of a large pot
of earthenware dashed in pieces on a pavement. This crash
was heard even in the centre of the town, and the accom¬
panying flash had the form of a spindle eight inches long
and four or five lines in diameter. The long straw followed
the string of the kite, and was seen moving with great ra¬
pidity even at the distance of ninety or a hundred yards,
now attracted and now repelled by the string, each attrac¬
tion being attended with long plates of fire and constant
explosions. A phosphoric smell was distinctly felt. A per¬
manent cylinder of light, about three or four inches in dia¬
meter, surrounded the string.
M. Romas again raised his kite on the 16th August, and
though the storm was not severe, yet in an hour he obtained
thirty beams of fire, nine at ten feet long, and about an
inch thick, each accompanied by a noise like that of a pis¬
tol. When the glass of his discharging-rod was two feet
long, he was able to conduct beams of fire six or seven feet
long as easily as he had done those of seven or eight
\
1 Elettricita Atmosferica, continuazione deali studi meteorologici fatti sul real Osservatorio Vesuviano, 4to, 1854.
ELECTRICITY. 583
Pbenome- inches, without feehng the slightest shock. On this occa-
na and sion the string of the kite was above a thousand feet long,
Laws. an(j the metallic wire which was coiled round it was con-
tinuous throughout.
Cause of It is obvious, from the preceding facts, that the well-
the rolling known phenomenon of thunder and lightning is entirely an
of thunder electrical one, the lightning being the electric spark, and
the thunder the sound which accompanies it prolonged by
successive echoes from among the clouds. That the clouds
are capable of reflecting sound was determined by direct
observation on the sound of cannon, made by Messrs Arago,
Matthieu, and Prony. They observed that in a perfectly
serene sky the explosions of their guns were always single
and sharp, whereas when the sky was overcast, or when a
cloud came in sight and covered any considerable portion
of the horizon, the sound of the gun was attended by a
long-continued roll like thunder ; and sometimes a double
sound was heard from a single shot. Sir John Herschel,
however, has pointed out another cause for the rolling of
thunder, as well as for its sudden and capricious bursts and
variations of intensity. “ To understand this cause,” says
he, “ we must premise that, creteris paribus, the estimated
intensity of a sound will be proportional to the quantity of
it (if we may so express ourselves) which reaches the ear
in a given time. Two blows, equally loud, at precisely the
same distance from the ear, will sound as one of double
the intensity; an hundred struck in an instant of time will
sound as one blow a hundred times more intense than if
they followed in such slow succession that the ear could
appreciate them singly.”
Now let us conceive two equal flashes of lightning, each
four miles long, both beginning at points equidistant from
the auditor, but the one running out in a straight line di¬
rectly away from him, the other describing an arc of a cir¬
cle having him in its centre. Since the velocity of elec¬
tricity is incomparably greater than that of sound, the thun¬
der may be regarded as originating at one and the same
instant in every point of the course of either flash. But it
will reach the ear under very different circumstances in the
two cases. In that of the circular flash, the sound from
every point will arrive at the same instant, and affect the
ear as a single explosion of stunning loudness. In that of
the rectilinear flash, on the other hand, the sound from the
nearest point will arrive sooner than from those at a greater
distance ; and those from different points will arrive in suc¬
cession, occupying altogether a time equal to that required
by sound to run over four miles, or about twenty seconds.
Thus the same amount of sound is in the latter case distributed
uniformly over twenty seconds of time, which in the for¬
mer arrives at a single burst; of course it will have the
effect of a long roar, diminishing in intensity as it comes
from a greater and greater distance. If the flash be in¬
clined in direction, the sound will reach the ear more com¬
pactly (i. e. in shorter time from its commencement), and
proportionally more intense. If (as is almost always the
case) the flash be zigzag, and composed of broken recti¬
linear and curvilinear portions, some concave, some convex
to the ear ; and if, especially, the principal trunk separates
into many branches, each breaking its own way through
the air, and each becoming a separate source of thunder,
all the varieties of that awful sound are easily accounted
for.
Distance of The distance of the point in the atmosphere where the
thunder, lightning is generated, may be readily computed by mul¬
tiplying 1090 by the number of seconds which elapse be¬
tween the flash and the first stroke of thunder. The pro¬
duct will give in feet the distance required.
The general phenomenon of thunder and lightning oc¬
curs during the passage of electricity between two clouds
oppositely electrified, or one of which lias an inferior charge
of the same kind of electricity; but it appears in its most
appalling form when the accumulated electricity of the Phenome-
clouds descends to the earth, shivering the strongest oak in na an<i
its passage, rending the thickest walls, setting fire to houses, Daws,
or stacks, or forests, and instantly destroying animal life, when
the frail tenement of man or of beast happens to obstruct
its path, or afford to it a more easy transit. Sometimes,
however, the thunderbolt passes from the earth to the clouds,
and in this case it is called the ascending thunderbolt. The Ascending
Marquis Maff'ei was the first who observed this curious phe- thunder-
nomenon. He distinctly saw during a storm the lightning ^0^t‘
issue from the ground with a loud noise. The Abbe Lioni
and M. Seguier of Nismes saw the lightning rise in the form
of a flame six feet high, followed by a loud noise.
One of the most interesting cases of the ascending bolt
has been recorded by John Williams, Esq. It took place
upon the hills above the village of Great Malvern, on the
1st of July 1826. A party had taken refuge from the storm
in a circular building roofed with sheet iron, and one of the
ladies on entering the hut expressed her alarm lest the
lightning should be attracted by the iron roof. They had
scarcely entered their retreat, and were about to partake
of some refreshment, when a violent storm of thunder and
lightning came on from the west. About forty-five min¬
utes past two, a gentleman who stood at the eastern en¬
trance saw a ball of fire which seemed to him moving on
the surface of the ground. It instantly entered the hut,
forcing him several paces forwards from the doorway. On
his recovering from the shock, he found his sisters on the
floor of the hut, fainting, as he imagined, from terror. Two
of the ladies had died instantly; another lady, and the rest
of the party, were much injured. The explosion which
followed the flash of lightning was said by the inhabitants
of the village to have been terrific. Mr Williams, who
immediately examined the hut, found a large crack in the
west side of the building, which passed upwards from near
the ground to the frame of a small window, above which
the iron roof was a little indented. Mr Williams conceived
it to be quite clear, from the place of the fragments of stone
and other appearances, that the clouds were negatively
electrified during this storm.
Various electrical phenomena of a very interesting kind Electrical
have been observed by travellers when ascending lofty phenomena
mountains. In 1767, MM. Saussure, Pictet, and Jallabert, 011 moun-
when on file top of Mount Breven, received small electric
shocks at their finger ends by stretching out their arms, and jLjven11
a whistling noise even accompanied them. The gold but- ’
ton on M. Saussure’s hat yielded distinct sparks. In 1814,
a party of Englishmen experienced similar effects on Mount on Mount
JEtna during a storm of thunder and lightning accompanied Aitna;
by a heavy fall of snow. One of the party felt his hair
moving, and upon raising his hand to his head a buzzing
sound issued from his fingers. The rest of the party ex¬
perienced the same sensations, and by moving their hands
and fingers they produced a variety of musical sounds, audi¬
ble at the distance of forty feet. On the 27th of June 1825,
Dr Hooker and a party of botanists witnessed effects like
those described, during a fill of snow on Ben-Nevis when on Ben-
there was no thunder-storm. The snow fell very heavily Nevis,
for nearly two hours. Soon after it began, a hissing sound
was heard everywhere around them, and continued about
an hour and a half. It seemed to proceed from every point
in the vicinity ; and on arriving at the cairn on the summit
of the mountain, they could almost determine the stones
from which the electricity issued. The hair of several of
the party exhibited, when touched, the usual electrical
phenomena.
A very remarkable phenomenon of the same kind was In India,
observed by General Pollock, when in the command of a
division of our Indian army and stationed at a fort about
forty miles from the Khyber Pass, where the soil is an ex¬
tended plain of sand. About the end of April 1842, when
584
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
On the
transport
of ponder¬
able sub¬
stances by
htning.
Experi¬
ments of
Fusinieri.
ELECTRICITY.
there was not a cloud in the sky, the air was so charged
with electricity that the musket, with a fixed bayonet, of a
European soldier on duty became so electrical as to emit a
succession of sparks from the barrel when any conducting
body touched it. General Pollock drew from it with his
knuckle several powerful sparks. The barrel of the mus¬
ket was insulated by the stock, which was made of wood
from the Sipoo tree.1
Before quitting the subject of lightning we must submit
to our readers a brief account of the remarkable observa¬
tions made by M. Fusinieri on the ponderable substances
transported by lightning, and which it deposits in a per¬
manent state on the bodies which obstruct its passage.
When we consider the magnitude of the scale on which the
great electrical machine of our atmosphere enables us to
study its effects, it appears strange that so little attention
has been paid to those interesting phenomena which accom¬
pany the electric stroke. M. Fusinieri is the only person
who has made this an object of special investigation ; and
the results to which he has been led possess, as might have
been expected, a very peculiar interest. The following are
the general results which he obtained : Lightning contains,
like the common electric spark, matter in a state of extreme
division, and in a state of ignition and combustion. In the
matter deposited by lightning on houses and on trees which
have been struck bv it, he has found iron, sulphur, and car¬
bon. Lightning divides and subdivides itself indefinitely
into sparks, which end in being not much larger than those
of ordinary machines; and each of these sparks contains
ponderable substances in the state of extreme division al¬
ready mentioned. The lightning deposits the substances
with which it is charged while it passes through them, and
while it breaks hard bodies ; and it deposits them on the
surface by which it enters the body, as well as on that by
which it escapes, and also on the surfaces of fracture. When
the resistance to its passage is not great, it leaves no per¬
ceptible deposit; and the quantity of matter deposited in¬
creases, and is proportional to the difficulty with which the
lightning traverses the body. At the same time that light¬
ning deposits the matter which it contains, it takes up new
matter from the combustible bodies, such as iron, chaicoal,
&c., through which it passes. The deposited matter tends
always to expand itself in thin films on the surface which
receives it, and it does this most readily on surfaces that
are smooth and free from all asperities.
In examining the traces left by lightning when it fell at
Vicenza in 1829, and at Padua in 1831, M. Fusinieri made
the following observations : It deposited, on the surface of a
wall by which it entered the house, a thin layer of pulveru¬
lent matter, of a brown colour at its centre, and yellowish
and much less deep at its margin. When this matter was
collected and carefully examined, it proved to be iron in
different degrees of oxidation. Upon some stones which
the lightning had detached from the wall there was found
a stratum the fiftieth of an inch thick, and of a brownish
colour, which seemed to have undergone a species of fusion.
This stratum was sulphuret of iron, which gradually changed
into a sulphate of the same metal. M. Fusinieri indeed had
previously found small crystals of sulphuret of iron upon an
iron rod which the lightning had struck, and also upon a
stone to which it had passed from the iron. The position
of these crystals indicated that they had been formed in the
middle of the passage of the lightning ; a fact which he con¬
sidered as proving that the electric matter could transport
sulphur across metal itself. When the lightning escaped
from the W'all, it deposited upon the wood a dust composed
of small aggregated grains, which had all the qualities of
ferruginous matter. In pursuing the passage of the light¬
ning, it was found to have divided itself into a great number
of sparks more or less voluminous upon the windows, formed Phenome-
of pieces of rectangular glass united in a leaden frame. The na and
traces left on the glass and on the lead were very slight, Laws-
and there were only a few marks on the glass very near its
contact with the lead. The traces on the lead were small Experi-
cavities, round which there had been a fusion of the metal.
Some of these cavities passed through the whole thickness usinlerl*
of the lead, and their diameters varied with the size of the
sparks that had produced them. In general, each cavity
of any size was surrounded with several smaller cavities,
which seemed to prove that each discharge was accom¬
panied by smaller electric sparks disseminated around it.
Besides these cavities, the lightning had spread on the sur¬
face of the metal a stratum" of pulverulent matter, which
adhered so strongly to the lead that none of it could be de¬
tached without removing at the same time a portion of the
metal. Each large cavity was the centre of one of these
strata, which appeared to be composed of globules of lead
in the central part, and ferruginous dust on the margin.
The glass, though an insulating body, was, as we have men¬
tioned, marked also by the lightning. The origin of the
thin strata formed on its surface was at those points where
it had been in contact with the lead; but they extended
much beyond this, and were composed at first of a powdery
matter, sometimes blackish and sometimes whitish; and
beyond this they terminated in continuous and diaphanous
laminse, which reflected the colours of thin plates. The cen¬
tral and pulverulent portion was lead; the exterior portion,
and the thinnest, appeared to be iron more or less oxidated.
On one occasion one of these thin plates was formed of an
extremely thin stratum of metallic iron not oxidated. M.
Fusinieri had formerly succeeded in diffusing metals in thin
plates upon mercury by the common electric spark ; and he
considers the fact, that the same phenomenon takes place
on glass as on mercury, as demonstrating that the effect is
not owing to a molecular attraction of the surfaces, but
solelv by the property of expansion which is possessed in a
state of fusion by those substances which are transported
by the lightning. This property belongs in an especial
manner to combustible bodies, particularly to metals, though
these last do not all enjoy it in the same degree. Iron, lor
example, is more expansible than lead, as is demonstrated by
the thin films which are deposited by electrical discharges.
M. Fusinieri next proceeds to describe the traces of iron,
&c., which lightning deposits upon trees. By means of
chemical re-agents and the magnetic needle he had pre¬
viously determined that traces of iron had been left by
lightning on two poplars and a pear-tree which it had
struck; and he also found traces of sulphur at the extre¬
mity of the roots of a poplar tree, at which the lightning
had escaped. These observations were confirmed subse¬
quently by many others. A poplar having been struck at
Casale, near Vicenza, on the 14th May 1829, M. Fusinieri
found that the part of the trunk deprived of its bark was
covered with small black spots, which he regarded as pro¬
duced by the sparks already mentioned which had been
disseminated by the electric current at the instant its bark
was carried away. The bark itself must have been reduced
into extremely small parts, and immediately consumed, for
not a vestige of it could be found. It would appear also
that the lightning had carried away a part of the wood
which it decomposed, such as the carbon, while the rest
was volatilized. Traces of sulphur were found at the foot
of the tree ; and the lightning having insinuated itself be¬
tween the bark and alburnum of the roots, there was felt,
by removing the former, a strong odour of sulphuretted
hydrogen, similar to, though more powerful than, that which
the traces of sulphur had left upon the ground. 1 he roots
torn asunder by the lightning were impregnated with a
1 Sir W. Snow Harris's Rudimentary Electricity, p. 177, 3d edit., Lond. 1853.
ELECTRICITY. 585
Phenome- moist and brownish matter, which was extraneous, but
naand which had penetrated into their organic tissue with the
Laws, lightning which conveyed it. This matter exhaled the same
Vs*^V*,^/ fetid odour as the surrounding earth, especially that portion
of the earth which, from being in contact with the roots,
was impregnated with the same brownish matter. In pene¬
trating farther into the earth, it was found traversed by ser¬
pentine furrows, covered with a cinereous matter, the odour
of which was the same as that which was exhaled by the
other traces of lightning. The serpentine form of these
furrows clearly indicated the tendency of the lightning to
disseminate itself. All these substances and deposits were
carefully collected and examined by M. Fusinieri.
In a pear-tree which had been struck with lightning
in 1827, M. Fusinieri discovered very remarkable effects.
Though its trunk, three feet in diameter, was torn into four
parts throughout its whole length, no foreign matter nor
odour could be perceived either in its roots or in the earth.
At the places where the branches joined the trunk, the sub¬
stance of the pear-tree was altered to the depth of several
lines. It had acquired an acid taste and a reddish colour.
It exhaled while burning a penetrating and peculiar odour,
and it continued to burn without flame till it was completely
consumed. The matter of the lightning had therefore pene¬
trated the tissue of the wood, and there presented traces of
iron.
M. Fusinieri has collected and detailed many interesting
observations respecting the substances deposited by light¬
ning upon the various parts of houses which have been
struck by it; but we regret that our limits will not permit
us to pursue any farther this most important subject.
These and many other facts seem to prove that iron exists
in the air and in clouds ; and it is wrell known that the same
metal mixed with manganese, nitrous salts, and organic
substances, is found in rain water. M. Fusinieri is of opi¬
nion that the iron has been drawn from the earth, and chiefly
from mountains, where the mines are most frequent, and
where storms commonly begin to form.1 The colouring
matter of snow and rain, and the existence of meteoric
stones, prove the existence in our atmosphere of dry and
ferruginous vapours, the molecules of which are more or
less rarefied or condensed according to the causes which
may generate them. The fact that meteoric stones fall
during the prevalence of storms and other electric pheno¬
mena, and especially the fact that hailstones have some¬
times a nucleus of small pieces of sulphuret of iron, appear
to M. Fusinieri to afford the true origin of these remarkable
bodies. It has been already proved also, that electricity
does transport matter; and when we consider, as Ampere
has shown, that magnetic currents surround our globe, that
matter in an extreme state of subdivision spontaneously ex¬
pands itself, that radiating heat, like electricity, transports
ponderable substances, we may obtain a very simple ex¬
planation of the origin of meteoric stones. As the tem¬
perature of the surface of the globe is not high enough to
detach from it the material bodies which exist in the at¬
mosphere, M. Fusinieri concludes that we ought to attribute
this action to other causes, which are yet to be discovered,
rather than deny a fact so completely demonstrated.
Effects pro- The effects produced by lightning may be divided into
duced by mechanical, physical, and chemical. The mechanical effects
lightning, of lightning are vei'y powerful. Trees have not only been
cleft and crushed to pieces, and their branches thrown to
a great distance, but in some storms the sap of the tree
has been drawn into steam and the dried trunk of the tree
split up, as it were, into bundles of fibres like lucifer mat¬
ches. When spires and elevated buildings are struck, large
masses of stone are displaced or thrown down ; and when
houses have been injured, the articles of furniture are dis- Phenome-
placed, and even fastenings torn from the walls. M. Pouillet na an(l
mentions a case, without giving the authority, where a brick Laws,
wall several toises long was torn up from its foundation and
carried in one piece to the distance of several toises. Effects Mechanical
so powerful as these are produced, as Pouillet has shown, effects-
by the sudden and simultaneous decomposition of the na¬
tural fluids of the body, which is seized with such violence
that the arrangement ordinarily produced by the laws of
equilibrium has not time to be effected, and the bodies are
thus impelled by forces incomparably greater than those
which could be resisted by the air.
The physical effects of lightning are generally limited to Physical
the production of such a degree of heat as is sufficient to effects,
set fire to the roofs of houses where there is straw or dry
wood, and to the fusion of metallic bodies, such as bell
wires. In some cases traces of carbonization have been
found on trees struck by lightning. Effects still more
powerful were observed by Dr Withering on the 3d Sep¬
tember 1789. A man with a staff in his hand was killed
when standing beneath an oak struck with lightning. The
electric fluid which passed along the staff excavated a hole
five inches deep and two and a half in diameter. The hole
itself contained some roots of burnt grass, but upon subse¬
quently turning up the ground it was found to be blackened
to the depth of ten inches, and two inches below this the
quartzy earth presented distinct traces of fusion. Among
the specimens presented to the Royal Society by Dr Wither¬
ing were a siliceous stone, one of the angles of which was
completely fused, and a lump of sand agglutinated by the
heat, in a hollow of which the siliceous matter had run, when
melted, along the cavity, and formed a globular portion at
the bottom.
By the same powerful agency are produced what are Fulminary
csWed fulminary tubes, which have been found in beds of tubes,
sand in Cumberland, Silesia, Eastern Prussia, and near
Bahia in Brazil. These tubes are in general about two
inches in diameter externally, over two-tenths in their in¬
terior diameter, and about ten or twelve yards long. They
are produced by the passage of the electric fluid through
the sand, the particles of which are melted and agglutinated
by its heat. Dr Fiegler, who has described many of these
tubes from different localities, has observed that at a cer¬
tain depth below these plains of sand there are little por¬
tions of water, and he ascribes the tubes as produced by
the passage of the electric fluid from the surface of the
ground to these portions of fluid where it is neutralized.
M. Hachette conceived the idea of imitating these tubes by
using a strong electrical battery ; and he and M. Savart
and M. Beudant having placed a quantity of pounded glass Produced
in a hole made in a brick, and having caused the electrical artificially,
discharge of the battery to pass through the pounded glass,
they succeeded in forming tubes exactly similar to those
formed by atmospherical electricity. One of those which
they made was an inch long, its external diameter varying
from one-sixteenth to one-eighth of an inch, and its inter¬
nal diameter being the fiftieth of an inch. In another ex¬
periment, where a little chloride of sodium was mixed with
the pounded glass, the length of the tube was an inch and
a fifth, and of "uniform diameter. Its mean external dia¬
meter was one fifth of an inch, and its internal diameter
one twentieth of an inch. When they used powder of fel¬
spar or pounded quartz, they could not succeed in making
the tubes.
The repeated discharges of lightning against the sum¬
mits of lofty mountains have partially fused the hard rocks
of which they are composed. Saussure has observed these
effects on the summit of Mont Blanc composed of schistose
1 The returning stroke of lightning, when it passes from mountains or places containing iron and other metals, must necessarily carry
along with it these substances in a state of extreme subdivision. See p. 584.
VOL. Yin. 4 E
586
ELECTRICITY.
Vitreous
mass from
a hay-stack
Disaster at
Chateau-
neuf in
1819.
Hail.
Volta’s
theory.
Matteuc-
ci's theory
amphibole, Ramond on the Pic du Midi formed of mica¬
ceous schists, and on the highest point of the volcano of
Toluco MM. Humboldt and Bonpland observed more than
two square inches of the rock vitrified, and in several
places cavities in the interior of which there was a vitreous
crust.
One of the most remarkable effects of lightning which
w^e have seen was produced in a hay-stack which was struck
with lightning in the parish of Dun, near Montrose. The
stack was perforated as with a red-hot bolt from top to bot¬
tom, and at the end of the perforation, where the electric
fluid entered the ground, there was found a vitreous mass
about the size of an infant’s hand formed by the silex which
exists in the hay. This specimen was in our possession for
some years, and was presented to a public museum.
In order to give some idea of the tremendous agency of
lightning, we shall give an abridged account of the disaster
which befell the village of Chateauneuf-les-Moustiers, in the
department of the Lower Alps, on the J 1th July 1819, as
communicated to the Academy of Sciences by M.Trancolye.
About half-past two o’clock on Sunday, the curate of Mous-
tiers accompanied a procession to church to instal a new
rector. The w'eather was fine, with only a few large clouds
in the sky. While a young man was chanting the epistle
there was heard three claps of thunder with hardly any in¬
terval. The missal was carried away from the hands of
the young man, and dashed in pieces. He himself felt as
if his body was grasped tightly by the flame, which seized
him by the neck. By an involuntary movement this young
man, who ha« at first cried loudly, shut his mouth, and be¬
ing thrown down was rolled upon the persons in the church,
who were all thrown on the ground, and forced out at the
door. Upon coming to himself again he returned to the
curate, whom he found suffocated and insensible. He raised
him up, put out the fire on his surplice, and restored him
to life by means of vinegar about two hours after he had
been stunned. The electric fluid had struck the upper
part of the gold lace of his robe, ran down his arm, carried
off one of his shoes to the very end of the church, broke
his metallic buckle, and broke the chair on which he sat.
His arms were all scarred with the lightning, and the wound
did not heal for two months. A child was driven some
paces from its mother’s arms. Every person had their limbs
paralysed. All tbe women were hideously dishevelled.
The church was filled with a black and thick smoke, and
objects were visible only by the flames of dresses set on
fire by tbe lightning. Three persons were killed, and eighty-
two wounded. The officiating priest was not struck, pro¬
bably from his wearing a silk gown. All the dogs were
killed on the spot where they lay. A person at a distance
from the village saw three masses of fire descend upon it.
The lightning first struck the cross of the spire, which was
thrown to the distance of eighteen yards. An excavation
of nearly two feet was made in the church, and continued
under the pavement of the street, and another went beneath
a stable in which five sheep and a horse were found dead.
Among the phenomena of atmospherical electricity, one
of the most interesting is the production of hailstones,
particularly those of an enormous size. The connection
between the formation of hail and an atmosphere highly
charged with electricity has been long ago recognised;
but our almost total ignorance of the subject may be in¬
ferred from the character of the hypotheses which have
been framed to account for the production of hail. Volta
supposes that a small globule of snow becomes a hail¬
stone, gradually increasing in size by being kept in a
state of reciprocating motion between two clouds charged
with opposite kinds of electricity, until the gravity of the
constantly increasing mass overpowers the electrical force,
or till the electricity of the clouds is spent by their mutual
. re-action. M. Matteucci has justly objected to this strange
hypothesis, that it is difficult to conceive how a hailstone Phenome-
nearly two pounds in weight could be formed by such a “a and
process. He denies that the clouds possess an electric force Law8•
sufficient to produce such an effect; and, admitting that ^
such a force does exist, he maintains that the electricity Matteucci’s
would be directly discharged from the one to the other. of
M. Matteucci conceives that the hailstones are produced
instantaneously, and that they fall completely formed. He
considers that there can be only two epochs in their forma¬
tion, viz. the production of the snowy nucleus ; and, second¬
ly, that of the icy crust which covers it. When a cloud
has its temperature greatly reduced, it is easy to conceive
its surface covered with small flocks of snow ; and if an
electrical discharge should in this case pass through it, it
would give rise to hail, by obliging the cooled vesicles to con¬
dense round each snowy nucleus. It is this shock, he observes,
which is necessary to destroy the inertia of the particles, which
ought to unite to each other, as seen in the experiment of
the congelation of water with the cryophorus of Wollaston.
M. Matteucci was led to these views by studying the hail¬
storm which took place at Tussi on the 24th July 1832.
About six o’clock a.m., after a brilliant sun, the whitish and
scattered clouds were seen suddenly to unite and to form a
thick mass scarcely detached from the horizon, and which
covered the country with a thick darkness, that continued
uninterrupted by the effects of strong electrical discharges.
An impetuous north-west wind soon rose, and was followed
by copious rain mixed with hail. This storm, wdiich lasted
about fifteen minutes, was followed by a lucid interval,
after which there fell a thick snow, which ceased and began
again several times. “ I do not wish,” says M. Matteucci,
“to cite any facts which might appear fabulous; but it appears
certain that a hailstone was found which yve\$\e& fourteen
pounds, and that another in falling upon a house forced its
way through the roof; that trees from three to six centi¬
meters in diameter were destroyed; that oxen w^ere wounded,
and that several w alls were overthrown or rent by the force of
the hail. I state as certain, the fact that hailstones collected
a few instants after their fall still weighed a pound and a
half. M. Pouillet assures us that he can himself certify that
hailstones have fallen half a pound in weight. I can cer¬
tify that they have fallen three times that weight.”
In consequence of the demonstrated connection between Paragreles.
hailstones and a certain electrical state of our atmosphere,
M. Lapostolle, professor of physics at Amiens, proposed to
protect vineyards and other cultivated grounds from the
destructive effects of hail, by erecting wooden poles twenty-
five feet high, for the purpose of carrying off' the atmo¬
spherical electricity. The use of these hailrods has extended
itself over France, Switzerland, Germany, and Italy; and
it is not easy to resist the evidence that has been collected
of their efficacy, notwithstanding the opposition that they
have met with from many scientific individuals. Each pole
is supposed to protect a circle of a hundred or a hundred
and thirty feet, in the centre of which they are placed.
Hods of metal being too expensive, they are made of wood,
in a way which will be described in a subsequent part of
this article. Each rod does not cost more than a few
shillings, and the practice is to take them up after having
put them under cover with the other rural implements,
and replace them at the vernal equinox.
Another phenomenon, which is either formed by atmo- Water-
spherical electricity or connected with it, is the water-spout, spouts,
a meteor of rare occurrence, and often most destructive in
its effects. That distinct electrical phenomena are deve¬
loped during the continuance of certain water-spouts can¬
not be doubted ; but the electricity has in these cases been
supposed to be a secondary phenomenon, produced by the
motion of the air. This view of the subject has received
some support from the researches of M. le Comte Xavier de
Maistre, w ho has succeeded in imitating the principal phe-
Phenome'
na and
Laws.
Sheet or
summer
lightning.
Matteuc-
ci’s theory
of sheet
lightning.
E
nomena of water-spouts, and even the co-existing ascend¬
ing and descending currents, by the mechanical circular
motion of a liquid ; and it is to this mechanism of the water¬
spout that the electrical phenomena are ascribed. Ihe
lower parts of the atmosphere, and those above the clouds
are brought to the same point by the two interior and op¬
posite currents of the spout, and strata of air charged with
vapour, and often with different electricities, are thus brought
into union, and produce the electrical phenomena in ques¬
tion.
The well-known phenomenon cdWedsheet or summer light¬
ning has recently been examined by M. Matteucci of Bo¬
logna. This ingenious author considers it to be proved
that there is an accumulation of one of the two electricities
at the surface of the earth; and he ascribes this electricity
either to evaporation or to the analogous causes which M.
Pouillet has substituted for it, or to chemical actions which
are constantly going on in the interior of the earth. In
order that this electricity may not escape and pass imme¬
diately into the mass of the globe, as soon as it is developed,
it is necessary that the ground in which it is accumulated
may not be a conductor, either from its own nature, or in
consequence of the evaporation which dries it. It is also
chiefly in high and insulated places rather than in the plains,
above rocks rather than above forests, in summer rather
than in winter, in the middle of the day rather than in the
night, that these stormy clouds show themselves, whose for¬
mation cannot be well accounted for but by the influence
of the electricity which the ground retains. To what other
cause, he asks, can we attribute those clouds which are
sometimes suddenly formed on the flanks of mountains, and
afterwards rise into the air, without any variation of tempe¬
rature, any change of barometrical pressure, or any other
apparent modification in the state of the atmosphere ? In
applying these principles to the explanation of summer
lightning, he considers the electricity of the earth’s surface
to be detained there by the desiccation of the ground, which
renders it an insulator. At the moment of sunset, and
during the night, the vapours which are thus condensed by
cooling near the ground form a conducting stratum which
serves to re-establish by degrees the electrical equilibrium
between the atmosphere and the earth, which are charged
with opposite electricities. It is chiefly in the plains, he
conceives, that we ought to observe sheet lightning; and
it ought to last a much longer time, because on elevated
and insulated places the flow of electricity accumulated
during the day will be much more rapid, on account of their
form and position in the middle of an atmosphere more
rare, more cold, and consequently more highly charged with
vapours. These electrical discharges between the ground
and the atmosphere may, according to our author, take
place with much force, and produce even violent effects,
especially if the ground and the atmosphere are too much
dried ; and he supposes that some earthquakes, and parti¬
cularly those which take place after great droughts, may be
owing to this cause. This supposition explains, in a satis¬
factory manner, the process employed by the ancients, and
often with success, to protect from earthquakes those places
which are subject to them, and which are particularly those
where the nature of the ground renders the accumulation
of electricity easy, and its escape difficult. This process
consisted in sinking into the ground, even to a considerable
depth, long bars of iron, which, according to the explana¬
tion given above, ought to facilitate the establishment of
the electric equilibrium, by establishing a metallic commu¬
nication between the interior of the ground and the surface,
which, by its insulating faculty, retains its electricity.
Among the atmospheric meteors generated by electri-
587
city the aurora borealis holds a distinguished place. The Phenome-
phenomena which it exhibits have already been fully de- an(i
scribed under another article (the Aurora Borealis), but ^ aws‘ y
it belongs to our present subject to treat briefly of its elec- / _"
trical origin. The crackling and hissing noise of electricity Aurora bo-
passing from one place to another has been distinctly heard realis.
in this country by Mr Nairne and M. Cavallo, and we can
ourselves bear testimony to the same fact. In the north of
Europe the sound accompanying the northern lights is an
universally admitted fact, and proves beyond a doubt that,
in certain aurorae at least, the atmosphere is highly charged
with electricity. Mr Trevelyan learned when he was in
Faroe that the peculiar smell which accompanies electrical
discharges was distinctly felt during a brilliant aurora ; and
in the year 1821 Sir David Brewster had the good fortune
to observe, at Belleville, in Inverness-shire, an aurora, the
phenomena of which were actually combined with those
of a thunder-storm. This case is so remarkable, and so
instructive, that we shall give the description of it in his
own words : “ On the evening of the 29th August, about
half-past nine o’clock r.m., when there was not a breath of
wind, and when the thermometer stood at 63°, the noise of
very distant thunder was heard towards the south; sheets
of very brilliant lightning illuminated the sky, issuing in
general from a small black cloud near the horizon. I was.
surprised, however, to observe, that, with the exception of
a few thin black clouds, which were rendered visible by the
lightning, the greater part of the sky was covered with
shining masses, like those which form the aurora borealis.
The stars were easily seen through this luminous matter,
which was arranged in irregular masses separated by clear
intervals, but having a tendency to assume the appearance
of irradiations diverging from the cloud whence the light¬
ning appeared to issue. When the lightning flashed, it was
propagated in a particular manner along these masses of
light; but, what was very singular, the luminous patches
were constantly in a tremulous or undulating motion during
the intervals of the flashes of lightning. They shifted their
place and changed their form exactly like the light which
appears in many of the varieties of the aurora borealis. As
the luminous clouds now described did not appear in tne
northern part of the horizon, and were distinctly related in
their position and form to the thunder-cloud from which
the lightning emanated, we are entitled to refer the two.
classes of phenomena to the peculiar electrical condition ol
the atmosphere, and to suppose that the phenomena of the
aurora borealis may have an analogous origin. It seems
now to be clearly proved that aurorae exist not only fit great
heights in our atmosphere, such as from 62 and 105 miles,
the lowest as given by Cavendish and Dalton, to 500 and
even 1000 miles, as measured by other observers : but that
they appear even close to the earth, in the lowest region of
the atmosphere, is clearly established by a decisive obser¬
vation of Captain Parry’s.1 In the first of these cases it
would be in vain to look for electrical indications, when the
meteor is so far beyond the sphere of our electroscopes and
the reach of hearing; but, in the latter case, we may lea-
sonably expect not only to observe the peculiar electric
state of the atmosphere, but also to hear the sound which
invariably accompanies the passage of the fluid. This view
of the subject reconciles the apparently contradictory ob¬
servations which have been made on the aurora ; and the
connection of the phenomenon with the magnetic meridian,
as well as its influence in certain cases on the magnetic
needle, present no difficulty since the recent discoveries
respecting the connection between electricity and magnet¬
ism.
That the other luminous phenomena of the atmosphere Fire-balls
L E C T R 1 C X T Y.
1 Mr W. 0. Trevelyan observed that the aurora borealis in Faroe and Shetland was often seen very low, not more than 40 or 60 feet
above the sea, and he learned that in both countries it is distinctly heard.
588
ELECTRICITY.
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Columns of
light.
Fire of St
Elmo.
Observed
by Lord
N apier.
By Count
Forbin.
have their origin in its electricity cannot be doubted. Fire¬
balls or globes of fire have been observed at altitudes from
30 to 100 miles, and moving with velocities varying from
5 to 33 miles in a second. These balls of light sometimes
leave behind them a luminous track after they have vanished.
Sometimes they explode into globes of a smaller size, some¬
times they are dispersed into divided sparks, and at other
times they are accompanied with showers of meteoric stones.
Falling or shooting stars are only the same phenomena on
a smaller scale ; they appear at all seasons, but most fre¬
quently during the prevalence of the northern lights, and
generally in the lower regions of the atmosphere. The
prismatic columns of light which were observed by Mr
Fisher and others in the arctic regions have obviously an
electrical origin. “ On the afternoon of the 25th October
Mr Fisher observed at Winter Harbour two vertical columns
of prismatic colours, about 15° on each side of the sun, which
was below the horizon ; they were about 5° long, and their
lower end touched the horizon : they continued for about
an hour, from noon to one o’clock. Similar columns were
observed two or three times, and about the same time the
aurora appeared.
The fire of St Elmo, or Castor and Pollux, is a brilliant light
which frequently appears on the summits of ships’ masts, on
the points of bayonets, on the tops of spears, and on the
tips of the ears of horses. It is obviously nothing more than
the electricity discharging itself either from or into pointed
bodies. Its connection with the electrical state of the at¬
mosphere is obvious from the following account of the phe¬
nomenon as given by Lord Napier, who saw it in the Medi¬
terranean in June 1818. “ About nine, when the ship was
becalmed, the darkness became intense, and was rendered
still more sensible by the yellow fire that gleamed upon
the horizon to the south, and associated by the deep-toned
thunder which rolled at intervals in the mountains, accom¬
panied by repeated flashes of that forked lightning whose
eccentric course and dire effects set all description at defi¬
ance. By half-past nine the hands were got aloft to furl
the top-gallant sails and reef the top-sails, in preparation
for the threatening storm. When retiring to rest, a sudden
cry of St Elme and St Ann was heard from those aloft and
fore and aft the deck. On observing the appearance of
the masts, the main top-gallant-mast head, from the truck,
for three feet downwards, was completely enveloped in a
blaze of pale phosphoric light flitting and creeping round
the surface of the mast. The fore and mizen top-gallant-
mast heads exhibited a similar appearance. This lambent
flame preserved its intensity for the space of eight or ten
minutes, and then it gradually became fainter, till it dimi¬
nished at the end of half an hour.”
An interesting case of the fire of St Elmo, in which the
electricity first settled on the most prominent metallic body,
and then on the bodies next in conducting power, is de¬
scribed in the memoirs of the Count de Forbin. “ In the
night,” says he, “ it became extremely dark, and it thundered
and lightened fearfully. As we were threatened with the
ship being torn to pieces, I ordered the sails to be taken in.
We saw from different parts of the ship above thirty St
Flelmo’s fires ; amongst the rest was one upon the top of
the vane of the mainmast, more than a foot and a half in
height. I ordered one of the sailors to take the vane down ;
but scarcely had he taken the vane from its place when the
fire fixed itself upon the top of the mainmast, from which it
was impossible to remove it.”
Sometimes the electricity of the atmosphere shows itself
at the yard-arms and mast-heads of vessels, in the form of
balls of fire. Captain Clavering of the Griper experienced
a severe gale, which lasted three days without intermission,
when about 100 miles to the west of the Fiord of Dron-
theim. This gale was remarkable for the small amount of
the effect produced on the barometer, on its approach, during
its continuance, or after its cessation ; and Captain Claver¬
ing was induced, from this and other causes, to ascribe it
to a disturbed state of electricity in the atmosphere. It
was accompanied with very vivid lightning, which is parti¬
cularly unusual in high latitudes during winter, and by the^
frequent appearance and continuance lor several minutes of
balls of fire at the yard-arms and mast-heads. Of these no
fewer than eight were counted at one time. This pheno¬
menon is obviously an interesting variety of the fire ot St
Elmo.
The observations which have been detailed in the pre- Chemical
ceding section place it beyond a doubt that the electricity effects,
generated in our atmosphere is identical with that which
is developed by friction. Philosophers, however, have
sought to establish their similarity as chemical agents. M.
Bonjol, for example, has decomposed water by means of the
electricity of the air collected by an insulated pointed rod,
in stormy states of the atmosphere ; and the late unfortun¬
ate Mr Alexander Barry, who lost his life in the cause of
science, succeeded in August 1824 in decomposing a solu¬
tion of sulphate of soda coloured with syrup of violets.
Bubbles of hydrogen appeared in the tube connected with
the string of the electrical kite, while bubbles of oxygen ap¬
peared in the tube connected with the ground. In about
ten minutes the blue liquid in the first tube became green
from the separation of the soda, while the sulphuric acid, by
passing to the pole in the other tube, changed its contents
as usual into red. See page 597.
CHAP. in.—ON THE CHANGES PRODUCED BY ELECTRICITY
ON ORGANIC AND INORGANIC BODIES.
That electricity is a powerful agent in the material world, Changes
has long been the opinion of those who have studied its produced
effects. We have clearly seen that it performs a distin- V electri“
guished part in the economy of our atmosphere ; but there C1
is reason to believe that its agency is still more general,
and that it exercises an influence almost universal over the
laws of inorganic matter, as well as over the functions of
organic life. Our knowledge, however, on these subjects
is but in its infancy ; and though the following sections will
present to the reader many interesting and important phe¬
nomena, he will not fail to deduce from them the conclusion,
that a wide field of discovery is yet unexplored, and that
there is no branch of science more likely to reward the dili¬
gence of the young philosopher than that which treats of
the agency of the electric fluid in animal and vegetable file,
its effects upon inorganic matter, and its connection wdth
the imponderable agents of light and heat. Ihe general
effects of electrical action may be comprehended under the
following heads ^
1. On the mechanical changes produced by electricity
on inorganic bodies.
2. On the chemical changes produced by electricity on
inorganic bodies.
3. On the changes produced by electricity on phospho¬
rescent bodies.
4. On the changes produced by electricity on odorifer¬
ous bodies.
5. On the magnetic effects of electricity.
6. On the effects of electricity on animal bodies.
7. On the effects of electricity on vegetable bodies.
Sect. I.—On the Mechanical Changes produced by Electri¬
city on Inorganic Bodies.
Although we know nothing of the real nature of the elec- Mechani-
tric principle, yet, from its properties and effects, it has
been found convenient to speak of it as a fluid. Its action
upon bodies which either obstruct its motion, or afford it
a ready passage, renders its analogy with a fluid still more
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
ELECTRICITY.
589
Phenome- striking, and we are thus enabled to comprehend pheno-
naand mena which it would otherwise be more difficult to under-
Laws. stand. A canal with a smooth bottom and sides may be
considered as a good conductor ot the aqueous fluid, and a
river with a rocky bed and a tortuous course may be re¬
garded as a bad conductor. Small quantities ot water turned
into each of these conductors will find its way by a slow
movement,,, without injuring the surfaces over which it flows,
just as a small or a large wire will carry off small quantities
of electricity without suffering any mechanical change. But
when the current of water is deep and strong, it will over¬
come its obstructions, burst its barriers, and destroy the
channel which at first confined it; while the same current
running with the same velocity in a smoother bed will make
its way without producing any change upon the materials
over which it runs; in the same manner as a small metallic
wire will sometimes be expanded and sometimes burst in
pieces when it transmits with difficulty an electric discharge,
whereas the same discharge will find an unobstructed pas¬
sage through a wire of still greater diameter.
Expansion. The influence of electricity in expanding solid bodies was
discovered by Dr Priestley during his experiments on the
effects of explosion through metallic substances, when he
found that a chain teas actually shortened after the charge
of a battery had been sent through it. A length of chain
of exactly twenty-eight inches, after having transmitted a
charge of sixty-four square feet of coated glass, was short¬
ened one-fourth of an inch, or -g^th part ot the whole.
Mr Nairne found that a piece of hard drawn iron wire,
ten inches long and an inc^ diameter, after re¬
ceiving many times in succession a discharge of twenty-six
feet of coated glass (or nine jars), was shortened ¥%ths of an
inch, or T^yd of an inch, by such discharge. Its length was
examined after the sixth, ninth, and fifteenth discharges.
The total contraction of the wire was fully one inch and one-
tenth, or one-ninth of the whole length.
Mr Brooke obtained a contraction still higher than this,
by passing a charge of nine bottles or sixteen feet of coated
surface nine times in succession through a steel wire twelve
inches long and y^yth of an inch in diameter. The wire was
shortened one inch andahalf ox one-eighth of its whole length.
If the wire, however, through which the shock is passed
has suspended to it a weight so as to stretch it consider¬
ably, the wire will be increased in length, in place of being
diminished. This effect is by no means inconsistent with
those already described. The heat, which, as we shall after¬
wards see, is always evolved during the transmission of an
electric charge, produces a softness short of fluidity, which
allows the extending force to overcome the absolute tena¬
city of the wire.
It is very obvious that the contraction of the wire in one
dimension in these experiments was owing to its expansion
in a direction at right angles to the length, in the same
manner as a piece of caoutchouc extended in one direction
is shortened in the other. Mr Nairne indeed observed that
the wire had increased in thickness; but though he used a
pair of scales which turned with one-eighth of a grain, he
could not observe any change in the weight of the wire.
The same phenomenon takes place in fluid metals. If,
for example, we fill a capillary or thermometer tube with
mercury, and transmit through the mercurial column an
electrical charge, the metal will suffer such a degree of ex¬
pansion as to burst the tube to pieces.
When the body which transmits the shock has a less
conducting power than metals, the tendency to expand will
of course be still greater. If a little water, for example, is
placed in a glass tube, and a shock passed through the
water, the tube will burst by the expansion of the fluid;
and the experiment will succeed even if a common drink¬
ing glass is filled with water and substituted for the tube.
Beccaria placed a drop of water in the centre of a solid
glass-ball, and burst the ball by transmitting a shock through Phenome.
the fluid drop. This experiment was beautifully varied by
the Italian philosopher, who constructed a small mortar, and v ^
having put a ball into it, he placed behind the ball a drop
of water, so as to lie between the two wires which passed
through the side of the mortar. When an electric charge
was sent through the two wires, the expansion sustained by
the water drove out the ball with great velocity. M. Lullin
gave the ball a still greater impulsion by substituting a drop
of oil for the drop of water.
Even when the conductor is air, a violent expansive ef¬
fect is created during the transmission of the electric shock.
This effect is well shown by fitting a cork cap into an ivory
mortar having a cavity an inch deep and half an inch wide.
When a shock is sent through the wire in this cavity, it is
expanded so suddenly as to drive out the cork with great
violence.
The mechanical effect of electricity is well shown in the
following experiment:—Upon the surface AB of a dry piece
of wood, paste a strip of tinfoil about 18 inches long and
a c b d
half an inch wide, and having cut out with a sharp knife
small crosses at </, b, and e, place four wafers on each, as
shown by the little circles in the figure. Place also wafers
at c and d. If a strong electrical charge from a Leyden
phial is passed from A to B, all the small waters at the
crosses will be violently thrown off, while those at c and d
will remain in their place.
When the electric shock is made to pass through soiid
bodies which are imperfect conductors, such as wood, stone,
sugar, and glass, they will be broken by the expansion which
is produced. In the case of glass not very thick, it will be
broken into innumerable pieces. When the glass is so thick
as to resist the shock, it is marked with vivid prismatic co¬
lours, which Mr Henley supposes to be thin laminae of the
glass separated from one another by the shock.
The expansive effect created by the shock is finely exhi¬
bited by dipping a clean brass chain in melted rosin, and
laying it upon paper. If the charge of thirty-two square
feet of coated glass is sent through it, the resinous poating
will be driven off' from every part of the chain, which will
be entirely cleared of it.
When a clean uncoated brass chain is laid upon a plate of
glass, and a charge of thirty-two square feet passed through
it, the glass will be marked in every part of its surface
where it was touched by the chain, every marking having
the width and colour of the link. I he metal could be
scraped off the glass at the outside of the mark, but i Aas
actually driven in other places into the pores of the glass.
Dr Priestley, who made this interesting experiment, pro¬
duced a similar effect upon glass with a silver chain, and
small pieces of other metals.
The reader who has perused with attention our chapter Diffusion
on Electric Light, will recognise in these experiments the of metals
origin of those beautiful results which have been obtained inot°rva"
by Fusinieri, by passing the electric shock from a metallic pour-
ball to a polished metallic surface; and the diffusion of solid
bodies into metallic vapour, as it may be called, is finely
illustrated in the following experiments. rpake three strips
of window glass, each about three inches long and one wide,
and having placed two narrow strips of gold leaf or leaf brass
between them, so that the ends of the gold leaf project a
little beyond the glass, transmit the charge of a large Leyden
jar through the gold leaf. The gold leaf will be found to
590
ELECTRICITY.
Chemical
changes
produced
by electri¬
city.
Evolution
of heat.
Inflamma¬
tion of bo¬
dies.
be melted by the shock, and driven into the surface of the
glass. The outer plates of glass are generally broken in
this experiment, and the middle one, which frequently re¬
mains entire, has an indelible metallic stain upon each of its
surfaces. This stain is obviously the metallic vapour of
the gold driven into the pores of the glass.
The dispersion of gold or silver into a metallic vapour
may be exhibited in another manner. Let a strip of gold
or silver leaf, or Dutch metal, be fixed with gum to the
surface of a piece of paper, and be placed in such a manner
between the forceps of a universal discharger, that a strong
electrical charge may be passed through it. The metallic
strip will entirely disappear, in consequence of having been
dispersed into a vapour or powder, part of which remains
in a state of oxidation on the paper, which, from this cause,
receives a greenish-brown tinge.
The metallic colours thus obtained have been employed
for impressing ornamental figures upon paper or silk. In
order to do this, trace the outline of the figures on thick
drawing paper, and having cut it out as in stincil plates,
place it on the silk or paper intended to be ornamented.
When a gold leaf is laid upon it, and a card above the gold
leaf, the whole is placed in a press or beneath a weight, and
an electrical charge sent through it; the metallic stain is
limited to the portion of the drawing paper that is cut away,
and consequently any outline figure may be readily im¬
pressed upon the ground employed to receive it.
Dr Franklin was the first person who impressed metallic
stains upon glass by electrical discharges. Fine gold com¬
municated a reddish stain and silver a greenish one, and
the metallic vapour, when driven into the pores of glass,
was able to resist the action of the strongest aqua regia.
Sect. II.— On the Chemical Changes produced by Elec¬
tricity on Inorganic Bodies.
The effects of electricity as a chemical agent are strik¬
ingly displayed in its power of evolving heat, and conse¬
quently of inflaming and fusing bodies, and its power of
promoting chemical composition and decomposition. The
influence of electricity in producing combustion may be
shown by several beautiful experiments.
Exp. 1. To light a candle by Electricity. Having wrap¬
ped some loose cotton wool round the extremity of a long
brass pin or wire, roll the cotton in the powder of white or
yellow rosin. Bring the naked end of the wire into contact
with the external coating, while the cotton end is applied
to the brass knob of a charged jar, and the rosin and cotton
will be instantly inflamed.
By dipping the cotton in oil of turpentine, and using a
large jar, the cotton may be inflamed in a similar manner;
and its inflammation will be promoted by strewing upon it
some fine brass dust.
Exp. 2. To light a candle in another way. Thrust a
wire up through the middle of the candle to within a short
distance of the wick, and having connected the outside
coating of a charged jar, by means of a chain, with the lower
end of the wire, touch the wick with the knob of the jar,
and the candle will be lighted.
Exp. 3. To inflame Phosphorus, fyc. Having placed
powdered phosphorus, rosin, or camphor, on some cotton
wool, and wrapped it round one of the knobs of a discharg¬
ing rod, apply the knob thus covered to the ball of a charged
jar, and the naked knob to the external coating of the jar,
and the powder will be set on fire.
Powdered rosin floating on water may be set on fire by
transmitting a charge over the surface of the water between
two points.
Exp. 4. To inflame alcohol or ether. The alcohol or
ether being placed in an insulated metallic cup, electrify
the cup, and upon taking a spark from the cup either with
the knuckle or any other conductor, the fluid will be set
on fire.
If ether is placed in a thin stratum upon the surface of
water, in a clean wine glass, a spark taken from the surface
will inflame the ether when the water is connected with the
prime conductor.
Exp. 5. To inflame gunpowder. Upon the end of an
insulated metallic ware fix a small cartridge, and when the
cartridge is presented to the knob of a charged jar, the pow¬
der which it contains will be exploded.
Exp. 6. To exhibit the heat evolved by electricity. Take
a wooden rod, for example one of red fir, about one inch
thick and ten inches long, and place it between the ball of
the conductor and the conducting wire ; put the ball of a
thermometer in a hole bored in the wood, and in a few
minutes the mercury will rise to about 112°. Van Marum,
who made this experiment, found that in three minutes
the mei'cury rose from 61° to 88°, and in five minutes to
112°.
The evolution of heat by electricity is finely shown by
means of a beautiful instrument constructed by Sir William
Snow Harris. Mr Children and other philosophers had
deduced from a variety of facts that the heat evolved by a
metallic wire while transmitting an electric charge, is in
some inverse ratio of its conducting power: and hence Sir
William was desirous of measuring the relative degrees of
heat so evolved by various metals and alloys in a gaseous
medium such as air, and thus to discover their precise rela¬
tions as conductors of electricity. The instrument which
he used for this purpose is represented in Plate CCXXVIL
fig. I. A glass tube CD A, whose bore is regular, and
somewhat less than one-tenth of an inch, has one of its ex¬
tremities DA bent upwards and outwards for about two
inches, and is united by welding to a spherical reservoir A,
containing a coloured fluid.1 This tube is fixed to a cor¬
rectly divided scale E, supported by a suitable base ; and
the zero of the scale is at o, on a level with the coloured
fluid in the reservoir A. Above the reservoir A is screwed
air-tight, by means of brass caps closely cemented, a glass
ball B, three inches in diameter; and through this ball a
metallic wire m n, varying from y^th to ^-th of an inch in
diameter, may be passed air-tight by means of small flanges
of brass rn, n, fig. 2, cemented in and round two holes drilled
through the ends, each flange having a small projecting
shoulder to receive the wire, and, upon which are screwed
two brass balls a, b, so as to render the whole air-tight. In
order to fix the wire, the brass parts are made quite clean in¬
ternally, and the wire being passed directly through them, is
gently stretched, and then compressed in the holes by small
pegs of tough wood, so as to insure a good contact. The
pegs and the wire are allowed to project a little, to enable
the observer to substitute different wires expeditiously.
When an electrical explosion of sufficient force is now made
to traverse the wire m, n in the ball B, the heat which it
evolves will be made evident by the ascent of the coloured
fluid along the scale E.2
Sir William now submitted to examination equal wires
of different metals ; and in order to insure the transmission
of equal and similar explosions through each of them, he
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Sir Wil¬
liam Snow
Harris’s
therm o-
electrome-
ter for
measuring
the evolu¬
tion of
heat.
Plate
CCXXVII.
tig. 1, 2.
1 This fluid may consist of rectified alcohol, one part distilled water, thxee parts coloured tincture of cochineal, with a little sulphuric
acid to make the whole sour.
- This instrument, which was invented by Sir Snow Harris in 1820, and described in the Transactions of the Plymouth Institution for
1825, has been appropriated by some foreign writers as their invention, and has been confounded by M. Ered. Hies with Kinnersley s
gas thermometer, shown in Plate CCXXX., fig. 1, to which it has no relation.
ELECTRICITY.
591
Sir W.
Snow
Harris’s
experi¬
ments on
the evolu¬
tion of heat
by electri¬
city.
Phenome- adopted the following contrivance. Two equal brass balls
naand were fixed at a given distance, as in Lane’s discharging
Laws, electrometer. One of them, which was insulated, was placed
in immediate connection with the positive side of the bat¬
tery, while the other was connected with the negative side;
the metallic wire to be examined forming part ot the cir¬
cuit. This last connection was made by means of two fixed
copper wires inserted into the balls on each side of the
glass, and made perfect at the points of junction. When
the charge therefore of the battery was sufficiently intense
to pass the given interval, the discharge took place through
the wire in the ball. Sir W. Harris used a battery of Jive
jars, each containing Jiiie square feet of coated surface.
They were placed on a metallic base communicating with
the negative conductor, and were charged by means of long
copper rods projecting immediately from the bottom of each
jar. The machine employed was a plate one, with a disc
of glass three feet in diameter.
The results which Sir William obtained from an exten¬
sive series of experiments are given in the following table.
Metals. Effects.
Copper  6
Silver    6
Gold    9
Zinc    18
Platinum     —   30
Iron   30
Tin   36
Lead  72
Brass  18
r Gold 1 part, copper 1 part  20
Alloys. < Gold 3 parts, copper 1 part  25
( Gold 1 part, copper 3 parts  15
( Copper 1 part, silver 1 part  6
Alloys. < Copper 1 part, silver 3 parts  6
l Copper 3 parts, silver 1 part  6
( Gold 1 part, silver 1 part  20
Alloys. < Gold 1 part, silver 3 parts  15
l Gold 3 parts, silver 1 part  25
( Tin 1 part, lead 1 part  54
Alloys, j Tin 3 parts, lead 1 part   45
l Tin 1 part, lead 3 parts  63
/ Tin 1 part, zinc 1 part  27
Alloys. < Th1 3 parts, zinc 1 part  32
V Copper 8 parts, tin 1 part  18
Considering the heat to be in the inverse ratio of the con¬
ducting power, it appears from this table, 1^, That the heats
evolved from silver and copper are alike, and also those from
iron and platinum, and from zinc and brass, while the heats
evolved from lead and tin, from zinc and gold, and from
brass and gold, are as 2: 1. 2df//, That silver and copper
being regarded as the best conductors, from being the
least heated by the explosion, the conducting power of
Gold to copper will be as  2 : 3
Zinc or brass to copper or silver  1 : 3
Platinum or iron to copper or silver... 1 : 5
Tin to copper or silver  1 : 6
Lead to copper or silver  1 : 12
3<%, That the conducting power of an alloy of gold and
copper, or gold and silver, is less than either metal sepa¬
rately ; and that the difference in the conducting power in¬
creases with the quantity of the inferior conductor alloyed ;
and that tin and lead in alloy have a conducting power
equal to the mean of their two separate conducting powers.
And, Athly, that copper alloyed with an eighth part of its
weight of tin becomes as much heated by an electrical ex¬
plosion as iron.
Taking the heat of lead in the preceding table as unity,
and the conducting power of the several metals named as
being in a simple inverse ratio of the heat evolved ; then
the order and relative value of the given metals as conduc¬
tors of common electricity will be as follows :
Metals. Conducting power.
Lead  1
Tin  2
Platinum |
Iron J
It appears from numerous
aid of this instrument, that the heating power of the elec- Harris’s
trical discharge on metals increases as the square of the experi-
quantity of electricity discharged through them, without any ments on
relation to the intensity of the charge of the battery, as in- ^ou^f^eat
dicated by the common electroscopes or the extent of coated ^ eiectri_
glass on which the given quantity is accumulated ; so that
the heating effect of the same quantity is alwrays the same
under the same conditions of circuit—a general law of
quantity fully confirmed by Faraday in the course of his
fine magneto-electrical researches. We may hence, with
the data in the preceding table, easily deduce the relative
quantities of electricity which the respective metals would
transmit under the same elevation of temperature, and which
would be nearly as follows—taking lead as unity :
Metals. Conducting power. Phenome-
Zinc  4: naand
Gold   8 Laws.
CoPPer 1 12 ^
Silver J  
. Sir W.
experiments made with the gnow
Metals.
Lead 
Tin 
Platinum
Iron 
Quantity.
... 1
... 1-4
... 1-56
Metals.
Zinc 
Gold 
Copper 1
Silver J
Quantity.
.... 2
.... 2-8
.... 3-5
Viewing the question of conducting power in relation to
the quantity of electricity which given metals can transmit
under the same elevation of temperature, we should say
that zinc had twice the conducting power of lead ; gold
twice the conducting power of tin, and soon. The relative
numerical value of the metals as conductors of electricity will
hence greatly depend on the particular way in which the
measure of conducting power is considered. Thus it appears
that the quantity which raised the temperature of lead, for
example, 72° of the scale, only raised copper 6°, being in
the ratio of 1 : 12. Taking these numbers as a measure
of the resistance of the respective metals, and supposing the
conducting power to be as the resistance inversely, then it
would follow that copper has 12 times the conducting power
of lead for any given quantity of electricity transmitted ;
it does not however follow from this, that copper can trans¬
mit 12 times the quantity of electricity under the same de¬
gree of heat,—for the resistance is found to increase with
the heat evolved, and that is, with electricity of high tension
such as lightning, as the square of the quantity of charge
transmitted, so that it would only require about S’o times the
quantity to raise the temperature of copper to that of lead
transmitting a unit of quantity, all other things being the same.
In a further communication made to the Royal Society
of Edinburgh in December 1831, the author has added
considerably to our information upon this interesting ques¬
tion. Having adapted his instrument to the purposes of
voltaic electricity, he proceeds to examine the heat excited
in metallic wires by permanent electrical currents passed
through them under a great variety of conditions. The
following are some of the most striking of these experi¬
ments.
On exposing fine wires of different metals to electrical
currents varying in intensity, he found that in certain cases
the instrument ceased to be materially affected by the in¬
creased charge, the fine wire passing through the air ther¬
mometer ball not having sufficient conducting power to
transmit the whole of the current, whilst in substituting
wires of higher conducting power the fluid ascended the
scale with great rapidity, a result identical with that arrived
at by Sir H. Davy,1 who states that in a battery where the
quantity of electricity was very great and the intensity low,
a foot of wire of platinum was scarcely heated whilst the
same length of silver wire became red hot. It was there¬
fore only when wires were employed of sufficient conduct-
1 Phil. Trans, for 1821.
592
ELECTRICITY.
Laws.
Phenome- ing power that we obtain indieations proportionate to the
na and increased electrical current, still no greater effect than was
directly proportional to the increased power could be ob¬
tained, under any circumstances, as in the ordinary elec¬
trical discharges from the Leyden battery ; a result de¬
pending probably on some peculiar condition of the species
of electrical action.
In order to exemplify the effects of heat in diminishing
the conduction, about six inches of the circuit transmitting
the current through the instrument was made up of plati¬
num wire of about the ^th of an inch in diameter, and to
this part of the circuit heat and cooling liquids were alter¬
nately applied ; the result was that the fluid invariably de¬
scended the scale on the application of heat to the circuit
wire, and ascended when that wire was cooled by evaporation,
thus clearly evincing a diminished and increased power of
transmission.
With a view of determining the relative conducting
power of various metals, the given metal, the subject of ex¬
periment, was drawn into a wire of a given length and
diameter, and caused to transmit a given current accumu¬
lation upon the wire passing through the ball of the elec¬
trometer. In order to avoid any error arising from eleva¬
tion of temperature, the current wire was placed in a cool
fluid medium. The facility with which the given metal
transmitted the current electricity became, in this case,
approximatively measured by the indications of the instru¬
ment. The order of the metals as conductors of this kind
of electricity were found to be as follows :—
Silver.
Copper.
Zinc.
Gold.
Tin.
Iron.
Platinum.
Lead.
Antimony.
Fluid Mercury.
Bismuth.
This order, with the exception of tin, is nearly the same as
that already given by the ordinary electrical discharge: it
was found liable to exceptions in placing the wires within
the ball, as done in the preceding experiments, from the
circumstances already explained—viz. that in certain cases
the best conductors may appear to be the most heated.
Great care appears to have been taken in the manipula¬
tion of the experiments, and all the sources of anomaly or
error liable to vitiate the result fully traced in operating
upon fluid mercury, antimony, and bismuth. These metals
were cast into small bars, and compared with zinc, tin, and
lead, similarly heated.
Fusion of Many beautiful experiments have been made by different
metallic philosophers, on the fusion of metallic wires. Mr Kin-
wircs. nersley, in the presence of Dr Franklin, transmitted the
charge of a case of bottles through a fine iron wire. After
first appearing red hot, the wire was melted into spherical
drops like small shot. With a battery of thirty-two square
feet, Dr Priestley melted into globules wires even so large
as the seventieth of an inch in diameter, sometimes pla¬
cing them in tubes of glass, and sometimes in paper. Mr
Brooke, Van Marum, Baron Kienmayer, Mr Cuthbert-
son, and Mr Singer, made many successful experiments on
the fusion of wires by electricity, and succeeded in melting
them in considerable lengths; but they have given us no
sufficient data for determining any of the relations of this kind
of electrical action, although we find the experiments ac¬
companied with many important and interesting observations.
Mr Singer found that the power of any coated surface to
melt wires varies with the thickness of the jars ; which con¬
firms the conclusion of Mr Cavendish, that the quantity of
electricity necessary to charge different jars of the same
extent of coated surface is inversely as the thickness of the
Mr Sin- jars. “ 1 he effects of gradually increasing the power of
gei-s expe-the charge, says Mr Singer, “ when wires of the same
rmunts. length and diameter are employed, are very remarkable.
Lawa.
If the wire be iron or steel, its colour is first changed to Phenome.
yellow, then (by an increased charge) blue, by a further in- naand
crease it becomes red hot, then red hot and fused into balls ;
if we continue to increase the charge, it becomes red hot
and drops into balls, then disperses in a shower of balls,
and lastly disappears with a bright flash, producing an ap¬
parent smoke, which, if collected, is a very fine powder,
weighing more than the metal employed, and consisting of
it and a portion of the oxygen of the atmosphere, with which
it has combined.”
In the course of these experiments Van Marum observed
the curious fact, that when a charge of 225 square feet of
coated surface was transmitted through fifty feet of iron wire,
the jars were not entirely discharged, and the residual charge
was capable of melting two feet of the same wire.
The only general deductions from these experiments are
by Mr Singer, who observes “ that the action of electricity
on wires increases in the ratio of the increased power be¬
cause he found “ that two jars charged to any degree will
melt four times the length of wire melted by one jar. Mr
Singer, however, found the law to vary with different jars;
which would necessarily be the case so long as no quanti¬
tative measurement of the actual amount of electricity em¬
ployed could be referred to. Of this, the common electro¬
meters formerly employed show little or nothing.
With the view of determining the relative fusibility of
different metals, Van Marum applied the same electrical
'■barge to wires of different metals drawn to the same dia¬
meter. The following were the results with wires the 32d
of an inch in diameter :—
Metals. Length of Wire Fused.
Lead 120 inches.
Tin  120
Iron   5
Gold   3£
Silver   i
Brass..  i
Copper    ... I
Hence he concludes that lead and tin are the worst me¬
tals for conductors, and copper, brass, and silver, the best.
Although these experiments are by no means wanting in
scientific interest, they are still manifestly deficient in abso¬
lute quantitative measurement; a defect which renders them
more or less indefinite and inconclusive. By means of the
unit jar and other quantitative processes employed by Sir W.
Snow Harris in this class of experiments, we can now de¬
termine the actual quantity of electricity in action, and
estimate the relations subsisting between the indications of
the intensity electrometer, and the conditions under which
the charge is accumulated, whether on one or more elec¬
trical jars, or on thick glass or thin. We can estimate and
measure the heating effect in relation to the quantity dis¬
charged, and determine the law of its operation, and all
this in easy and intelligible terms. By means of such
measurements it is now fully proved that the heating effect
of a given electrical discharge is altogether independent of
the indications of an intensity electrometer, and of the ex¬
tent of coated glass upon which the given quantity has been
collected, whether upon one, two, or more jars, or upon thick
glass or thin. A given measured quantity of electricity
may exhibit, under these varying conditions, all sorts and
degrees of intensity, as indicated by an attractive or re¬
pulsive electrometer—such as those of Brookes and Cuth-
bertson ; and yet at the instant of the discharge through a
metallic wire the heating effect is always the same, and this
heating effect is invariably as the square of the quantity of
electricity discharged through the wire. For a given ex¬
tent of coated glass taken as a constant, the quantity ac¬
cumulated will be always as the square root of the attractive
or repulsive force of the intensity electrometer, or commonly
the indications of the intensity electrometer will be always
as the square of the accumulation, all other things being
ELECTRICITY.
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Oxidation
of metals.
Mr Cuth-
bertson’s
apparatus.
Plate
CCXXVI.
fig. 5.
Mr Cuth-
bertson’s
experi¬
ments.
Mr Sin¬
ger’s expe¬
riments.
the same. When the given quantity is accumulated on
a greater or less extent of coated glass, these indications
will be as the thickness of the glass directly and the square
of the coated surface inversely—laws vital to the accuracy
of experiments such as those just quoted; e. g., it would
not follow that in setting the slider of Cuthbertson’s steel¬
yard electrometer first at 5 grains and then at 10 grains, we
should obtain quantitative accumulations in the battery in
the proportion of 1 : 2. To obtain a double quantity under
this kind of measurement, the slider would require to be set
at 20 grains. The practical value of the ordinary intensity
electroscopes and electrometers as measures of quantitative
accumulation on coated glass is very small. The only cer¬
tain measure of quantity, with perhaps the exception of
Lane’s discharging electrometer, is the unit jar. This in¬
strument enables us to free our experiments from a com¬
plication of apparatus, which only serves to embarrass the
manipulator. The accumulation being once obtained in
units of quantity, we have merely to discharge our battery
at pleasure by an ordinary discharger, and observe its effects
on the subject of experiment.
Another of the chemical effects of electricity is its power
of promoting the combination of metals with oxygen, or,
what is the same thing, of oxidating them. Beccaria and
others had observed this property of electrical action, but
it is to Mr Cuthbertson and Mr Singer that we owe the
most complete series of experiments on this subject. The
apparatus used by Mr Cuthbertson is represented in Plate
CCXXVI. fig, 5, where AB is a cylinder of glass two
inches and a half in diameter and eight inches high. A
brass cap is screwed on the lower brass cap B, and in the
interior of the vessel is fixed a small roller CD, on which is
coiled a quantity of wire attached to a pack-thread at inter¬
vals of four inches. Into the centre of the upper cap A is
screwed a brass tube F, about three inches long; the end
of the pack-thread and wire is pushed through it by means
of a long needle, and hog’s lard is placed in the tube so
that the thread and wire may move through it air-tight.
By this means the wire is stretched along the axis of the
glass cylinder, and when one length of it is exploded,
another is drawn forward by the contiguous pack-thread,
without opening the cylinder. The quantity of air absorbed
in the process is indicated by a gauge. It consists of a glass
tube, about ten inches long, screwed into the lower end of
the stop-cock, and plunged in a vessel of quicksilver, the
rise of which, when the stop-cock is opened, will be a
measure of the air absorbed. Mr Cuthbertson found that
the air was always deprived of a portion of its oxygen.
When hydrogen or nitrogen was used in place of atmo¬
spheric air, no oxidation took place in the wire, and the
wire was melted and minutely divided. The results ob¬
tained by Mr Cuthbertson are given in the following table,
each wire being ten inches long.
Diameter
of wire.
Charge in
Grains of
Cnthbertson’s
Electrometer.
Colour of the Oxide
when collected.
Lead....
Tin 
Zinc 
Iron  
Copper.
Platina
Silver ..
Gold ...
vn
1
inr
T3TJ
TXT)
IXV
TXV
tIu
20
20
45
35
35
35
40
40
Light gray.
Nearly white.
Nearly white.
Reddish-brown.
Purple-brown.
Black.
Black.
Brownish-purple.
Mr Singer repeated these experiments with shorter and
finer wires, and with a moderate electrical charge. The
wires were not placed in receivers, but stretched parallel
to the surface of a sheet of paper at the distance of one
eighth of an inch. The following were his results with
wires five inches long,
von. vni.
593
Metals.
Lead ...
Tin  
Zinc....
Iron 
Copper .
Platina.
Silver ..
Gold ....
Diameter
of wire.
TVS’
lia
Ts-fir
73TT
Charge in
Grains of
Cnthbertson’s
Electrometer.
12
11
17
12
12
13
18
18
Colours of the Figures
on Paper.
Brown and blue-gray.
Yellow and gray.
Dark brown.
Light brown.
Green, yellow, & brown,
Gray and light brown.
Gray, brown, & green.
Purple and brown.
When Mr Singer made the explosion over glass, he found
that a portion of the metal appeared immediately under the
wire in an unoxidated state, while the oxidated portion pro¬
duced round the other a figure of some width. The figures
are in this way more beautiful, though less permanent, than
when they are produced upon paper.
The oxidating power of common electricity is finely exhi- Dr Wol-
bited in the following experiment, given by Dr Wollaston.laston s
Having coloured a card in a strong infusion of litmus, a cur-
rent of electric sparks was passed along it by means of two
fine gold points, which touched the card at the distance of an
inch from each other. After a very few turns of the machine,
and when the card was nearly dry, a redness at the place of
the positive wire was distinctly manifest to the naked eye;
and when the experiment was repeated with the negative
wire on the same spot, it was restored to its original blue
colour.
The metallic oxides may be revived, or restored to the Revival of
metallic state, by means of electricity. Beccaria, who dis- metallic
covered this property, revived the oxide of zinc, and pro-
duced quicksilver from cinnabar by exploding a jar between
twro pieces of the calces. The following method of making
this interesting experiment is given by Mr Singer. Intro¬
duce into a glass tube some oxide of tin, so that the oxide
may cover about half an inch of the low’er internal surface
of the tube when it is laid horizontally. Place the tube on
the table of Henley’s discharger, and introduce the pointed
wires into its opposite ends, that the oxide may lie between
them. When several strong charges have been sent through
the tube, a part of the tube will soon be stained with me¬
tallic tin, which has been revived by the transmitted electri¬
city. The charge of a very moderate-sized jar is sufficient to
revive the mercury and sulphur which composes vermilion.
The deoxidating power of negative electricity is well Deoxidat-
illustrated by the following elegant experiment of Dr Wol- ing power
laston’s. Having coated with wax about two or thre'e inches of negative
of the middle of a fine silver wire, the hundred and twentieth electricity-
of an inch in diameter, he cut the wire through in the middle
of the wax, so as to expose a section of it, The two coated
extremities of the divided wire were plunged in a solution
of sulphate of copper, placed in an electric circuit between
the two conductors, and sparks taken at the distance of one-
tenth of an inch were passed through the solution. After a
hundred turns of the machine, the wire communicating with
the negative conductor had a precipitate formed upon its sur¬
face, which by burnishing was clearly copper, whereas there
wras no such coating upon the other wire, The direction of
the electric current being reversed, the order of the pheno¬
mena was reversed, and the copper was shortly re-dissolved
by the aid of the oxidating pow'er of common electricity, and
a similar precipitate formed upon the opposite wire. Dr
Wollaston obtained similar results from gold wires and a
solution of corrosive sublimate.
The influence of electricity in effecting chemical compo- influence
sition and decomposition forms one of the most interesting of electri-
departments of electrical and chemical science. The most city in che-
valuable researches which have been made on this subject mical com-
were carried on by means of the voltaic battery, and must^lt^on
necessarily be detailed under another article; but the dis- poSi tion0™
4 F
594
ELECTRICITY.
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Experi¬
ments of
Mr Warl-
tire;
of Dr
Priestley;
of the Hon
Mr Caven¬
dish.
Plate
CCXXYI.
6.
Fig. 7.
coveries which were made through the agency of the elec¬
trical machine fall to be recorded in the present section.
One of the earliest experiments on the influence of elec¬
tricity as a powerful chemical agent, was made by Mr Warl-
tire, who fired a. mixture of atmospheric air and hydrogen
gas by means of electricity in a close copper vessel contain¬
ing about three pints. Although no air could escape by the
explosion, yet a loss of two grains was perceived in every
experiment. When the vessel which contained the gases
was clean and dry, a dewy moisture was found adhering to
the inside of the vessel. Guided by this indication, Dr
Priestley entered upon the subject. Having placed a blue
solution of water and litmus in a glass tube, he transmitted
through it a current of electrical sparks from a brass wire.
In two or three minutes the blue liquor became red, parti¬
cularly at the part where the sparks entered, and the air
inclosed in the tube was diminished. The appearance of
an acid having been formed at the expense of the air con¬
fined in the tube, induced Dr Priestley to place the tube
in the receiver of an air-pump, so that by gradually exhaust¬
ing the air, the part of it inclosed in the tube expanded and
pushed out the discoloured liquor. Upon again admitting
the air, a new portion of the litmus solution was introduced,
while the confined air remained the same as before, and re¬
sumed the space which it had occupied after the passage of
the electric current. After this the electrical sparks were
no longer able to alter the colour of the solution, or to cause
any decrease in the volume of the confined air.
In passing a current of electric sparks through olive oil,
turpentine, oil of mint, and ether, Dr Priestley found that
an inflammable gas was evolved.
In his experiments on the gases Dr Priestley was more
successful in transmitting the spark through ammoniacal
gas; he found that two hundred shocks passed through a
given quantity of the gas produced an increase of volume
equal to one-fburth of the whole. Upon subsequently admit¬
ting water, the original quantity operated upon was absorbed,
and the remaining gas, equivalent to the expansion effected
by the electric shocks, was found highly inflammable.
Dr Priestley likewise passed an electrical current, consist¬
ing of slight shocks continued for about an hour, through an
inch of carbonic acid gas confined in a glass tube one-tenth
of an inch in diameter, when, upon admitting the water, one-
fourth part only was absorbed. In a similar manner Dr
Priestley succeeded in decomposing carburetted hydrogen,
the charcoal being deposited in a pulverulent form on the
interior of the tube. When a succession of electric sparks
from a moderate-sized conductor during the space of five
minutes had failed in effecting this decomposition, he found
that two shocks of a jar, each of which might be produced
in less than a quarter of a minute with the same machine in
the same state, were sufficient to cover the whole of the
inside of the tube with the black carbonaceous matter. Dr
Priestley remarked in these experiments that no shock, how¬
ever powerful, would decompose the gas, if the quantity
operated upon were great.
The power of electricity as a chemical agent was studied
with peculiar success by the Honourable Mr Cavendish. In
the year 1781 he fired 500,000 measures of hydrogen with
about two and a half times that quantity of atmospheric air,
and having by this means obtained a hundred and thirty-five
grains of pure water, he was led to the conclusion, previously
indicated by Mr Watt, that water was composed of two gases,
viz., oxygen and hydrogen. In pursuing these inquiries Mr
Cavendish made use of the apparatus shown in fig. 6 of Plate
CCXXVI. The air to be examined was confined in a bent
glass tube A, filled with mercury, and having its ends im¬
mersed each in a vessel of the same fluid. The air to be elec -
tiified|Was introduced by a piece of glass tube ABC, fig. 7.
In older to use this apparatus, the tube ABC being filled
with mercury, is introduced as in fig, 7, with its bent extre¬
mity uppermost, into the vessel containing the gas, and stand¬
ing in the pneumatic trough. In this part of the process the
orifice at C is stopped by a finger, by withdrawing which a
little mercury will descend through C, and an equal volume
of the gas will enter at the end A. When the gas has been
admitted in sufficient quantity into the tube ABC, it is with¬
drawn and reversed, the end C, which is placed uppermost,
remaining carefully closed. The extremity A, which fits the
end of the tube in fig. 6, is introduced beneath the mercury
in either of the glasses, and by withdrawing the finger from
the upper end C of the transferring tube, the mercury will
descend, and the gas will be forced into the tube A, fig. 6.
The orifice of the transferring tube should not be greater
than that of a common thermometer tube.
In order to introduce portions of air successively during
the same experiment, Mr Cavendish used a tube AB of
a small bore (see fig. 8), a bulb C, and a tube D E, having Fig. 8.
a bore larger than that of AB. This apparatus having been
first filled with mercury, the bulb C and tube AB are filled
with the gas, by introducing the end A beneath the inverted
jar, upon the shelf of the pneumatic trough, and then draw¬
ing the mercury from the leg D by means of a syphon.
The aperture A being closed, the apparatus is weighed.
The extremity A, fig. 8, is then fitted into the end of the
tube A, fig. 6. When it is required to force air out of this
apparatus into the tube, a wooden cylinder with a tight fitting
is thrust down into the tube ED, an additional quantity of
mercury being occasionally poured in at E to supply the place
of what is forced into the bulb C. When the experiment
is completed the apparatus is again weighed. The increase
of weight is due to the mercury introduced, and its volume
is equal to that of the air transferred to the tube A, fig. 6.
The bore of the tube A was generally one-tenth of an inch
in diameter, and the aerial column in the bend of the tube
from one-half to three-fourths of an inch.
In transmitting the electric spark through this tube, Mr
Cavendish, instead of making one end of it communicate
with a conductor, placed an insulated ball at such a distance
from the conductor as to receive a spark from it, and made
a communication between that ball and the mercury in one
of the glasses, the mercury in the other glass communicating
freely with the ground.
In transmitting the electric spark through common air in
contact with a blue aqueous solution of litmus, a red tint
was produced in the solution. When lime-water was in¬
closed in the tube instead of litmus, and sparks transmitted
till there was no further diminution, in the volume of the
included air, no cloudiness appeared in the lime-water, and
the diminution of volume, amounting to one-third of the
original bulk of the air, exceeded the diminution from de¬
oxidation alone, which would have been only one-fifth.
When this experiment was repeated with some impure
oxygen gas, a considerable diminution of volume was pro¬
duced, but there wTas no cloudiness in the lime-water, and
none could be perceived by adding to it a little carbonic acid
gas ; a small portion of caustic ammonia, however, produced
a brown precipitate. Hence it is obvious that the lime-water
was saturated with some acid formed in the process.
Having inclosed in the tube some of the same impure
oxygen in contact with soap leys, the diminution of volume
proceeded faster than with the lime-water, the greater
strength of the alkaline lixivium acting as a more powerful
absorbent of the acid which was generated.
When pure oxygen or pure azote was used, no absorption
took place; but when five volumes of pure oxygen were
mixed with three of common air, the absorption was almost
total; and as common air contains about one part of oxygen
and four of azote, the mixture of five parts of oxygen and
three of common air was equivalent to seven parts of oxygen
and three of azote.
Mr Cavendish now supplied the interior of the tube with
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Experi¬
ments of
Mr Caven¬
dish.
ELECTRICITY.
595
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Nitric acid
formed.
Apparatus
and expe¬
riments of
Van Ma-
rum, and
others.
a little alkaline ley, and having introduced a mixture of
seven parts of oxygen and three of azote, he transmitted a
current of electric sparks, admitting fresh gas as the volume
of air diminished. When the diminution ceased, a little
pure oxygen, and afterwards a little common air, were
added, in order to see if the absorption ceased from any
want of a proper proportion in the two elements. As this
was not the case, the soap leys were separated from the
mercury, and were found to have become perfectly neutral,
from their having no effect on the colour of litmus. When
die leys were evaporated a dry nitrate of potash was ob¬
tained. By repeating this experiment on a more extended
scale, Mr Cavendish demonstrated that the soap leys had
been converted into a solution of nitre, and therefore esta¬
blished the great truth that nitric acid had been formed
during the process, and that nitric acid is a compound of
oxygen and azote.
By means of the great Teylerian electrical machine at
Haerlem, Van Marum, Van Troostwyk, &c., made many
experiments on the chemical agency of electricity. The
apparatus which they used, shown in Plate CCXXVI. fig. 9,
consists of a tube of glass D E, twelve inches long and a
quarter of an inch in diameter, hermetically sealed, and
having a gold or platina wire D<i an inch and a half long
fixed at D. Another platina wire Ee was carried up from
the open end of the tube E to e, within one eighth of an
inch of the end d of the upper wire. The tube D E hav¬
ing been filled with distilled water, the open end of it E
was immersed in a vessel V containing quicksilver, and the
upper end D of the wire T)d was brought into contact with
the insulated brass ball C, placed at a little distance from
AB, the prime conductor of the electrical machine. The
lower wire Ee, immersed in quicksilver, communicated with
a chain VG connected with the outer coating of a Leyden
jar containing about a hundred and forty-four square inches
of coated glass, and having its ball M in contact with the
prime conductor AB. When the electrical discharges were
sent through the distilled water, the gas was disengaged as
long as the ball C was in contact with the conductor; but
upon increasing its distance, a position was found where the
gas was disengaged, and ascended to the top of the tube.
The evolution of the gas continued till it reached nearly
the lower extremity of the upper wire, and then a discharge
caused the whole gas to disappear, its place being supplied
by water. With this apparatus the Dutch philosophers
made the following experiments.
Oxygen gas from red precipitate had its original volume
diminished one twentieth, and the properties of what re¬
mained were not changed.
Nitrous gas had its volume diminished to less than one
half. There were no red fumes when it was mixed with
atmospheric air, neither was there any condensation. It
would not support combustion, and it lost its usual smell.
A kind of powder covered the surface of the mercury, con¬
sisting of a new combination formed from the mercury.
Hydrogen gas, obtained from sulphuric acid and iron,
suffered no diminution. Owing probably to some admix¬
ture of common air, it gave a slight redness to tincture of
turn sol.
Olefiant gas from sulphuric acid and alcohol had its
original volume tripled, and in some degree lost its inflam¬
mability.
Sulphurous acid gas, from sulphuric acid and charcoal,
had only one eighth of its volume absorbed by water. Black
spots were formed on the inside ot the glass receiver. It
had little smell, and extinguished a candle.
Muriatic acid gas experienced a considerable diminution
of volume, but the remainder was readily absorbed by water.
The electric sparks would not pass through more than twro
inches and a quarter of this gas.
Carbonic acid gas from sulphuric acid and chalk had its
volume increased a little, and was made less absorbable by Phenome-
water. na and
Ammoniacal gas had its volume at first almost doubled, Ijaws-
and then experienced a slight diminution. It became in-
capable of being absorbed by water, and exploded by the Apparatus
contact of flame. a.nc* exPe"
Fluoric acid gas experienced no perceptible change. v^n Ma”
Atmospheric air gave a slight redness to tincture of turn- rum) an(i
sol, and at the same time became sensibly deoxygenated. others.
The diminution of volume was ^ths, the mean of three
experiments; and of the same air not electrified -jiff ths, the
mean of three experiments.
The Dutch philosophers made many other experiments
which we have not space to describe, and in 1789 they
succeeded in repeating the experiment of Cavendish on the
decomposition of water.
Hitherto a powerful apparatus was deemed necessary for Dr Wol-
effecting the decomposition of water, and a succession of laston’s ex¬
discharges from a coated surface was deemed indispensable, pertinents
Dr Wollaston, however, considering that the decomposition
must depend upon a proper proportion between the quantity r
of water and the decomposing force, conceived the idea of
reducing the surface of communication between the air and
the metal which conveyed the electricity.
“ Having procured,” says he, “ a small ware of fine gold,
and given it as fine a point as I could, I inserted it into a
capillary glass tube; and after heating the tube so as to
make it adhere to the point, and cover it in every part, I
gradually ground it down till, with a pocket lens, I could
discern that the point of the gold was exposed.
“ The success of this method exceeded my expectations.
I coated several wires in the same manner, and found that
when sparks from the conductors before mentioned were
made to pass through w^ater by means cff a point so guarded,
a spark passing to the distance of one eighth of an inch
would decompose water when the point exposed did not
exceed one seven hundredth of an inch in diameter. With
another point, which I estimated at a succession
of sparks one twentieth of an inch in length afforded a cur¬
rent of small bubbles of air.
“ I have since found that the same apparatus will decom¬
pose water with a wire one fortieth of an inch diameter,
coated in the manner before described, if the spark from
the prime conductor passes to the distance of four tenths
of an inch of air.
“ In order to try how far the strength of the electric spark
might be reduced by proportional diminution of the extre¬
mity of the wire, I passed a solution of gold through a
capillary tube, and, by heating the tube, expelled the acid.
There remained a thin film of gold lining the inner surface
of the tube, which, by melting the tube, was converted in¬
to a verv fine thread of gold through the substance of the
glass.
“When the extremity of this thread was made the
medium of communication through water, I found that the
mere current of electricity would occasion a stieam of very
small bubbles to rise from the extremity of the gold, al¬
though the wire by which it communicated with the posi¬
tive or negative conductor was placed in absolute contact
with them. Hence it appears that decomposition of water
may take place by common electricity as well as by the
electric pile, although no discernible sparks are produced.
The appearance of two currents of air may also be imitated,
by occasioning the electricity to pass by fine points of com¬
munication on both sides of the water; but in fact the re¬
semblance is not complete, for in every way in which I
have tried it, I observed that each wire gave both oxygen
and hydrogen gas, instead of their being formed separately,
as by the electric pile.
“ I am inclined to attribute the difference in this respect
to the greater intensity with which it is necessary to employ
596
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Dr Wol¬
laston’s ex¬
periments
and appa¬
ratus.
Observa¬
tions of Dr
Faraday.
Dr Fara¬
day’s appa¬
ratus and
experi¬
ments.
Plate
CCXXVII.
fig. 3.
Fig, 4.
ELECTRICITY.
common electricity ; for, that positive and negative electri¬
city so created have each the same chemical power as they
are observed to have in the electric pile, may be ascertained
by other means.”
The preceding experiment, which is only an elegant re¬
petition of one formerly made by Dr Pearson and the Dutch
philosophers, has excited much attention, and cannot be re¬
garded as any proof of the identity of ordinary and voltaic
electricity ; Dr Faraday justly remarks that it should never
be quoted as establishing true electro-chemical decomposi¬
tion, because the law which regulates the transference and
final place of the evolved bodies has no influence here. The
water is decomposed at the two poles by an independent
action, and the oxygen and hydrogen evolved are the ele¬
ments of the water existing at the wires the instant before.
The substitution of the finger for one of the points will not
interfere with the action of the other. But although Dr
Wollaston did not decompose water in any way analogous
to that of the pile, yet Dr Faraday seems to have succeeded
in doing it by the same apparatus ; but when he considered
that he had obtained the true effect, the gas evolved was
so small in quantity that he could not ascertain whether or
not oxygen was emitted at the one wire and hydrogen at
the other, as ought to have been the case.
The inability of Dr Wollaston’s apparatus to exhibit in
an unquestionable manner true electro-chemical decompo¬
sition being thus obvious, Dr Faraday devised the following
ingenious arrangement for effecting chemical decomposition
by ordinary electricity, and by means of it he effected true
electro-chemical decompositions, perfectly identical with
those produced by voltaic electricity. The plate machine
which he used had its glass disc fifty inches in diameter. It
had two sets of rubbers. The prime conductor consisted
of two brass cylinders, connected by a third, the whole
length being twelve feet, and the surface in contact with
air was 1422 inches. When well excited, one revolution
of the plate gives ten or twelve sparks, each an inch long;
and sparks or flashes from ten to fourteen inches long may
easily be drawn from the conductors. When moderately
worked, each turn of the machine is made in four fifths of
a second. The electric battery consists of fifteen equal jars,
each twenty-three inches in circumference, and coated eight
inches upward from the bottom, so as to contain 184 inches
of glass each, coated on both sides, independent of the bot¬
toms, which are thicker glass, and contain each about fifty
square inches.
In order to carry off instantaneously electricity of the
feeblest tension, Dr Faraday formed what he calls a dis-
charging train. This discharging train consisted in con¬
necting a sufficiently thick wire metallically, first with the
metallic gas pipes of the house, then with the metal pipes
of the public gas works of London, and lastly with the me¬
tallic water-pipes of London. This arrangement was so
effectual that the electricity even of a single voltaic trough
was instantly carried off; and this was essential to the suc¬
cess of many of his experiments.
The arrangement for applying the apparatus now described
to chemical decomposition is shown in Plate CCXXVII.
fig. 3. Two pieces of tinfoil a, b are placed upon a glass
plate raised above a piece of white paper to prevent the in¬
terference of shadows. One of these pieces a, is connected
by an insulated wire c, or by a wire and wet string, with
the electric machine, and the other piece b, by a wire g,
with the discharging train or the negative conductor. Two
pieces of fine platina wire must then be provided, bent as in
fig. 4, so that the part d shall be nearly upright, whilst the
whole rests on the three points e,f, p. By this means we can
obtain atpleasure surfacesof contactas minute as possible; the
connection can be discontinued or removed in a moment, and
the substances which are acted upon can be readily examined.
Y\ ith this apparatus Dr f araday obtained the following results.
1. Having made a coarse line on the glass plate with a Fhenome-
solution of sulphate of copper, the ends p and n of the pla- naand
tina wires were put into it, the foil a being connected by Daws,
a wire and wet string with the positive conductor of the
machine, so that, no sparks passed. After twenty turns of Dr Fara-
the machine there was so much copper precipitated on the day’s appa-
end p that it looked like copper wire, no apparent change ratus .and
having taken place at n.
2. A large drop of a mixture of equal parts of muriatic
acid and water coloured a deep blue by sulphate of indigo
was placed on the glass, so that the ends p and n were
plunged in opposite sides of it; one turn of the machine
evolved sufficient chlorine to exhibit bleaching effects round
p. Ttventy revolutions produced no effect at n, but there
was so much chlorine got free at p, that when the drop was
stirred the whole became colourless.
3. Having mingled a solution of iodide of potassium with
starch, the ends p and n were immersed in a drop of it as
before ; on turning the machine, iodine was evolved at p,
but not at n.
Dr Faraday improved his apparatus still further by wet¬
ting a piece of filtering paper in the solution to be examined,
and placing it on the glass beneath the points p, n. The
paper will retain the substance evolved at the point of evo¬
lution ; its whiteness will redder visible the least change of
colour, and will allow the point of contact between it and
the wires p, n to be contracted to the utmost degree. Dr
Faraday found a piece of paper moistened in the solution
of iodide of potassium and starch, or of the iodide alone, to
be with certain precautions a most admirable test of electro¬
chemical action ; and when it is placed and acted upon in
the manner already described, it will exhibit the evolution
of iodine at p by half a turn only of the machine. He
found, indeed, that with these adjustments, and the use of
iodide of potassium on paper, chemical action is sometimes
a more delicate test of electrical currents than the most
delicate galvanometer.
A piece of litmus paper wetted in a solution of muriate
or sulphate of soda was quickly reddened at p, and a simi¬
lar piece wetted in muriatic acid was soon bleached at p, no
similar effects taking place at n.
A piece of turmeric paper wetted in a solution of sul¬
phate of soda was reddened at n by two or three turns of
the machine, and by twenty or thirty turns abundance of
alkali was evolved at the same place. By turning the paper
round so that the spot came under p, and working the ma¬
chine, the alkali soon disappeared, the place became yel¬
low, and a brown alkaline spot appeared in the new part
under n.
Dr Faraday next combined a piece of turmeric paper with
a piece of litmus, wetting both with a solution of sulphate
of soda. The paper was placed so that p was on the litmus
and n on the turmeric paper. By a few turns of the ma¬
chine, acid was evolved at p and alkali at n, as in galvanic
decomposition. These various decompositions were equally
effected whether the electricity passed to the foil a from the
machine through water or wire only, by contact with the
conductor, or by sparks there, provided the sparks were not
so large as to cause the electricity to pass in sparks from p
to n, or towards n.
Dr Faraday’s final experiment deserves peculiar notice,
as affording a case in which there is the most perfect ana¬
logy between the effects of ordinary and voltaic electricity.
Three compound pieces of litmus and turmeric paper, when
wetted by a solution of sulphate of soda, were disposed on
a plate of glass as shown in fig. 5. The wire m was con- Plate
nected with the prime conductor, t with the discharging CCXXVII.
train, and the wires r and s connected the moistened pieces fig- 5.
of paper, each wire resting on three points, one of the points,
at r and s, being on the glass, and the others on the papers,
the ends p, p, p resting on the litmus and n, n, n on the tur-
ELECTRICITY. 597
phenome- meric paper. When the machine had been worked for a
na and short time, acid was evolved at all the poles p, p, p, by which
Laws. t]ie electricity entered the solution ; and alkali at the other
poles n, n, n, by which the electricity left the solution.
The precaution above referred to, in using the iodide of
potassium as a test of electro-chemical action, is 'hat no
sparks should be passed in any part of the current, and no
increase of intensity allowed by which the electricity may be
induced to pass between the platina wires and the moistened
papers, otherwise than by conduction ; for if the electricity
burst through the air, a different effect is produced. The
litmus paper is in this case reddened by the spark, and
iodine will be evolved from paper moistened by iodide of
potassium. This effect is owing to the formation of nitric
acid by the oxygen and nitrogen of the air. Tin acid thus
formed reddens the litmus paper, or prevents the exhibition
of alkali in the turmeric paper, or evolves iodine from the
iodide of potassium. We have thus a simple and elegant
method of illustrating Mr Cavendish’s experiment of form¬
ing nitric acid from the atmosphere.
M. Bon- M. Bonjol of Geneva was among the first who decom-
jol’s expe- p0sed water by common electricity. The electricity was
nments. 0btained from an insulated lightning rod ; and the decom¬
position is said to have proceeded continuously and rapidly
even when the electricity of the atmosphere was by no
means powerful. M. Bonjol also decomposed potash
and chloride of silver, by passing the sparks of an ordi¬
nary machine through these substances placed in narrow
tubes. Dr Faraday justly regards these as not cases of
true electro-chemical decomposition, but as analogous to that
of Dr Wollaston’s apparatus, arising either from a very high
temperature acting upon minute portions of matter, or per¬
haps connected with the results produced in air by the pas¬
sage of the spark.
Expert- One of the most remarkable decompositions, however,
ments of which has been obtained previous to Dr Faraday s experi-
Ur Barry, ments, is that of the late Dr Barry. This experiment is
given as a proof of the chemical action of atmospheric elec¬
tricity ; but, as Dr Faraday has shown, it possesses a much
greater interest if confirmed. The following is his own ac¬
count of it:—u In August 1824 I elevated the kite in an at¬
mosphere favourable to the exhibition of its phenomena. It
was raised from an apparatus firmly fixed in the earth, and
was insulated by a glass pillar. 1 he usual shocks were felt
on touching the string, which simple fact I am induced^ to
mention from the circumstance ot no electrometer having
been employed. The portion of string let out, with a
double gilt thread passed through it, was about 500 yards.
Plate I then made the connection shown in fig. 6, where the
COXXVII. straight glass tubes, A, B, having platina wires passed from
^ above half down their axes, and standing in their respective
glass cups C, D, were filled with a solution of sulphate of
soda coloured with syrup of violets connected also with each
other by the bent glass tube E, likewise filled with the
above solution in the usual manner. A portion ot gilt
thread d was then brought from the tube at A, and united
to the kite-string K, whilst a similar thread b was carnet
from B to the earth. Bubbles of hydrogen in A, and ot
oxygen in B, soon appeared. In about ten minutes the
blue liquid in A became green from the separation of the
soda, whilst the sulphuric acid, by passing to the pole in the
tube B, changed its contents, as usual, red.
Dr Fara- The effect now described as produced by atmospheric
day’s Ob- electricity was never produced by common electricity. Dr
servations Wollaston and other philosophers could not obtain the gases
°n them- in separate vessels, and Dr Faraday kept his powerful ma¬
chine in action for a quarter of an hour, during whic i i
revolutions were made, without producing any sensi e
effect, although the shocks that it could then have given
must have been more numerous and powerful than could Phenome-
have been taken with any chance of safety from the kite- na and
string of Mr Barry. Dr Faraday thinks “ it just possible v aws't
that the air which was passing by the kite and string, being
in an electrical state sufficient to produce the ‘ usual shocks’
only, could still, when the electricity was drawn off below,
renew the charge, and so continue the current. The string
was 1500 feet long, and contained two double threads; but
when the enormous quantity which must have been thus
collected is considered, the explanation seems very doubt¬
ful.” Dr Faraday therefore considers Mr Barry’s experi¬
ment as a very important one to repeat and verify; and he
remarks, that if it is confirmed, it will be the first recorded
case of the true electro-chemical decomposition of water by
common electricity, and will supply a form of electrical cur¬
rent which is exactly intermediate, both in point of quantity
and intensity, between those of the common electrical ma¬
chine and the voltaic pile.
The effects of electricity on mixed and compound gases Effects of
have been given by Mr Singer in his work on electricity, electricity
These effects are regarded by Mr Singer as mechanical, on gases,
and as arising from the momentary agitation into which the
various media are thrown by the action of the spark, which
tends to promote a new arrangement of parts. This theory,
of which Mr Singer himself not only saw but has stated the
difficulties, cannot now be maintained with any show of
reason ; and there can be no doubt that the effects in ques¬
tion arise from a molecular polarity related to the two poles
of the electric circuit, or to the two kinds of electricity
which exist in nature.
It has been asserted, but not from any extensive series influence
of accurate experiments, that putrefaction and fermentation 0f electri-
are promoted by electricity. M. A chard of Berlin, con-city on pu-
sidering that, in animals killed by lightning, the process oftrefaction
putrefaction advances with great rapidity, cut a piece of beef
into three parts, and electrified one piece positively for ten
hours, another negatively during the same time, while the
third was not electrified at all. On the fourth day the elec¬
trified pieces had an intolerably fetid smell, while the un¬
electrified piece had only begun to smell a little. I he same
result was obtained with a piece of boiled veal. M. Achard
also killed several birds by electrical shocks, and having
killed others by sticking a needle through their heads, he
placed them all under similar circumstances. Ihe birds
killed by electricity became putrid much sooner than the
rest. The influence of electricity on fermentation was studied and fer-
also by M. Achard. A handful of rye brought into a state mentation,
offermentation for the purpose of being distilled, was sepa¬
rated into two portions, one of which was electrified and the
other not. Five hours afterwards the vinous fermentation
had ceased in the electrified portion, but did not cease in
the other portion till after the lapse of eight hours.
The influence of electricity upon colours is a subject of influence
peculiar interest, and cannot fail to prove a rich field of dis- of electri-
covery to those who may enter upon it with ardour. That city on
electricity does alter the colour of particular bodies is un¬
doubted ; but whether it produces a real chemical change
on these bodies, or merely a transient change in their power
of absorbing specific rays of the spectrum, remains to be
determined. The few experiments made by Cavallo are
extremely vague. He found that vermilion, carmine,
verdigris, white and red lead, had their colour altered by
the electric shock; and that the colours of orpiment,
gamboge, sage-green, red ink, ultramarine, Prussian blue,
and of"a few other compounds, were not altered. The
eye, however, is no judge of a real change of colour. It
can judge only of the general result of the change, without
indicating the nature of the change or changes that have
taken place. A body, too, which may have lost or gained
1 Phil. Trans. 1831. Part I., pp. 165, 166.
598
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Influence
of electri¬
city on
phospho¬
rescence.
Experi¬
ments of
Lessaignes.
V
ELECTRICITY.
the power of absorbing definite rays of the spectrum, may
often appear to have suffered no change at all, provided that
the sum of the changes is a colour similar to the original
colour of the body.
In producing these effects, namely, putrefaction, fermen¬
tation, and change of colour, the electric fluid may act, not
by any virtue of its own, but by the intermedium of those
ponderable substances which the spark carries along with it,
and consequently leaves in bodies.
Sect. III.— On the Changes produced by Electricity on
Phosphorescent Bodies.
Although the phenomena of phosphorescence have been
lately much studied, yet philosophers are very little ac¬
quainted with its cause, whether it is developed by the light
of the sun, the action of heat, or the transmission of elec¬
tricity.
Almost all bodies may be rendered luminous during the
transmission of an electric discharge through their substance;
but unless this luminosity continues after the discharge is
over, the body cannot be said to have been rendered phos¬
phorescent by electricity. In his numerous experiments on
this subject, Mr Skrimshire invariably kept his eyes closed
tifl the sound of the discharge had been heard, and therefore
the light which he then saw was not the light of the electric
spark, modified by its transmission through the body, but
was a real phosphorescence, which continued after the ori¬
ginal cause of it was withdrawn.
The substances which he submitted to examination, in¬
cluding minerals of all classes, were placed on a horizontal
brass plate, fixed to the ball of the prime conductor, and he
then tried to obtain a spark from the body by means of a
common discharger. The body was next placed upon a
table, and the charge of a Leyden phial passed over it, at
the distance of about a quarter or half an inch above its sur¬
face ; and, as a last trial, the charge of the jar was made to
traverse its surface by resting the points of the discharging
rod at an inch or more distant from each other, upon the
specimens under examination.
As many bodies possess the property of becoming phos¬
phorescent by heat, the phosphorescence produced in the
preceding experiments may in general be ascribed to the
heat which accompanies an electrical discharge. But al¬
though the heat thus produced may be either the sole or an
auxiliary cause of the phosphorescence which is excited in
bodies which are known to be phosphorescent by common
heat, yet it is obvious from other experiments, that electri¬
city exercises a specific influence upon that peculiar struc¬
ture or condition of bodies which causes them to give out
light when heated.
M. Dessaignes seems to have been the first person who
established a relation between electricity and phosphores¬
cence. He found that the metallic powders, such as those
of zinc and antimony, which are the most phosphorescent,
lose their luminous qualities in a damp state of the atmo¬
sphere. Even in dry weather antimony loses its power of
phosphorescing if it be rubbed in a metallic mortar ; where¬
as, in an insulated mortar the light is very much increased.
Glass pounded in dry weather becomes much more luminous
than when it is pounded in a damp state of the air. It loses
this property entirely in wet linen; but being as it were
self-insulated, it is not deprived of its phosphorescence, like
antimony, by being pounded in a mortar, which is a conduc¬
tor of electricity. In order to make adularia phosphoresce
briskly it must be pounded in an insulating or insulated
mortar, and the handle of the pestle should likewise be in¬
sulated. M. Dessaignes also found that if glass be calcined
till its phosphorescence is diminished, it resumes that pro¬
perty by being exposed on an insulated support, and sub-
iected to a few electrical discharges, or to a current of elec¬
trical matter. Other substances which have lost their phos- Phenome-
phorescence by calcination resume it when electrified; but na and
our author remarked that electricity does not restore the Laws.
phosphorescence of those substances which have been de-
priced of it by the light of the sun.
In pursuing this branch of the subject M. Dessaignes
found that, those phosphorescent substances which' are im¬
perfect conductors of electricity, are susceptible of receiving
the luminous property from the action of the sun’s rays;
that non-conductors will not thus phosphoresce at all, or at
least very imperfectly ; and that most conductors give out no
light whatever. Orpiment, and some of the oxides of arsenic,
tin, zinc, and lead, are exceptions to this remark, and also
the muriate of tin, and the sulphate and phosphate of lead.
Non-conductors, and conductors which refuse to phospho¬
resce after feeble electrical discharges, become luminous after
strong ones ; while imperfect conductors that phosphoresce
after weak electrical discharges give no light whatever when
the discharges are much increased. In support of the ana¬
logy between electricity and phosphorescence, M. Des¬
saignes remarks that phosphorescence is affected by the
presence of points. Fluor spar, which has the asperities
produced by fracture, phosphoresces readily, while the entire
and smooth crystal remains dark. The same is true of cal¬
careous spar, adularia, apatite, emerald, and common salt.
If both sides of the glass be rough, it phosphoresces through¬
out ; but if one side be rough and the other polished, it only
shines when the rough surface receives the heat. It is a
fact still more curious, that when Iceland crystal with smooth
faces is exposed to the solar rays, it acquires very little phos¬
phorescence ; whereas, if but one of the faces is roughened
and exposed to the sun, it readily becomes luminous. In
like manner, arragonite becomes luminous when a fractured
face is exposed to the sun, but acquires very little light when
the smooth natural surface is exposed to it. M. Dessaignes
likewise maintains that nearly all the bodies that are suscep¬
tible of phosphorescence by friction become luminous by
heat, by electricity and by exposure to light. The general
view which our author takes of these phenomena is, that
phosphorescence is produced by a particular fluid, which is
set in motion by light, by heat, by electricity, and by fric¬
tion, and that it is dissipated by overheating or too long ex¬
posure to light.
The influence of electricity upon phosphorescence and Experi-
the colours of certain bodies has been examined by Mr ments of
Pearsall, who has amply confirmed the general result de- Mr !>ear*
duced experimentally by M: Dessaignes, that bodies which sa
have lost their phosphorescent property by calcination ac¬
quire it again when an electrical discharge is passed through
them. Having submitted a piece of chlorophane to a power¬
ful heat, it gave out a strong phosphorescent light of a pale
violet colour ; but the specimen decrepitated so much dur¬
ing its calcination that a piece of sufficient size to be elec¬
trified could not be preserved. He therefore placed the
calcined fragments in a glass tube, and sent through them
three electrical discharges, the effect of which was the emis¬
sion of a deep violet light. He then heated the fragments
upon platinum, and they emitted a phosphoric light of differ¬
ent colours. Some of the fragments appeared green, others
yellow, and all of them finished by emitting a deep violet
light. These colours are evidently distinct from those of
the natural mineral, for a portion of the latter heated at the
same time produced only a feeble violet colour. Another
portion of the same specimen, calcined but not electrified,
emitted no light when heated.
A specimen of chlorophane, whose phosphorescence had
been destroyed by an intense heat, was exposed to the solar
rays for two days without any of its phosphorescent quality
being restored. A single electrical discharge, however,
restored its phosphorescence, which increased in the ratio
of the number and the intensity of the shocks it received.
ELECTRICITY.
599
Experi¬
ments of
Mr Pear¬
sall.
The green light emitted by the action of heat was more
deep and of longer continuance after three, six, or even
twelve discharges, than after one. Mr Pearsall obtained
the same results with apatite and some diamonds ; but elec¬
tricity produced no effect in developing phosphorescence by
heat in amethyst, sapphire, ruby, garnets, and other mineral
substances which he tried.
In the course of his experiments Mr Pearsall observed
the curious fact, that the specimens of fluor spar, though
colourless in their natural state, received a bluish tint when
electrified, and the acquired phosphorescence was propor¬
tional to the depth of the tint. When a number of frag¬
ments were used, the larger fragments were of a blue co¬
lour, and emitted a blue light when heated, whereas the
smaller fragments emitted only a pale yellow light. Mr
Pearsall thinks it probable that the phosphorescent property
is communicated by electricity only to the surface, which
he considers as explaining the fact that fragments of differ¬
ent dimensions emit differently coloured lights.
In resuming the investigation of this subject, Mr Pearsall
found, that bodies not naturally phosphorescent, such as
statuary marble in its natural or calcined state, ivory when
its carbonaceous part was removed, calcined mother of
pearl, calcined oyster shells, calcined petuncles, egg shells,
and lime, were not only rendered phosphorescent by heat
after being strongly electrified, but acquired this property
with a beauty, a variety, and an intensity of colour superior
to those which occur in specimens that possess a natural
phosphorescence. We regret that our limits will not per¬
mit us to give in detail a second series of experiments which
Mr Pearsall performed with twelve different varieties of
fluor spar, all of which gave distinct phosphorescence pre¬
vious to their being electrified; but the general result of
them may be thus expressed. When the natural spars emit
by heat a light of different colours, the electric action pro¬
duces only one of them ; but when the mineral yields only
one natural colour by heat, this is replaced, when electri¬
city is applied, by a phosphorescence of various colours,
among which the primitive tint does not appear. As the
colours change with the number of electrical discharges,
Mr Pearsall found the following to be the order of progres¬
sion. The specimen was a green fluor.
1 discharge, pale purple light when heated.
2   pale green, changing into purple.
3   the same colours, more intense and durable.
4   purple, with increased intensity.
6   green, brighter and deeper.
10   green bright: fine and more durable purple.
20   deep and more durable colours.
40   very rich colours, the purple at last inclining to
red.
100   green colour, highly brilliant, and becoming yel¬
lowish. The purple had now a superb tint.
160   an intense light nearly white, followed with a bril¬
liant green light, then with a durable purple, and
then with a yellow accompanied with violet
tints.
This specimen had been successively heated and electri¬
fied nearly fifteen times, and had suffered no deterioration
in its phosphorescent property.
Mr Pearsall next shows that the property communicated
by electricity was preserved even for three months, when
the specimen was kept in the dark. Out of twelve frag¬
ments, two had completely lost their acquired phosphores¬
cence by exposure to the sun for twenty-one days, five had
nearly lost it, and six had experienced a modification in
their colours by this exposure.
Mr Pearsall now examined the influence of electricity on
the natural phosphorescence of bodies, and he found that an
augmentation of intensity was produced, of which it is diffi¬
cult to give an idea. Specimens of fluor whose pyro-phos-
phorescence was feeble or uncertain, were raised to the rank
of highly phosphorescent bodies, and some of them even
rivalled the Siberian fluor. At the end of fifty days some Phenome-
of these specimens still preserved the excess of phosphores- "a and
cence which had been communicated to them, while others a"s‘
continued to exhibit the same order of colours.
Mr Pearsall has brought forward several experiments to Experi'^
prove that the phosphorescence of bodies, and the modifi- yj^pgar-
cations it experiences, depend on their structure and media- saip
nical condition. Phosphate of lime, for example, which in
the form of apatite has an intense natural phosphorescence,
has none when aggregated from a precipitation of it in a
solution of muriatic acid, nor when obtained from powdered
or calcined apatite. A calculus of phosphate of lime, how¬
ever, gave green, yellow, and orange light when heated after
having been calcined and exposed to twenty electrical dis¬
charges. Mr Pearsall also several times observed that the
power of phosphorescence returned after it had disappeared.
With the view of showing that the phosphorescence was
not owing to any radiating matter which was carried along
with the sparks, Mr Pearsall inclosed coloured chlorophane
in glass tubes hermetically sealed, and found them phospho¬
rescent after 225 discharges. He found voltaic electricity
capable of producing phosphorescence in some cases and
not in others; so that it differs greatly from commcm elec¬
tricity in this property.
In explaining the preceding phenomena, Mr Pearsall
considers the intense electricity of the Leyden jar as alter¬
ing the structure upon which phorphorescence depends, by
the vibratory motion which it communicates, and which al¬
lows the particles to take a new arrangement. When the
body has had a new structure communicated to it by the
vibrations or shocks of each electrical discharge, the action
of heat is supposed by our author to permit the body to
return to its primitive structure ; and he conceives that the
vibrations of the atoms during these changes of structure
may produce light.
Sect. IV.—On the Changes produced by Electricity on
Odoriferous Bodies.
It was discovered by M. Libri of Florence that electri- influence
city exercises a curious influence over odoriferous bodies, on odori-
Having caused a continued current of electricity to tra- Jrous bo‘
verse a piece of camphor, the odour of this substance be¬
came more and more feeble, and at last entirely disap¬
peared. When the camphor has suffered this change,
and is withdrawn from all electrical influence, and put in
communication with the ground, it will remain without
odour for some time, but it will afterwards resume its for¬
mer properties slowly and gradually. M. Libri seems to
have obtained a similar result with other odoriferous bodies ;
but he has not, so far as we know, given any more particu¬
lar account of his researches.
Sect. Y.—On the Magnetic Effects of Electricity.
During almost every period of the history of electricity, Magnetic
philosophers have pointed out strong resemblances between effects of
the phenomena which it exhibits and those of magnetism. e ec c 7
Some of the most striking points of resemblance were, that
each consisted, as it were, of two powers or directions of
powers, of an opposite nature, and subjected to similar laws
of attraction and repulsion; that the action of magnetism
has a great analogy with that of electricity ; that the distri¬
bution of the forces in an electrified body differs very little
from that of the forces in a magnet; and that the pyro-
electrical tourmaline has the strongest resemblance to an
artificial magnet.
These views were powerfully confirmed by the fact, often
observed, that magnetism was communicated to bodies by
a stroke of lightning, and that the compass needles of ships
have had their polarity changed by a similar cause. I he
600
ELECTRICITY.
Effects of
lightning
on compass
needles.
Experi¬
ments of
Franklin.
ship Dover was struck by lightning in the Atlantic on the
9th January 1749; and in four compasses on board, one of
which was in a brass box, and the other three in wooden
boxes, all the needles had lost their virtue. At first their
polarity seemed to have been nearly reversed, but after a
little while they moved about in every direction, and were
of no use. Mr Gowin Knight, having examined one of
these compasses, observed that the outward case was joined
together by pieces of iron wire, sixteen of which were found
in the sides ol the box and ten in the bottom. By apply¬
ing a small needle to each of these wires, Mr Knight found
that they were all strongly magnetical, particularly those
which had joined the sides.
Another very remarkable case occurred on board the
New York Packet, in its voyage from America to Liver¬
pool in 1827; and as a very accurate description of it was
communicated by the Rev. Mr Scoresby to the British As¬
sociation at York in 1831, we shall lay before our readers
his own abstract of it. “ Soon after the commencement of
the voyage, this vessel encountered a severe thunderstorm,
and received a stroke of lightning, which shattered the masts
in several parts, and started some of the exterior planks of
the bends. This was in the morning before day-light. The
weather continuing unsettled, and the air in a highly elec¬
tric state, with water-spouts in various directions around,
the captain, fearing another explosion from the highly
charged atmosphere, put up a lightning conductor which
he had on board. In the afternoon of the same day the
ship was a second time struck, but preserved by the con¬
ductor, though the iron of which it was composed was de¬
stroyed, and fell in melted globules upon the deck. No
lives were lost, though some of the crew received heavy
shocks; whilst one person, an invalid passenger, derived
essential benefit from the electric discharge. Mr Scoresby
had an opportunity of examining the vessel immediately on
her arrival in Liverpool, when, on investigating the con¬
dition of the iron on board, he found almost every article
capable of permanent magnetism, with sensible polarity.
Table-knives and forks were capable of lifting needles or
small nails, and one knife sustained a travelling-trunk key.
Most of the watches on board suffered by the magnetic in¬
fluence, especially those which were under the pillows of
their owners in bed. These were all stopped, and on exa¬
mination were found so highly magnetic that portions of the
steel-work were capable of suspension by each other, in a
chain of three or four pieces. Of one of these pieces (the
cap-spring) Mr Scoresby made a pocket compass, which
was exhibited when his communication to the association
was made, and was observed to be in all respects a delicate
and perfect instrument.”
In enumerating the points of analogy between lightning
and electricity, Dr Franklin remarks that they have both
the power, not merely of reversing the poles of magnets,
but of completely destroying their magnetism. By dis¬
charging four large jars through a common sewing needle,
he communicated to it such a degree of magnetism, that it
placed itself on the plane of the magnetic meridian when
it was made to float on water. If at the time of receiving
the discharge the needle lay east and west, the end at which
the discharge entered pointed north ; but if the needle lay
north and south, the end which lay to the north continued
to point to the north, at whatever end the discharge en¬
tered. He found also that the magnetic intensity deve¬
loped in a needle was a maximum when the needle lay
north and south, and a minimum when it lay east and west,
at the time of receiving the electrical discharge. If the
charge of a large jar or battery is transmitted through a
steel wire perpendicular to the horizon, it will be perma¬
nently magnetized, and the lower end, at the time of the
discharge, will afterwards turn to the north when it is made
to traverse in a horizontal plane. If we now replace the
wire in its vertical position, the end which was formerly the Phenome.
lowest being now the highest, and again transmit the dis- na and
charge, the polarity of the needle will either be completely Laws,
destroyed, or the poles wall be reversed.
It has been found also that the polarity of a natural mag¬
net may be completely destroyed by transmitting through
it the charge of a battery.
In repeating the experiments of Franklin, Beccaria dis- Experi-
covered that lightning always communicates the magnetic ments of
polarity to bodies containing iron, and he observed this Beccaria;
phenomenon even in common bricks that had been struck
by lightning. Guided by the observations which he made
on the polarity of such bodies, he was able to trace the
directions which the lightning had taken in passing through
them.
A series of elaborate experiments were made by Van of Van
Marum, on the magnetic effects of electricity. He em- Marum.
ployed a battery of 135 jars, containing 130 square feet of
coated surface, and he transmitted the powerful charges
which it yielded through watch-spring needles from three
to six inches long, and also through steel bars nine inches
long, between a quarter and half an inch broad, and nearly
a line thick.
In this way he found that when the needle or bar wras
placed horizontally in the plane of the magnetic meridian,
its north end acquired north polarity, and its south end
south polarity, in whatever direction it received the dis¬
charge. When the bars possessed some degree of polarity
before receiving the shock, it was either diminished or re¬
versed after receiving it. When the needle or bar received
the shock in a vertical position, its lower end became the
north pole whether it had been previously magnetic or not.
Generally speaking, the degree of magnetism which was
communicated was as strong in a horizontal as in a vertical
position. When the needle was placed in the magnetic
equator, and received the discharge longitudinally or along
its axis, it received no magnetism whatever; but when the
shock was passed through its width, or at right angles to
its axis, the needle received a considerable degree of mag¬
netism, the end which pointed to the west becoming the
north pole, and that which pointed to the east the south
pole.
W hen the charge was so powerful as to render the needle
hot, no sensible polarity was communicated to it.
Such was the state of our knowledge respecting the con- Discovery
nection between electricity and magnetism, when Professor of electro-
Oersted of Copenhagen, led by theoretical views, esta- magnetism
blished a most interesting relation between these two powers, es’
and laid the foundation of the new science of Electro-mag- ste(j<
netism, or Magneto-electricity. The fundamental fact which
Mr Oersted discovered may be thus expressed.
When a wire conducting electricity is placed parallel to
a magnetic needle properly suspended, the needle will de¬
viate from its original or natural direction. This deviation
follows a regular law.
1. If the needle is above the conducting wire, and the
positive electricity goes from right to left, the north end of
the needle will be moved from the observer.
2. If the needle is below the wire, and the positive elec¬
tricity passes as before, the north end of the needle will be
moved towards the observer.
3. If the needle is in the same horizontal plane with the
wire, and is between the observer and the wire, the north
end of it will be elevated.
4. If the needle is similarly placed on the opposite side,
the north end of it will be depressed. In these two experi¬
ments the needle must be very near the wire.
From these simple facts Mr Oersted concludes, that the
magnetical action of the electrical current has a circular Pjate
motion round the wire which conducts it. This law will be CCXXVI.
understood by inspecting Plate CCXXVI. fig. 10, where, il fig. 10.
I'henome-
na and
Laws.
Pr Colla-
don’s ex¬
periments
with ordi¬
nary elec¬
tricity.
Fig. 11.
Experi¬
ments of
Dr Fara¬
day.
ELECTRICITY.
601
AB is the conducting wire or the direction of the positive
electricity, the circle cd e/will be the plane in which the
magnetical circulation takes place. The small arrows show
the direction of the austral or polar magnetism, the sharp
ends or heads of the arrows indicating the direction in which
the austral magnetism, and consequently the north end of
the needle is repelled, and the boreal or north-polar mag¬
netism is attracted ; while the opposite ends of the arrows
indicate the direction in which the boreal magnetism, and
consequently the south end of the needle is repelled, and
the opposite magnetism attracted.
The preceding discovery was made with the electricity
of the galvanic battery, but it is equally true when a strong
current is obtained from the common electrical machine.
An electric spark sent along a conducting wire passes too
quickly to move the needle, and a current produced by
the electrical machine does not appear to contain a sufficient
quantity of electricity to act upon the needle, or rather to
show its action. If the electrical effect of the current, how¬
ever, is multiplied, its action upon the needle becomes ap¬
parent. In order to do this we must use, as Dr Colladon
first did with success, Schweigger’s multiplier, which is shown
in fig. 11, where ABODE is the wire which conducts the
electrical current, bent several times, and covered with three
folds of silk for the purpose of insulation. The needle NS
is then inclosed within the coils of the wire, and the effect
of the current upon it is obviously quadrupled by the four
coils of the wire which surround it. The coils should be as
near to each other as possible ; and as they can be repeated
a great number of times, the multiplication of the effect is
almost unlimited.. The needle is suspended by a single
fibre of silk, and the sensibility of the instrument may be
increased by using a magnet for the purpose of diminishing
the directive power of the needle. When Dr Colladon
brought the two ends of the wire of this apparatus to the
two conductors of an electrical battery of 4000 square inches,
so as to make the discharge go a little way through the air
before it entered the wire, a current of sufficient strength
and of some duration was obtained, which produced a con¬
siderable deviation in the needle. Dr Colladon also ob¬
tained a deviation of several degrees with this multiplier, by
means of the electrical current obtained from an electrical
machine.
These interesting experiments of M. Colladon have been
amply confirmed and beautifully extended by Dr haraday.
Although MM. Arago, Ampere, and Savary had witnessed
a successful repetition of M. Colladon’s experiments, yet the
conclusions to which they led were doubted by some and
denied by others. Dr Faraday was therefore induced to
repeat them with great care. He employed for this pur¬
pose the electrical machine, battery, and discharging Lain
already described (see page 596).
The galvanometer which he used was sometimes a single
one, consisting of sixteen or eighteen convolutions of copper
wire covered with silk, and sometimes, a double one, con¬
sisting of two independent coils, each containing sixteen
feet of silked copper wire. The glass jar which covered the
galvanometer and supported the needle was coated inside
and outside with tinfoil, the upper part (left uncoated foi the
purpose of examining the motions of the needle) was covered
with a frame of wire-work with numerous sharp projecting
points. When this frame and the two coatings were con¬
nected with the discharging train, an insulated point or ball,
connected with the machine in its most active state, could
be brought within an inch of any part of the galvanometer,
without the inclosed needle being affected by any ordinary
electrical attraction or repulsion.
Dr Faraday expected, by means of the retarding power
of bad conductors, to obtain from ordinary electricity the
powers of voltaic electricity. After the connections were
properly made, a battery charged positively by about forty
VOL. VIII.
turns of the machine was discharged through the galvano- Phenome-
meter, when the needle immediately moved. By repeat- na and
ing this experiment when the needle was vibrating, its vibra-
tions were extended to above forty degrees on each side of
the line of rest: on reversing the galvanometer the needle ExPeri-
was equally well deflected in the opposite direction, the de- r
flections being in the same direction as if a voltaic current
had passed through the galvanometer, the positive surface
of the battery coinciding with the positive end of the vol¬
taic apparatus. Similar effects were obtained by taking the
electrical current directly from the prime conductor, and
dispensing with the battery altogether. When the electri¬
city, too, was passed through an exhausted receiver to imi¬
tate the aurora borealis, and then through the galvanometer
to the earth, it was equally efficacious in deflecting the needle.
From these and other experiments, Dr Faraday concludes
that a current of common electricity, whether transmitted
through rarified air, water, brine, acids, and other imperfect
conductors, or through wire, or by means of points in com¬
mon air, is still able to deflect the needle (the only thing
necessary being to allow time for its action), and is just as
magnetic as a voltaic current.
As it is by the galvanic battery, however, that this sub¬
ject has been studied, we cannot pursue it any farther at
present, and must refer our readers to the articles already
mentioned, in which a full view of this new science will be
given.
Sect. VI.— On the Effects of Electricity upon Animal
Bodies.
The influence of electricity on the human frame, whether influence
it is administered in small quantities so as to excite and sur- of electri-
prise us, or in the more powerful and awful form of a stroke
of lightning, must be well known to the least informed of
our readers.
When any part of the body receives an electric shock, a
disagreeable sensation is felt in the place ; and, according
to Dr Robison, it is sharper when taken from a long wire
than from a large body. When the human frame forms pait
of the electric circuit, or when the charge of a Leyden phial
is made to enter the body at one hand and pass out of it at
the other, a violent concussion or shock is felt along the line
of its passage across the breast and through the arms. I his Theelectn-
electrical shock, and the involuntary motion which aceom-ca
panics it, arises no doubt from the obstructions which an.
imperfect conductor like the human body, composed of
fluids and solids of different conducting powers, presents , to
the free passage of the electric fluid. If the charge is in¬
creased, the patient through whom it passes falls down under
its influence, and suffers a temporary suspension of vital ac¬
tion ; and if it is increased to a still greater degree, it will
produce instantaneous death. 'I his case is frequently exem¬
plified when persons are killed by lightning; and a very
remarkable instance of the laceration of the human body
occurred several years ago which could have arisen only
from an obstruction to the free passage of the fluid. 1 he
case to which we refer presents us with a most singular
variety of action exhibited by the lightning in passing through
animal bodies; and it is so interesting,, and so well de¬
scribed by Mr B. Boddington, the father of the gentleman
who was'struck with the lightning, that we shall present
our readers wdth an abstract of it.. _ „ „ , r
On tbe 13th of April 1832, Mr and Mrs T. F. Bodding-Singular
ton left Tenbury, occupying the hind barouche seat of their effects of
post-chariot, the servants being m the inside. About half lightning,
past three o’clock, with the sun shining, and a serene sky,
they observed a dark cloud to arise in the direction of their
route. Soon after a clap of distant thunder was heard, but
no lightning was seen. A few drops of rain having begun
to fall, Mr Boddington put up an umbrella, and, after giving
it to his wife, he put up another, and when he was in the
4 G
1
602 ELECTRICITY,
Phenome¬
na and
Laws.
Singular
effects of
lightning.
Experi¬
ments of
Van Ma-
rum on
eels.
act of extending the latter, a flash of lightning struck them
both senseless, threw the horses on the ground, and cast the
post-boy to a distance. One of the servants, after recover¬
ing from his alarm, looked out of the window, and saw the
head of Mr Boddington hanging over the seat, and appa¬
rently lifeless. Jumping from the carriage, he raised his
master’s head, and found his clothes on fire, while Mrs Bod¬
dington was standing up tearing off her bonnet and shawls.
She had neither seen the flash nor heard the thunder, but
felt a sense of suffocation, and was putting off her things to
obtain air. She and the servant then proceeded to extin¬
guish the fire, which was still consuming her husband’s
dress. The lightning, passing down through the umbrella,
penetrated through the bonnet into Mrs Boddington’s neck,
and zigzagged along the skin of her neck to the steel busk
of her stays, leaving a painful but not a deep wound, and
affecting the hearing of the left ear. From the lower end
of the busk the lightning pierced through all the garments
down to her thighs, where it made wounds on both; but
the one on the left was so deep and so near the femoral ar¬
tery, that the astonishment is she escaped with her life, the
haemorrhage being very great. None of her clothes were
burnt, notwithstanding their inflammable nature, nor did
any of her wounds present the appearance of burns. Mr
Boddington, after remaining insensible for ten minutes, re¬
vived, and felt a pain all over him. The main force of the
shock passed down the handle of the umbrella to his left
arm, though a portion of it made a hole through the brim
of his hat, and burnt off all the hair that was below it, along
with his eye-brows and eye-lashes. The fragments of the
burnt parts falling into the eyes, deprived him nearly of
sight for two or three days. The electric stream shattered
his left hand, melted his gold shirt-buttons, and tore the
clothes in a most extraordinary manner, forcing parts of
them, with the buttons, to a distance, and inflicting a deep
wound under their position on the wrist. The arm was laid
bare to the elbow, a severe wound was made in his body,
and every article of his dress torn away as if by gunpowder.
It then passed to the iron of the seat, wounding his back,
the whole of which was literally flayed. The horse rode by
the postilion was killed. A very striking difference was ob¬
served in the wounds of Mr and Mrs Boddington. Hers
were fractures of the flesh. His, on the contrary, whether
deep or shallow, were all burns, and had a white and blistered
appearance. No wound was visible on the dead horse, ex¬
cepting an indentation on the head where the fluid entered,
discolouring the spine in its passage.
For the purpose of determining in what manner death
is produced by a powerful electric discharge, Van Marum
sent the electric shock through eels one and a half and
three and a half feet long. The smaller eels were instantly
killed when the shock was sent through their whole body ;
but when the charge was only sent through individual parts,
these parts only lost their irritability, while the rest re¬
tained it. When the shock went through the upper and
fore part of the head of the large eels, the under jaw, as well
as the muscles of the neck and belly, and even the lower
part of the body, preserved their irritability, while the parts
which conveyed the charge had totally lost it. When
smaller shocks were sent through warm-blooded animals,
similar effects were observed ; and hence it has been in¬
ferred that the circulation of the blood cannot take place
when such an effect has been produced, and that the sus¬
pension or destruction of life must arise from this cause.
When the shock does not affect the large arteries the ani¬
mal may recover, provided that the spinal marrow and the
cerebellum are not injured.
Various experiments have been made by Mr Morgan
and others, with the view of ascertaining the influence of Phenome-
electricity on the animal functions. Mr Morgan found that na and
if the diaphragm forms part of the circuit between the in- Laws,
side and outside coating of a jar containing two square feet,
the lungs will make a sudden effort, followed by a loud Experi-
shout. When a small charge is similarly applied, a violentments
fit of laughter is always produced, even on the gravest per- ^0ISan >
sons. A strong charge transmitted through the diaphragm
is frequently accompanied by tears and sighs, and some¬
times by fainting. When a strong charge is sent through
the spine of a person standing, he will frequently either
drop on his knees, or fall prostrate on the floor. A strong
charge having been transmitted accidentally through Mr
Singer’s head, he felt the sensation of a violent but univer¬
sal blow, which was followed by transient indistinctness of
vision and loss of memory, but no permanent injury was
received. When the charge of a battery is sent through
the head of a bird, its optic nerve is always injured or de¬
stroyed ; and when a smarter shock is given to a larger ani¬
mal, a tremor and depression, with a general prostration of
strength, is produced.1
Mr Cavendish observed that the sensible shock depended Mr f*-1-
more on the quantity than on the intensity of the charge, a vendisl1 J
double degree of intensity with only half the quantity in¬
variably producing a less powerful shock. According to
Volta, only a little more electricity is necessary to produce
an equal shock from a larger surface. A surface, for ex¬
ample, 16 times as large required only an elevation of the
electrometer to one-tenth of the number of degrees. Dr of Dr Po-
Robison informs us that the shock obtained from a small blson*
charge given to a large surface, yields a less unpleasant
shock than a large charge given to a small surface. As
these observations, however, depend upon individual feeling,
and as it is known that different persons are affected in very
different ways with the same degree of electricity, they may
not be generally correct.
The influence of electricity on the pulse has been ex- Effects of
amined by different authors, though with some variety ofelectriclty
result. M. Trembley found that the arterial pulse wason the
quickened in persons electrified. M. Boze was of the1
same opinion ; but the Abbe Nollet could not discover any
increase in the rapidity of the circulation of various animals
which he electrified. Cavallo, on the contrary, informs us
that an experienced medical electrician assured him that,
“ in a diseased state of the body, an obvious acceleration
of the pulse was observed to result from the application of
electricity.”
In the experiments made by M. Nollet, his attention was Experi-
directed to other points besides the state of the pulse. His merits of
experiments were made with birds, cats, and the human ^°llet.
subject; and having selected and carefully weighed pairs
of the animals, he communicated to them a current of elec¬
tricity for some hours, when they were again weighed. The
loss sustained was ascribed to perspiration. The general
result was, that the animal which was electrified was always
found to be lighter than the one which was not. The per¬
sons who submitted to these experiments suffered no incon¬
venience from them. They experienced a slight degree
of exhaustion, and an increase of appetite, but none of them
found themselves sensibly warmer.
In order to settle these questions respecting the influ- Experi¬
ence of electricity on the pulse and on insensible perspira- ments of
tion, Van Marum selected eleven persons, and repeated the Van
experiment four times upon each, with negative as well as rum*
with positive electricity. They were placed in a room so
remote from the machine that they could not hear the
noise which was made in working it. They were placed on
insulating stools, and their pulse was felt and carefully
i
1 Dr Young observes, that a minute tremor communicated to the most elastic parts of the human body, particularly to the chest, occa¬
sions a nervous agitation, not unlike the effect of weak electricity.
ELECTRICITY.
603
Laws.
Medical
Phenome- counted both when the machine was in motion and at rest,
naand The general result was, that no decided acceleration was
observed, a few additional beats having taken place in some
cases. In general, however, there was a great irregularity
in the pulse.
The next experiment of Van Marumwas a very interest¬
ing one. He placed a boy eight years old in one scale of
a delicate balance, which scale was insulated by means of
a silk cord. The boy being connected with the conductor,
the balance was brought to a state of exact equilibrium.
Having determined that the boy, previous to being electri¬
fied, lost 280 grains in an hour, he electrified him, and
found that the loss was 295. In another experiment the
boy lost 330 grains before, and 310 after being electrified.
A girl seven and a half years old lost 180 grains before, and
165 after being electrified. A boy eight and a half years
old lost 430 grains before, and 290 after being electrified.
A boy nine years old lost 170 before, and 240 after being
electrified. As this boy had remained very quiet during
the experiment, the increase was ascribed to electricity, and
the experiment was carefully repeated. He now lost 550
grains before, and 390, 330, 270, 550, and 420 after being
electrified. Hence it appeared that the insensible perspi¬
ration had rather decreased than augmented.
The powerful influence of electricity on the human frame
electricity. ied the more sober part of the medical profession to view it
as a valuable auxiliary in the healing art, while those who
were more sanguine regarded it as an universal medicine,
which might be resorted to in every form of disease. Char¬
latans of every degree found the electrical machine a lucra¬
tive article of trade ; and there were not wanting well-
meaning enthusiasts who contributed to prolong the reign
of medical electricity.
But though electricity has not yet taken up a position in
the healing art, there can be no doubt that in various dis¬
orders its application has been found advantageous, and that
patients have, in a particular class of diseases, experienced
instantaneous relief.
The machine used for medical purposes should have suf¬
ficient power to yield a continued current of strong sparks.
^rnnc!!^1 The diameter of the plate in a plate machine should be
about twenty inches, and that of a cylinder about ten or
twelve inches. The only apparatus necessary is a jar fitted
up with Lane^s electrometer (see Plate CCXXIX. fig. 16),
and a pair of directors, each consisting ot a glass handle
surmounted by a brass cap, with a wire a few inches long,
carrying a ball at its extremity. A wooden point is some¬
times substituted for this ball. When it is required to pass
a shock through any part of the body, the directors are ap¬
plied at the opposite extremities of the part, one director
being connected by a wire with the inside coating, and the
other with the outside coating of the jar, or, wdiat is the
same thing, with the receiving ball of Lane’s electrometer,
previously placed at such a distance from the ball of the
jar as to yield a charge of the proper magnitude. W hen
sparks are to be administered, it is done with the director
and brass ball; but when the organ is very delicate, such
as the eye, a stream of electricity is thrown upon it from
the wooden point, held at the distance of about half an inch.
An insulating stool, capable of holding a chair for the pa¬
tient, is also necessary. In certain cases a brass plate, com¬
municating with the inside of the jar, is placed in the bot¬
tom of the chair, so as to apply itself to the lower pait o
the body, when the electricity is required to pass through
the abdomen or adjacent parts.
Sect. Yll.—On the Effects of Electricity upon Vegetable
Bodies.
It has been distinctly shown by Priestley,^ Ingenhousz,
and Sennebier, but especially by Iheodore Saussure, that
Electrical
machine
purposes
Plate
CCXXIX.
fis?. 16.
the various parts of plants act upon atmospheric air; that Electrical
they insensibly disengage a large quantity of carbonic acid Apparatus,
at the expense of the oxygen ; and that, owing to some com-
bination within the plant, they sometimes exhale pure oxy- Effects of
gen. Now, as all carbonic acid has vitreous electricity, this electricity
exhalation of the acid from the plants ought to furnish an
abundant supply of it to the atmosphere. M. Pouillet, of a es*
whose researches we have already given an abstract, has
placed this truth beyond a doubt.
From this fact alone we might reasonably infer that elec¬
tricity performs an important function in the phenomena of
vegetation ; but so little attention has been paid to this sub¬
ject, that we have some hesitation in laying before our
readers the very imperfect and unsatisfactory experiments
which have been recorded. The best experiments, indeed,
have entirely a negative character and the general result
of them is given when we say that electricity appears to have
no decided efficacy as a stimulus to vegetable life.
The recent discoveries, however, which have been made
on endosmose and exosmose by M. Dutrochet, render it ex¬
tremely probable that an electrical action is the cause of the
ascent of the sap in plants; but as M. Poisson has ascribed
these curious facts to capillary action, and other phi¬
losophers to other causes, we must wait for further ex¬
periments before we can treat this subject as a branch of
electricity.
PART IL
DESCRIPTION OF ELECTRICAL APPARATUS.
In the preceding part of this treatise we have already had Electrical
occasion to refer to several pieces of electrical apparatus, apparatus,
and particularly to two or three varieties of the best machines
for generating electricity by friction. Notwithstanding this
slight anticipation, however, we must resume the subject at
some length, on account of its great importance in a popular
and practical view of the science.
The various kinds of electrical apparatus may be classed
under the four following heads:—
1. Instruments for generating and collecting electricity.
2. Instruments for accumulating electricity.
3. Instruments for indicating the presence of electricity,
and measuring its quantity.
4. Instruments for miscellaneous purposes.
CHAP. I. DESCRIPTION OF INSTRUMENTS FOR GENERATING
AND COLLECTING ELECTRICITY.
The instruments which belong to this chapter are, elec- Instru-
trical machines, atmospherical conductors, and electrophori.
Sect. Description of Electrical Machines. electricity.
The simplest of all pieces of apparatus for generating
electricity is a tube or rod of glass, which, when rubbed with
a piece of woollen cloth, will yield as much electricity as will
charge a jar in a short time. In consequence, however, ot
the labour which attends this operation, it has been usual to
turn a sphere or cylinder of glass round an axis by a simple
winch, or by a double wheel and band, for the purpose ot
generating electricity rapidly, and without fatigue to the
^We have already exhibited two of these machines in Plate
CCXXII. fio-s. 1, 2, 3, 6, & 7, and described their general con¬
struction. It is easy to modify this construction in various
wavs and for particular purposes and particular classes ot
experiments particular forms of the machine may be most
convenient: But as the philosopher is best capable ot intro¬
ducing- such modifications for his own use, we shall not oe-
cupy our pages with the descriptions of electrical machines
which have sprung more from the fancy and caprice of in¬
dividuals than from the wants of the science.
604
ELECTRICITY.
Electrical There can be no doubt that the plate-glass machine is the
Apparatus. most commodious and the most powerful form of the elec-
trical machine. But whether the glass has the form of a
plate or a cylinder, it should be of that kind which has the
least quantity of alkali in its composition. Bohemian glass,
and glass pretty old, is preferred to modern glass. It has
also been stated that a glass plate will derive great electrical
power by a considerable exposure to the sun’s rays.
, We have already described, and given representations of
very excellent plate-glass machines in Plate CCXXII., figs.
1, 2, and 7, and in Plate CCXXIII. figs. 1-5, of the last of
which we shall give a fuller description; but we have re¬
served to the present chapter the description of the best form
of the electrical machine with which we are acquainted, and
which we owe to the ingenuity of Sir Snow Harris, F.R.S.,
Plymouth.
Sir Snow
Harris’s
electrical
machine.
Plate
CCXXVII.
fig. 7.
Fig. 7.
Fig. 8.
Van Ma-
rum’s elec¬
trical ma¬
chine.
Plate
COXXIII.
figs. 1-5.
L Description of Sir W. Snow Harris's Electrical
Machine.
This machine, which is shown in perspective in Plate
CCXX'VII. fig. 7, consists of a circular disc of plate glass
ZZ, three feet in diameter, mounted on a horizontal axis,
resting on two horizontal supporters of mahogany. These
supporters are themselves sustained by four vertical maho¬
gany columns, fixed upon a firm frame as a base. To the
lower side of this frame are fixed four legs M, N, O, P, upon
which the whole machine rests; and these legs again rest
upon another steady frame RST, furnished with rollers,
so as to move it easily into any required position, and like¬
wise with three levelling screws, RST, for placing it
horizontally. By these means the machine may be so ad¬
justed, and fixed that the axis of the plate of glass, which has
a free motion backwards and forwards in the holes in which
it turns, may not tend more to one side than to the other,
and occasion an unequal action on the rubbers. The rubbers,
which are four in number, are insulated on pillars of glass
A, B,-©ne placed at each extremity of the horizontal dia¬
meter A, B, of the plate. The positive conductor CBD
projects in a vertical position in front of the plate ZZ, while
the negative conductor passes in a curvilineal direction be¬
hind, and connects the rubbers of each side.
The plate of glass is turned by an insulated handle, im¬
mediately in front of which is placed a short index, which is
fixed to the axis, and which moves over a graduated circle
L, attached.to the horizontal part of the frame, and through
the centre of.which the axis passes. In this manner the
number of ^evolutions of the plate may be accurately re¬
gistered.
In order-to strengthen the centre of the plate, two smaller
plates ape cemented to each side by varnish ; and a small
stop is inserted into the axis, to prevent the pressure from
increasing beyond a certain point.
When the machine is used for ordinary purposes, the
conductors shown in fig. 7 are employed ; but when it is em¬
ployed to accumulate electricity, the conductors should have
the smallest extent possible, and, excepting at the receiving
points, where they collect the electricity from the edge of
the silk flaps about H, H, they should be covered with seal¬
ing wax. In this case the positive conductor is formed of
small straight tubes, as shown in fig. 8, and its extremities
terminate in balls of varnished wood, through the substance
of which the metallic communications pass.
*
I
2. Description of Van Marum's Electrifying Machine.
This machine, to which we have made a brief reference
in Sect. III. Chap. II. Part I., is represented in elevation
and in section in figs. 1 and 2 of Plate CCXXIII. The plate
of glass AB, which is thirty-one inches in diameter, is sus¬
tained by a single pillar E, at the upper extremity of which
are two similar brass collars I, I, one of which is shown Electrical
separately in fig. 4. The horizontal axis MN rests upon these Apparatus,
collars, and this axis carries a counterweight L, in order to
balance the plate of glass and its appendages, and thus
equalize the friction on the collars. The rubbers, which
cannot be seen in the section, fig. 2, are shown at m, n, fig.
1. The pair dim is attached to the ball O, and supported
by the glass pillar e; and in like manner the pair at n is at¬
tached to the ball P, and supported by the glass pillar f. A
horizontal section of the rubbers and balls is shown sepa¬
rately in fig. 3. A semicircle of brass CD is attached to an
axis g that turns on the ball O, resting on the pillar F, so
as to give the conductor CGD a motion round that axis.
Collectors six inches long and two and a half in diameter
are placed at C and D, to collect the electricity from the
revolving plate AB. At the outer end of the axis ^ is a
copper tube HA, terminating at its lower end in a ball H,
and its upper end in a smaller ball h, two inches in diameter,
which, screwing into G, will fix the tube HA in any position
round g. An arch of brass wire c\d, half an inch in dia¬
meter, is fixed to the end of the bearing piece K, and moves
round I into any given azimuth, so as to be placed, as in fig. 1,
opposite the rubbers m, n, or at right angles to them. In
like manner, the conductor CGD can be placed either hori¬
zontally, so that the collectors C and D may be opposite the
rubbers m and n, or vertically, as shown in fig. 1. By this
apparatus it is easy to produce either positive or negative
electricity. In the position of the conductor shown in fig. 1,
where CGD is at right angles to the rubbers, and where
the rubbers are connected with the ground by the arch c\d,
and by the wire KK, fig. 2, the conductor G will give
positive electricity; but when we wish negative electricity,
the conductor CGD is placed horizontally, with its collectors
C, D opposite the rubbers, and the arch c\d is placed verti¬
cally, so as to insulate the rubbers.
A mahogany cap T covers the metallic caps of the sup¬
ports, in order to insulate them more perfectly. A hollow
ring of mahogany, VX, is, for the same reason, made to cover
the metallic socket into which the support is inserted. In
fig. 3, a, A, a, A, are four pieces of gum-la^ In figs. 1 and 2,
W is the handle by which the machine is wrought.
3. Description of Hare’s Electrical Machine.
This machine, which we have previously noticed, differs Hare’s
from those generally made, in having its glass plate horizon- electrical
tal; and it is considered bj its inventor, Professor Hare of machine.
Philadelphia, as giving negative electricity in a way prefer-
able to that in which it is obtained in Van Marum’s machine, fig V
The glass plate MN, thirty-four inches in diameter, is sup¬
ported on an upright iron bar PR, about an inch in diameter,
and covered by a stout glass cylinder, sixteen inches high
and four and a half inches in diameter, open only at the
base, through which the bar is introduced so as to form its
axis. At the top of the bar PR is a block of wood turned
to fit the cavity at the apex of the cylinder, and cemented
therein. The external apex of the cylinder, is fixed by ce¬
ment into the brass cap which carries the plate. The glass
cylinder, which is liable to no strain, effectually insulates the
plate from the iron axis PR. The brass cap seen at P is
surmounted by a screw and flange, which, with the aid of a
corresponding nut and discs of cork, keeps the plate firm.
The wheel W, driven by a handle, communicates by means
of a band with another wheel about twenty inches in dia¬
meter, placed on the iron axis RS.
“ Nearly the same mode of insulation and support,” says
Dr Hare, “ which is used for the plate is used in the case
of the conductors. They consist severally of arched tubes
of brass (ABC, DEF), of about an inch and a quarter in
diameter, which pass over the plate from one side of it to the
other, so as to be at right angles to, and at a due distance
ELECTRICITY.
605
Electrical from, each other. They are terminated by brass balls and
Apparatus, caps, which last are cemented on glass cylinders of the same
dimensions nearly as that which supports the plate. The
glass cylinders are suspended upon wooden axes, surmounted
by plugs of cork turned accurately to fit the space which
they occupy. The cylinders are kept steady below by bosses
of wood which surround them. In this way the conductors
are effectually insulated, while the principal strain is borne
by the wooden axes.”
The collectors are shown at MN in connection with the
positive conductor ABC, and the rubbers are shown between
P and the balls D and F in connection with the negative
conductor DEF. The advantage of this form of the ma¬
chine over that of Van Marum is, that the two conductors
are permanently fixed in their places, and that positive and
negative electricity can be at any time obtained without any
change in the machine. Dr Hare considers the band as of
advantage in preventing the plate from being cracked by any
hasty effort to put it in motion when it adheres to the cush¬
ions, as it often does. Dr Hare uses a winch on the other
side of the wheel, so that two persons, or one with both
hands, may drive it.
The great expense of large cylinders and plates of glass,
and their liability to injury, have induced artists to construct
Machines electrical machines of different substances. M. Walckiere
of silk cle St Amand of Brussels constructed a machine of extra-
webs; ordinary power, which consisted of a web of varnished silk
twenty-five feet long and five feet wide, revolving upon two
wooden cylinders covered with woollen serge. During the
revolutions of the cylinders, the silk moves between two
cushions, each seven feet long and two inches in diameter,
covered by cat’s skin or hare’s skin, and moveable so as to
vary the friction. The machine was driven by four men,
and it had so great power that it gave sparks fifteen inches
long, and nobody durst take a spark from it but with the
shoulder and elbow.
of varnish- Dr Ingenhousz constructed machines with discs of paste-
ed paste- board four feet in diameter, and soaked in copal or amber
hoard; varnish dissolved in linseed oil. They were covered with
the same varnish, and were mounted upon an axis or flat
board, three inches broad, and covered with flannel or hare’s
skin, being placed between each two discs, so as to act as a
rubber. Sparks one and even two feet long were given out
by the front disc when the knuckle was presented to it.
of wooden Wooden discs, and cylinder discs of gum-lac partly im-
discs. mersed in mercury, which acted on the rubber, and stretched
varnished ribbons, have been all used in the construction of
electrifying machines, but it would be an unprofitable task
to describe them.
4. General Observations on the Construction and Use of
the Electrical Machine.
Although, in fine dry weather, and in a warm and dry
place, a good electrical machine may be brought into an
excellent state of action merely by wiping it with a warm
linen cloth and afterwards with a silk handkerchief, yet in a
different state of the atmosphere, and in humid apartments,
every precaution is necessary to insure the vigoious and
steady action of the machine. By turning the machine be¬
fore a fire, or placing it in a current of heated air, or, as Dx
Faraday suggests, by placing it over a sand-bath or a hot
iron plate whose temperature does not exceed 212 degrees,
the different parts of the machine will be thoroughly dried
and heated without affecting the cements.
We have already described (see page 536) the improve¬
ment of Mr Ronalds, who heats the inside of the machine,
&c., bv a spirit-lamp. Dr Faraday recommends the heating
of a cylinder machine by placing a chemical Argand lamp
with a low flame beneath the cylinder, and to support a
plate of metal nearly six inches square about an inch above
Observa¬
tions on
the electri¬
cal ma¬
chine.
Methods
of heating
the ma¬
chine.
the chimney of the lamp. This plate, by being heated, va- Electrical
ries the air above it, and produces a large moderately heated Apparatus,
current, which encircles the cylinder and thoroughly warms
it. Care must be taken not to heat the cylinder in spots,
but to bring it, and especially the insulating parts, to an uni¬
form temperature, which shall never be sufficient to melt
the cement which is used in any part of it.
The state of the rubbers requires particular attention.
I hey must be carefully freed from dust, and supplied with
a soft and uniform coating of amalgam, which should always
be rubbed in a mortar with tallow previous to being used.
Large spots of amalgam should be removed from the cylin¬
der or plate, either by the nail or a piece of wood. Dr
Faraday remarks that a few spots of amalgam rather increase
than diminish the activity of the machine, and that the silk
which proceeds from the rubber is better when impregnated
with amalgam than when free from it. Dr Faraday adds
that it is often useful to hold a piece of silk, with some amal¬
gam adhering to it, against the revolving plate or cylinder,
and also to rub the surface of amalgam on the rubber with
the same amalgamated silk. When the machine is thus
put into good action, and the prime conductor removed, it
should discharge a continued series of brushes from the edge
of the silk, and abundance of sparks flying round the glass.
Armstrong1 s Hgdro-Electric Machine.
This powerful electrical machine, the history of which Arm-
we have already given, is represented in the annexed figure, strong’»
wdiere A B is a steam-boiler made of the usual material, 6^
feet long, and 3|- broad, or of a less size if required. It is machine.
Fig. i. . .
imported on four or six strong glass pillars by which it is
nsulated. The steam generated by the heat ot the furnace
7, escapes from the common steam pipe by a stop-ccc-k b ;
nd issues through a great number of bent iron tubes a, 6, f,
erminated in jets or adjutages of box-wood. A con-
luctor N insulated by a glass rod R projects from the
joiler, in order to collect from it the excited electricity, and
mother conductor P is placed in front of the jets to carry
>ff the opposite electricity of the steam, and prevent it from
leutralizing that of the boiler. The tubes are often inclosed
n a box containing water for the purpose of cooling the
ubes, which are kept wet, not by contact with the water,
)ut by cotton threads which carry it up to them by capil-
ary attraction. In this way minute drops of water are pro-
606
ELECTRICITY.
Electrical duced, which being carried away by the steam produce the
Apparatus, electricity by their friction upon the wooden adjutages. Ac-
cording to Dr Faraday, the steam performs no other part
than that of making the particles of water rub upon the wood
through which they pass. A magnificent hydro-electric ma¬
chine has been erected at the Faculty of Sciences in Paris,
with no fewer than 80 jets. Its enormous sparks succeed
one another so rapidly as to form continuous and brilliant
jets about a foot in length, and some inches in breadth.
Sect. II.—Description of the Electrophorus.
Electro- This ingenious instniment, which was invented by the
phorus of celebrated Volta, is shown in Plate CCXXVII. fig. 9. It
Volta. consists of a circular metallic disc A, or a plate bf wood
Plate covered with tinfoil, having an insulating handle of glass
CCXX\ II. screwe(j int;0 a nut E, made of wood or brass. The plate A
is called the upper conductor, or cover. The next plate B,
called the resinous plate, consists of a plate half an inch
thick, composed of equal parts of shell-lac, common resin,
and Venice turpentine, poured when hot upon a marble or
stone table. The next plate is a metallic one C, called the
lower conductor, or sole, which may be either separate or
not from the resinous plate which rests upon it. The edge
of the first plate A must be pretty thick, and made smooth
and round. The following is the method of generating
electricity with this apparatus.
The cover A being held in the left hand, rub the upper
surface of the resinous plate B with a piece of dry fur, or
whip it with a fox’s tail or stripe of cat’s skin. It will thus
be excited negatively. Place the upper conductor above
the resinous plate, and while it is there touch it with the
finger, and then raise it by its glass handle. It will exhibit
signs of positive electricity, and will yield a spark either to
the knuckle or to the knob of a Leyden phial. If the cover
A is again placed upon B, and, after being touched, again
raised, it will give another spark, and twenty of these sparks
will charge a Leyden jar of a moderate size. If the upper
conductor A is not touched by the finger when placed upon
B, it will exhibit, when raised, very faint, if any, traces of
electricity. Now, as the resinous plate B continues, with¬
out any new excitation, to charge the upper conductor A,
it is manifest that its electric condition is not destroyed by
the contact and removal of A ; and as it is necessary to con¬
nect the upper conductor with the ground, by touching it
previous to its being raised, it is obvious that the electricity
acquired by A is derived from its contact with B.
In order to explain the theory of the electrophorus, let us
insulate the lower conductor C, by placing it on a glass
Fig. 10. stand, as in fig. 10, and let this conductor communicate with
the pith balls of an electroscope. As soon as the upper sur¬
face of the cake B is excited, the pith balls wfill diverge with
negative electricity. The negative electricity developed by
the excitation of the upper surface has decomposed the na¬
tural electricity of C, by attracting the positive part and re¬
pelling the resinous part into the electroscope where it is
indicated. If we now touch the conductor C, its negative
electricity is carried off, and the positive undergoes no dimi¬
nution ; but, owing to the escape of the negative portion,
the balls will collapse. If we now make the upper conduc¬
tor A approach to B, and rest upon it, touching it at the
same time with the finger, so as to connect it with the
ground, the positive electricity of the cake B will decom¬
pose the natural electricity of A, repelling its negative elec¬
tricity to the earth through the finger, and attracting its
positive portion to its lower surface. This positive electri¬
city of A attracting the negative electricity of the surface of
B, and repelling the vitreous electricity of C, thus doubly
tends to diminish the force by which this positive electricity
is rendered latent or detained. Some of it, therefore, will
be set free, and the pith balls will diverge with positive elec¬
tricity, the divergence increasing as the conductor A comes Electrical
nearer and nearer to the plate B. But as the positive elec- Apparatus,
tricity of the lower conductor has a tendency to repel the
positive electricity with which we wish to charge the upper
conductor A, we must cause the lower conductor C to com¬
municate with the earth, as in fig. 9. By this means the Fig. 9.
electricity of C is reduced to its natural state, and the elec¬
tricity of the upper surface of the cake B renders latent the
maximum quantity of positive electricity on the upper con¬
ductor B.
Although the air produces a gradual dissipation of the
electricities which are not rendered latent in an excited elec¬
trophorus, yet a well-constructed electrophorus will remain
for months in full energy.
M. Biot has ingeniously applied the principle of the Lichten-
electrophorus to explain what have been called the figures berg’s
of Lichtenberg. If’ when the electrophorus is charged, we
raise the conductor A, and replace it on the cake B, by °uies-
making it rest obliquely and upon its edge, then its positive
electricity, accumulating itself wholly in the part which
touches B, will become much stronger. It will escape
from A, and will completely neutralize the negative elec¬
tricity of the places towards which it goes, and after some
contacts thus repeated upon different parts of the cake
B, it will be all discharged. Hence we may deduce the
following curious experiment:—Instead of bringing back
upon the negative electricity the positive which it has de¬
veloped by its influence, carry it to another resinous cake
B', in its natural state. It will likewise attach itself to
the surface of this cake, which will become positively elec¬
trified, and be capable in its turn of developing by its in¬
fluence negative electricity. When the second cake B' is
thus charged, place upon its surface a disc of metal. We
shall then have an electrophorus of an opposite kind to the
first; and if this last is used to charge a third cake B", the
latter will have negative electricity; and in this way we
may have any number of cakes, which will be electrified
positively and negatively alternately. By this process we
may electrify each surface only in certain parts, by attach¬
ing to the conductor A a rod and metallic button. If we
then touch the resinous cake with this button, the electri¬
city will be carried wholly to the point of contact. These
points may be so chosen as to form the outlines of any
regular or picturesque figures. In order to render these
forms or pictures visible, we have only to strew on the
surface of the resinous cake some light powder formed by
a non-conducting substance, such as pounded resin or
sulphur. The small particles of the resin, for example,
will attach themselves only to the electrified spots; so
that, by inverting the plate, all the rest will fall down by
their own weight. These small particles affect regular
and different arrangements, according to the nature of the
electricity which makes them adhere; so that, by forming
figures with the two electricities in different parts of the
same plate, we obtain at the same time two sorts of figures.
Lichtenberg’s method of making these figures visible is
exceedingly beautiful. Having triturated sulphur and
minium or red lead together in a mortar, so as to have a
mixture of a yellow and red powder, he traced his figures
on the resinous cake with the knob of a jar charged with
vitreous electricity, and repeated them with the knob of a
jar charged with resinous electricity. The compound pow¬
der being now projected, either with a powder puff or by
means of a pair of bellows, upon the cake, the particles of
sulphur which are electrified positively by trituration will
attach themselves to the negatively electrified spots, while
the negatively electrified particles of red lead will adhere
to the positively electrified spots, so as to form a series of
red and yellow figures when the cake has been inverted,
and the rest of the powder has fallen from it. Many
beautiful variations of this experiment have been devised ;
ELECTRICITY.
607
Electrical and Mr Bennet has shown how to make the figures perma-
Apparatus. nent, by transferring them to paper.
When this experiment was first made, some German
philosophers observed that the powder of rosin had some¬
times a progressive motion which was not regular, and a
new theory was the consequence of this. It was found,
however, that they were very small insects of the genus
acarus which happened to be in the powder, and which
walked over the surface of the plate.
When well made and properly used, the electrophorus is
a very powerful .and useful instrument. Dr Klincock of
Prague has shown, that if we transfer alternately the upper
conductor from one resinous cake to another, and touch
it after it is placed on the cakes, both cakes continually
acquire more and more electricity, so that the upper con¬
ductor returns from either plate quite overcharged; and
Leyden jars may be so strongly charged by them as to
burst by the charge. The conductor returns from one
plate charged with positive, and from the other charged
with negative electricity.
M. Cavallo informs us that an electrophorus made of
sealing-wax spread upon a thick plate of glass six inches in
diameter was capable, when once excited, of charging a
Leyden jar several times in succession, and so strongly as
to perforate a card with the discharge. The upper con¬
ductor, when separated from the plate, was sometimes so
strongly electrified that it darted strong flashes to the table
upon which the electric plate w^as laid, and even into the
air.
2. Mr J. Phillips' Modification of the Electrophorus.
Phillips’
electro¬
phorus.
Plate
CCXXVII.
fig. 11.
As the contact of the operator’s finger is of no other use
than to connect the upper conductor with the earth, Mr John
Phillips of York conceived the ingenious idea of producing
the same effect by a momentary contact between the upper
and under conductors. In effecting this he adopted three
methods. The first consisted in raising a brass wire and
ball from the lower conductor above the edge of the resinous
cake, so that the edge of the upper conductor, or a brass ball
upon it, may be brought in contact with it. This method
answered very well with small instruments, in which the
upper conductor can be easily directed to any particular point
of the sole. In the second mode he fixed a narrow strip of
tinfoil across the whole diameter of the resinous surface, so
as to join the metallic sole or lower conductor. I his con¬
struction answers perfectly, and is particularly suitable
to large circles, whose upper conductors will infallibly touch
some point of the metallic strip. I he third method is to
perforate the resinous disc quite through at the centre, and
at any other point, and to insert in these perforations brass
wires with their smoothest tops level with the resinous sur-
These three methods are represented in fig. 11, where a
represents the ball in the first method, 6 the slip of tinfoil in
the second, and c, c, c the conducting wires in the third and
best method. ,
“ On two of the largest electrophon, says Mr 1 lumps,
“ which I have made, both the second and third methods
have been tried with equal success, but I much prefer the
latter construction. The largest instrument has a cast-iron
basis 20-5 inches diameter, resinous surface 19-75 inches,
cover 16-25 inches. The resinous composition was made
according to the directions in Mr Faraday’s work on Chemi¬
cal Manipulation. The cover is made of a plate of thin
copper, strengthened at the edge by a thick brass wire, from
which three radial brass wires pass to the upper part of a
central brass tube. In consequence of the angle they thus
form with the plane of the plate, they act as pretty strong
braces to maintain its figure, and the ^ 0 e 18 very *§ 1 •
This central brass tube receives a cylindrical piece of wood,
into which the insulating glass handle covered with sealing- Electrical
wax is screwed by its wooden foot. Apparatus.
“ With ordinary excitation this instrument will yield loud
flashing sparks two inches long or more, and speedily charge
considerable jars. The cover can be easily charged and
discharged fifty or a hundred times in a minute, by merely
setting it down and lifting it up as fast as the operator
chooses, or the hand can work. In charging a jar or plate,
I placed one knob of the connecting rod near the insulated
surface of the jar or plate, and the other some inches above
the cover; then the cover being alternately lifted up and
set down, the jar is very quickly charged.
“ One instrument nine inches in diameter, which I have
made from the second plan above described, has very often
surprised me by its remarkable power of retaining electrical
excitation.
“ The following example is worthy of notice. Early in
September 1832 this instrument was removed from a house
in York, where it had been for some time laid by, and
brought to my present residence, distant one third of a mile.
It was placed on a shelf on my book-cases, where it re¬
mained untouched until the 23d March 1833, and was then
taken down covered with dust. It was found to be in a
state of feeble excitement, so as to give sparks, visible in
the day light, nearly one fourth of an inch long.”
3. On Dr Faraday’s Improvements on the Construction
of the Electrophorus.
As the electrophorus is an excellent substitute for an improve-
electrical machine in the laboratory of the chemist, from its ment on
being capable, when in good order, of inflaming the greaterthe
number of explosive mixtures operated upon in eudiome-tr0^ orus'
ters, Dr Faraday has given the following simple and in¬
genious methods of constructing this instrument.
He recommends the cover to be made of a piece of flat
deal board one third or one half of an inch thick. This
board is to be covered with pasted tinfoil laid on smoothly,
particularly at the edges, and having all asperities rubbed
down. The smoothest and flattest side being reserved
for the lowest, a piece of glass tube seven or eight inches
long is to be fixed on the centre of the other side for a
handle ; and towards the edge, on the same side, there
should be fixed a piece of thick wire, about two inches
long, bent outwards, and carrying a smooth metal ball at its
upper end.
In order to make the resinous plate, a sheet of tinfoil one
or one and a half inch wider than the cover is laid smoothly
in the bottom of a flat dish, so that its edges may rise up all
round, or in the inside of a hoop. Shell-lac, common resin,
and Venice turpentine, in equal proportions, are then to be
melted together in a metallic vessel, and kept in a state of
fusion from 230 to 240 degrees of Fahrenheit, till the va¬
pour has ceased to evolve, and the fluid is quiet. When it
has thickened by cooling, it must then be poured quickly,
to avoid the formation of bubbles, upon the tinfoil, so as to
form above it a cake one third or one half of an inch thick.
The tinfoil should then be trimmed round its edge, and the
cake should rest upon or be attached, by its tinfoiled side,
to a board, to serve as a base and prevent it from injury.
Dr Faraday observes that the cover, instead of a board, may
be a plate of tin turned up round a thick wire, so that no
sharp edge or angle may be presented outwards ; and that
for the resinous plate may be substituted a sheet of thin
crown glass, having for its metallic base a sheet of tinfoil
pasted to it. He adds also, that a large plate of mica with¬
out fissures, and coated in the same manner with tinfoil on
one side, makes an excellent electrophorus. When glass,
however, is employed, it must be well warmed at first, and
kept warm during the experiments. The glass should be
excited by being rubbed with a piece of silk with some
608
ELECTRICITY.
Electrical amalgam spread upon it. It should be passed briskly over
Apparatus. jts surface backward and forward, and finally slid quickly
off at its edge, so as not to rest upon any one point of the
glass, lest it should discharge that portion of its surface.
Use of the To return, however, to the use of the electrophorus first
electropho- described. The resinous plate, when warm and dry, should
rus' be placed horizontally on its board, with the tinfoil below,
and connected by a wire or chain with the ground, or with
a discharging train when it can be obtained. See page
596. A piece of warm flannel, doubled up loosely into a
roll about ten inches long, is to be held in the hand by one
end; and the other end, being swung round in an inclined
direction with a quick motion of the wrist, should strike the
surface of the plate obliquely each time it passes, so as to
produce an effect between that of a rub and a blow. When
the whole surface of the warm resinous cake has been thus
struck, it will be excited to a considerable degree. The
cover of the electrophorus, being previously warfhed, must
now be lifted by its glass handle and placed on the middle
of the resinous cake ; and if the knob or metallic ball of the
cover be now touched, a spark will pass from it to the finger.
The cover is next to be lifted by its handle in a horizontal
direction ; and when it is two or three inches above the
plate, the knob upon it is again to be touched by the finger
or a ball, when a spark stronger than the first will be ob¬
tained. The cover being again put down on the plate, a
third spark will pass between the knob and the knuckle.
The cover being again lifted as formerly, a spark as strong
as the second may be taken from it. By repeating this
process, similar effects may be obtained for a long time.
The sparks which are taken by the knuckle after putting
the cover down are negative, and those which are taken
after lifting it up are positive. Hence we charge a jar
either positively or negatively, according as we take the
spark when the cover is up or down. In order to obtain
strong positive sparks, the cover, when on the resinous
plate, must be touched with the finger, which must be re¬
moved before the cover is lifted up; and to obtain the
strongest negative sparks, the cover when raised should
have all its electricity carried off by the hand or some other
conducting body before it is again placed on the plate. As
the cover ought to be in a state of good insulation, the
handle should be made of sealing-wax and gum-lac, or if
made of glass, it should be varnished with sealing-wax dis¬
solved in alcohol.
Sect. III.—Description of Conductors for bringing down
Electricity from the Atmosphere.
Conduc- Various means have been adopted for collecting the free
tors. electricity of the atmosphere, either for the purposes of ex¬
perimental investigation, or in order to defend buildings
and ships from lightning. The apparatus for the first of
these purposes is essentially different from that which is
used for the last.
1. Electrical Kites.
Electrical When the lower atmosphere is charged with electricity,
kite8. ij. js not c]ifficuit to collect it for the purposes of experi¬
ment ; but in ordinary states of the air, or when the free
electricity exists at some height above the earth, it is ne¬
cessary to bring it down by means of a kite. For this pur¬
pose a schoolboy’s kite is sufficient. It is only necessary to
twist a copper wire round the hempen string. Dr Franklin
covered the frame of his kite with a thin silk handkerchief,
in order that it might the better sustain the violence of a
thunder-storm. In order to compensate for this additional
weight, lie made the framework of two strips of cedar wood
in the form of a cross. The string of the kite terminates
towards the observer in a silk string or cord, which insu- Electrical
lates the kite and its conducting string; and in order to pro- Apparatus,*
tect the observer still farther, a safety chain has been some- v^—
times suspended from the extremity of the conducting
string, so as to reach the ground and carry off the electri¬
city in case of its becoming too powerful.
Mr Cuthbertson sometimes found it necessary to use three
kites all connected together. On one occasion when he
could collect no electricity from the atmosphere with a kite
having a string 500 feet long, he succeeded in obtaining it
by adding other two kites, each of which had strings of the
same length. Mr Cuthbertson likewise employed an ap¬
paratus for raising his kites, in which the strings were
lengthened or shortened by coiling them round a drum,
2. Exploring Conductors.
One of the simplest instruments for collecting atmo-Exploring
spherical electricity is the hand-exploring rod used by Mr conduc- 1 * * * * 6
Read. It was of the same material, length, and thickness tors. ;
as a common fishing-rod, and had small wire twisted round Read’s
it from one end to another. Standing on an insulating hand-ex¬
stool, he raised the rod in a vertical position, and after a ploring
minute or two he touched with his other hand an electro-rod-
meter, which indicated the nature and intensity of the elec¬
tricity brought down. When the electricity thus obtained
was very weak, he placed on the rod a lighted torch, keep¬
ing it as far up the rod as the strength of his arm would
permit; and he always found that the flame attracted the
electricity more powerfully than the end of the rod.
Mr Read, however, found it necessary to use a fixed Read’s
conductor or thunder-rod; and we have shown in Plate fixed thun-
CCXXVII. fig. 12, the apparatus which he used in his ex- der roJ-
periments on the electricity of the atmosphere, of which we
have already given some account. The principal part of it^'^
is a wooden rod AA, twenty feet long, one inch in diameter °
at the top, and two at the bottom. Into the lower end of
it is cemented a solid glass pillar B, coated with wax, and
twenty-two inches long. This pillar rests on a wooden
pedestal C, carried by a bracket D. At thirteen inches
above D, the rod passes through a glass tube F, coated
with wax, and supported by a strong arm of wood E. A
lining of cork lies between the rod A and the tube F, to
prevent the latter from being broken when the rod is bent
by the wind. Several sharp-pointed wires G stand out
from the top of the tube. Two of them are of copper,
about one-eighth of an inch thick, one of them being twisted
round the rod to the right, and the other to the left, as
shown in the figure, so as to reach the brass collar at the
top of the lower funnel H, to which they are soldered. The
use of the two funnels H, H is to defend the glass rods B,
F from the weather. Through a hole in the wall at I passes
a glass tube coated with sealing-wax, through which a strong
brass wire passes from the rod at M into the room. At the
end of the tube this wire passes through a brass ball L, two
inches in diameter ; and, after proceeding a little farther, it
suspends from its extremity a pith-ball electrometer K,
about twelve inches from the wall. A bell N, carried by a
strong wire, is placed two inches from the brass ball L, three
tenths of an inch in diameter, suspended from the nail O.
The bell N, which has a metallic communication R with
the moist ground, is rung by the ball L. Jars and other
pieces of apparatus are placed when wanted upon the small
shelf P ; and all this part of the apparatus is protected from
the weather by being inclosed in a wooden box.
M. Cavallo’s apparatus, called an atmospherical collector, Cavallo’s
merits a description here, on account of its simplicity and atmosphe-
ingenuity. A common jointed fishing-rod AB, fig. 13, has rical collec-
its smallest joint replaced by a slender glass tube C, coated tor>
with sealing-wax. From a cork D at its outer end is sus-
pended a pith-ball electrometer. A piece of string AHGI,
V
ELECTRICITY. 609
Electrical is fixed to the end A of the rod, and supported at the point
Apparatus. G by a piece of twine FG. When a pin at the end I of
■v'—' the cord is pushed into the cork D, the electrometer is un¬
insulated ; but it is insulated for the purposes of observation
in the following manner:—The pin being fixed in the cork
D, and the rod held by the hand at A, it is held out of one
of the highest windows, at an angle of about 50° or 60° to
the horizon, and kept there for a few seconds. The cord is
then pulled at H, so as to disengage the pin from the cork
D, and the string drops into the dotted position KL, leav¬
ing the electrometer insulated and electrified in a state op¬
posite to that of the atmosphere.
3. On Lightning Conductors.
Lightning We have already seen that electricity is from various
con due- causes generated and set free in our atmosphere, and that
tors. individual clouds and masses of clouds are often highly
charged with electricity, and insulated by the surrounding
air. The earth and the sea are good conductors of elec¬
tricity; and, generally speaking, their natural electricity is
undisturbed. The attraction, therefore, of the electricity
of the clouds for the opposite electricity in the earth or the
sea, may become so powerful as to break through the resist¬
ing medium which intervenes. If the clouds are above a
mountain or rising ground, this discharge of electric mat¬
ter into the earth is attended with no danger. The effects
have sometimes been traced in the fusion of portions of the
rocks which crown these exposed summits. If a tree stands
in the stratum of air through which the cloud discharges
itself, the lightning passes through it, cleaving it, dissipating
its sap into a visible vapour, and sometimes splitting the
lower part of it into fibres like lucifer matches. If a house
obstructs its path, the electricity descends through its walls,
seeking the quickest and easiest passage to the earth; It
will follow bell-wires, iron rods, damp walls, and gilded pic¬
tures, and find out any matter, whether organized or unor¬
ganized, living or dead, which is placed near its path and is
capable of advancing it on its rapid and breathless errand to
the earth. If a living animal grazing, or a human being walk¬
ing, in an open field, intervenes between the overcharged
cloud and the ground, the one or the other will become the
chosen path of this irresistible foe. If a ship floats under
an electrified canopy of vapour, it has less chance of escape
than the tree, the house, or the living being..
The only terms upon which we can meet this relentless
enemy, is a humble admission of its supreme and irresistible
power, and a resolution to give it the freest and the fullest
passport. We must supply it, in short, with a railway of
metal, the only species of road upon which it can travel with
a suitable speed, and a harmless intention. The moment it
ceases to find a conducting body, it begins its devastation
among imperfect or non-conducting substances, till it again
gets into a safe and easy path.
The common practice of using cylindrical rods of copper
or iron for conducting the lightning to the ground affords
to buildings a very imperfect security. It has been supposed
that such rods would influence the discharge from a cloud
at a distance equal to two-thirds of the height of the rod,
and therefore give protection to that extent. 1 his, how¬
ever, is not the case, for buildings have been often struck
in one place when there was a conductor not very far from
the spot that was struck ; and, in the case of ships, the fore¬
mast has been frequently struck when a lightning chain was
applied at the mainmast.
Lightning In securing buildings, one or more capacious channels of
conductors conduction should be applied systematically to certain parts
for build- 0f them aiong tiie wanSj terminating above in solid project-
lngs- ing points, and below by two or more branches under the
surface of the earth. These main channels should consist
of the best metallic conductors. Copper is to be preferred, Electrical
and they may either consist of stout copper tubing, from an Apparatus,
inch to 2 inches in diameter, and not less than ^th of an inch v'—
in thickness; or otherwise, of copper plates, varying from
2 to 4 inches in width, and of a similar thickness. These
may be carried down either within or without the building,
as circumstances may require. When copper tubing is em¬
ployed, the joints must be well secured over solid plugs by
screw joints, and be firmly pinned to them. When plates
are used, it would be desirable to place them in two layers,
one over the other, so as to admit of the continuous portions
of the one covering the joints of the other. The plates
should be firmly united at the joints, and should be ^th
to ^gth of an inch in thickness. These lines of con¬
duction should be secured immediately against the masonry,
and not be placed at any distance from the building, or pass
through rings of glass or other insulators, as is sometimes
erroneously done. It is to be here remembered, that the
materials of which a building consist are already conductors
of electricity to a very considerable extent, and will of them¬
selves allow large quantities of atmospheric electricity a fair
passage to the earth. The object in applying metals along
the walls is to complete the conducting power of the general
mass up to the point required for a full transmission of a
shock of lightning without intermediate explosion, and
therefore the closer the conductor is applied to the walls
the better. The notion of keeping the electrical discharge
out of the building by insulating the conductor from its
walls is evidently very futile, and can only arise out of a
false view of the nature of the electrical discharge, which
(as we have already seen experimentally) is determined to
the surface of the earth in a path of least resistance, which
the conductor itself supplies. We can not therefore ima¬
gine that the electrical agency will leave a good capacious
conductor, immediately in its line of action, and in which
the resistance is a minimum, to move in a bad conducting
circuit out of that line, in which the resistance is a maxi¬
mum. But if we were to admit that such an effect were
possible, even then it is not to be supposed that a small
mass of bad conducting matter, such as a small ring of
glass or a little pitch, could arrest such a terrible agency in
its onward course. An agency which can shiver immense
oak trees, split solid rocks asunder,, and break down half a
mile thick of air, would scarcely be arrested by an insignifi¬
cant mass of glass or pitch. It has been the custom in
some instances to place balls of glass on the pinnacles of
towers and on the masts of ships, under the impresson that
glass is a repeller of lightning, but it is evident that glass
is no more a repeller of lightning than the air itself The
spire of Christ Church at Doncaster had a ball of glass
placed on it, with a view to its security from lightning. In
November 1836, however, it was struck by the electrical
discharge, and the spire totally destroyed.1
The main conducting channels being complete to the
earth and applied in selected positions in the way alluded
to, we should be careful to link into connection with them,
so far as possible,, all the vicinal detached masses of metal
in the building, either by branches or immediate contact;
and in this way bring the general mass into that passive
electrical state it would have as regards the electrical dis¬
charge, supposing the whole structure were metallic through¬
out, or at least as nearly as may be, so that in case of light¬
ning striking with fury on any point of the building, the
explosive action may vanish, and the discharge have unli¬
mited room for expansion in all directions upon the surface
of the earth to which it is always determined.
The necessity of providing against the destructive agency Lightning
of lightning on ship board has been long felt. The con-conductor
tinuous and fixed metallic conductors available for build- for ship?.
4 H
VOL. vm.
1 Times Newspaper, 7th March 1836.
CIO ELECTRICITY.
Electrical ings were not however equally applicable in ships, in con-
Apparatus. sequence of the masts, the only parts to which they could
be well attached, being subject to motion in a variety of
ways, to frequent elongation and contraction, and to the
necessity which frequently arises for removing the higher
portions* of the mast altogether. It was hence proposed to
substitute long flexible chains, or links of copper about the
size of a goose quill. These being supplied to ships packed
in boxes, were hoisted up to the truck as occasion required,
were stepped along the rigging, and allowed to hang over¬
board in the sea. Of late years copper wire rope has been
somewhat extensively applied in this way as rigging, and
there is little doubt but that these temporary forms of
lightning conductors for ships may occasionally transmit very
heavy shocks of lightning. Unfortunately, however, the
many trying and variable circumstances under which a
ship is placed—the liability of damage to the ropes and
rigging, and the complication of changes to which the whole
is subject, has, generally speaking, baffled all these attempts
to secure ships against the electrical discharge; so that not¬
withstanding that ships have been commonly supplied with
such lines of conduction, the amount of destruction in the
royal navy and in the merchant service has been very fright¬
ful, as appears by parliamentary papers, printed by the House
of Commons in December 1854. Hence the necessity of
some more capacious and permanent security, and which
from time to time has been repeatedly called for. Mr
Singer, in his excellent work on electricity, suggested the
possibility of joining continuous rods applied to the masts
by flexible spiral wires, observing at the same time, “ that
the conductors employed to protect ships from lightning are
by no means so efficient as requisite, that they are kept
packed in boxes, so that, partly from inattention, and partly
from prejudice, they frequently remain in the ship’s hold
unemployed altogether.” But besides these mechanical
objections, such temporary forms of conductors are not al¬
ways secure on account of their small capacity. The Hotel
des Invalides at Paris, having a conductor of twisted wire
ropes was struck by lightning in June 1839, the wire was
knocked in pieces and the building damaged.1 The same
thing happened in H. M. ship “ Hazard,” struck by light¬
ning at Sarawak, Borneo, in June 1846. This vessel had
a conductor of copper wire rope—the wires were twisted in
pieces, torn from the ship’s side; the electrical discharge
divided between the main-mast and rope, a portion of it
shivered the spars, and went into the hull. The commis¬
sion appointed by the Board of Admiralty in 1838 under
the countenance of the House of Commons, to inquire and
report on the best form of lightning conductors for H. M.
ships gave, in their report, many examples of the insufficiency
of temporary conductors applied as rigging, to meet the ex¬
igencies of the case, and concurred fully in the opinion ad¬
vanced by every practical seaman, that if lightning conduc¬
tors be applied on shipboard, they should be applied under
a capacious and permanent form, so as to render them se¬
cure and independent of the officers and crew of the ship.
Rir w About the year 1820, Sir W. Snow Harris having devoted
Snow liar- himself to the investigation of the best means of guarding
ris’s inqui- the royal navy from lightning, and the general laws of at-
ries. mospheric electrical discharge, proposed to the Board of
Admiralty a new method of capacious electrical conductors
for ships, to be permanently fixed and systematically applied
along the masts, and generally throughout the hull, so as to
render the vessel secure from lightning at all times and un¬
der all circumstances, without the officers and crew of the
ship incurring any responsibility whatever for due attention
to their application or care in handling them under various Electrical
trying circumstances, as in the case of the ordinary chains, Apparatus,
and not unfrequently to their great peril and annoyance.
Adopting the broad general principles we have already laid
down as the true theoretical ones for lightning conductors,
the inventor came to the conclusion that if a ship were per¬
fectly conducting in all its structure, no damage could arise
to it when struck by lightning ; since at the instant of the
electrical discharge falling on any point aloft, the explosive
action would vanish, and would be converted into a compa¬
ratively quiescent current action with unlimited room of ex¬
pansion upon the surface of the sea in all directions, that is
upon one of the surfaces to which the discharge is deter¬
mined.
In order to afford a ship effectual protection from light- Sir W.
ning, Sir W. Snow Harris conceived it to be essential that Snow Har-
the conductor be as continuous and direct as possible from
the highest points to the sea; that they be permanentlycon uctors'
fixed in the masts throughout their whole extent, so as to
allow one part of the mast to move upon another ; and, if
any part of the mast should be accidentally or wilfully re¬
moved along with the conductor attached to it, that the
remaining portion of the conductor should still be perfect,
and capable of transmitting an electrical discharge into the J
sea. To accomplish these objects, a sort of double con¬
ductor should be formed, consisting of two laminae of sheet
copper, placed one above the other, so that the extremities'
of the laminae of one layer should be opposite the middle
of the laminae of the other layer. These laminae are each
about four feet long, from six inches to one and a half broad ;
the thickness of the under layer being one eighth, and of
the upper layer one sixteenth, of an inch. The copper
bands thus formed are fixed in a fine dove-tailed groove in
the aft sides of the different masts, and are secured in their
place by wrought copper nails, so as to form a smooth sur¬
face, the nails being driven at each side, so as to be about
four inches apart. Before inserting the conductor, the
groove should be painted over with white lead, and must
be deep enough to allow the copper to lie a little beneath
the surface of the wood. “ The metallic line,” says Sir S.
Harris, “ thus constructed, will then pass downward from
the copper spindle at the mast-head, along the aft sides of
the royal-mast and top-gallant-mast, being connected in its
course with the copper about the sheeve-holes. A copper
lining in the aft side of the cap through which the top-mast
slides now takes up the connection, and continues it over
the cap to the aft side of the top-mast, and so on as before,
to the step of the mast; here it meets a thick wide copper
lining, turned round the step, under the heel of the mast,
and resting on a similar layer of copper fixed to the keel¬
son ; this last is connected with some of the keelson bolts,
and with three perpendicular bolts of copper, of two inches
diameter, which are driven into the main keel upon three
transverse or horizontal bolts, brought into immediate con¬
tact wuth the copper expanded over the bottom. The la¬
minae of copper are turned over the respective mast-heads,
and secured about an inch or more down on the opposite
side ; the cap which corresponds is prepared in a somewhat
similar way, the copper being continued from the lining in
the aft part of the round hole over the cap, into the fore
part of the square one, when it is turned down and secured
as before, so that when the cap is in its place the contact is
complete. In this way we have, under all circumstances, a
continuous metallic line from the highest points to the sea,
which will transmit the electric matter directly through the
keel, being the line of least resistance.” 2
1 Comptes Rendus, 1839.
2 “ Since the niizen-mast does not step on the keelson, it will be necessary to have a metallic communication at the step of the mast,
with the perpendicular stancheon immediately under, and so on to the keelson as before, or otherwise carry the conductor out at the
sides of the vessel.”
ELECTRICITY
631
Plate
OCX XVII.
figs. 14,
15, 16.
Instru¬
ments for
accumulat¬
ing electri¬
city.
Jars and
batteries.
Electrical This metallic line is shown in Plate CCXXVII. figs. 14,
Apparatus. ^ by the dotted line ABCD ; and it will be seen
that any elongation or contraction of the masts, as in figs.
14 and 15, or the removal of either of them, as in fig. 16,
which brings them into a new position, will in no way
disturb the continuity of the line ABCD, which evi¬
dently remains the same, and is therefore, under these dif¬
ferent circumstances, the shortest and best conducting line
between the mast-head at D and the sea at S. When the
sliding masts are struck, a part of the conducting line ne¬
cessarily remains below the cap and top; but as this is
quite out of the circuit, it will not at all influence the pas¬
sage of the electric fluid along the shorter line. For this
invention Sir William Snow Harris has received from the
government the sum of L.5000, a very inadequate reward
for so great a service.1
CHAP. II.—DESCRIPTION OF INSTRUMENTS FOR ACCUMU¬
LATING, CONDENSING, AND MULTIPLYING ELECTRICITY.
The instruments which have been employed for the pur¬
poses of accumulating, condensing, doubling, and multi¬
plying electricity, may be divided into four classes :
1. Jars and batteries. 3. Doublers.
2. Condensers. 4. Multipliers.
Sect. I.— On the Construction and Action of Jars and
Batteries.
By means of the prime conductor of an excited electri¬
cal machine, we can obtain electricity in sufficient quantity
and intensity for many important researches; but when we
wish to accumulate it in great quantities, and to obtain a
powerful charge, it is necessary to employ the Leyden phial
or jar ; and by increasing the number of jars, and uniting
them together, we can accumulate electricity to an unlimited
extent.
An electrical jar, in its best form, is shown in Plate
CCXXVIII. fig.' 1, where AB is a glass jar, having its
lower end CDEB coated both on the outside and the inside
' with tinfoil, which is made to adhere to the glass by means
of gum water. The jar should have no cover, as it generally
has, and the charge should be conveyed to the bottom of the
jar by a copper tube FGH, three eighths of an inchin dia¬
meter. This tube terminates in a ball, F, of baked wood,
and is kept in its place by a convenient foot, firmly cemented
to the bottom of the jar, which is previously covered with
a circle of pasted paper, leaving a central portion of the
coating free for the perfect contact of the charging rod
FGH, which passes through the centre of the foot, as shown
by the dotted lines in the figure.2 When the jars are either
employed singly, or united so as to form a battery, they
should be placed on a conducting base, supported by shoit
columns of glass, or some other insulating substance, such
as rosin or brimstone, so that the whole can be insulated
when necessary.
In order to allow the jars to be charged and discharged
with precision, Sir \\ . Snow Harris connects them with
Fig. 2. what he calls two centres of action, A, B, shown in fig- 2.
The first of these, A, consists of a brass ball, which slides
with friction on a metallic rod AD, so as to admit of its
being placed at any required height. This ball has a num¬
ber of holes perforated in its circumference, to receive the
points of the rod or rods which connect it with the jar oi
jars. The rod AB which supports this ball may be either
insulated on a separate foot, and connected with the prime
conductor, or it may be inserted directly into it. I he se¬
cond centre of action consists of a larger ball of metal, D,
attached to a firm foot, and placed on the same conducting
Electrical
jar.
Plate
CCXXVIII.
1.
base with the jar, so as to be perfectly connected with it. Electrical
When the first centre of action, A, requires to have a se- APParatus-
parate insulation, the insulating glass rod is screwed im-
mediately into the lower ball B, and sustains the metallic
rod above described, by the intervention of a ball of baked
wood, D, the opposite end of the rod terminating in a si¬
milar ball, C, through the substance of which the conducting
communication with the machine passes when it is placed
on a separate foot. All the metallic connection should be
covered with sealing-wax, except at the points of junction,
and the wooden balls and different insulations should be
carefully varnished.
A battery constructed in this manner, and containing six Electrical
jars, is shown in fig. 3, A and B being the two centres ofbattery>
action, and C and D the twm balls of baked wmod, as showm 3-
in fig. 2. The communication with the prime conductor is
made by a wire CE passing through the ball C, and the jars
communicate with the centre of action A by means of wares
entering the ball A, as shown in the figure.
In order to charge the jar shown in fig. 1, it is only no -
cessary to make the copper tube FG communicate with the
prime conductor of the electrifying machine by means of a
wire passing through F. It was formerly the custom to
make the copper rod HG terminate above in a brass ball at
F; and wffien this w^as the case the jar could be charged by
bringing the ball F near the conductor, or by holding the
jar by the outside coating, and bringing the brass knob close
to the conductor.
When the jar is fully charged, it may be discharged by
holding the outside coating in one hand, and touching with
the other the copper tube FG, or the ball t if it is a brass
one; but in this case the person will receive a shock, the
electrical charge passing into his body. 'I he jar may be
discharged without receiving a shock, by a very simple in¬
strument called a discharging rod, shown in fig. 4. It con- Discharg-
sists of two bent wires BC, BD, having a brass ball C and jys i°d>
D at each end, and uniting at B, where they are fastened S- •
at their common junction into a glass handle AB. I he
operator takes hold of the glass handle, and placing the
lowrer knob D on the outside coating of the jar, and the
upper knob C in contact with the copper wire FG, or the
brass ball at F, if there is one, the discharge takes place
with a loud snap the instant that the knob C touches F.
A more convenient form of discharging rod is shown in _
fig. 5, where the two balls C, D, and the branches CE, Fig- 5-
DE, correspond to the balls C, D of the branches CB, DB,
in fig. 4; but in place of attaching one insulating glass
handle to the joint E,a separate glass handle, viz. A and B,
is attached to each branch. By this means, by taking the
handle A in one hand, and B in the other, we can open the
balls C, D to the required distance without touching the
metallic branches CE, DE, and also with greater facility
and certainty.
If the jar is connected with the piece of apparatus BC,
fio-. 2, so that the centre of action A communicates with
the internal coating of the jar, and the centre of action B
with the external coating, then the jar will be discharged
by making the knob D of the discharging rod touch B,
while the knob C touches A. In like manner the whole
battery in fig. 3 may be discharged by making the knob D
of the discharging rod touch B, while the knob C touches A.
o-eneral instrument for discharging jars and batteries, Henley’s
invented by Mr Henley, lias been much used, particularly »mvers.l
in the deflagration of metals by electncity. It is shown in
fif. 6, where A and B are insulating glass pillars, cemented CCXxyui.
into a wooden stand. A brass cap with a horizontal and fig. 6.
vertical motion is fixed on the top of each of these pillars;
1 litre perilled is that usod by Sir William Snow Harris, and described in bis
valuable paper on the Laws of Electrical Accumulations.
612
ELECTRICITY.
Coated
plates of
glass.
Electrical and at the top of this joint is a spring tube, through which
pparatus. handles D or C can be slid backwards or forwards.
These handles are made of strong brass wire, terminating
at one end in a ball, or point, or a pair of forceps, and at
the other in a solid glass rod for an insulating handle. A
small wooden table F, about five inches in diameter, has a
slip of ivory glued into its upper surface, and may be raised
or depressed in its socket by the screw-nut G. Sometimes
a small mahogany press accompanies the instrument. It
consists of two boards, which can be pressed together by
two nuts, and is put into the socket in place of the table F,
when it is necessary to fix or hold steady the body through
which the discharge is to be passed. The body to receive
the charge must either be laid on the table or fixed in the
press, or held between the balls, points, or forceps. The
two sides of the jar or battery are then connected with the
two brass caps at the tops of the pillars A, B ; and, by
means of the insulating handles, the distance is regulated
through which the charge has to pass.
1 his instrument was originally constructed without any
insulating handles ; and the wires, and the handles C and
D, were thick brass wires, terminating on one side in a ball
or point, and on the other in a ring of brass, with which the
connection with the jar or battery was formed.
Although it has proved advantageous to use jars for re¬
ceiving and accumulating electricity, yet this form of the
recipient is by no means essential. The very same effect
is obtained if a plate of glass is coated on both sides within
an inch of its edges ; for a jar may be considered as a plate
of glass rolled up into a cylindrical form. Hence a battery
may be composed of a number of coated plates of glass ;
and it was actually with one of this kind, consisting of
eleven panes of window glass, that Dr Franklin performed
most of his experiments.
When one of these panes of glass is fitted up as in the
annexed figure, it is called the sparkling pane, or the magic
picture, and is a good illustration
of the Leyden jar. A sheet of
tinfoil, TT, is attached to its two
surfaces, leaving a space of two or
three inches between the edges of
the tinfoil and the edges of the
plate of glass, both fixed in a
frame. When one of the sheets
is electrified, and the other is put
in communication with the ground,
a bright spark is obtained by mak¬
ing the two sheets communicate
by means of a discharging rod.        
is therefore nothing more than a pane turned into a cylin¬
der, the coating on the inside of the jar representing one
side of the pane, and the outside coating the other.
If, instead of the sheets of tinfoil, we cover the space
which they occupy with metal filings stuck upon the glass
by gum, and electrify one side as before, the discharge pro¬
duced by the discharging rod will produce an infinite num¬
ber of brilliant sparks passing from each metallic particle to
its neighbours, and occasioning the sparkling from which the
name is derived.
Dr Franklin was the first person who explained the prin¬
ciple upon which the action of the Leyden jar depends.
He began by examining the electricities of the inside and
outside coatings. A cork ball suspended by a silk thread
was attracted by the outside and repelled by the inside
coating. When the jar was charged with the opposite elec¬
tricity, the ball was repelled by the outside and attracted
by the inside coating. Lienee it follows that, the outside
and inside coatings of a Leyden jar are charged with op¬
posite electricities.
\^hen the inside coating was charged from the prime
conductor, its electricity was positive, while that of the out¬
fig. 12.
A Leyden jar or phial
Franklin’s
theory of
the Ley¬
den phial.
side was negative; but when the outside of the jar was Electrical
charged from the same conductor, the outside w'as positively Apparatus.-
electrified, and the inside negatively, and the charge was
as strong as before.
In order to show that the negative electricity of the one
coating was equal to the positive electricity of the other,
Dr Franklin hung a small linen thread near the outside
coating of a charged jar, and every time that he touched
the knob or wire of the jar the thread was attracted by the
coating, the electricity taken from the inside by the finger
being equal to what was drawn in on the outside by the
thread. He then repeated this experiment w'hen the jar
was placed upon an insulating stand, and he found that at
every successive contact a portion of the electricity of the
outside became free, and the linen thread sprang to the out¬
side coating to receive and carry off the superfluous electricity.
The equality of the two electricities is still more clearly Richman’s
evinced in the fine experiment of Professor Richman, shown experi-
in fig. 7. Having coated with tinfoil the opposite sides ofment t0
a plate of glass AB, to within two inches of its edges, the sltov',^ie
glass was then placed vertically, and a linen thread m was the tvvif °
suspended to the upper part of each of the two coatings, electrici-
When the plate was not charged, the two threads hung ties,
down parallel to each other, and touched the tinfoil; but Plate
when the plate of glass was charged, the threads were re-^X7XVIII‘
pelled from the glass, and formed equal angles with it on
both sides. When any conducting body, such as the finger,
was brought near one coating, the thread on that side sunk,
and formed a less angle with the glass, while the thread on
the other side rose to a greater angle, the augmentation of
the angle on one side being exactly equal to its diminution
on the other. When the finger touched one coating, the
corresponding thread fell down entirely, and the thread
on the other side rose to a double elevation, so that the
angle formed by the twro threads was a constant quantity,
depending on the intensity of the charge communicated to
the plate.
1 he next point of inquiry to which Dr Franklin applied Franklin’s
himself, was to ascertain where the two electricities resided, experi-
and what was the function performed by each coating. m.ents-
Having charged ajar, and placed it on an insulating stand,
he took out the ball F, and rod FH, fig. 1, and found that
they did not contain any electricity. He then touched the
outside coating with one hand, and putting the finger of
another hand into the mouth of the bottle, he received a
shock as powerful as if the ball and rod FH had been in
their place. He next put into the phial some clean water,
which, being a conductor, answers the same purpose as tin-
foil, and having charged the jar, and poured out the water
into an insulated bottle, he found that it would not give the
shock. Upon filling the phial with fresh water, and with¬
out giving any new charge to the jar, he received a shock
as at first, which clearly proved to him that the electricity
resided in the glass. This important truth may be clearly
established in the following manner:—Take a cylindrical
jar, and let the outside and inside coatings of tinfoil be
nicely fitted, and applied to the surface without any cement.
When this jar is charged in the usual manner, place it on
an insulating stand or a glass plate, and holding it by the
uncovered part, lift out the interior cylinder of tinfoil with¬
out injuring its shape, and then lift the glass cylinder out
of its exterior coating. If we now touch the outside of the
glass cylinder with one hand, and at the same time the in¬
side with the other, we shall obtain no perceptible shock.
In like manner, no shock will be experienced by touching
the outside coating of tinfoil with one hand, and the inside
with the other, nor by touching either separately. But if
the two coatings are again replaced on the glass cylinder,
the one on the outside and the other on the inside, a shock
will be obtained in the usual way. Hence it follows, as
Dr Franklin concluded from the same experiment in another
ELECTRICITY. 613
Electrical form, that the electricity is accumulated on the surface of
Apparatus, the glass, and that the metallic coatings, or other conduct-
ing substances, which are placed in contact with both sides
of the glass, perform only the function of forming a perfect
communication between every point of the external with
every point of the internal surface of the glass at the instant
of the discharge.
Theory of In order to explain the theory of the Leyden jar, let
the Ley- us place a jar AB uncharged upon an insulating stand,
den jar. an(j mabe its outside coating B communicate with a pair of
ccxxviii ’nsu^ate<I pdh balls m, n, as shown in fig. 8. From the
8i ’ prime conductor convey a few sparks of positive electricity
to the jar by the knob F, the pith balls m, n will diverge
with positive electricity, owing to the decomposition of the
natural electricity of the external coating. If we now touch
the pith balls, the positive electricity which made them
diverge will escape, and they will fall into their natural ver-
Disguised tical position. But w'e have not thus removed all the posi-
electricity. tive electricity which Avas communicated to the interior
coating. A portion of it has become fixed or latent, or dis¬
guised or dissimulated, which can only happen from the
influence of a portion of resinous electricity. If we now
touch, indeed, the brass ball F, the portion of positive elec¬
tricity which remains free in the inside coating will cause
the pith balls communicating with the outside coating to
diverge with negative electricity.
If, when the pith balls are divergent with positive elec¬
tricity supplied from the conductor, we touch them so as
to allow it to escape, the repulsive force which it exerted
on that in the interior coating will cease, and the ball F
and the interior coating will be capable of receiving an ad¬
ditional quantity from the conductor. The pith balls will
again diverge with positive electricity; and if this be
removed, the ball F will again be able to receive a farther
supply from the conductor, so as to make the pith balls
again diverge. The interior coating will be receiving more
and more positive electricity, till its repulsive power be¬
comes so great as to resist the introduction of any more.
The jar is now charged, and will give a shock in the usual
manner, or may be discharged by the discharging rod.
Hence we may conclude that the positive electricity intro¬
duced into the inside coating of the jar decomposes the
natural electricities of the outside, drives away from it the
positive and fixes the negative electricity, which, by its re¬
ciprocal attraction, fixes also a part of it in its turn.
From the principles above established, it may be shown
that a given quantity of electricity from the prime con¬
ductor may be made to charge two or more jars, almost as
powerfully as if the whole quantity was communicated to
Plate one jar only. The jars being placed as in fig. 9, the elec-
ccxxvm. tricity from the prime conductor is conveyed by a chain A
^ 9‘ to the ball B of the first jar. The ball F of the second jar
has a similar connection with the coating of the first, and
by a third chain the coating of the second jar is connected
with the earth. When the inner coating of the first jar
receives positive electricity, the outer coating has its natural
electricity decomposed; the negative portion is fixed by
the influence of the positive electricity within, and the po¬
sitive portion is repelled to the interior of the second jar,
where it does the very same thing which was done by the
same electricity within the first jar. The positive electri¬
city set free at the exterior of the second jar is repelled to
the earth, and any requisite portion of negative electricity
is conveyed to the outer coating of the same jar, in order
to fix by its influence the positive electricity which arrives
at the interior of the jar. If we now remove all the con¬
nections, the two jars will have received their full charge ;
and the same will take place with any number of jars simi¬
larly arranged for the purpose.
As the accumulation of electricity in a jar depends upon
the mutual attraction of the two electricities, and as this Electrical
force varies inversely as the square of the distance of the APParatus-
molecules, the intensity of charge which any jar can receive
should increase with the thinness of the glass which sepa¬
rates the two fluids. Mr Cavendish inferred from his re¬
searches, that the intensity of the charge was inversely as
the thickness of the glass ; but we cannot avail ourselves of
this principle in practice, as a certain thickness of glass is
necessary to the due strength of the jar; and it has been
proved by experiment, that when the glass is thin, the mu¬
tual attraction of the two electricities has been capable of
forcing a passage through the glass itself. The common
glass jars, therefore, are as thin as they can be made with
perfect safety. Mr Brooke always placed a layer of paper
between the tinfoil and the glass, for the purpose of en¬
abling the jar to contain a charge of greater intensity.
A very remarkable apparatus, similar to a Leyden jar, is An insu-
made by a long wire insulated with gutta percha, and placed |ated wire
in water. We owe this beautiful experiment to Dr Fara-^n;i^ater
day, who made it with a wire 140 miles long, one end of^en j^r
which communicated with a pile of 360 elements of zinc
and copper, charged with acidulated water. The pile was
perfectly insulated, and communicated with the ground by
its second extremity. The insulation of the wire was so
perfect that the remaining current produced only a devia¬
tion of 5° in the galvanometer. When the communication
of the pile with the long wire was cut off, the following
phenomena were observed. Upon touching with the finger
either extremity of the long wire, a powerful sensation was
felt, which was repeated after a great number of successive
touches of the finger. The sensation was felt even after
an interval of five minutes. If, instead of discharging the
electricity with the finger, the wire is connected with a gal¬
vanometer, a very great deviation is produced, and is still
perceptible half an hour after the pile is removed from the
wire. All this is easily explained. The wire is a Leyden
phial! The copper wire is the inside coating, the gutta
percha is the glass, and the water the external coating ; and
when one end of the wire communicates with a source of
electricity, it becomes charged. When the wire is placed
in air the phenomena disappear. In one of Mr Faraday’s
experiments the wire was T6 millimetre in diameter, and
the insulating layer of gutta percha 2,o millimetres. Hence
the interior coating of this species of Leyden jar had a
surface of nearly 770 square metres, and the exterior coating
a surface of 3050 square metres.
Before concluding this section, we shall describe a pretty Cavallo’s
little instrument invented by M. Cavallo, called the self- self-charg-
charging jar. Having procured a glass tube eighteen inches inS lar-
long; and one and a half inch in diameter, coat one half of
the inside of it with tinfoil, and close the aperture of the
coated end with a cork, through which there passes a wire
touching the inner coating, and terminating in a brass ball
fixed at the uncoated end of the tube. If we now hold the
uncoated part of the tube in one hand, and rub the outside
of the coated part with the other, and after every three or
four strokes touch with the rubbing hand the brass knob or
ball, the hand will communicate to it a spark, and the in¬
side coating will thus be gradually charged. If we now
grasp the outside of the coated end with one hand, and with
the other touch the brass ball, we shall discharge the tube
and receive a shock.
If we insulate a metallic tubular or solid rod rounded at The lateral
the extremities, and about an inch or less in diameter, and explosion,
place it against the external coating of a charged jar, and
then place another metallic cylinder of five or six feet long
within about half an inch of its opposite extremity, it will
be found that at the instant of discharging the jar by means
of a common discharging rod and a chain resting on the
table near the outside of the jar, a small spark will be ob-
1
ELECTRICITY.
614
Electrical servecl to pass between the insulated conductor, touching
Apparatus. tj)e outer COating of the jar, and the conductor near its op-
posite extremity. Or if we connect a piece of metallic
chain any how with the outer coating, and discharge the
jar through another circuit independent of the chain, then
at the instant of the discharge the links of the chain will
appear luminous, showing that some kind of electrical action
has been produced in it. This phenomenon has been called
“ Lateral Explosion,” and as it has been sometimes asso¬
ciated with the passage of lightning along lightning con¬
ductors, it will be requisite to see in what this kind of elec¬
trical action consists. The most critical analysis as yet
made of this phenomenon appears in a paper by Sir Snow
Harris in the London and Edinburgh Philosophical Maga¬
zine for December 1839, to which we must refer the reader.
Sect. II.—On the Construction of Condensers of Elec¬
tricity.
Condensers An apparatus for condensing electricity in a conducting
of electri- body Was the undoubted invention of M. Jipinus, who also
T>ity' gave the true theory of its action. Volta, however, had the
ccxxvm mer*t °f first applying it to an electrometer for indicating
fig. io. small quantities of electricity.
The condenser shown in fig. 10 consists of two separate
parts, the first of which is a metallic disc B, supported by
a metallic stand BD, and the second is a similar disc A,
having a glass handle C rising from its tube, and a small
metallic pin and knob P projecting from its circumference.
The upper surface of the plate B and the lower surface of
A are covered with a thin film of a non-conducting sub¬
stance, such as varnished silk, rosin, or glass. If it is now
wished to condense any feeble electricity from any body,
as, for example, from a feebly electrified conductor, bring
the metallic pin P into contact with the body or electrified
conductor ; and while it is in contact let the metallic disc
B be brought close under it, as in the figure, the varnished
surface of A resting on the varnished surface of B. In this
state withdraw the whole from the prime conductor; and
having removed the plate B, apply the plate A to two sus¬
pended pith balls, which will separate to a very considerable
angle in consequence of the electricity having been con¬
densed by the contact of the disc B. That this is the case
may be readily proved by applying A to the pith ball be¬
fore the disc B was joined to A, when their divergence will
be greatly less than before. The explanation of this is very
simple. The positive electricity, for example, conveyed by
the prime conductor to the plate A decomposes the natural
electricity of B. The positive portion of B is repelled to
the earth by the similar electricity in A, while the negative
portion is attracted to the upper surface of B by the oppo¬
site electricity in A. In this position it is capable of at¬
tracting to the inner surface of A an additional quantity of
the free electricity in the prime conductor; and this addi¬
tional quantity will in its new position produce a farther de¬
composition of the natural electricity of C. All these effects
will take place simultaneously till an equilibrium is esta¬
blished between the free positive electricity supplied to A
by the prime conductor, and the negative electricity which
the attractive force of this electricity can draw from the
earth.
It is manifest, from these observations, that the principle
of the condenser is exactly the same as that of the Leyden
jar. The upper disc A which receives the electricity cor-
responds with the inner coating of the jar, the under disc
C with the outer coating, and the film or films of rosin, &c.
with the glass of the jar.
Volta’s con- The condensing electrometer of Volta is shown in fig.
densingelec- 11, where CAB is the condenser above described. From
trometer, the lower side of the plate B are suspended, by two metal¬
lic wires, two perfectly even and straight straws w, n, and Electricsr
on the mouth of the bottle DEFG is fixed the disc B, so APParatu
that the two straws hang freely in the axis of the neck of ^
the bottle. A graduated circle seen below mn is pasted on
the outside of the bottle, to estimate the angular separation
of the straws, which affords a mean of the electricity con¬
densed in the manner already described.
Mr Cuthbertson’s condenser, shown in fig. 12, consists ofCuthbert-
two flat circular plates of brass, A, B, about six inches inson’s con"
diameter. The receiving plate A is supported by a glass
pillar, firmly fixed to a wooden stand, while the condensing 0' j
plate B is sustained by a brass pillar, but so as to move
round a joint at its lower end, in order that it may be thrown
back into the dotted position shown in the figure. When
the plates stand parallel and vertical, the receiving one A
is connected by a wire with the body whose electricity is to
be condensed. In this state it is allowed to continue for a
short time, when the wire is removed and the plate B thrown
back into the dotted position. The electricity will then be
found condensed in the plate A.
When this instrument is applied to an electrometer, as in
fig. 13, it forms an excellent condensing electrometer; and Fig. 13. !
the effect may be greatly increased by uniting Cuthbert¬
son’s condenser with that shown in fig. 13. This may be
done by merely uniting the moveable plate of the former to
the fixed plate A of the latter by a small brass pin.
Nicholson’s spinning condenser, which is a very ingenious Nichol-
instrument, is shown in fig. 14, where A is a metallic vase, son’s spin-
which revolves about a steel axis EK, whose pivot K runs "ing con‘
in the adjustable socket C at the bottom of the stand H. A ^ens®|’
circular disc of glass D, one and a half inch in diameter and °‘
two-tenths thick, is fixed to the vase A, and revolves along
with it, while a similar plate E is fixed on the top of the
stand H. These two discs are shown separately in fig. 15. Fig. 15.
In the edge of the plate E are drilled two holes to receive
metallic hooks F, G, and into the edge of the upper plate
D are cemented two small tails of the flattened wire used
in making silver lace. These tails are bent down so as to
strike the hooks F, G during their revolution, without
touching the rest of the apparatus. The two adjacent faces
of the glass discs are coated with segments of tinfoil, as
shown in fig. 15 ; and they may be set at any distance by
means of the screw C. Each tail communicates with the
tinfoil coating of D ; the hook F communicates with that of
E, but the hook G is insulated so as to communicate only
with the electrified body. The coating of E communicates
with the earth by means of the stand H.
If the vase A, the plate D, and the axis EK, are now set
a spinning by the action of the finger and thumb applied at
T, one of the tails will strike the hook G, and receive
through it from the electrified body some of its electricity,
which it will convey to D, which will thus assume the elec¬
tric state of the body. The tail which has struck G pro¬
ceeding onwards, will after half a revolution touch F, and
will convey the free electricity received at G to the two
coatings, which with the hook F constitute one insulated
mass. The tail advances, acquires more electricity from G,
deposits it at F, and thus condenses it, on the principle of
the common condenser, till it is capable of affecting the
pith balls at F. The instrument constructed by Mr Nichol¬
son was five inches high, and condensed very small degrees
of electricity.
Sect. III.— On the Construction of Electrical Doublers.
This class of instruments operate by continually doub- Electrical
ling small quantities of electricity till the common electro-doublers.
meter is capable of indicating its presence and qualities.
The doubler invented by Mr Bennet consists of three Bennet's
plates, A, B, and C, fig. 16. The plate A, which is of brass, doubler.
\
ELECTRICITY.
615
Electrical
Apparatus.
Bennet’s
doubler.
Plate
CCXXVIII.
fig. 16.
Nichol¬
son’s re¬
volving
doubler.
Plate
CCXXVIII.
tig. 17.
has an insulating handle rising from its centre; the plate B,
which is also of brass, has a similar handle fixed in its cir¬
cumference. The third plate, C, also of brass, is placed on
Bennet’s gold-leaf electrometer. The under side of A, the
upper side of C, and both sides of B, are varnished. The
body whose electricity it is required to double is brought
into contact with the under side of C, which rests on the
cap of the electrometer, while B is touched with the finger
of the other hand. The communication with the electrified
body being broken off, B is lifted up by its glass handle.
If the electrometer leaves do not diverge, A is placed by
its handle upon B, thus lifted up; and A being now touched
by stretching a finger over the juncture of its insulating
handle and immediately withdrawing it, A is separated
from B. In this situation two of the plates have obviously
nearly equal quantities of one kind of electricity, while the
third" plate has the opposite kind. The plate A is then
made to touch the under surface of C, resting on the elec¬
trometer, and at the same time C is covered with B. The
plate B is now touched by the finger as A was; and re¬
moving A, and withdrawing the finger from B, and lifting
it up from C, the electricity is doubled. By repeating this
operation ten or twenty times, which may be done in
forty seconds, the electricity will, by continual duplication,
be augmented 500,000 times. When sparks are required,
C must rest on an insulating stand in place of the electro¬
meter.
It was found by Mr Bennet, Cavallo, and others, that
the doubler became strongly electrified even when no elec¬
tricity was communicated to it. To remove this evil, M.
Cavallo used three plates without varnish, and he placed
them on insulating stands, so as to have a vertical direction,
and to stand within one-eighth of an inch of each other, the
plates of air being a substitute lor the varnish. Ihe method
of doubling is exactly the same as before. Dr Robison
adopted the same idea, but he kept his plates horizontal,^
making them rest on each other by three small spherules ot
glass or sealing-wax. Notwithstanding these precautions,
however, electricity was still produced.^
In order to perform the operation of doubling with more
rapidity, Dr Darwin proposed the moveable doublet, oi one
in which the plates could be moved by wheel-work into
their proper positions. Dr Nicholson improved upon this
idea by producing the whole eftect with the simple i evolu¬
tion of a winch.
This revolving doubler, as it has been called, is repi e-
sented in fig. 17. It consists ot two fixed plates of brass A, C,
two inches in diameter, insulated separately, and placed in
the same plane, so that a revolving plate B may pass near
them without touching. A brass.ball D is fixed on the enc
of the axis which carries B, and is loaded within at one side
so as to counterpoise the plate B, and allow it to rest in any
position. The axis PN, and the axes that join the tlnee
plates with the brass axis NO, which passes through the
brass piece M, by which the plates A and C are supported,
are made of varnished glass. One end of this axis cames
the ball D, and the other is connected with a rod of glass
NP, upon which the handle L is fixed, and also the piece
GH insulated separately. The pins E, F rise from the
back of the plates A, C, at equal distances from the axis.
The arm K is parallel to GH, and the ends of both are
armed with pieces of harpsichord wire, so as to touch the
pins E, F in certain points of their revolution. A pin 1 is
fixed on M to intercept a small wire proceeding from the
revolving plate B. These wires are so bent that, when B is
opposite to D, GH connects the two fixed plates A, G,
while the wire and pin at I connect the ball D and plate B.
On the other hand, when B is opposite C, D is connected
with C bv the contact of F with the wire at K, the plates
A, B being then entirely unconnected with any other pait
of the instrument. In all other positions the three plates Electrical
and the ball D will have no connection with each other. Apparatus.
The operation of this instrument is thus described by Mr
Nicholson: “ When the plates A and B are opposite to
each other, the two fixed plates A and C may be considered
as one mass, and the revolving plate B, together with the
ball D, will constitute another mass. All the experiments
yet made concur to prove that these two masses will not
possess the same electric state; but that, with respect to
each other, their electricities will be plus and minus. These
plates would be simple, and without any compensation, if
the masses were remote from each other ; but as that is not
the case, a part of the redundant electricity will take the
form of a charge in the opposed plates A and B. From
other experiments, I find that the effect of the compensa¬
tion on plates opposed to each other at the distance of one-
fortieth part of an inch is such that they require, to produce
a given intensity, at least a hundred times the quantity of
electricity that would have produced it in either singly and
apart. The redundant electricities in the masses under con¬
sideration will therefore be unequally distributed; the plate
A will have about ninety-nine parts, and the plate C one;
and for the same reason the revolving plate B will have
ninety-nine parts of the opposite electricity, and the ball D
one. The rotation, by destroying the contacts, preserves
this unequal distribution, and carries B from A to C, at the
same time that the tail K connects the ball with the plate
C. In this situation the electricity in B acts upon that in
C, and produces the contrary state by virtue of the commu¬
nication between C and the ball; which last must therefore
acquire an electricity of the same kind with that of the re¬
volving plate. But the rotation again destroys the contact,
and restores B to its first situation opposite A. Here, if
we attend to the effect of the whole revolution, we shall
find that the electric states of the respective masses have
been greatly increased; for the ninety-nine parts in A and
in B remain, and the one part of electricity in C has been
increased so as nearly to compensate ninety-nine parts of
the opposite electricity in the revolving plate B, while the
communication produced an equal mutation in the electii-
city of the ball. A second rotation will of course produce
a proportional augmentation of these increased quantities,
and a continuance of turning will soon bring the intensities
to their maximum, which is limited by an explosion between
the plates.”
An ingenious instrument, called a pendulum doubler, has Ronalds’
been recently constructed and described by Mr Ronalds, pendulum
Having found it necessary to keep a telegraphic wire con-double!.
stantly electrified with a very small source ot electiicity, 'ie ccxxvm.
converted the bob of a pendulum into the centre plate of afig. 18.
doubler, and he found the instrument thus modified not only
useful for that purpose, but also for that class ot expei iments,
such as those on vegetation and animal life, which require a
constant supply of small quantities of electricity to repair
the loss occasioned by unavoidable defective insulation,
either in the glass which is used, or in the surrounding at¬
mosphere. This improvement on the doubler is shown in
fio-. 18, where A and B are the two fixed plates, about 4
inches’in diameter, supported by glass pillars ; C is the bob
carried by the pendulum rod D, and insulated by the piece
of glass e. The form of the bob C is that of a plano-convex
lens, with its interior filled with lead; / is a small cylinder
connected to C with screws, which also adjust the plane of
C parallel to the plane of vibration ; g is another insulating
o-lass rod, carrying the bent wire //, the left end of which lies
nearly in the same vertical plane as the end of the wire m,
the right end being nearly in the same plane as the end of
the wire n. A wire, i, rises perpendicularly from C ; and
another, h, perpendicular to the plane of vibration, is fixed
into the brass cup at the end of the pendulum rod. A wire,
616
ELECTRICITY.
Electrical is screwed into the edge of the plate B, and the long wire
Apparatus. m jg flxe(i on tiie lower edge of B, so as to approach within
a small distance of A, where it is bent at right angles, and
then projects in a plane perpendicnlar to that of vibration.
Another wire, n, is fixed into the edge of A, so as to bend
and project similarly ; but n projects farther than m, that the
right side of the bow h may pass the end of m without touch¬
ing it. A wire, o, is fixed at right angles into the base of
the instrument.
When the bob C is exactly opposite A, the insulated wire
h touches simultaneously the ends of the wires m and «, and
establishes a communication between A and B, while at the
same time the wire i, by touching o, forms a communica¬
tion between C and the ground. Now, if a quantity otposi¬
tive electricity, for example = 1, is given to A or B when
the centres of A and C are opposite to each other, that
quantity will be nearly all condensed on A, and C will ac¬
quire negative electricity nearly = 1.
“ If C,” says Mr Ronalds, “ be now allowed to begin its
vibrations, the connection of A and B with each other will
be instantly broken, as also that of C with the earth, and
they will be all insulated, and all retaining the electric states
which they possessed before the connections were broken
{i.e., A will be positive nearly =1, B negative nearly = 1,
and C positive almost 0).
“ When C has arrived opposite B, the uninsulated wire
k will touch the wire L, and thus place B in connection with
the earth ; therefore C, by virtue of its negative charge, will
induce a positive charge in it nearly = 1.
“ When C arrives a second time opposite to A, all the
former connections will be re-established, and the charge
of B will (by means of the wire m) be nearly all con¬
densed on and added to the original charge of A, making
a tension nearly - 2 of positive electricity, which tension
will induce a tension of nearly = 2 of negative electricity
on C.
“ And so the charges in A and C would go on, nearly
doubling at each vibration of the pendulum, until their ten¬
sions would arrive at such a point as to cause a spark to pass
between them.
“ But P is a Leyden jar furnished with a Lane’s dis¬
charging electrometer^; a connection is established by
means of a small chain between it and A ; and the distance
between the two balls r and s is considerably less than that
between A and C ; therefore the spark will be given to the
jar, and a spark will be continued to be given at the com¬
pletion of almost every second vibration, until it is charged
almost as highly as A is capable of being charged, or the
sparks will continually supply the loss of electricity by any
defect ofinsulation, either of the jar, or of any conducting
body in connection with its interior coating within certain
limits.
“ The contacts of the wires do not impede the velocity
of the vibrations, because they are made small enough to act
as springs of a required force ; but the electric attractions of
the plates and bob do tend to do so. The pendulum is
suspended by two springs, placed one at each extremity of
a cross piece, to which the rod is attached, for the purpose
of preventing the bob from being drawn, by their attrac¬
tions, out of its assigned plane of vibration, as much as pos¬
sible.”
Sect. III.—Description of Instruments for Multiplying
* Electricity.
Multi pi i- The electrical multiplier invented by M. Cavallo is shown
tri it eleC" 'n 19’ 0n a sca^e a^)0Ut one-third of its real size, and is
ncl y* chiefly useful in ascertaining the presence of a considerable
quantity of electricity occupying an extended space. Its
principal parts are four plates of brass A, B, C, D. The
plates A, C are supported by two glass rods G, II, fixed in
the wooden base RSQ. A similar plate B is supported
by another glass rod I, cemented into the wooden lever LK,
moving round a pivot K. The fourth plate D is supported
by a metallic rod. By the lever KL the plate B can be
moved from its position on the figure into the dotted posi¬
tion KX. The plate D is screwed at P into a piece of brass
FP, which slides in a groove, so that D can be pulled out
to any distance from C. At the corner Q is fixed a brass
rod N, and Om is a small bent wire fixed to the brass socket
O on the back of B. When B is as near as possible to A,
their distance being one-twentieth of an inch, this wire m
touches the rod N, and forms a communication with the
earth ; when FP is pushed in as far as possible, the surfaces
of C and D are one-twentieth of an inch distant. As the
lever KL moves towards X, the end m of the wire mQ) quits
N and insulates the plate B ; and when the lever has the
position KX, the wire m will touch the plate C, so as to
put the insulated plates B into communication with each
other.
If a body weakly electrified positively is now made to
touch A, when A and B are placed together as in the figure,
A will acquire a greater quantity of positive electricity from
the presence of the uninsulated plate B, which will be nega¬
tively electrified. When KL comes into the position KX,
so that B touches C by the wire mO, its negative electricity
will pass almost wholly to C, owing to its proximity to D,
which communicates with the ground. By a number of suc¬
cessive oscillations of the lever between the two positions
KL and KX, this operation may be repeated till an accu¬
mulated charge of negative electricity has been fixed upon
C. The plate D must now be drawn away from C by
means of the slider FP, and if pith balls are presented to C
they will diverge with, negative electricity.
In our chapter on the chemical agencies of electricity,
we have already described Schweigger’s multiplier or gal¬
vanometer, which was used by M. Colladon in his experi¬
ments on the chemical action of ordinary electricity ; and
also the multiplier of Dr Faraday with a double helix,
which he employed in his researches on the identity of the
electricity of the machine with that of the pile. Various
improvements have been made on the multiplier by M.
Nobili, Professor Oersted, and others ; but we must reserve
our account of them for the articles Galvanism and Mag¬
neto-Electricity.
Electrical
Apparatus,
Cavallo’s
multiplier.
Elate
CCXXVIII.
fig. 19.
Schweig¬
ger’s mul¬
tiplier.
CHAP. III. DESCRIPTION OF INSTRUMENTS FOR INDICATING
THE PRESENCE OF ELECTRICITY, AND MEASURING ITS
QUANTITY.
Instruments which are intended merely to indicate the Indicators
presence of electricity are called electroscopes, while those an(l mea"
which are intended for measuring the quantity of electri-surersof
city are called electrometers. The earliest electrometer e^uctricit^'
which seems to have been employed was a pair of silk
threads, which indicated the presence of small quantities of
electricity by their divergence; and the Abbe Nollet even
attempted to measure the quantity communicated to them,
by determining the inclination of the two threads, from
their shadow on a board. Mr Waitz improved the instru¬
ment by suspending small weights to the threads, and Mr
Canton perfected it by substituting the finest linen threads
for the silk ones, and by suspending from them a pair of
small balls turned out of the dry pith of the elder.
Description of Cavallo’s Electroscope.
. , i , . Cavallo’s
M. Cavallo made this little instrument portable by fitting electro-
it up as in fig. 1, where it is shown in a state of action at scope.
u
ELECTRICITY.
617
Cavallo’s
electro*
scope.
Plate
CCXXIX.
fig. 1.
Electrical B. When it is unloosed, the end B carrying the pith balls
Apparatus. is screwed off, and the balls are put into the glass tube at
A, which serves for a handle. This glass case is three
inches long and three tenths of an inch wide, and half of it
is coated with sealing-wax. A cork tapering at both ends
is made to fit the mouth of the tube, and to one end of the
cork are fixed two linen threads carrying two small cones
of elder pith. The case of the electrometer at C incloses
at one end a piece of amber for giving negative electricity,
and at the other end a piece of ivory insulated upon a bit
of amber for giving positive electricity, to the balls, when
rubbed with a piece of woollen. All these instruments
may be greatly improved by substituting for the pith of
elder the pith of the sola, a tree which grows in the East
Indies.
Description of Bonnet's Gold-Leaf Electrometer..
Rennet’s ^)ne ^ most use^1^ electrometers is that which was
gold-leaf invented by Mr Bennet, and called the gold-leaf electro-
electrome- meter. This instrument, which is shown in fig. 2, and a
ter> section of it in fig. 3, consists of a cylinder, ABED, with a
figs. 2, 3. brass cap, AB. In a hole, a, in the centre of the
cap, is fixed a wedge of wood, on each side of which is
fastened by a little varnish a smooth-edged strip of gold
leaf, shown at m and n, about two inches long and a quar¬
ter of an inch broad. Two pieces of tinfoil, 6, c, are pasted
opposite each other, and within the cylinder, so as to rise a
little higher than the ends of the gold leaves, and the lower
ends of these pieces of foil are in contact with the brass
stand DEE which sustains the instrument. Ihe inside of
the cap AB, and the upper part of the glass cylinder, are
sometimes coated with wax. A pointed wire, C, is used to
collect the electricity af the atmosphere. In using this in¬
strument, the cap AB is turned round till the surfaces of
the gold leaves are parallel to those of the pieces of tinfoil.
When no electricity is present the two gold leaves hang in
contact in the axis of the cylinder ; but it a fully electrified
body is made to touch the cap AB, the gold leaves m, n
will diverge as in the figure, and their lower ends will strike
the pieces of tinfoil c, which will convey the electricity
to the ground.
Mr Nicholson has proposed to substitute two flat radii of
brass in place of the tinfoil, and by moving them to and
from the gold leaves with a micrometer screw, to make the
instrument more sensible, and at the same time obtain a
kind of measure of its quantity.
Singer’s
improved
electrome¬
ter.
Plate
CCXXIX.
figs. 4, 5.
Pigs. 4,
Singer's Improved Electrometer.
Although insulation may be procured by coating glass
insulators with wax, yet, as Mr Singer observes, this affords
only a temporary defence, as moisture is eventually pieci-
pitated upon them ; and in removing this it is almost im¬
possible to avoid exciting the surface of the. wrax, and dis¬
turbing delicate experiments by the electricity which is thus
generated. To remove this evil Mr Singer proposes to in¬
close the insulator in a narrow channel, as the moist air in
contact with it wfould be then limited in quantity, and little
disposed to motion. In applying this principle to the im¬
provement of Bennet’s electrometei, the insulation is e
feeted by a glass tube four inches long and one-fourth of
an inch internal diameter, coated out and in with sealing-
wax, and having a brass wire five inches long and one-six¬
teenth or one-twelfth of an inch thick to pass through its
axis, so as to be perfectly free from contact with any part
of the tube, in the middle of which it is fixed with a plug
of silk, which keeps it concentric with the internal diameter
of the tube. This arrangement is shown in figs. 4, 5 where
A is a brass cap screwed upon the upper part of the wire
VOL. VIII.
w, which prevents the atmosphere from having free contact Electrical
with the outside of the tube B, and defends at the same -Apparatus.
time its inside from dust. To the lower end of the wire
the gold leaves are fastened, and the glass tube passes
through the centre of the usual cap of the electrometer,
and is cemented in it near the middle of its length, as may
be seen by the dotted lines which represent the cap. “ When
this construction,” says Mr Singer, “ is considered, it will
be evident that the insulation of the wire, and consequently
of the gold leaves, will be preserved until the inside as well
as the outside of the glass tube is coated with moisture;
but so effectually does the arrangement preclude this, that
some of those electrometers that were constructed in 1810,
and have never yet (1814) been warmed or wiped, have
still apparently the same insulating power as at first.”
The electrometer constructed upon the preceding princi¬
ples is shown complete in fig. 4. p;g, 4.
Dr Faraday recommends strongly the use of this elec- Dr Fara-
trometer ; but having found from repeated experience that day’s in-
its indications are not in general well understood by those stmetions
who have occasion to use it, he has given a very valuable f°r US111£
description of the kind of charge which it receives under ^ rome*
different circumstances, and the precautions which are ne¬
cessary in interpreting its indications. As this description
would lose its value by any abstract or alteration, we shall
make no apology for giving it in his own words,, especially
as it is applicable to many other analogous instruments.
“ If an insulated portion of conducting matter, as a brass
ball at the end of a glass handle or silken thread, be elec¬
trified, and then placed in contact with the cap of the elec¬
trometer, the cap and leaves will immediately partake of the
electricity of the ball, and the leaves will diverge. If the
charge in the ball be of considerable intensity, the leaves-
will be torn to pieces by their mutual repulsion, and the
attraction of the sides of the glass jar; but if the intensity
be small, the leaves will diverge moderately, so as not to
touch the glass, and the degree of divergence will be in
some proportion to the intensity of the charge communi¬
cated. The appearances will be the same whether the elec¬
tricity communicated be positive or negative.
“ The circumstances will be different if the body brought
in contact with the electrometer is an electrified portion of
what is usually called non-conducting matter; if) for in¬
stance, it be a stick of sealing-wax rubbed with flannel,
instead of a metallic ball. If highly electrified, this will
cause the same disturbance and appearance in the leaves
during its approach as the ball; if moderately electrified, it
will, when in contact with the cap, cause the usual appear¬
ance of divergence in the leaves, but upon removing it, the
leaves, instead of remaining diverged, will either collapse;,
or remain very slightly, and frequently uncertainly, elec¬
trified. This is a consequence of the non-conducting power-
of the wax; and the method of transferring electricity to
the electrometer in such a case is, to draw the excited parts
of the wax over the edge of the cap p small portions will be
communicated, and the electrometer will be left electrified
similarly to the wax. Such a process is, however, very
uncertain; for if the electricity of the wax be weak, the
friction of the substance against the electrometer cap will
sometimes generate an electricity stronger than that pre¬
viously existing on the surface of the wax, and the electro¬
meter will become charged, not by the previous electricity
of the wax, but by that produced during its friction against
the cap.
u This difficulty may, however, be avoided in most cir¬
cumstances, simply by bringing the electrified non-con¬
ductor into contact with the cap, and retaining it there
during the experiment; for the electricity which in this
way is made by induction to exist in the leaves, and causes
their divergence, is the same as that which would exist over
4 1
618
ELECTRICITY.
Electrical the whole of the cap and leaves, if the electricity of the
Apparatus. wax COuld be transferred to them.
« Such are the circumstances relating to the charge of the
electrometer, by bodies brought into contact with it, and
communicating to it part of the electricity they previously
possessed. As before mentioned, when highly electrified,
they cannot be so applied to the instrument without tearing
the leaves to pieces ; but they may then, when held at a
distance, be made to diverge the leaves by induction., and
even to communicate a charge to the instrument, and thus
enable it to exhibit divergencies when the inducing electri¬
fied body is removed. The effects thus produced by in¬
duction are the same in kind, and nearly in extent, whether
the electrified body be a mass of conducting or non-con¬
ducting matter, so that in this respect the metallic ball and
the stick of wax are equal; the only difference being in
the kind of electricity produced, which, with bodies charged
positively, is the reverse of that occasioned by such as are
charged negatively.
“ When an electrified substance is placed at such a dis¬
tance from the cap of the electrometer as to occasion con¬
siderable divergence, and is retained there for a few minutes,
the divergence of the leaves will generally diminish, and
the more rapidly as the instrument becomes cold or the
glass damp, as the leaves are ragged, or any part of the cap
angular and pointed.
“ On removing gradually the electrified substance to such
a distance that it can no longer affect the instrument, it will
be found that the leaves will collapse at first, and afterwards
expand again more or less, according as they had lost more
or less of their first divergence.
“ This ultimate divergence of the leaves will be due to a
charge of electricity in the instrument, of the opposite kind
to that of the inducing or approximated body.
“ If no effect of this kind takes place, and there be no
diminution of the first divergence, nor any ultimate change,
then the insulation and goodness of the electrometer is
proved by a powerful test. This being ascertained, then,
if whilst the electrified body is in the neighbourhood, and
the leaves diverged, the cap be touched by the hand, or any
other conducting substance communicating with the earth,
the divergence of the leaves will instantly cease. In this
state of the instrument, if the communication be broken so
as to leave the cap and leaves insulated, they will still re¬
main collapsed; but if the inducing electrified body be now
removed from the situation in which it at first caused the
divergence, the leaves will immediately diverge, and the
electrometer become charged with electricity of the oppo¬
site kind to that of the inducing body. The degree of
charge thus given to the instrument will be in proportion
to the degree of divergence induced in the leaves before
they were made to collapse by the touch of the finger.
“ In the case in which a weakly electrified non-conduct¬
ing substance was directed to be laid on the cap of the
electrometer, to occasion a divergence by electricity like
its own, it may be observed that, if, during the experiment,
the cap be touched by the fingex-s, and the electrified body
afterwards removed, the leaves will first collapse, and then
diverge with opposite electricity, although at the commence¬
ment of the experiment they wei'e diverged with the same
electricity as that of the body to be examined. If, therefore,
the electricity of an excited body is to be examined, the
leaves of the electrometer are in the first place to be di¬
verged, This may be done with the same electricity, by
bringing the body, if weakly electrified, into contact with
the cap, leaving it there if of non-conducting matter, or i'e-
moving it after contact if of conducting matter ; or, if
strongly electrified, by approaching it so near as to cause a
sufficient divergence of the leaves, and retaining it thei'e
until the conclusion of the experiment. On other occasions
however with strongly excited bodies, it may be convenient, Electrical
either because of their size or other circumstances, to com- Apparatus,
municate a chax-ge of the opposite kind, in the manner de-
scribed; then upon determining what that kind is, in the
manner to be immediately described, the electricity of the
Originally electrified body will of course be known to be
opposite to it.
“ The tests of the kind of electricity by which the leaves
are diverged are of the following nature. A stick of sealing-
wax rubbed with warm flannel becomes negatively elec¬
trified ; a tube of warm glass rubbed with a dry silk hand-
kerchief, ox-, better still, with a piece of silk having a little
amalgam upon it, become?, positively electrified, both these
excitations being so strong as to make the leaves of an un-
charged electrometer diverge whilst the wax or glass is at
a considerable distance. If one of these excited substances
be brought near the cap of an electrometer already diverged,
it will either cause the divergence to increase or diminish.
The divergence will increase if due to electricity of the
same kind as that of the body approached, but will diminish
if of the opposite kind ; so that the electricity of the body
approached being known, that of the electi’ometer will also
be known, and consequently that of the excited body which
had originally caused its divergence. The sealing-wax for
instance is rendered negative by flannel; being approached
to a diverged electrometer it may cause the leaves to col¬
lapse ; the conclusion to be drawn is, that the electrometer
leaves were in a positive state : being approached to another
diverged electrometer it may inci’ease the divergence, in
which case it will indicate that the leaves of the electro¬
meter were in a negative state. An excited rod of glass
broxxght to these electrometers would make the first divei'ge
still moi'e, and would cause the second to collapse, in both
cases indicating the same states as the wax.
“ Some precaution is required with respect to the manner
in which these excited rods are to be applied. The elec¬
trometer being diverged, the wax or glass is to be excited
at such a distance as to have no influence over the instru¬
ment ; the most strongly excited part of the wax or glass
is then to be gi’adually approached to the cap, the hand and
all other unnecessary conducting bodies being kept out of
the way as much as possible, or at least not moved in the
neighbourhood of the electrometer during the experiment.
As soon as the i'od begins to affect the leaves (even though
the distance be two or three feet), the effect must be watched,
and then their collapse or furtlxer divergence will become
evident immediately on moving the rod a little way to or
from the instrument.
“ It is this first effect that indicates the kind of electri¬
city in the electrometer, and not any stronger one; for
although, if the repulsion be increased from the first, no
approach will cause a collapse to take place except the
actual discharge of the leaves against the sides of the glass,
yet when collapse is the first effect, it may soon be com¬
pleted, and repulsion afterwards occasioned from a too near
approach of the strongly excited test-tube. It is, therefore,
the first visible effect tlxat occurs, as the test-rod is made
to approach from a distance that indicates the nature of the
electricity ; and when this effect is observed, the rod should
not be brought nearer, so as permanently to disturb the
state of the electrometer, but shoxxld be removed to a dis¬
tance, and again approached, for the purpose of repeating
and verifying the preceding observation.
It is to be understood, that the appi’oach of the test-
rod, though it affects the divergence, causes no permanent
change of the electricity in the instrument, unless it be
brought much too near, and cause considerable disturbance
of the leaves. The electrometer will remain, after a good
experiment, in the same state as at first.
“ When the body to be examined is so strongly electri-
ELECTRICITY.
619
Electrical fied that it may not be brought near to the electrometer,
Apparatus, but has been placed at such a distance as to affect it, and
left there to cause a proper divergence, then its place should
not be directly over but rather on one side the cap, that the
test-tube, when applied, may be brought towards the in¬
strument on the other side; the originally electrified body,
and the test-tube, being retained in directions as widely
apart as they conveniently can be.”
In order to protect his most sensitive gold-leaf electro¬
scopes from the influence of electricity to which they may
be exposed, Dr Faraday covers them with nets of linen or
cotton with loose meshes, so that when they are placed in
the neighbourhood of powerful electrical machines in action,
the electricity never reaches them, being wholly taken up
by the net which surrounds them.
Samsure's Electrometer.
Saussure’s The electrometer by which Saussure made the observa-
electrome- tions on the electricity of the atmosphere is shown in figs,
ter. 6, 7. It consists of a glass vessel, ACB, of a bell shape,
Plate an(j s0 wide that the balls q, q, when at their maximum
fi s 6 7 * divergency, cannot reach the strips of tinfoil A, A, A, A
’ pasted within the glass. The pith balls, which are sphe¬
rical, should not be above half a line in diameter, and should
be suspended by the finest silver wires, moving freely in
nicely-rounded holes. Four pieces of tinfoil are used, each
internal piece having a corresponding one on the outside ;
and the bottom of the instrument is made of metal, and
round it there is a graduated scale for measuring the diver¬
gency of the balls.
In order to collect much electricity from the atmosphere,
the instrument has a pointed wire, one and a half or two
feet long, which unscrews in three or four pieces; and in
order to preserve its insulation, a small umbrella is screwed
Fig. 7. tm tlm top of the instrument, see fig. 7. On other occa¬
sions he connected with a hook at H a fine metallic wire
fifty or sixty feet long, at the end of which was a three or
four ounce ball of lead, which he threw to the height of
forty or fifty feet, in order to bring down the electricity of
the atmosphere.
By dividing between two equal and similar bodies the
electricity contained in one, and carrying on the subdivi¬
sion progressively downwards, M. Saussure determined the
relation between the divergency of the balls g, g, and the
force of the electricity which acted upon them. 1 he results
which he thus obtained are given in the following table.
Distance of
Balls in
fourths of a
line.
Relative
Forces of
Electricity.
Distance of
Balls in
fourths of a
line.
Relative
Forces of
Electricity.
1   1
2  2
3      3
4   4
5   5
6   6
7    8
8   10
9  12
10  14
11   17
12  20
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
23
26
29
32
36
40
44
48
52
56
60
64
Method of 1° order to use this instrument, place it in open ground,
using Saus-free from trees and houses, and having screwed the conduc-
sure’s elec- tor on the top of the electrometer, lay hold of it by its base,
trometer. an[j place it s0 that the base and conductor may touch the
ground at the same time ; then raise it to the height of the
eye, and observe on the scale the number of fourths of a
line that the balls have diverged; then lower it till the balls
almost touch each other, and measure the distance ol the
top of the conductor from the ground; this distance is the
height at which the electricity of the air begins to become
sensible. If the balls still diverge, the other parts of the Electrical
conductor should be unscrewed, and it will then be seen at APParatu3-
what height the electricity becomes sensible.
Hare’s Single-Leaf Electrometer.
As the divergency of the gold leaves is increased by the Hare’s
proximity of the strips of tinfoil, Dr Hare, of the university single-leaf
of Pennsylvania, conceives that the leaves are separated by electrome*
attraction, and not by repulsion ; and he was thus led to p^te
construct an electrometer with a single leaf, as shown in OCXXIX.
fig. 8. A brass ball one fourth of an inch in diameter is so fig. 8.
situated that it may be made to touch the leaf, or retire
from it to the distance of an inch, by means of a screw which
supports it. It is obvious that this instrument is not only
more simple than the double-leaved electrometer, but less
liable to be destroyed by accident; and Dr Hare informs
us that it is exceedingly sensible, and that it has enabled
him to detect the electricity produced by one contact be¬
tween a copper and zinc disc, each six inches in diameter.
Henley’s Quadrant Electrometer.
This useful instrument is represented in fig. 9. It con- Henley’s
sists of a semicircle of ivory, C, fixed to the side of a stand, quadrant
AB, about seven inches high, rounded and smoothed in all electrome-
its parts. The lower quadrant of the semicircle is divided
into 90°, and a thin piece of cane ab is suspended at the CCXXIX.
centre m of the semicircle, carrying a pith ball A. When fig. 9.
the electricity to be measured is communicated to the in¬
strument, the ball is repelled by the stem AB, and the
angular elevation of the cane ab is a measure of the elec¬
trical force. This instrument maybe screwed from its base
B, and fixed on the end of the prime conductor, or on the
summit of a Leyden phial. Mr Achard states from experi¬
ment that the quadrant should be divided according to a
scaleof arcs whose tangents are in arithmetical progression.
It is most frequently used as an appendage to the prime
conductor, for the purpose of measuring the state of action
of the electrical machine.
In employing this instrument to show the progress of
the charge of any jar or battery, Dr Faraday justly observes
that it should be so placed that the moving index does not
approach to any ball, wire, or surface charged similarly to
itself, but on the contrary should recede from it. If it is
therefore placed on the end of the conductor, the index
should move outwards and away from the conductor, and
not in a direction over it towards its more central parts
for the latter would interfere with the free indications of
the electrometer, and in some cases would make it quite
useless.
Brooke’s Steelyard Electrometer.
This electrometer, which is represented in fig. 10, is cal- Brooke’s
culated to measure the number of grains which the repulsive steelyard
force of the accumulated electricity is capable of raising, ^trome
Its base AB, about nine inches and a quarter in diameter,
adjusted horizontally by screws A, B, sustains an insulating
pillar DD, upon which the electrometer rests. To the
brass rod H are attached two tubes of copper, G, g, which
have a motion round the rod, so as to be turned to a proper
distance from the body whose electricity is to be measured.
The tube G is screwed into a solid piece within the ball F,
and moves in a vertical plane about an axis close to F. The
balls I K are of copper, and hollow. The arm E, which
moves round an axis in a vertical plane behind the dial-
plate R, carries a ball C, which touches the ball L fixed on
the top of the glass rod DD. If the arm E rises from a
vertical to a horizontal position, or through 90°, the index
620
ELECTRICITY.
Electrical R on ^ile ^ig] js ma(]e tG move through a whole circle, or
pparatus. 300°^ rfhe apparatus NPH forms the communication be-
tween the electrometer and the body whose electricity is to
be measured.
Let the body be electrified positively, then the electro¬
meter will be similarly electrified. The balls I, K will repel
each other, G will rise in a vertical plane, L will repel C,
and EC will also rise in a vertical plane.
The apparatus F, G, <7,1, K, is chiefly used for graduating
the inner circle of the dial-plate. For this purpose a weight
m moves along the rod G, till it forms an exact counter¬
poise to the weight of F. One end of the weight m will
consequently be the zero of the scale. Let m be now
shifted to «, near to the ball I, and determine by a pair of
good scales the weight of the ball I, or rather the weight
produced by shifting m to n. Divide the space mn into as
many divisions as th3 grains now found, and subdivide it
into halves and quarters. These divisions are now to be
transferred to the inner circle of the dial-plate, by observ¬
ing the position of the upper or shorter half of the index li
when m stands at any number of grains in the scale mn.
When the inner scale on the dial-plate is thus graduated,
the arms G, g and balls I, K may be removed.
two light reeds of straw, an, an', terminating in balls of pith, Electrical
and constituting a long index, corresponding in length to Apparatus,
the fixed arms above mentioned. The index thus circum-
stanced is susceptible of an extremely minute force. Its
tendency to the vertical position is regulated by small
sliders of straw, 5,5, moveable with sufficient friction on either
side of the axis. To mark the angular position of the in¬
dex in any given case, there is a narrow graduated ring of
card, board, or ivory, ef, placed behind it, the divisions'be¬
ing distinctly legible through sights cut in the reeds. This
graduated circle is supported on a transverse rod of glass,
cd, by the intervention of wooden caps, and is sustained by
means of the brass ball a, in which the glass rod is fixed.
The whole is supported on a long insulator of glass, A, by
means of wooden caps terminating in spherical ends.
In the above arrangement, as is evident, the index will
diverge from the fixed arms whenever an electrical charge
is communicated to the ball b.
This instrument is occasionally placed out of the vertical
position, at any required angle, by means of a joint at m ;
and all the insulating portions are carefully varnished with
a solution of shell-lac in alcohol.
Sir W. Snow Harris's Electrometer.
Cuthbert-
son’s ba¬
lance elec¬
trometer.
Plate
CCXXIX.
fig. 11.
Sir W.
Snow
Harris’s
electro¬
scope.
Fig. 12.
CuthbertsorUs Balance Electrometer.
This electrometer, which is particularly useful for jars and
batteries, is shown in fig. 11. It consists of a metallic rod
CD, about thirteen inches long, terminated by balls C, D,
and balanced on a knife edge, the ball b being constructed
in such a manner as to permit the rod CD to move in a
vertical plane. A bent tube of brass FG, supports a simi¬
lar ball G ; and four inches below' D is placed another in¬
sulated ball E, which communicates with a wire and chain
with the outside of the jar or battery. If the rod AB be
now connected with the prime conductor, or the inside of
the jar, and this last be .electrified, the ball E will attract D,
because they are oppositely electrified, from being con¬
nected with opposite surfaces of the jar ; and when this at¬
tractive force exceeds the weight at a with which the op¬
posite arm is loaded, the arm AD will descend and give out
its electricity to the ball E. In order to obtain a measure
of the attractive force between D and E, and consequently
of the intensity of the charge, the arm CA is divided expe¬
rimentally into sixty parts or grains, which are indicated by
one side of the moveable index a. A Henley’s quadrant
electrometer is placed at A, to indicate the progress of the
charge, which is not shown by the balance electrometer.
Sir W. Snow Harris's Electroscope.
This very ingenious and beautiful instrument, invented
and used by Sir W. Snow Harris, is represented in fig. 12.
The following description of it wre owe to the kindness of
the inventor:—
Fig. 12 represents an electroscope, which acts on the
principle of electrical divergence. A small elliptical ring
of metal, a, is attached obliquely to a small brass rod, ab,
by the intervention of a short tube of brass at a ; the rod
ab terminates in a brass ball, A, and is insidated through the
substance of the wooden ball m. Two arms of brass, r, r,
are fixed vertically in opposite directions on the extremi¬
ties of the long diameter of the ring, and terminate in small
balls; and in the direction of the shorter diameter within
the ring there is a delicate axis at a, set on extremely fine
points. I his axis carries, by means of short vertical arms,
The object of this electrometer, an account of which has Sir W.
been kindly communicated to us by its inventor, is to mea- Snow
sure directly the attractive force of an electrified body, in Harris’s
terms of a known standard of weight, estimated in degrees ^®ctroine'
on a graduated arch, xy, fig. 13. An insulated conductor, pia’te
/, is fixed on a varnished rod of glass, fg, resting, by the CCXXIX.
intervention of a wooden ball on the extremity of a micro-fig. 13.
meter screw, S, by the aid of which the conductor may be
raised or depressed through given intervals to within the
hundredth of an inch of any required point. A moveable
and similar conductor, m, made of light wood, hollowed and
gilded, is suspended immediately over the former from the
periphery of a small brass wheel W, figs. 13 and 14, by
means of a fine silver thread attached near its vertical arm,
and passing from thence over its grooved circumference, as
shown. This conductor, m, is counterpoised by a short cy¬
linder of wood, pn, figs. 13, 14, suspended in a similar man- Fio-s.i3,U.
ner from the opposite side of the wheel by means of a silk °
thread, and resting partly in water contained in the glass
vessel N, fig. 13.
The extremities of the axis of the wheel W, figs. 13, 14,
are turned to extremely fine pivots, and rest on two large
friction wheels, after the manner represented in the figures,1
by which great freedom of motion is obtained.
There is a fine index of light straw, Wc, attached to the
extremity of a small steel needle, inserted diametrically
through the circumference, which indicates on the gradu¬
ated arc xy the force exerted between the conductors m,f.
I he weight of this index is accurately poised by a small
globule of brass, n, fig. 14, moveable on a screw, cut in the
opposite arm of the steel needle carrying the index.
The centre of the wheel W is accurately placed in the
centre of the arc xy, which, with its radii of support, is
made of varnished wood; the graduated scale being of card,
board, or ivory. This arc is the sixth part of a circle, di¬
vided into 120 equal parts, 60 in the direction cx, and 60 in
the direction cy; the centre c being marked zero.
Fig. 14 represents the wheel W, with the suspended con- Fig. 14.
ductor and counterpoise, the index and its balance-weight,
together with the lines of suspension, passing freely over the
circumference, and fixed at the point ii.
ir . k.now Harris resorted to this method of employing friction rollers, as being more efficient than that in which the axis is allowed
to res ln t e ang e formed between the peripheries of four smaller wheels. In this case it roils fairly on a large circumference, and is
pi even e 10m passing off it on either side by the check-w heels, either of which, w hen acted on, opposes little or no resistance to motion*
ELECTRICITY.
621
Electrical The various wheels above mentioned, with the graduated
Apparatus. arCj are sustained on a projecting metallic rod, passing
through a glass column B. The column is secured by
means of the rod to a sort of double stand pp, fig. 13, sup¬
ported on three levelling screws. The interval between
the plates of this stand contains the glass vessel N and the
micrometer screw S. The upper plate has a circular hole,
p, through which the cylindrical counterpoise passes into
the water n. The levelling screws serve to regulate the
position of the counterpoise through the hole; so that when
it hangs in it centrally, the whole is accurately adjusted.
The gravity of the suspended conductor m being in the
above arrangement opposed by that of the counterpoise, it
may be so far considered as existing in free space devoid of
weight, and will therefore become very readily moved by
any new force applied to it. It may consequently be caused
to approach to or recede from the fixed conductor/, by the
operation of forces acting in either of these directions ; the
motion, will, however, be speedily arrested by the cylindri¬
cal counterpoise n, which becoming either further immersed
in, or otherwise raised in the water, furnishes, in the greater
or less quantity of water displaced, a measure of the force.
In this way the force may be estimated either in degrees or
grains of actual weight; since the number of grains requi¬
site to add to either side, in order to advance the index in
either direction a given number of divisions, may be im¬
mediately found by experiment; and which, as the sections
of the cylinder are all similar, will be found to increase or
decrease with the degrees of the arc. Thus, if one grain
advances the index in either direction five degrees, then two
grains will advance it ten degrees, and so on.1
In the application of this instrument to electrical in¬
quiries, the force to be measured is first communicated to
the fixed conductor/ a free communication being established
between the suspended conductor m and the ground, or
otherwise with the negative side of the jar or battery, should
the attractive force be derived from this species of accumu¬
lation ; this is readily effected through the brass work of the
apparatus, in connection with the rod passing through the
interior of the glass column B.
For the repulsive force we connect the conductor / as
before, and suspend m by a silk thread; in which case_ it
will, after being electrified similarly to / recede from it ;
but this method of experiment is evidently more compli¬
cated than the former, and liable to fallacy. 1 he distance
between the conductors mf corresponding to a given force
is easily ascertained by means of the degrees indicated on
the arc x y. In the instrument above described, each de¬
gree corresponds to a variation of distance between the con¬
ductors equal to the '01 of an inch. If, therefore, at the
commencement of any given experiment, we first bring the
nearest points of the conductors m,/ in contact, the index
being in zero, and then depress the inferior conductor/a
given distance, known by means of the micrometer screw s,
then all subsequent distances may be readily determined
between these points.
It is now only requisite to observe, that the interior of
the cylindrical counterpoise is hollow, in order to weigh it
accurately, and cause it to hang vertically in the watei, and
there is a small hemispherical cup, p, fixed on its stem foi
the reception of small adjusting weights, by which the posi¬
tion of the index at 0 of the scale is regulated with great
nicety. With respect to the form of the conductors //?, /
they are generally plain circular areas, backed^ by small
cones, and are about two inches in diameter. Conductors
of other forms, however, such as spheres and cylindeis, may
be occasionally used when the object is to experiment more Electrical
particularly on bodies of peculiar forms. Apparatus.
Experiments with this instrument are remarkably clear,
considering the subtile character of the principle we have
to investigate. Thus, when the insulations are perfect, and
the atmosphere dry, the index immediately exhibits the
amount of the attractive force, and remains stationary for a
much longer time than is required to note the result.
By varying the superficial dimensions of insulated con¬
ductors, and the quantity of electricity accumulated on them,
we may, by the help of the above instrument, deduce many
curious and important laws of electrical action. It is, how¬
ever, first requisite to explain a method of charging simple
conductors with comparative quantities of electricity; for
without an accurate measure of quantity, little can be ef¬
fected in almost any department of this branch of science.
Simple conductors may have comparative quantities of1>late
electricity disposed on them, by abstracting small sparks a ^
from an insulated charged jar, fig. 15, either immediately on °‘
the given substance, or, otherwise, on an insulated transfer
plate, p, fig. A. An insulated jar, charged with a given Fig. A.
accumulation, as estimated by the unit of measure, which
will be presently described, is of singular importance in re¬
searches with simple conductors ; for series of sparks may
be obtained from it of such slow convergence, that many
successive terms may be considered as equal. Thus, an
insulated metallic disc, d, being placed in connection with
the electrometer, fig. 13, or with the electroscope, fig. 14,
w'as electrified many times in succession to precisely the
same amount, by sparks drawn on an insulated plate from
the positive coating, the negative side of the jar after each
contact being restored to a neutral state. When a portion
of the charge was abstracted so as to sensibly decrease the
quantity in the jar, then a new point was arrived at, from
which another series of sparks can be obtained, differing ex¬
tremely little in quantity ; and this process may be conti¬
nued to a low point of accumulation on the jar.
The quantity given off by the positive coating is depen¬
dent on the dimensions of the abstracting conductor, and on
the free state of the negative side of the jar. If it be free
for each experiment, or be otherwise connected with a con¬
ductor of sufficiently large dimensions, it may be observed
that a conductor of a double capacity receives a double
quantity, a conductor of a treble capacity a treble quantity,
and so on. The extent to which this process may be car¬
ried with a jar exposing about two square feet of coating is
somewhat considerable. We only require in these experi¬
ments an extremely perfect insulation.
In disposing given quantities of electricity on simple con¬
ductors in this way, and investigating the attiactive force by
means of the electrometer, Sir W. Snow Harris arrived at
the laws formerly explained. (See page 550.)
Lane's Discharging Electrometer.
This admirable instrument is shown in fig. 16. To the Lane’s dis-
stem A15 of a Leyden jar MN, is fixed a bent piece of
,class BC, for the purpose of supporting and insulating the ter<
brass rod DE, which has two equal brass balls at its extre- Fig< 16>
mities. This rod moves through a spring tube at C, so that
the brass ball D can be placed at different distances from
the equal ball A, by which the jar is charged. The insu¬
lated hall D is connected through the metallic wire DE
with the outside coating of the jar, by a wire EE. If we
bring the ball D near to A, a small electrical charge con¬
veyed to the jar MN will discharge itself from A to D, and
• 1 c cnvt ind should nreviously to being used, be kept immersed in
“d^ by “stick of bur,,i"g
622
Electrical
Apparatus.
Sir W.
Snow
Harris’s
measuring
electrome¬
ter.
Plate
COX XIX.
fig. 17.
Volta’s
flame elec¬
trometer.
ELECTRICITY.
pass off to the ground by the wire EF. If the distance
AD is increased, the jar must be more highly charged be¬
fore it discharges itself; so that the distance AD of the
balls is a measure of the intensity of the charge at the time
of its discharge. As long, therefore, as the jar has not dis¬
charged itself, we are sure that its charge is less than that
which corresponds to the distance AD. The chief defect
of this instrument arises from the occasional interposition of
particles of dust or other light conducting materials between
the balls, which occasions the charge to take place sooner
than it otherwise would do. The arm of glass is sometimes
fixed on the top of the charging rod, where a ball of wood is
placed, and is bent downwards, so as to carry the balls D, E.
In this case the jar is charged by another ball projecting from
the charging rod towards D. This electrometer is some¬
times fixed to the prime conductor, with and without a jar
accompanying it.
Sir W. Snow Harris’s Measuring Electrometer.
This elegant instrument, which we have had the advan¬
tage of seeing in operation, is an invaluable addition to our
electrical apparatus. According to the law of electrical ac¬
cumulation on coated jars, the quantity added to one side is
always proportional to the quantity given off by the other,
and reciprocally. Hence the amount of the accumulation
may be always estimated by insulating the jar to be charged,
and observing, by means of a discharging electrometer, the
explosions of a small jar connected with the negative coat¬
ing. This process is, however, complicated in its general
application ; but Sir W. Snow Harris has modified it in the
following manner:—Let a small jar, N, be furnished with a
discharging electrometer, n, and inverted as in fig. 17, being
supported by a brass rod, inserted into the ball D of the
prime conductor ABC. Then, as the electricity passes up
the rod and accumulates on the inner coating, a similar
quantity is given off' from the outer coating, which may be
made to pass from a ball at/>. Now, when the small jar N
has been charged to a given degree, an explosion or dis¬
charge takes place from m to w, and restores the equilibrium;
and hence one measure of electricity is marked by the first
explosion. When this has taken place, the jar is in the same
state as at first; and hence by a repetition of the process we
obtain the exact number of measures (or explosions) which
pass from the unit jar N, and are finally accumulated on the
jar J, or battery, into which the electricity passes from the
ball p. This process of charging a battery from the outer
coating of an exploding jar, instead of from the prime con¬
ductor, supersedes all electrometers, and is the best way of
measuring quantity.
Volta’s Flame Electrometer.
It was observed by Mr Bennet, that a lighted candle
placed above the cap of his electrometer, and communicat¬
ing with it, greatly increased the sensibility of the instru¬
ment ; and it appears, from various experiments, that flame
possesses the property of carrying off from bodies the elec¬
tricity with which they are charged. M. Volta ingeniously
availed himself of this principle in order to bring down to
his electrometer the electricity of the atmosphere, the na¬
ture and intensity of which he was desirous of examining.
This effect is produced by elevating above the atmospheri¬
cal conductor a lighted match or torch.
Matteucci’s Phosphorus Electrometer.
As the preceding instrument cannot be employed when
there is the least wind or rain, and still less during a storm Electrical
of hail or wind, M. Matteucci conceived the idea of con- Apparatus,
structing an electrometer depending on the strong conduct-
ing power of the vapour of phosphorus. He prepared rods Mateuc-
of this substance between the twenty-fifth and the fiftieth ci’s Phos-
of an inch in diameter, by melting the phosphorus under Phorus
water, and by blowing it while in a state of fusion through rume*
a tube of the requisite diameter. He afterwards made the
rod of phosphorus project from the fiftieth to the seventy-
fifth of an inch beyond the end of the tube. He then fixed
the glass tube on a wooden pole, and he insulated the pole
by fixing to its extremity a glass handle. The phosphorus
communicated by its base with a metallic wire which de¬
scended along the pole, and which could be kept at a dis¬
tance from the pole by some tubes of glass placed at regular
distances. M. Matteucci kept the rod of phosphorus per¬
fectly insulated in the time of rain, by means of a glass hood
varnished on both its surfaces, and having its convexity
turned upwards. The pole was composed of three or four
rods, which were adjusted into one another ; and the instru¬
ment thus constructed was found extremely useful in ex¬
amining the electricity of the atmosphere.
Mr Ronalds’ Improvements on Electrometers.
As threads, pith or cork balls, and even straws when very Ronalds’
dry, lose some of their conducting power, Mr Ronalds pre- improve-
fers fine silver wire, and hard charcoal balls from boxwood, for
electrometric purposes. The following is the method which terg rome'
he employs in making electrometers of this kind. The in- p|at‘e
strument which he uses is represented in fig. 18, where CCXXIX.
ABCD is a bow of steel wire with a hook at each end. fig. 18.
When the charcoal ball has been threaded on the silver wire,
and rings formed at each end, it is very gently stretched in
this bow, by passing the hooks through the x'ings, and shov¬
ing it forward with the thumb placed against the end of the
tongue near the handle, which tongue is thus made to open
wider by pressing the screw E on each side. The screw E
is then turned a little farther into the piece F, in order to
fix it firmly. The fine wire is now placed cautiously upon
a piece of iron, a little below a red heat, which will make it
perfectly straight, when it may be taken from the bow, and
suspended on one of the rings of the piece of brass, fig. 19. Figs.19,20.
In fig. 20 is shown Mr Ronalds’ method of making gold-leaf
electrometers.
Melloni’s Electroscope.
When a conductor in a neutral state approaches an elec- Melloni’s
trifled conductor, it disguises1 or dissimulates a portion of electr0‘
this electric state, and in restoring to the disguised fluid its
positive tension in proportion as the sensible fluid passes
from it by dispersion, it prolongs the duration of the electric
charge. We know also that this effect takes away from the
contrary electricity developed by induction in the part
nearest to the body introduced, and that the electricity
homologous to that of the inducting body appears on the
more distant portions, where it diffuses itself in proportions
inversely as the radii of curvature.
A fortunate combination of these three data led M. Mel¬
lon! to conceive it possible to construct an electroscope sin¬
gularly sensible, and capable of preserving its electricity a
much longer time than any instrument of the same kind.
The effect of the instrument is such as he expected, and he
regards it as one which will become very useful in all kinds
of electrical researches.
Let A (fig. 13) be a metallic cup furnished with two fili¬
form appendages D, D soldered to the opposite points of
See page 613, col. 1.
ELECTRICITY. 623
Electrical the upper margin of the cup, and communicating by a
Apparatus, conductor which passes into the axis of a tube of glass
having a ball or a metallic disc at E. A second metallic
cup B (fig. 14), inverted, and a little smaller and much
lighter than A, is fixed below a wire or very thin lever of
metal CC, suspended by a silk fibre F. The cup B is
then suspended in the manner shown in fig. 15, so as to
be inclosed in A without touching it. A small metallic cy¬
linder f is placed in the middle of the cup A, so as not to
touch the inside of the cup B.
If we now electrify positively the ball or conductor E,
the electricity will pass to the cup A, will act by induction
on the cup B, will repel the positive and attract the ne¬
gative electricity of the natural fluid in B, which will react
upon the free fluid in A, disguising a certain quantity and
abandoning the rest according to the laws which regulate
the distribution of electricity in insulated conductors, so
that the intensity of the action will depend on the curvature
of the surfaces, and will be less strong on the sides of the
cup than upon its appendages. 1 he cup A will therefore
contain a certain proportion of positive electricity disguised,
that is accumulated without tension and without mobility,
and its appendages D,D will possess a free electricity of the
same kind increasing towards their extremities. The cup
B and its lever CC will possess negative electricity disguised
at the central part in respect to the cup A, of free positive
electricity in the rest of the moveable system, that is upon the
top plate of the inverted cup B, and on the lever above it.
But this last species of electricity will be more powerful at the
extremities of the lever, than in the middle part or on the
top of the cup; 1. Because these extremities are the most
distant points of the inductive action ; and, 2. Because their Electrical
radius of curvature is smaller than that of any other part. Apparatus.
As the lever C C thus possesses the same kind of elec-
tricity as the appendages D D, it will be energetically re¬
pelled if it is not precisely in the same azimuth with them,
and after a few oscillations it will rest at a certain angle of
deviation. The electric charge communicated to the fixed
system will then begin to diminish. This diminution will
be much slower than in ordinary electrometers.
In this electrometer the moveable part is always electrified
by induction, and never by communication ; the difference
of form between the centre and the extremities of the fixed
and moveable pieces makes the distribution of the moving
forces the most favourable for the rotation of the index, and
the inductive action of the central surfaces, disguising a
portion of the electricity to give it by degrees the free state
in proportion to the losses sustained, prolongs the duration
of the charge received. The following are the dimensions
of the instrument:—
Millim.
Diameter of glass cage  115
Height of do  11
Length of fibre of silk  25
Distance between dial and glass plate  3
Inner diameter of A  21
Do. do. of B  16
Sir W. Snow Harris’s Bijilar Balance.
About the year 1831, Sir W. Snow Harris proposed a new Sir w-
method of obtaining a delicate reactive power applicable to ,
the measurement of electrical and magnetic forces, and the bifilarh
movements of oscillating bars and other suspended masses, balance.
If a magnetic or electrical needle, as p n, No. 1, fig. 16,
or other body, G, No. 2, be suspended horizontally by two
equal filaments of unspun silk a b, a U, fixed parallel to each
other, it is evident that its position of rest will be in the
vertical plane passing through the two threads. Whenever,
therefore, we turn the needle from this position about the
imaginary axis c c fig. 2, the filaments of suspension will be
deflected from the vertical, so that the distance c c will be
somewhat less than before: hence arises a reactive force
derived from the weight of the suspended needle or other
body, the centre of gravity of which having been raised,
t*
624
ELECTRICITY.
Harris’s
bifilar
balance.
Electrical will endeavour to descend and rest in its previous position—
Apparatus, it will be in a similar condition to that of a body falling
down a very small arc. If therefore the needle be freely
abandoned to this reactive force, a vibratory motion will
arise,1 by observing which, we may determine the laws of
the reactive force imparted to the threads.
By carefully noting the rate of oscillation of a suspended
cylinder of wood G, No. 2, about 2 inches high and 2 inches
diameter, the following results were arrived at:—1. The
time of an oscillation is as the square root of the length of
the threads of suspension divided by their distance apart,
without reference to the weight of the suspended mass. 2.
The oscillations are isochronous at all angles. Applying
Ptt" «2
the general formula n — - ^ r^2, employed by Coulomb in
his experiments on torsion; it is found that the force im¬
parted to the threads = «, will vary with the squares of the
distances between them divided by their lengths, and will
be also as the weight of the suspended mass = P, hence we
Yd1 .
have ra oc—j- ; and since the oscillations are isochronous,
we may conclude that ft is proportional to the angle, or per¬
haps more nearly the sine of the angle, of deflection of the
threads, results which the inventor fully verified by ex¬
periment.2
Upon these data the electrometer, termed by the inven¬
tor a bifilar balance, was designed. The instrument, as at
first constructed, is somewhat elaborate in its form and con¬
trivances for estimating and observing rapidly electrical
forces, to which end it is remarkably available. It will be
found very fully described in the Philosophical Transactions
for 1836. A more simple form of it, however, is that simi¬
lar to the torsion balance already described, fig. 1, Plate
CCXXIV., substituting the bifilar suspension for the wire
of Coulomb.
The two threads ah, dU, No. 1, fig. 16, are secured
above to a small cross wire a a, at the extremity of a verti¬
cal rod terminating in a micrometer and index M ; they
are about 20 inches long, and are set at a quarter of an inch
apart; the electrical needleft is attached to the lower ex¬
tremities of the threads, in a similar way, and is constructed
much in the same way as the needle of Coulomb’s balance
of torsion, except that the repelling bodies/), q are thin discs
of gilded cork of about *5 of an inch diameter, and the ex¬
tremity ft of the needle balancing the insulated disc p, is
formed into an index, and moves over a graduated quadrant
m ft within the glass cage, thereby indicating more accu¬
rately the degrees of repulsion of the electrified bodies p q.
The suspension threads are further stretched by a vertical
cylinder of brass g, carrying a small stage o for receiving
such small circular weights as may suit the purpose of the
experimentalist. The lower portion of the cylinder g ter¬
minates in a fine needle, which plays freely in a hole drilled
in a small elevated plate of brass beneath, as seen in the
figure ; and by which the whole is prevented from swing¬
ing out of a vertical position. The whole is mounted on a
raised base of varnished wood B, supported by three level¬
ling screws, and there is a pretty large opening in the floor
at H, for the purpose of introducing any small electrified
body, and communicating a repulsive force to the discs p, q.
To avoid a collapse of the threads when the angle of de¬
flection is considerable, the threads pass through one or two
stays of light cork: with this precaution, the force is strictly
proportional to the sine of the angle of deflection up to 360°.
The angle, however, for all practical purposes need not ex¬
ceed 60°. There is a small angular lever y moveable with
friction through the floor of the glass cage, by which the Electrical
needle is prevented from taking a violent swing when the Apparatus,
repulsion commences, and by which it may be eased oft'
gradually. In the instrument thus constructed, a force so
small as the T£$-g-th part of a grain for each degree may be
measured: by increasing the length of the threads, diminish¬
ing their distance apart, or changing the weights on the
stage o, almost any very small fraction of a grain may be
obtained and valued. This instrument may be used pretty
much in the same way as Coulomb’s balance of torsion be¬
fore described, fig. ], Plate CCXXIV. The inventor is of
opinion, that in experiments with this, and all similar instru¬
ments, the electricity should be equal on each of the repel¬
ling bodies p, q; the force will be then, at a constant dis¬
tance, always as the square of the quantity of electricity,
as clearly proved by Cavendish in his manuscript papers,
and as he himself has fully shown for attractive forces. If
one of the repelling bodies p be in a higher state of elec¬
trical charge than the other q, then the result is very un¬
certain—the indications may, in some instances, be nearly
as the quantity on one of the discs; but this is not always
the case. It is clear, that by continually diminishing the
quantity on one of the discs, we shall at length arrive at an
attractive force; and to this, under every circumstance, the
action of the discs on each other virtually tends, as he
thinks he has fully shown.
When it is found desirable to examine the repulsive
force in connection with electrified bodies placed externally
to the glass cage, then the disc q is attached to a light con¬
ducting-wire, terminating above in a contact ball, and insu¬
lated through a varnished tube of glass in the hole A, after
the manner of the gold-leaf electrometer.
The electroscopes of the Abbe Haiiy, and the torsion
electrometer of Coulomb, have been described in a preced¬
ing part of this treatise.
CHAP. IV.—ON MISCELLANEOUS ELECTRICAL INSTRUMENTS.
1. Sir W. Snow Harris’s Electrical Balance or Scale Beam
Electrometer.
In investigating the law of the attractive forces of elec- sir W.
tricity accumulated in jars and batteries, SirW. Snow Harris Snow
made use of the electrical balance shown in fig. 1. The Harris’s
beam mn of the balance, constructed in the usual manner,
is suspended from a projecting arm of brass, ea, supported pj^g
by a vertical stand, abc, consisting of a brass slider and socket, COXXX.
ah, by which the balance can be moved up or down, and of fig. i.
a glass tube, he, with a ball of varnished wood, h. A wire,
pointed out by the line ef, passes through the tube ahe, and
connects the beam with the negative coating of the jar. A
hollow gilt conductor of wood,/, is suspended by a metallic
thread from one of the arms m, and from the opposite arm n
is hung by silk lines a light brass scale, d. In this scale
there is placed as much additional weight as will balance the
conductor f and put the whole in a state of equilibrium.
Bv means of an insulated conductor/', of the same dimen¬
sions as f and fixed directly under it, the attractive force of
the electricity in the jar is made to act directly on the sus¬
pended conductor/. The conductor/', which is connected
with the positive coating, is so placed that it can be de¬
pressed from contact with the conductor f through given
distances, by means of a cylindrical slide, r, attached to it,
which moves in the socket s, and indicates its depression on
an engraven scale, divided into twentieths of an inch. The
socket s is supported on a glass pillar by means of a var-
1 Edin. Trans, for 1834, Oscillations of the Horizontal Needle, sec. 29.
2 Phil. Trans, for 1836, p. 419.
ELECTRICITY.
Electrical nishcd ball of baked wood, on which the socket is fixed, and
Apparatus, through which the conductor f is connected with the posi-
tive coating. The whole balance can be raised or de¬
pressed through a small distance by the micrometer screw
at e.
From this description it is obvious that the attractive force
acts directly between the conductors / and/', and can there¬
fore be measured by weights placed in the scale d. The scale
rests on a small circular stand q, which can be raised or de¬
pressed by the sliding brass rod and tube vt, to accommo¬
date itself to the horizontal position of the beam, and to check
any oscillation. The balance is fixed on an elliptical base,
having three levelling screws.
The following experiment, made by Sir W. Snow Harris,
will best explain the use and value of this balance.
Having connected the inside coating of a single jar con¬
taining five square feet with the conductor /, and the out¬
side coating with the wire ac, the conductor/ was depressed
through half an inch, and a weight of sixteen grains was
placed in the scale ; then, when five turns of the plate were
completed (or, if the measuring electrometer is used, when
n explosions were conveyed to the jar), the attractive force
between/and /' was sufficient to tip the beam. The accu¬
mulated electricity being discharged, the conductor/' was
depressed through a second interval of half an inch, making
the whole distance one inch ; and four grains or one-fourth
of the former weight being placed in the balance, the beam
was again depressed with/re turns of the plate, or n explo¬
sions of the measuring electrometer. The accumulation
being again discharged, and the conductor / depressed
through a third interval of half an inch, and one-ninth part
of the first weight placed in the scale, the beam was again
depressed with five turns of the plate, or w explosions. Hence,
as the distances in the first experiment were as two to one,
and the weights four to one, and as in the second experiment
the distances were three to one and the weights nine to one,
we may infer that the attractive force between the conductors
varied in the inverse ratio of the square of their distance.
625
wire is formed into a little hook, to allow a small spherical but- Electrical
ton, d, to be attached to it when the electrical spark is to be Apparatus,
transmitted. The sealed leg CB is graduated by intro-
ducing in succession equal weights of mercury from a mea¬
sure glass tube. Seven ounces troy and sixty-six grains oc¬
cupy the space of a cubic inch, and thirty-four and a half
grains represent a hundredth part of that volume.
The method of using this apparatus, is shown in fig 3. Fig. 3.
The whole syphon being filled with mercury or water, a
convenient quantity of the gas to be examined, not exceed¬
ing one-sixth of the capacity of the tube, must then be in¬
troduced in the ordinary manner. The tube is then held
upright by the hand, and the gas being transferred into the
sealed leg CB, the mercury is brought to a level in both
legs, either by the addition of a few drops, or by displacing
a portion by pushing down a glass or wooden rod. The
tube being grasped as in the figure, the thumb must be
placed tightly over the aperture, so as to ck>se it, and at the
same time touch the wire next it. A spark from the con¬
ductor of the electrical machine is then made to enter the
button d, and after inflaming the gas, is conducted away by
the thumb and hand of the operator, the tip of the finger
feeling only a.slight push or*pressure. When two or more
inches of air are left beneath the thumb, it acts as a recoil
spring to restrain the violence of the explosion. When
condensation of volume takes place, the finger feels pressed
down to the orifice. On sliding it gradually to one side
and admitting the air, the mercurial column in CB will rise
above that in AB. More mercury must then be poured in
till the equilibrium is restored, when without any reduction
we may read off the resulting volume of gas. If the charge
of a jar is to be transmitted through the wires, the thumb
must not touch the wire when it closes the aperture. In
this case the wire from the outside coating must be hooked
on the eudiometer wire nearest the thumb, and then the
knob or ball on the charging rod of the jar must be brought
in contact with the button on the other wire, when the gas
will be exploded.
2. Dr lire’s Detonating Eudiometer.
Dr Ure’a The electrical eudiometer is a simple instrument, for de-
detonating tonating or exploding gases by means of an electrical spark
eudiome-° or shock. The common eudiometer is merely a short tube
ter. 0f glass closed at the upper end, and having two pieces of
coy* platina wire passing through the glass near its upper end, so
fis 2 ^ near]y t° meet at the axis of the tube. Ihese wires com¬
municate, the one with the inner and the other vyith the
outer coating of a charged jar, so that when the discharge
passes between the platina points, it inflames the gas in the
tube. As the gas subjected to the action of the spark is
transferred to the tube over water or mercury, the lower or
open extremity of the eudiometer-must be kept in the water
or mercury, in order to confine the gas. W ith the common
eudiometer two persons are required, the one to manage
the instrument and the other to manage the electrical ma¬
chine.; but Dr Ure has given it such a form that a single
individual car> perform all the operations with the gieatest
facility. , . .
Plate Dr Ure’s instrument, shown in fig. 2, consists of a glass
CCXXX. syphon, ABC, with a bore of from two-tenths to four-tenths
Fig. 2. 0f an inch. Its legs AB, CB are from six to nine inches
Iona-, and from one-fourth to half an inch apart. The open
end A is slightly funnel-shaped, and the other, C, which is
hermetically sealed, has two platina wires, a, b, inserted
near it by the blow'pipe. The outer end of the one w ire
is bent vertically upwards, and then horizontally so as nearly
to touch the edge of the aperture A. The end of the other
3. Volta’s Electrical Lamp.
As hydrogen gas is readily inflamed by a very small elec- Volta’s
trical spark, Volta conceived the idea of constructing a j^ncal
lamp for temporary purposes, such as that, of obtaining a
light at night, or in summer for the purpose of sealing let¬
ters, bv employing the electrophorus to light the hydiogen.
With this view a quantity of gas is put into a reservoir, and
when subjected to the pressure of a column of water, it
escapes from a small aperture by turning a .stop-cock. Be¬
neath this reservoir is placed an electrophorus in a box, and
from the upper part of the box a wire passes through a glass
tube to the small aperture. When the handle of the stop¬
cock is opened to let out the gas, the cover of the electro¬
phorus is raised by means of a silk cord connected with the
handle of the stop-cock, and the spark from this cover is
conveyed by this insulated wire to the stream of gas,;w Inch
is instantly kindled, so as to allow a candle to be imme¬
diately lighted. From the smallness of the quantity of gas
consumed, a light may be procured an hundred times from
the same reservoir of gas. When the hydrogen gas is ex¬
pended, it is troublesome to persons unaccustomed to che¬
mical manipulations, to replenish the reservoir with fresh
p-as M. Gay Lussac removed this defect by suspending a
bar* of zinc on the apparatus, so as to reproduce, by the
action- of diluted sulphuric acid1 upon it, as, much gas as
^Although a good electrophorus, when well excited, will Mr Cut-
retain its charge for many months, yet in general its opera-
 _ upon it.
4 K
VOL. VIII.
l The acid should be diluted in the proportion of one part of acid to seven of water.
626
Electrical
Apparatus.
Green’s
hydrogen
lamp.
Ronalds’
electro-
graph.
Elate
ccxxx.
fig. 4.
ELECTRICITY.
tion has been so uncertain, especially in damp weather, that
many persons have been obliged to lay aside the instrument.
Mr Cutbush of Philadelphia found that he could produce a
spark in the dampest weather when he warmed the elec-
trophorus before exciting it with a fox’s tail, and kept the
electrophorus box as tight as possible. As the cock is apt
to become loose and allow the gas to escape, Mr Cutbush
applied a mixture of tallow and finely pulverized plumbago
to the cock; and, what is very curious, he found that the
hydrogen gas prepared from zinc escapes much more readily
than that procured from iron filings. He found that the
former sometimes disappeared in twenty-four hours, while
the latter often remained more than a week. The gas from
iron filings is more impure than the other, from containing
more or less carbon. With these precautions Mr Cutbush
found that the lamp of Volta seldom disappointed him in
producing flame. He ascertained that one cubic inch of
gas wall light the taper at least ten times if the cock is
quickly turned.
A hydrogen lamp acting by voltaic electricity in place
of that of the electrophorus has been invented by Professor
Jacob Green of Nassau Hall, and is quite independent of
the state of the atmosphere. Its description, however, be¬
longs to the subject of another article.
4. Ronalds’ Electrograph.
M. Magellan had proposed to delineate the changes which
take place in the electricity of the atmosphere, by a cylin¬
drical and a plain electrograph. As our limits, however,
will not permit us to describe these instruments, we shall
content ourselves with giving a drawing and description of
the more recent and useful electrograph invented by Mr
Ronalds. This instrument is shown in fig. 4, where AA
is a box with a strong time-piece placed horizontally, and
moved by the weight B, and CC a disc of baked mahogany
eight inches in diameter, with an aperture of 2\ inches at
D. The circumference of this disc, and also that of the
perforation, are provided with edges or rims, and the outer
broad rim is divided off and marked with hours and minutes
like a common clock. The space betw'een the two edges
is almost filled with cement, composed of rosin, bees’ wax,
and lamp-black, and this part of the apparatus may be taken
from the box at pleasure. A glass-tube EF, with brass
caps, and covered inside and out with hard cement, screws
by its lower end into the disc CC, while the upper end
carries a small sheave, g. Within this tube EF a stem of
glass is fixed by its lower end on the minute arbor of the
time-piece, and a pivot attached to its upper extremity
passes through F and the sheave g. This pivot carries the
iron ball and cap h, into which is screwed the horizontal
steel ware i, carrying the slider k, which moves with little
friction along the wire. The piece h carries the vertical
wire /, terminating below in a hook, upon which hook is
hung a ring at one end of a short wire m, whose other end
carries a small gold bead. A fine thread, w, is attached to
k by one end, and by the other to the sheave g.
When the clock is going, its minute arbor carries round
the arm and the effect of this is to coil the thread n round
the fixed sheave g, and to make the piece It advance to¬
wards the ball A, so that the gold bead will trail upon the
resinous disc CC, and describe a spiral upon it. If we now
cause the little iron cap above h to communicate with a
wire connected with any atmospherical conductor, the gold
bead will electrify the resinous surface, so that when the
plate is removed from the clock and powdered with pounded
resin, or even dry hair powder, the spiral line will exhibit
configurations varying in shape and in breadth according
to the intensity and nature of the electricity which the re¬
sinous surface has received from the trailing bead. The Electrical
times at which these phenomena take place will be shown Apparatus,
by the dial-plate.
If this instrument is used for recording the phenomena
of serene weather, dew, &c., the hour arbor should be used
in place of the minute one; but if for those of a thunder
storm, hard shower of rain, or hail, or snow, the minute
arbor should be used. Mr Ronalds adds, that he has some¬
times found a more rapid motion necessary, which can be
obtained by the addition of a third arbor; the glass tube
EF, with its appendages, being transferred to the most
suitable arbor, and the disc adjusted to a new centre.
Sheaves larger and smaller than g will be requisite for dif¬
ferent applications of this electrograph.
5. The Electrical Air Thermometer.
This instrument, invented by Mr Kinnersley, is shown Kinners-
in fig. 5, where AB is a glass tube about ten inches long and ley’s elfc'
two inches wide, having its ends closed by two air-tight
brass caps, A and B. Through these caps slide two hooked ter
wires, EG, El, so that the small brass balls G, I, can be Plate
set at any distance, and an electrical spark passing between CCXXX.
them may be made stronger or weaker as the occasion re- %• 5-
quires. Another small tube, HA, open at both ends, passes
through a tube in the copper caps, and through this tube a
sufficient quantity of mercury or water is introduced to fill
the lower ends both of the wide tube AB and the narrow
one HA. If an electrical charge is sent through the balls
G, I when they are placed in contact, by connecting the
hooks E, F with the outside and inside coating of a Leyden
jar, no effect wall be produced; but if the balls G, I are
separated so .that the charge passes in the form of a spark
through the interposed air, the rarefied and displaced air
will press on the surface of the mercury or wratei at the
bottom of the tube AB, and raise it nearly to the top of the
small tube HA. It will then sink after the explosion, and
resume its former position.
6. Volta’s Electrical Pistol.
A brass vessel of a pear shape, or of an ellipsoidal form, Volta’s
being perforated at its two ends, a glass tube of the same electrical
diameter as the perforation is inserted in one of them, so P1S 0 '
as to extend to the centre of the ellipsoid, and to project
about four inches beyond the vertex. Through this tube
there passes a metallic stem, which is furnished with a brass
ball at its outer end, while its other extremity reaches be¬
yond the inner end of the glass tube. A mixture of equal
parts of hydrogen gas and atmospheric air having been in¬
troduced at the second aperture, this aperture is closed
tightly with a cork. The operator now grasps the ellipsoid
by its equator, and when a spark is taken by its brass ball
from the prime conductor, the gaseous mixture will instantly
be exploded, and drive out the cork with a smart explosion.
In place of a mere perforation at the extremity of the ellip¬
soid, a barrel may be inserted, and by using a cylinder
of cork as a wadding, a ball may be discharged from the
pistol.
7. Ronalds’ Electrical Pistol.
Another form of the electrical pistol is shown in fig. 9, Ronalds’
at BCF, forming a part of Mr Ronalds’ electrical telegraph, electrical
The pistol has the form of a pear, and the brass rod and Ius 0 '
ball, in place of being a continuation of its axis, is inserted
on one side, as shown at D. We have given a separate
section of this pistol in fig. 6, where AB is the body of the Fig. 6.
pistol, which contains the inflammable gas, C the cork
which is to be discharged, D the glass tube, G the brass
ELECTRICITY.
627
Electrical ball with a brass rod going down through the glass tube
Apparatus and extended a little beyond it, and E another little ball
II and rod fixed in the lower end of the pistol. When the
Electro- gpark js communicated at G, the eras will explode and dis-
v j^16! J c^larSe cork.
8. Ronalds' Electric Telegraph.
Ronalds’ M. Cavallo suggested the idea of conveying intelligence
electric by passing given numbers of sparks through an insulated
telegraph. wjre ;n given spaces of time ; and some German and Ame¬
rican authors have proposed to construct galvanic telegraphs
by the decomposition of water. Mr Ronalds, who has de¬
voted much time to the consideration of this form of the
telegraph, proposes to employ common electricity to convey
intelligence along insulated and buried wires ; and he proved
the practicability of such a scheme by insulating eight miles
of wire on his lawn at Hammersmith. In this case the
wire was insulated in the air by silk strings; but he also
made the tidal with 525 feet of buried wire. Wfith this
view he dug a trench four feet deep, in which he laid a
trough of wood two inches square, well lined both within
and without with pitch, and within this trough were placed
thick glass tubes, through which the wire ran. The junc¬
tion of the glass tubes was surrounded with short and wider
tubes of glass, the ends of which were sealed up with soft
wax.
Plate Mr Ronalds now fixed a circular brass plate, fig. 7, upon
CCXXX. the seconds arbor of a clock which beat dead seconds. This
£g-7- plate was divided into twenty equal parts, each division
being worked by a figure, a letter, and a preparatory sign.
The figures were divided into two series of the units, and
the letters were arranged alphabetically, omitting J, Q, U,
W, X, and Z. In front of this was fixed another brass
Fig. 8. plate, as shown in fig. 8, which could be occasionally turned
round by the hand, and which had an aperture like that
shown in the figure, which would just exhibit one of the
figures, letters," and preparatory signs, for example 9, V,
and Ready. In front of this plate was suspended a pith
Fig. 9. ball electrometer, B (see fig. 9) from a wire C, which was
insulated, and which communicated on one side with a glass
cylinder machine, D, and on the other side with the buried
wire. At the farther end of the buried wire was an appa¬
ratus exactly the same as the one now described, and the
clocks were adjusted to as perfect synchronism as possible.
Hence it is manifest, that when the wire was charged by
the machine at either end, the electrometers at both ends
diverged, and when it was discharged they collapsed, at the
same instant. Consequently, if it was discharged at the
moment when a given letter, figure, and sign, on the lower
plate, fig. 7, appeared through the aperture, fig. 8, the same Electrical
figure, letter, and sign would appear also at the other clock ; Apparatus,
so that by means of such discharges at one station, and by
marking down the letters, figures, and signs seen at the
other, any required words could be spelt.
This is not the place to describe the method of using the
telegraphic dictionary, but we may state, that the electrical
pistol F, which passed through the side of the clock-case
GG, had an apparatus H, by which a spark might pass
through it when the sign prepare was made, in order that
the explosion might excite the attention of the superin¬
tendent, and obviate the necessity of close watching. See
Telegraph.
9. Ronalds’ Atmospherical Conductor, founded on a New
Mode of Insulation.
This conductor is shown in fig. 10. A glass pillar, A, Ronalds’
passes through a circular piece of hard boxwood B, and a(mosPhe-
also through the piece C, the sides of the perforations in jlaa^0con"
these pieces being lined with thick leather. Nut bolts, D, D, j,. jq
pass through B and C, to secure the glass pillar in its place. °
The dotted part of the support is hollow. The glass is
about one-fourth of an inch thick at the opening, and the
upper part of it is coated with sealing-wax. A small spirit-
lamp, E, with a single thread of cotton wick, and having a
glass chimney, is placed beneath the open mouth of the
glass pillar. The pillar terminates above with a strong
brass socket carrying the ball F, which is perforated to ad¬
mit the lowest joint of a long bamboo fishing-rod GG, gilt
and inclined at an angle of about 45°. The strong bent
wire II carries the upper part of a Volta’s straw electro¬
meter I, which rests upon the table M. The piece which
supports the straws is entirely detached from the glass
bottle I, being fixed to the arm H when the instrument is
in use. The same piece carries a cone or funnel K. From
the bent wire N, similar to H, a pair of wood charcoal balls
are suspended, or instead of them the quadrant electro¬
meter O, which serves to mark the higher electrical inten¬
sities, such as those of rain, hail, snow, and heavy clouds,
which are too strong to be measured by more delicate in¬
struments.
When this instrument is screwed upon a table in an
upper room, and the fishing-rod thrust out of the window,
it will be found highly useful for examining the usual atmo¬
spherical electricity of serene weather. If it is to be used
in the open air the ball F is unnecessary, and the rod can
be placed vertically in the brass socket. Iwo insulators
of this kind may be used to sustain a wire if required.
(d. b.)
ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH. See Telegraph.
ELECTROTYPIE, Electro-Metallurgy, Electro-
Plating, the art of taking exact copies of any object in
copper, silver, gold, or other metal, or of covering objects
with metallic surfaces, through the energy of voltaic elec¬
tricity. This beautiful process now so extensively used in
the arts for gilding, plating, multiplying plates for engrav¬
ing, and forming solid articles in gold, silver, and other
metals, appears to have been first put in operation by Mr
Bessemer of Camden I own, London, to deposit copper on
lead castings so as to produce antique heads in iclief for
mantel-piece ornaments. Mr Jordan, however, in this
country, and Professor Jacobi simultaneously on the conti¬
nent, appear to have been the first to have made the de¬
tails of the process known to the public. The process it¬
self is a very simple one. The cast, piece of plate,, or other
object wished to be covered with a metallic coating, after
being properly prepared, is immersed in a solution of the
metal we wish to be deposited on it, and is connected with
the positive or zinc pole of the galvanic battery; the other
pole of the battery terminating in a plate of the metal which
is in solution, and also immersed in the metallic solution.
The galvanic action decomposes the metallic solution ; the
metal is deposited in an equal layer all over the prepared
cast or object, and the acid or agent which held the metal
in solution being thus set free, reacts on the plate of metal
at the negative pole, dissolving it, and thus keeping up the
strength of the solution. Cyanide of potassium has been
found by the Messrs Elkington to be the best agent for
producing solution of the oxides of silver and of gold.
When the object to be plated or gilded is of metal it re¬
quires only to be extremely clean, which is done by boiling
it in caustic potash, and then dipping it in aquafortis solu¬
tion. If, however, it consist of a cast of plaster of Paris, of
wood, of wax, &c., its surface must be rendered a conductor
of electricity to render it susceptible of the deposition of
the metal on it. It is therefore carefully but completely
blackened by means of plumbago ; but it has been found
that dipping the object in a solution of phosphorus has the same
effect. For further information see Voltaic Electricity.
628 E L E
Electrides ELECTRIDES, anciently islands in the Adriatic Sea,
II which received their name from the quantity of amber
Elenchus. (electrum^ which they produced. They were at the mouth
of the Po, according to Apollonius of Rhodes; but some
historians doubt their existence.
ELECTRODE, a name given to what is called the pole
of the voltaic circle. See Electricity.
ELECTRON, the ancient Greek name of amber, was
also applied to an alloy consisting of four parts of gold and
one part of silver, whether artificially prepared, or existing
in a native state. This kind of alloy was used for plate and
ornaments, as also for money.
ELECTUARY, in Pharmacy, a form of medicine com¬
posed of powders and other ingredients, incorporated with
some conserve, or honey, or syrup. Vossius observes—that
medicines, as well as confections, were called by the Greeks
t/cA-eiy/iara, from Aet^eiv, to lick up; whence came the Latin
electarium, and electuarium.
ELEEMOSYNA Carucarum, or pro Aratris, in Bri¬
tish Antiquity, a tax of a penny imposed by King Ethelred
on every plough in England, towards the support of the poor.
ELEEMOSYNARIES, in our old writers, the almoner
or officer in a monastery, or of a bishop, who received and
distributed the eleemosynary rents and gifts.
ELEGIT, in Law, a writ of execution, which lies for
a person who has recovered debt or damages; or upon a
recognizance in any court against a defendant who is not
able to satisfy the same in his goods.
ELEGY (Lat. elegia ; Gk. iXeyeiov, eAeyos, from e e
Xeyeiv, to cry woe ! woe /), in its modern acceptation denotes
a poem in a plaintive strain; a song of mourning, a la¬
ment. Among the ancients, however, this term had refe¬
rence merely to poems composed in a particular metre—
namely, a distich consisting of an hexameter and a penta¬
meter : and accordingly it comprehended equally the war¬
like poems of Tyrtaeus, the melancholy effusions of Mimner-
mus, the aphorisms of Theognis and Solon, and the miscel¬
laneous poems of Ovid, Propertius, Tibullus, and Catullus.
Among the most celebrated of modern elegies may be men¬
tioned the Lycidas of Milton, Gray’s Elegy, Shelley’s Ado-
nais, and the Elegie of the German poet Matthisson.
ELEMENT, in a figurative sense, is used for the prin¬
ciples and foundations of any art or science; as Euclid’s
Elements.
Elements, in Physics, the first principles of which all
bodies are composed. These, it has been supposed, are few
in number, unchangeable in their nature, and by their mul¬
tiform combinations produce that endless variety of objects
which we observe in the works of creation.
Elements, in Astronomy, those principles deduced from
astronomical observations and calculations, and those funda¬
mental numbers employed in the construction of tables of
the planetary motions. Thus, the elements of the theory
of the sun, or rather of the earth, are his mean motion and
eccentricity, and the motion of the aphelia. The elements
of the theory of the moon are its mean motion, that of its
node and apogee, its eccentricity, the inclination of its orbit
to the plane of the ecliptic, &c.
ELEMI, a resin produced by a South American terebin-
thinous tree, known as Amyris elemifera. It is also pro¬
duced by several East India plants. Elemi is imported in
pale-yellow transparent lumps, which readily soften in the
mouth, and have a slightly bitter and stimulant taste.
ELENCHUS, among the ancient Greeks and Romans,
a costly kind of ear-ring set with large pearls.
Elenchus, in Logic, called by the Latins argumentum,
a syllogism used to refute an adversary. Aristotle has writ¬
ten a treatise On Sophistical Elenchi. Jgnoratio elenchi
is the name applied to that sophism by which the reasoner
avoids the point to be proved, and dexterously substitutes
the proof of something irrelevant.
E L E
ELEPHANT. See index to Mammalia. Elephant
The Order of the Elephant in Denmark is an order of II
knighthood of the first distinction. Its origin has been re- Elejg^gUta
ferred to the time of Canute IV., who is said to have instituted v ^ t
the order in commemoration of one of the Danish crusaders
having killed an elephant during an expedition against the
Saracens in 1189. That the elephant was adopted at that
remote period as an heraldic emblem seems probable; but
it would appear that properly this order does not date further
back than the year 1478, when it was instituted by Chris¬
tian I. on the marriage of his son with a princess of Saxony.
The decoration—which is attached either to a collar of gold,
or to a watered blue riband—consists of a white enamelled
elephant bearing a black tower. The chevaliers of this order
have also a silver star of eight rays embroidered on a mantle
of crimson velvet.
ELEPHANT A ISLE, called by the natives Gharipoor,
a small island between Bombay and the mainland, about 5~
miles from Bombay. It is nearly 5 miles in circumference,
and contains about 100 inhabitants, employed in the cultiva¬
tion of rice, and in rearing sheep and poultry for the Bombay
market. The island is nearly overgrown with wood, and con¬
tains several springs of good water. But it owes its chief cele¬
brity to the mythological excavations and sculptures of Hindu
superstition which it contains. Opposite to the landing place
is a colossal statue of an elephant, cracked and mutilated, .
from which the island received from the Portuguese the name
it still bears. At a short distance from this is a cave, the
entrance to which is nearly 60 feet wide and 18 high, sup¬
ported by pillars cut out of the rock : the sides are sculptured
into numerous compartments containing various represen¬
tations of the Hindu deities, but many of the figures have
been defaced by the blind zeal of the Mohammedans and
Portuguese. In the centre of the excavations there is a
remarkable bust of the Hindu Triad, or three-formed god,
namely, Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver, and
Seva or Mahadeva the Destroyer. The heads are 6 feet in
length, well cut, and the countenances, with the excep¬
tion of the under lip, are handsome. The head-dresses are
curiously ornamented ; and one of the figures, that of the
destroyer, holds in its hand a cobra de capella snake, whilst
on the cap are, amongst other symbols, a human skull and
a young infant. On each side of the Trimurti is a pilaster,
the front of which is filled up by a human figure leaning on
a dwarf, both much defaced. There is a large compartment
to the right, hollowed a little, and covered with a great
variety of figures,,the largest of which is 16 feet high, re¬
presenting the double figure of Seva and Parvati, named
Viraj, half male and half female. On the right is Brahma,
four-faced, on a lotus; and on the left is Vishnu. On the
other side of the Trimurti is another compartment with
various figures of Seva and Parvati, the most remarkable
of which is Seva in his vindictive character, eight-handed,
with a collet of skulls round his neck. On the right of
the entrance to the cave is a square apartment, supported
by eight colossal figures, containing a gigantic symbol of
Mahadeva or Seva cut out of the rock. There is a similar
chamber in a smaller cavern, with its walls covered with
sculptures, which, however, can hardly be seen, owing to
the rubbish with which the place is filled. This singular
seat of Hindu superstition is said to have been dedicated to
Seva, but it contains numerous representations of all the
Hindu deities. It has, however, from time immemorial been
forsaken by its priests or Brahmins; and it is not even the
resort of pilgrims. Its only devotees are married women,
who offer up their prayers here for an increase of their family.
This place is a most wonderful monument of antiquity and
superstition. The wox-k must have been one of incredible
labour ; and there is not the least trace or tradition to indi¬
cate the time when this temple flourished, much less the
period of its formation; yet it is a proof that the Brahmi-
E L E
E L E
629
Elephan¬
tiasis
Ekusinia.
nical religion must have flourished in India at a very remote
period of antiquity. E. Long. 73.; N. Lat. 18. 57- (e. t.)
ELEPHANTIASIS, a chronic disease, chiefly affecting
the legs and feet, which sometimes swell to an enormous
size. It is characterized by the skin becoming thick, rough,
and scaly ; the eyes fierce and staring ; and the perspiration
highly offensive.
ELEPHANTINE, a small island of the Nile, opposite
Syene. See Egypt.
Elephantine, in Antiquity, an appellation given to the
books in which the Romans registered the transactions of
the senate, magistrates, emperors, generals, &c.: probably
so called as being made of ivory.
ELEUSINIA, in Grecian Antiquity, a festival observed
in honour of Ceres, by some states every fourth year, but
by others every fifth. The Athenians celebrated it at Eleusis,
a town of Attica; and hence arose the name.
Ceres, says Isocrates, wandering in quest of her daughter
Proserpine, arrived in Attica, where some good offices wrere
rendered her, which it is unlawful for those who are not ini¬
tiated to hear. In return she conferred two unparalleled
benefits, namely, the knowledge of agriculture, by which the
human race is raised above the brute creation; and the
mysteries, from which the partakers derive sweeter hopes
than other men enjoy, both as to the present life and a
future state of existence. It was the popular opinion that
the Eleusinian goddesses suggested prudent counsel to their
votaries, and influenced their conduct; and that the latter
were respected in the infernal regions, and had precedence
in the assemblies of the blessed, whilst the unhallowed were
left in utter darkness, wallowing in mire, or labouring to fill
a leaky vessel. The Athenians were solicitous to secure
these advantages to their children, by having them initiated
as soon as possible in the Eleusinian mysteries,
Ceres was supposed to be particularly attached to Eleusis
and its vicinity, which contained various memorials of her
presence and ot her bounty ; as, the well named Gallickorus,
by which she had rested, in the reign of Erechtheus ; the
stone on which she sat, named the sorrowful; the Rharian
plain, where barley was first sown ; and the thrashing floor
and altar of Triptolemus, a herdsman whom she instructed in
the culture of that grain, the use of which succeeded that of
acorns. Her mysteries continued to possess a pre-eminence
in holiness, and to be accounted as much superior to all other
religious festivals as the gods were to the deified heroes.
Even the garments worn at the solemnity were supposed to
partake of the efficacy of the mysteries, and to be possessed
of signal virtues. It was customary to retain them until
they began to decay, and then to dedicate them in the
temple, or to use them as swaddling clothes.
The mystic temple as it was called, provided by Pericles
for the solemnity, created by its sanctity an awe only equalled
by the astonishment which its beauty and magnitude excited
in every beholder. The profane or uninitiated were for¬
bidden to enter it upon any pretence. Two young Acar-
nanians, who happened inadvertently to mix with the crowd
at the season of the mysteries, and to go in, were discovered
and put to death. The chief priest, hierophant, or mysta-
gogue, was taken from the Eumolpidae, a sacred family which
flourished at Athens, and derived its descent from Eumol-
pus, a shepherd and favourite of Ceres. He was enjoined
to observe celibacy, and he wore a stole or long garment,
and on his head a 'wreath of myrtle. The grand requisites
in this priest were a full and sonorous voice, solemnity of
deportment, magnificence, and strict decorum. Under him,
besides many of inferior station, was the daduchus or torch-
bearer, whose hair was likewise adorned with a fillet; the
priest, who officiated at the altar; and the hiero-ceryx, or
sacred herald. All these were very important personages.
The latter was of a family which claimed the god Mercury,
and Aglauros, the daughter of Cecrops, for its ancestors.
The secrecy in which the mysteries were enveloped Eleusinia.
served to enhance the idea of their importance, and to
increase the desire of participation. It was so strict that
no person was allowed even to name the hierophant by
whom he had been initiated; whilst public abhorrence and
detestation awaited the babbler, and the law decreed that
he should die.
The Athenians suffered none to be initiated into these
mysteries excepting such as were members of their city.
This regulation, which compelled Hercules, Castor, and
Pollux to become citizens of Athens, was strictly observed
in the first ages of the institution; but after a time all per¬
sons, barbarians excepted, were freely admitted.
The festivals were divided into greater and lesser mys¬
teries. The institution of the latter arose out of the billow¬
ing circumstance. Hercules, having passed near Eleusis
while the Athenians were celebrating the mysteries, desired
to be initiated. As this request could not be complied
with, he being a stranger, and as Eumolpus was unwilling
to displease him on account of his great power and the ser¬
vices which he had rendered to the Athenians, another
festival was instituted without violating the laws; it was
denominated yiKpa, and Hercules was solemnly admitted to
the celebration and initiated. These lesser mysteries were
observed at Agrse, near the Uissus. The greater were
celebrated at Eleusis, from which place Ceres has been
called Eleusinia. In later times the lesser festivals were
preparatory to the greater, and no person could be initiated
at Eleusis without a previous purification at Agrae. This
purification they performed by keeping themselves pure,
chaste, and unpolluted during nine days; after which they
came and offered sacrifices and prayers, wearing garlands
of flowers called lyepa, and having under their feet Aios
kojSlov, Jupiter’s skin, which was the skin of a victim offered
to that god. The person who assisted was called vSpavos,
from i)8e)p, ivater, which was used at the purification; and
those purified were called /xwttcu, the initiated. A year
after the initiation into the lesser mysteries they sacrificed
a sow to Ceres, and were admitted into the greater, and
the secrets of the festivals were solemnly revealed to them.
This festival was observed in the month Boedromion or
September, and continued nine days, from the 15th till the
23d. During that time it was unlawful to arrest any man,
or present any petition, on pain of forfeiting a thousand
drachmas, or, according to others, on pain of death. It was
also unlawful for those who were initiated to sit upon the
cover of a well, or to eat beans, mullets, or weazels. If
any w'oman rode to Eleusis in a chariot, she was obliged by
an edict of Lycurgus to pay six thousand drachmas. The
design of this law was to destroy all distinction between the
richer and poorer citizens. When the season approached,
the mystse, or persons who had been initiated only in the
lesser mysteries, repaired to Eleusis to be instructed in the
ceremonial. The service for the opening of the temple,
with morning sacrifice, was performed, and the litual was
then produced from the sanctuary. It was enveloped in
symbolical figures of animals, which suggested words com¬
pendiously, in letters with ligatures, the tops being huddled
together, or disposed circularly like a wheel, and the whole
utterly inexplicable to the profane. The case, which was
called petroma, consisted of two stones exactly fitted; and
the mysterious record, after being read, was closed up and
replaced until a future festival. The principal rite was
nocturnal, and confined to the temple and its environs.
The mysta? waited without with impatience and appiehen-
sion. Lamentations and strange sounds were heard. Thun¬
der pealed above these noises, and flashes ot light and fire
irradiated the gloom, rendering the darkness which followed
more awful and sublime. I he candidates for initiation weie
beaten by some invisible hand, whilst frightful apparitions,
and monsters of a canine form, were presented to them,
630 E L E
Eleusinia. which filled them with apprehension and terror, and para-
v—> lysed their energies. The scene then suddenly changed
to one of a brilliant and agreeable character. The propylaea
or vestibules of the temple were opened, the curtains with¬
drawn, and the hidden things displayed. They were intro¬
duced by the hierophant and daduchus, the former of whom
revealed to them the mysteries. The splendour of illumi¬
nation, the glory of the temple and of the images, and the
singing and dancing which accompanied the exhibition, all
contributed to soothe the mind after its recent agitation,
and to render the wondering devotee tranquil and satisfied.
After this inspection, or, as it was called, the autopsia, they
retired, and others advanced. The succeeding days were
employed in purification, in sacrifice, in pompous processions,
and in spectacles, at which they assisted, wearing myrtle
crowns. I he second day was called aXa8e pvarai, to the
setx, ye initiated ; because they were commanded to purify
themselves by ablution in the sea. On the third day sacri¬
fices were offered, as also a mullet, and barley from a field
of Eleusis. These oblations were called Ova, and were
held so sacred that the priests themselves dared not, as in
other sacrifices, partake of them. On the fourth day the
votaries made a solemn procession, in which the KaXadt'ov,
or holy basket of Ceres, was paraded in a consecrated cart,
while on every side the people shouted xa'/>e iXrjprjTep, Hail,
Ceres. After these followed women, called KurTofopoi, who
carried baskets, in which was sesamin, carded wool, grains
of salt, a serpent, pomegranates, reeds, ivy boughs, and so
on. The fifth was called Tj twv Xap-irdSuiv rjjxipa, the torch
day, because on the following night the people ran about
with torches in their hands. It was usual to dedicate torches
to Ceres, and contend who should ftffer the largest, in com¬
memoration of the travels of the goddess, and of her light¬
ing a torch in the flames of Mount iEtna. The sixth day
was called Tuk^os, from lacchus, the son of Jupiter and
Ceres, who accompanied his mother in her search after
Proserpine, with a torch in his hand. From this circum¬
stance the hand of his statue was furnished with a torch, and
it was carried in solemn procession from the Ceramicus to
Eleusis. The statue, with those who accompanied it, called
laK^aywyov, was crowned with myrtle. In the way nothing
was heard but singing and the noise of brazen kettles as
the votaries danced along. The way through which they
issued from the city was called iepd 6Sds, or the sacred way,
the resting place tepd cru/dy, from a sacred jig-tree in the
neighbourhood. They also stopped on a bridge over the
Cephisus, where they derided those who passed by. After
they had crossed this bridge, they entered Eleusis by a
place called p-vcttikt] eto-oSo?, or the mystical entrance. The
seventh day was devoted to sports, in which the victors
were rewarded with a measure of barley, that grain having
been first sown in Eleusis. The eighth day was called
ETrtSaeptW ripe pa., because fEsculapius on his return from
Epidaurus to Athens was initiated by the repetition of the
lesser mysteries. It became customary therefore to celebrate
them a second time upon this occasion, in order that those
who had not hitherto obtained the privilege might be law¬
fully initiated. The ninth and last day of the festival was
called irXrjpoxdcu, or earthen vessels, because it was custo¬
mary to fill two such vessels with wine, one placed towards
the east, and the other towards the west; which, after the
repetition of some mystical words, were both thrown down,
and the wine spilt on the ground was offered as a libation.
I he story of Ceres and Proserpine, the foundation of the
Eleusinian mysteries, was both verbally narrated and repre¬
sented in allegorical show. Proserpine was gathering flowers
when she was stolen by Pluto; and hence the procession
of the holy basket, which was placed on a car dragged along
>y oxen and followed by a train of females, some carrying
the mystic chests, shouting Hail, Ceres. At night a pro¬
cession was made with lighted torches, in order to com-
E L E
memorate the goddess searching for her daughter. A Eleusis
measure of barley, the grain which it was believed she had v—.
bestowed, was the reward of the victors in the gymnic exer¬
cises ; and the proceedings at the temple had a reference
to the legend. A knowledge of these things, from which
the profane were excluded, formed the amount of what was
communicated to the initiated; and the mode in which it
was performed was skilfully adapted to the reigning super¬
stitions. The operation was forcible, and the effect in pro¬
portion. 1 he priesthood flourished as piety increased; and
although the dispensation was corrupt, its tendency was not
malignant. It produced sanctity of manners, an attention
to the social duties, and a desire to be distinguished for
what was then deemed virtue. (See Warburton, Divine
Legation of Moses demonstrated; Gibbon, in his Miscel¬
laneous Works, on Virgil’s account of /Eneas’s Descent
into the Shades; and Heyne’s Excursus, in reference to
the same subject.) Further details respecting the Eleu¬
sinia are given under the head Mysteries.
ELEUSIS, a city of Attica, four leagues from Athens,
and close to the shore opposite the island of Salamis. Like
most of the other cities of Greece, its origin is ascribed to
various fabulous characters, and, among these, to Ogyges;
a circumstance which at least proves it to be of the highest
antiquity. In the earlier period of its history it seems to
have been an independent state, and was even so powerful
as to contest with Athens itself the palm of superiority. A
considerable portion of its small territory was occupied by
the plains of Thria, remarkable for their fertility, though
the hopes of the husbandmen were not unfrequently dis¬
appointed from the blight of the south wind. To the west
was the Campus Rharius, where Ceres is said to have sown
the first seeds of corn; and on its confines was the field
called Orgas, planted with trees consecrated to Ceres and
Proserpine. The temple of Eleusis, sacred to Ceres and
her daughter, wras considered as one of the most beautiful
productions of the genius of Greece. It is said to have been
founded by Pandion II., and Clemens Alexandrinus places
it even 120 years earlier, in the reign of Lynceus. Its
position and riches naturally exposed it to the attacks of
the enemies of Attica, and though defended by a strong
fortress, it was seldom able to make any lengthened resist¬
ance. Cleomenes, king of Sparta, dared to violate its sacred
precincts; but if we may believe the statements of the
Athenians, he was soon overtaken by the just vengeance
of the gods, and seized with a sudden fit of madness. The
Persians burnt it to the ground after the battle of Plat&'a;
but scarcely had they evacuated the confines of Greece,
when the Athenians determined to rebuild it with even
more than its original magnificence. Ictinus, the architect
of the Parthenon, was ordered to draw up the plan of the
new edifice. He adopted the Doric order of architecture,
without the erection of pillars in front of the building. We
know not whether he lived long enough to carry his plan
into execution; but it was during the splendid administra¬
tion of Pericles, and under the cultivated taste of Phidias,
that the temple of Eleusis was completed in all its magni¬
ficence. The mystic cell was begun by Corcebus, but he
lived only to finish the lower row of columns, with their
architraves. Metagenes, of the district of Xypete, added
the rest of the entablature and the upper row of columns.
Xenocles of Cholargus built the dome on the top. A portico
was long afterwards added by Demetrius Phalereus, who
employed for that purpose the architect Philo. This magni¬
ficent structure continued to exist for many centuries, till
the destructive hordes of Alaric completed its overthrow in
the year 396. The city immediately disappeared on the
destruction of the temple, which had been its ornament and
principal support; and upon the site nothing is now found
but a miserable village called Lepsina, amidst the ruins of
the sacred edifice. But the coins of Eleusis are still com-
E L G
Eleutheria mon, and represent Ceres drawn by dragons or serpents.
II The inscription is EAEY^I, or EAEY, within a wreath of
ears of corn.
ELEQTHERIA, in Grecian Antiquity, a festival cele¬
brated at Plataea, in honour of Jupiter Eleutherius, or “the
assertor of liberty,” by delegates from almost all the cities
of Greece. Its institution originated thus : After the victory
which the Grecians under Pausanias obtained at Plata'a,
B.c. 479, over Mardonius the Persian general, an altar and
statue were erected to Jupiter Eleutherius, who had freed
the Greeks from the tyranny of the barbarians. It was
further decreed in a general assembly of the Greeks, by the
advice of Aristides the Athenian, that delegates from all
the Greek states should assemble annually at Plataea to
celebrate the Eleutheria, or festival of liberty. Every fifth
year the solemnities were celebrated with contests in which
chaplets were awarded to the victors. The annual festival
at Plataea still existed in the time of Plutarch, and was
celebrated thus:—At break of day the procession set out
through the middle of the town, headed by a trumpeter
who sounded a signal for battle; and it was followed by
waggons loaded with myrtle boughs and garlands, by a
black bull, and a number of free youths (slaves being ex¬
cluded from the ceremony) who carried libations of wine
and milk in large-eared vessels, with jars of oil and precious
unguents; and the rear was brought up by the archon or
chief magistrate of the city, who, though not permitted at
any other time to touch a weapon or to wear a garment
that was not wdiite, appeared on this occasion with a sword
in his hand and clad in a purple tunic, and also bearing an
urn preserved for this solemnity in the city archive. When
the procession arrived at the sepulchres of those who had
fallen at Plataea, the archon, having drawn water from a
neighbouring spring, first washed and anointed the monu¬
ments, and then sacrificed the bull on a pyre of wood; at
the same time invoking Jupiter and Mercury, and inviting
the souls of the heroes wdio had perished on the plains of
Plataea to partake of the entertainment prepared for them.
He then filled a bowl with wine, and pledged those who
lost their lives in the defence of the liberties of Greece.
(Pint. Aristid.; Strabo, ix.; Pans, ix.)
A festival of the same name wras observed by the Samians
in honour of the god of love. Slaves, also, on their eman¬
cipation, kept a holiday which they called Eleutheria.
ELEUTHEROPOLIS, an ancient episcopal city, situ¬
ated in the south-western plain of Judaea, between Hebron
and Askelon. It has been identified by Dr Robinson with
the modern Beit-Jibrin, the Betogabra of Ptolemy and the
Peutingerian Tables.
ELEVATION of the Host, in the Romish Church, that
part of the mass in which the priest raises the consecrated
wafer above his head for the people to adore.
ELEVATOR, in Anatomy, the name of several muscles,
which serve to raise a part of the body, as the lip or the eye.
ELEVATORY, an instrument used in trepanning, for
raising a depressed or fractured part of the skull.
ELEVE, a term purely French, denoting literally a dis¬
ciple or scholar—from an Italian w'ord signifying an appren¬
tice. It was first applied by French writers to the pupils
of painters; and afterwards to such as studied any other art
under a master. In the Royal Academy of Sciences there
were 20 eleves; and in that of Inscriptions, 10 eleves.
ELF, a fairy or hobgoblin ; an imaginary being which
our superstitious ancestors supposed to inhabit unfrequented
places.
Elf-Arrows, the name given by the ignorant to the an¬
cient arrow-heads formed of flint which are still found in
Scotland, America, and several other parts of the world,
under the belief that they were shot by fairies, and that
cattle were thus sometimes killed.
ELGIN, a royal and parliamentary burgh of Scotland,
E L G
and county town of Elgin or Morayshire, 64 miles north-
west from Aberdeen. Pop. (1851) 6337. It stands about V
five miles from the sea, in a valley sheltered on the north
and east by the wooded eminences of Quarrywood and
Barnett Hill, and watered by the Lossie, a small river which
winds round the town. The elegant villas in its outskirts,
and round the village of Bishopmill, which may be almost
called a suburb of the town, give it a fine appearance when
approached from the south or east. The town, which is
about a mile in length, is w^ell paved and lighted, and plen¬
tifully supplied with water. It contains many handsome
buildings, wdiich, being built of the beautiful light-coloured
sandstone of the district, have a fine appearance. The
parish church is a handsome structure in the Corinthian
style, with an elegant spire. Near it, in the centre of the
street, is a fountain, which marks the site of the old jail.
The other principal buildings of the town are Gray’s Hos¬
pital, Anderson’s Institution, museum, New Market Build¬
ings, court-house, jail, Free Church, South Free Church,
Catholic Chapel, Commercial Bank, Caledonian Bank,
Trinity Lodge Rooms, &c.
The academy, which stands on the south side of the town,
is one of the best in the north of Scotland. It is conducted
by a rector who presides over the classical department, and
several assistants wdio teach the subsidiary branches. Elgin
likewise possesses an infant and several other schools.
Gray’s Hospital stands on an eminence at the west end of
the town, and is a handsome edifice surmounted by a dome.
The sum of L.20,000 was left for its endowment by Dr
Gray. It was opened in 1819 for the reception of pa¬
tients from the town and county, and the average number
of patients in the house at one time is 35. Adjoining the
hospital is the Lunatic Asylum, built and supported by
voluntary contributions, and generally containing 20 or 30
patients. Anderson’s Institution, for the support of the aged
and the education of youth, is at the east end of the town.
Its founder, General Anderson, H.E.I.C.S., who was a native
of Elgin, bequeathed the bulk of his fortune, amounting to
L.70,000, for the building and support of this splendid in¬
stitution. It was opened in 1833. Above the northern
front of the building is a group of statuary representing the
founder in an attitude corresponding to his character.
There are generally from 40 to 50 children, and about 10
aged people, in the institution. Attached to it is a free
school with an average attendance of 200 scholars. I he
museum belongs to the Morayshire Scientific Association,
which holds its meetings monthly in the building. 1 he new
market is a long range of building, with an entrance from
the High Street, and another from South Street. Attached
to it is a small theatre, which is open for apart of the year.
The ruins of the magnificent cathedral stand on the east
of the town. It is described by Billings as at once the
most stately and the most beautifully decorated of all the
ecclesiastka! edifices of the country.” It was foundedjn
1224, and destroyed by fire, according to Fordun, m 1270.
The greater part of the present ruins are attributed to a
date closely subsequent to this. It was again burnt, along
with the canons’ houses and a great part of the town, by
fife “ Wolf of Badenoch,” a natural son of King Robert II.,
in 1390. It was slowly rebuilt; a solemn agreement bav¬
in0, been come to that each bishop should apply one-thiid
of his revenue for this purpose till the completion of the
building. In 1568, in the regency of the Earl of Murray,
the lead was stripped from the roof by an order of privy-
council, and shipped for Holland to be there sold. Being
thus exposed to the weather, the interior rapidly decayed.
In 1711 the great centre tower fell. The ruin is now care-
fully preserved bv the Commissioners of V oods and forests.
Near the cathedral stands the bishop’s town residence.
The dean and canons’ houses stood round about the ca¬
thedral, and some of them existed till very lately. The re-
A'a " .. '
631
Elgin.
632 E L G ELI
Elginshire mains of the monastery of the Grey Friars stands on the
U south side of the town. Of a similar monastery of White
Marbles ^r^ars 011 t^le 11()rth there is now no vestige. On the “ Lady
v, ji ' '/ Hill” are the ruins of an ancient fortification, said to have
been used as a hunting seat by one of the Malcolms ; and
also an elegant pillar erected to the memory of the last
Duke of Gordon.
The trade of the town is chiefly connected with the
weekly and other markets. A woollen manufactory gives
employment to a number of hands, chiefly in making
blankets, plaiding, shawls, and drugget. There are also
large tan works, and an iron foundry. Elgin communicates
by railway with the harbour at Lossiemouth, and along the
line there is a considerable traffic. There are two news¬
papers published weekly in the town; and besides circulat¬
ing libraries and book clubs, Elgin possesses also a me¬
chanics’ institute and a literary association. The places of
worship are numerous. Besides the Established Church,
there are two Free Churches, two United Presbyterian, one
Independent, two Baptist, one Episcopalian, and a Roman
Catholic. Of late years the town has extended consider¬
ably, and several new streets have been erected. Its muni¬
cipal corporation consists of a provost, 4 bailies, and 12
councillors ; and along with Banff, Cullen, Inverury, Kin-
tore, and Peterhead, it returns one member to the imperial
parliament.
By some historians the name of the town is said to have
been derived from Helgy, a Norwegian chief, who in the
ninth century overran Morayshire. Others derive the name
from the Saxon Hely, holy, and Dun, a hill. It was the
favourite residence of William the Lion and the two Alex¬
anders.
ELGINSHIRE, or Morayshire, See Morayshire.
ELGIN MARBLES, the name applied to that match¬
less collection of ancient sculpture which was acquired by
the British Museum from Lord Elgin. They are mostly
basso-relievos and fragments of statuary which had adorned
the Parthenon at Athens. The history of this collection
may be thus shortly stated. It was in 1799 that the idea
of such a collection first occurred to Lord Elgin, when he
was appointed ambassador at Constantinople. Mr Harrison,
an architect, suggested to him in the course of conversation,
that though the public possessed everything requisite to
give them a general knowledge of the remains of Athens,
yet to artists nothing but the actual representation by cast
could be of essential service. Lord Elgin accordingly en¬
tered into communication with government on the subject;
but the important transactions in which the nation was then
engaged prevented the government from embarking in the
undertaking. When Lord Elgin met Sir William Hamil¬
ton in Sicily, he entered with him into a more minute exa¬
mination of the feasibility of the scheme ; and it appeared
to them most advisab'e that his lordship should be accom¬
panied by artists from Italy. He accordingly obtained per¬
mission from the king of the Two Sicilies to take with him
Signor Lusieri, a painter of great reputation, then in the
service of that monarch ; and from Rome he obtained two
architects, two modellers, and a figure-painter. In the
summer of 1800 these persons reached Athens. At this
period the French were in possession of Egypt, and the
Turks felt little inclined to afford any facilities towards fur¬
thering the object which Lord Elgin had in view. They
in fact did everything to thwart him; and his artists could
only obtain admission to the Acropolis, for the purpose of
taking drawings, on the payment of a large daily fee.
When, however, our arms proved victorious in Egypt, a
favourable change took place. The Sublime Porte showed
an inclination to grant whatever our nation might think
proper to ask ; and Lord Elgin, availing himself of this op¬
portunity, obtained, in the summer of 1801, firmans or
warrants to the chief authorities of Athens, in which it was
stated “ that he might view, draw, and model the ancient Eli
temples of the idols, and the sculptures upon them, and II
make excavations, and take away any stones that might Elias
appear interesting to him.” There was little difficulty after evita
this permission had been granted; and as the Turks showed
a perfect apathy in respect to the preservation of these re¬
mains, and indeed often wantonly destroyed them, Lord
Elgin determined to remove as many as he could. In this
way these noble remains of antiquity came into the pos¬
session of a British subject.
In 1811 an offer was made by Mr Perceval to purchase
the whole collection for the nation, and the sum of L.30,000
was named as the price which the government was willing
to give ; but Lord Elgin considered this an inadequate
compensation for the outlay occasioned in procuring the
collection, and declined the proposal. In 1812 eighty more
qases of architecture and sculpture were added, and also a
collection of medals.
In 1815, however, Lord Elgin presented a petition to
the House of Commons, in which he offered to make over
the collection to the nation, on such conditions as it might
seem just and reasonable to that assembly to recommend.
Accordingly a select committee was appointed to examine
into the affair, and after due consideration, and the exa¬
mination of many witnesses, the committee came to the re¬
solution of recommending the house to offer L.35,000 as a
reasonable and sufficient price for this collection.
Thus were these noblest models which the genius of man
has ever produced secured to the nation ;—an acquisition in¬
valuable in itself, and the more to be appreciated when we
consider that the cultivation of the fine arts has contributed
to the reputation, character, and dignity of every govern¬
ment by which they have been encouraged, and that they
are intimately connected with the advancement of every¬
thing that is valuable in science, in literature, and in philo¬
sophy. No country certainly is better adapted than our
own to afford an honourable asylum to these monuments
of the school of Phidias, and of the wise administration of
Pericles.
Further particulars are contained in the Report from
the Select Committee on Lord Elgin's Collection of Sculp¬
tured Marble, 8)'c.; and in the Memorandum of the Earl of
Elgin’s Pursuits in Greece, 4to, 1810.
ELI, the high priest of the Jews when the ark was in
Shiloh. He was the first high priest of the line of" Ithamar,
Aaron’s youngest son. Eli also acted as regent or civil
judge of Israel after the death of Samson ; this function de¬
volving on the high priest in the absence of any person
specially appointed to deliver and govern Israel. He is
said to have judged Israel forty years ; the Septuagint makes
it twenty. The longer period probably pomprehends the
whole period of his administration both as high priest and
judge,
Eli seems to have been a religious man, but having failed
to repress the conduct of his sons, Hophni and Phinehas,
the judgment of God was at length denounced upon his
house, through the young Samuel. During an inroad of
the Philistines the ark of God was captured, and Eli when
he heard the news fell heavily from his seat and died. The
ultimate doom upon Eli’s house was accomplished when So¬
lomon removed Abiathar (the last high priest of this line)
from his office, and restored the line of Eleazar in the per¬
son of Zadok.
ELIAS LEVITA, a celebrated Jewish grammarian, was
born in 1472, at Neustadt in Franconia. He was professor
of Hebrew at Padua, Venice, and Rome, and died at Venice
in 1549. His principal works are the Masorah, or Tradi-
tio Doctrince, Ven. 1538, and a Chaldaic, Rabbinical, and
Talmudic Lexicon, January 1541. His merits are summed
up by Simon when he says, “ Solus Elias Levita inter Ju-
dceos desiit nugari.”
633
ELI
Elijah. ELIJAH (i.e. God-Jehovah) is introduced to our notice
like another Melchizedek, without any mention of his father
or mother ; and from this silence of Scripture much vain spe¬
culation has arisen. Some of the Rabbins supposed that he
was Phineas, the grandson of Aaron ; whilst others thought
that he was an angel in human form. He is called a Tish-
bite, either from Tishbeh, a city beyond the Jordan; or
from a Hebrew root signifying to convert or reform. He
is first introduced as denouncing a drought for three years
and a half, on account of the sins of Ahab and his people.
As the denunciation took effect, the king sought to wreak
his vengeance upon him as the cause of their sufferings.
At the command of God, he hid himself by the brook Che-
rith, where he was miraculously fed by ravens, or, according
to some commentators, although with needless scrupulosity,
by merchants or Arabians, as the word may possibly be
translated. For one year God miraculously provided for
his bodily wants at Cherith ; but the brook dried up. Again,
at the command of God he withdrew to Zarephath, where,
at the house of a widow woman who did not hesitate to di¬
vide her last meal with him, he and the household were
preserved by the miraculous multiplication of their remain¬
ing food. During his stay in her house the prophet raised
the widow’s son to life. For three years and six months
(James v. 17) the destructive famine had spread its deadly
influence over the whole nation of Israel. Ahab was yet alive
and unreformed, and Jezebel, his impious consort,was still mad
upon her idols. At the command of God Elijah once again
stood before Ahab. Wishing not to tempt God by going
unnecessarily into danger, he first presented himself to good
Obadiah, and afterwards to Ahab as he came forth to meet
him. At the interview Elijah flung back upon the king
the charge of troubling Israel, and offered to decide the
controversy between God and Baal by a miracle from hea¬
ven. As fire was the element over which Baal was sup¬
posed to preside, the sending of fire to consume a sacrifice
was chosen as the criterion of divinity. For the trial the
people assembled at Mount Carmel; and Elijah, at his altai',
confronted the priests of Baal. At the time of the evening
sacrifice the controversy was settled ; and seizing the op¬
portunity, Elijah demands the execution of the priests of
Baal. Ahab too lends his magisterial authority to the sen¬
tence, and it is willingly carried into effect by the people,
who regard these false priests as the authors of their ca¬
lamities. At the prayer of the prophet a cloud rises out
of the Mediterranean, and rain descends upon the whole
land. Impressed with the hope that God’s miraculous act¬
ings at Carmel might penetrate and soften the heart of
Jezebel, Elijah, strengthened from on high, accompanied
Ahab to Jezreel on foot. Learning, however, that she was
infuriated against him and sought to take his life, he fled
from her presence. In the wilderness and at Mount Horeb
his heart is touched and his petulancy corrected by the mi¬
nistration of the angel of God, and by a fearful exhibition
of His Divine power. Revealing Himself in the gentle ac¬
cents of a still voice, Jehovah announces to him that he
must go and anoint Hazael king over Syria, Jehu king over
Israel, and Elisha prophet in his own place, ere death can
put a period to his labours. Leaving the cave of Horeb
(b.c. 906), Elijah now proceeded to the field where he
found Elisha in the act of ploughing, and cast his prophet’s
. mantle over him.
For about six years from this calling of Elisha, Elijah re¬
mained in privacy, probably labouring in the schools of the
prophets, till God sent him again to pronounce judgments
upon Ahab and Jezebel for the murder of Naboth. When
Ahab seemed to be triumphing in the possession of his ill-
obtained gain, Elijah stood before him, and threatened him
in the name of the Lord, that God would retaliate blood
for blood, that his seventy sons shall die, and Jezebel shall
become meat for dogs. Elijah again retires from the his-
VOL. VIII.
ELI
tory till an act of blasphemy on the part of Ahaziah, the son Eliot
and successor of Ahab, causes God to call him forth. Aha- ||
ziah having met with an injury, sent to consult Baalzebub, Elis-
the idol-god of Ekron, in regard to the issue of his sickness ; V''—
but the angel of the Lord tells Elijah to go forth and meet
the messengers of the king, and assure them that he shall
not recover.
After twice consuming the bands of fifty whom Ahaziah
sent out for his apprehension, he at length appeared before
the king and repeated the denunciation. This was his last
public effort to reform Israel. After a brief sojourn with
the schools of the prophets, and having made a circuit from
Gilgal to Bethel and thence to Jericho, while standing on
the other side Jordan he was carried into heaven in the
sight of Elisha and fifty of the sons of the prophets.
ELIOT, John, the apostle of the North American In¬
dians, was born in England in 1604. At Cambridge he
distinguished himself in theology and languages; but having
quitted the Established church he emigrated to America in
1631, and became pastor of an Independent church at Bos¬
ton. He was finally established at Roxbury, and from this
point he carried on his missionary labours. Before eight
years had elapsed upwards of 500 Indians abandoned their
savage life and settled peaceably on the lands allotted to
them by the provincial government. Eliot also translated
the Bible and several religious treatises into the Indian
tongue, and wrote a number of English works. In addi¬
tion to all his other labours, he held the pastoral charge at
Roxbury till within two years of his death, which took place
in 1690.
ELIQUATION {eliquare, to melt), in Chemistry, the
operation of separating a more fusible substance from one
that’ is less so, by means of heat sufficient to melt the one
but not the other ; as an alloy of copper and lead.
ELIS, or Elea, in Ancient Geography, a country of the
Peloponnesus, bounded N. and N.E. by Achaia, E. by Ar¬
cadia, S. by Arcadia, and W. by the Ionian Sea. In its
extreme length, Elis included all the country lying between
the small river Larissus which separated it from Achaia,
and the Neda which divided it from Messenia.
Elis was originally divided into three districts, the largest
of which, y koiAt^HAis, or Hollow Elis, comprised the country
between the promontories Araxus and Ichthys ; the second,
called Pisatis, extended from Cape Ichthys to the Alpheus;
and the third, known as Triphylia, lay between the rivers
Alpheus and Neda. Hollow Elis, by far the largest and
most valuable part of the country, was again subdivided into
two parts; the Acroreia or mountain country lying on the
southern slopes of Mount Erymanthus, and champaign
country through which the Peneus flows. In its physical
distribution Elis was regarded by some of the ancient geo¬
graphers as forming part of Arcadia. The great mountain
range which separates the two countries throws off nume¬
rous low spurs into Elis, which slope down gradually to the
sea. These ridges form the basins of the rivers which drain
the country and inclose the great plains that constituted
the most fertile land of ancient Greece. The shore of
the country is low and sandy; and as the rivers have no
fall towards the latter part of their courses, they lose them¬
selves in the flat country, forming thus fens and marshes,
which during the heats of summer are peculiarly unhealthy.
Sand-dunes have, in course of time, been thrown up by the
action of the waves, over which the sea sometimes bieaks,
and in this way some extensive lagunes have come to be
formed. The‘fish off the coast of Elis are extremely nu¬
merous during the summer months. At that time canals
are cut between the lagunes and the sea, and the fish inn
into these canals, and are caught in vast numbers by the
inhabitants. But these advantages are more than compen¬
sated by the countless swarms ot gnats which are. engen¬
dered in the marshes, and which render it almost impossi-
4 L
634 ELI
Elis. ble to live near the sea, especially in summer. Though
^ Elis possesses no great natural barriers against invasion, it
nevertheless suffered less by war than any other of the
Greek states. This is to be attributed chiefly to the sacred
character which attached to the country as the seat of the
Olympic games. Secure in their exemption from the at¬
tacks of enemies, the inhabitants devoted themselves to com¬
merce and the arts of peace; and thus when other parts of
Greece were poor and depopulated, Elis continued rich and
well-peopled.
Hollow Elis is a broad and fertile plain, watered by the
Peneus and its tributary the Ladon, whose united stream
forms the modern Gastuni. It is still as fertile as in the
days of ancient Greece, and grows largely corn, cotton, and
flax. One variety of the last called byssus, believed to have
been introduced by the Phoenicians, was inferior only to
that of Palestine. The wine of Elis w’as excellent, and
Bacchus was held in high honour in the country. The rich
pastures on the river banks were peculiarly favourable for
the rearing of cattle and horses, the latter of which are
celebrated in the Odyssey.
Pisatis is traversed by the Alpheus, and is separated from
Hollow Elis by Mount Pholoe, a spur of Erymanthus. Its
level lands are equally fertile with those of that district. By
far the larger portion of Triphylia is occupied with off¬
shoots from the mountains of Arcadia. It is separated from
Pisatis by the river Alpheus, on whose banks were the
temple of Olympic Jove, and the plain which witnessed the
celebration of the Olympic games.
The original inhabitants of Elis were called Caucones,
and seem to have sprung from a Pelasgic source. From
traces of the worship of Venus in the city of Elis, it is be¬
lieved that the Phoenicians had settlements in this country
at a very remote period. The inhabitants of Elis first ap¬
pear in history as setting out for the Trojan war under the
title of Epaeans. They are described by Homer as living
at this time in a state of constant hostility with their neigh¬
bours the Pylians. At the close of the eleventh century
B.C., the Dorians invaded the Peloponnese, and Elis fell to
the share of Oxylus and the JEtolians. These people, amal¬
gamating with the Epaeans, formed a powerful kingdom in the
north of Elis. After this many changes took place in the
political distribution of the country, and from time to time in¬
dividual cities such as Pisa rose into temporary importance.
The result of all these vicissitudes was, that the country
came at length to acknowledge only three tribes, each in¬
dependent of the other. These tribes were the Epaeans,
Minyae, and Eleans. Before the end of the eighth century
B.c., however, the Eleans had vanquished both their rivals,
and established an undisputed supremacy over the whole
country. Among the other advantages which they thus
gained was the right of celebrating the Olympic games,
which had formerly been the prerogative of the Pisans.
The attempts which this people made to recover their lost
privilege, during a period of nearly two hundred years,
ended at length in the total destruction of their city by the
Eleans. So complete was its annihilation, that the very
existence of Pisa was doubted even by some of the ancient
geographers. From the time of this event, b.c. 572, till the
Peloponnesian war, the peace of Elis remained undisturbed.
In that great contest Elis sided at first with Sparta; but
that power, jealous of the increasing prosperity of Elis,
availed itself of the first pretext to pick a quarrel with it.
At the battle of Mantinea the Eleans sided with the allies
against the Spartans, who, as soon as the war came to a
close, took vengeance upon them by depriving them of
rI riphylia and the towns of the Acroreia. The Eleans made
no attempt to re-establish their authority over these places,
till the star of Thebes rose in the ascendent after the battle
of Leuctra. It is not unlikely that they would have effected
their purpose had not the Arcadian confederacy come to
E L I
the assistance of the Triphylians. In 366 b.c. hostilities Elis
broke out between them, and the Eleans were at first sue- II
cessful, but were soon overpowered, and their capital very Ellshi
nearly fell into the hands of the enemy. Unable without
assistance to make head against their opponents, they ap¬
plied for assistance to the Spartans, who invaded Arcadia, and
forced the Arcadians to recall their troops from Elis. The
general result of this war was the restoration of their terri¬
tory to the Eleans, who were also again invested with the
right of holding the Olympic games, of which they had been
deprived. During the Macedonian supremacy in Greece
Elis sided with the victors, but refused to fight against their
countrymen. After the death of Alexander they renounced
the Macedonian alliance. At a subsequent period they
joined the TEtolian League, but persistently refused to iden¬
tify themselves with the Achseans. When the whole of
Greece fell under the Roman yoke, the sanctity of Olym¬
pia secured for the Eleans a certain amount of indulgence.
The games still continued to attract to the country large
numbers of strangers, until they were finally put down by
Theodosius in 394, two years previous to the utter destruc¬
tion of the country by the Gothic invasion under Alaric.
In later times Elis fell successively into the hands of the
French and the Venetians, under whose rule it recovered
to some extent its ancient prosperity. By the latter people
the province of Belvedere on the Peneus was called, in con¬
sequence of its fertility, “ the milk cow of the Morea.” The
country has of late greatly declined from its former pros-
perityf The sea-coast is now almost uninhabitable from
malaria.
Elis, now Kaloscopi, the capital of the foregoing coun¬
try, was situated on a hill overhanging the river Peneus,
where it issues from the mountain passes that inclose the
upper part of its course into the champaign country be¬
yond. Elis was remarkable as being the only fortified town
in the country of which it is the capital; the other towns
and villages, as has been already remarked, being unwalled.
The history of the town is so closely identified with that of
its country, that a recapitulation is here unnecessary. It
long maintained its place as one of the most splendid and
populous cities of Greece, though no remains of its ancient
magnificence are now visible. One of the most sumptuous
of its public buildings was the gymnasium, in which it was
necessary that all the athletes who intended to take part in
the Olympic should undergo a month’s training before they
were allowed to compete. The history and topography of
Elis will be found very fully discussed in Leake’s Morea
and Curtius’s Peloponnesos.
ELISABETGRAD, or Jelizabetgrad, a fortified town
of South Russia, government of Kherson, on the Ingal, 140
miles N. of Kherson. It was founded in 1754, is regu¬
larly built, and has a large arsenal, hospital, and several
churches. Including its four suburbs, it has a population
of 12,496.
ELISABETPOL, Jelizabetpol, or Ganshaw, a forti¬
fied town of Georgia, province of Tiflis, and 90 miles S.E.
of the town of that name. It was formerly a place of con¬
siderable importance, but is now in a rather dilapidated con¬
dition ; having still, however, several e’egant mosques and
other public buildings. Pop. (1848) 12,966.
ELISHA (e. e. God the Deliverer), the successor of Elijah,
whose mantle he received at his translation. At the open¬
ing of his ministry he vindicated his claim to a divine mis¬
sion by the division of the Jordan, and the destruction of the
children who taunted him with the translation of his master.
He next predicted the miraculous supply of water to the
hosts of Jehoram and Jehoshaphat, which proved the de¬
struction of the Moabites. His miracles,unlike thoseof Elijah,
were generally miracles of mercy, as, for example, multiply¬
ing the widow’s oil, raising the Shunamite’s son, and heal¬
ing the leprosy of Naaman. Having defeated the schemes of
ELI
Elision Syrian king, lie escaped from the band sent to apprehend
|| him, by smiting them with blindness, and leadirig them into
Elizabeth, the heart of Samaria (b.c. 892). After predicting the libe-
ration of Samaria from siege, he next appears as predicting
the death of Benhadad. Having anointed Jehu, he disap¬
pears from the sacred narrative, and at the advanced age of
ninety, he is called to his rest. Jehu mourned at his fune¬
ral ; and a dead body touched by his bones immediately
started into life.
ELISION, in Grammar and Prosody, the cutting off or
suppressing a vowel at the end of a word,for the sake of sound
or measure, when the next word begins with a vowel.
ELIXATION, in Pharmacy, the extracting of the vir¬
tues of ingredients by boiling or stewing.
ELIXIR (Lat. elixare, to boil, to seethe), in Medicine, a
tincture composed of several ingredients. In modern phar¬
macy elixirs are called compound tinctures. Elixir was also
the name given by the alchymists to a liquor for transmut¬
ing base metals into gold, as also to a cordial which was
reputed to possess rejuvenescent qualities.
ELIZABETH, queen of England, one of the most for¬
tunate and illustrious of modern sovereigns, was born in
the palace of Greenwich on the 7th of September 1533.
She was the only surviving issue of the ill-starred union
between Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, which barely ex¬
tended over a space of three years. Anne was crowned at
Westminster June 15, 1533, and was beheaded within the
Tower of London May 19, 1536. The girlish beauty and
vivacity of Anne Boleyn, with her brief career of royal
splendour and her violent death, invest her story with a
portion of romantic interest; but she does not seem to have
possessed any solid virtues or intellectual superiority. The
name of Elizabeth cannot be added to the list of eminent
persons who are said to have inherited their peculiar talents
and dispositions from the side of the mother. On the con¬
trary, she closely resembled her father in many respects,—
in his stout heart and haughty temper, his strong self-will
and energy, and his love of courtly pomp and magnificence.
Combined with these, however, there was in Elizabeth a de¬
gree of politic caution and wisdom, with no small dissimula¬
tion and artifice, which certainly does not appear in the cha¬
racter of “bluff King Harry.” Early hardships and dangers
had taught Elizabeth prudence and suspicion, as well as af¬
forded opportunity in her forced retirement for the pursuit of
learning and for private accomplishments. The period of
her youth was an interesting and memorable one in English
history. The doctrines of the Reformation had spread from
Germany to this country; and the passions and interests of
Henry led him to adopt in part the new faith, or at least
to abjure the grand tenet of the papal supremacy.. Anne
Bolevn, by her charms and influence, facilitated this great
change ; and there is historical truth as well as poetical
beauty in the couplet of Gray :
“ That Love could teach a monarch to be wise,
And gospel light first dawn’d from Boleyn’s eyes.”
The Protestantism of England was henceforth linked to
Elizabeth’s title to the crown. She was in her fourteenth
vear when her father King Henry died. Her education
had been carefully attended to, latterly under the superin¬
tendence of good Catherine Parr, the last of Henry s queens.
The young princess was instructed in Greek and Latin,
first by william Grindal, and afterwards by Roger Ascham,
who has described his pupil in glowing terms as “ exempt
E L I
635
from female weakness,” and endued with a masculine power Elizabeth,
of application, quick apprehension, and retentive memory.
She spoke French and Italian with fluency, was elegant in
her penmanship, whether in the Greek or Roman charac¬
ter, and was skilful in music, though she did not delight in
it. “ With respect to personal decoration,” adds Ascham,
“she greatly prefers a simple elegance to show and splen¬
dour.” This last characteristic, if it ever existed, did not
abide with Elizabeth. Her love of rich dresses, jewels, and
other ornaments, was excessive; and at her death she is
said to have had about 2000 costly suits of all countries in
her wardrobe. Nor can it be said that even at the tender age
of sixteen, when Roger Ascham drew her flattering portrait,
Elizabeth was exempt from female weakness. After the
death of Henry, the queen-dowager married the Lord
Admiral Seymour, whose gallantries and ambition embit¬
tered her latter days. Seymour paid court to the Princess
Elizabeth, and with the connivance of her governess, Mrs
Ashley, obtained frequent interviews, in which much bois¬
terous and indelicate familiarity passed. The graver court
ladies found fault with “ my lady Elizabeth’s going in a night
in a barge upon Thames, and for other light parts;” and the
scandal proceeded so far as to become matter of examina¬
tion by the council. Mrs Ashley and Thomas Parry, cof¬
ferer of the princess’s household (afterwards patronized by
Elizabeth), were committed for a time to the Tower, and
Elizabeth underwent an examination by Sir Thomas Tyr-
whit, but would confess nothing. “ She hath a very good
wit,” said Tyrwhit, “ and nothing is gotten of her but by
great policy.” The subsequent disgrace and death of Sey¬
mour closed this first of Elizabeth’s love passages ; she ap¬
plied herself diligently to her studies under Ascham, and
maintained that “ policy” and caution which events rendered
more than ever necessary.
The premature death of Edward VI. called forth a display
of Elizabeth’s sagacity and courage. Edward had been pre¬
vailed upon by the Duke of Northumberland to dispose of
the crown by will to his cousin Lady Jane Giey. The two
sisters, Mary and Elizabeth, on whom the succession had been
settled by the testamentary provisions of Henry VIIL, as
well as by statute, were thus excluded. Mary’s friends im¬
mediately took up arms; Elizabeth was asked to resign her
title in consideration of a sum of money, and certain lands
which should be assigned to her ; but she rejected the pro¬
posal, adding that her elder sister should be treated with
first, as during Mary’s lifetime she herself had no right to
the throne. Elizabeth then rallied her friends and fol¬
lowers, and when Mary approached London, successfixl and
triumphant, she was met by Elizabeth at the head of 1000
horse—knights, squires, and ladies, with their attendants.
Such a congratulation merited a different acknowledgment
from that which Elizabeth was fated to experience. But
the temper of Mary, never frank or amiable, had been
soured by neglect, persecution, and ill-health; and her fana¬
tical devotion to the ancient religion had become the ab¬
sorbing and ruling passion of her mind. She was not de¬
void of private virtues—certainly excelling Elizabeth in
sincerity and depth of feefihg ; but her virtues ‘ walked a
narrow round;” and whenever the Romish Church was in
question, all feelings of private tenderness, and a(ll con¬
siderations of public expediency or justice, were with Mary
as flax in the fire. The five years of her reign are perhaps
the most un-English epoch in our annals.
  ~~ ^ .-u mi tv nf Elizabeth in allowing Shakspeare’s drama of
1 Miss Lucy Aikin, in her Memoirs of the Court of Elizabeth, P™ises e to be pubUcly offered to the compassion of her
Henry VIII., in which the wrongs and sufferings of Katharine °f AlV S to the n but it seems certain that Shakspeare s Henry
people. We wish that this instance of magnanimity could be Justly d to ^int at the death of the queen while she lived; and
VIII. was not produced till after Elizabeth s death. No poet would SUCcessor James. We have Ben Jonson’s testimony as to
Cranmer’s prophecy in the fifth act speaks of the death of Elizabeth and of her
Shakspeare’s favour with Elizabeth,—  „ Thoge flights upon the banks of Thames,
That so did take Eliza and our James.”
636 ELIZA
Elizabeth. To escape from indignities and persecution at court, Eliza-
^ beth was suffered to retire, though carefully watched, to
her house of Ashridge, in Buckinghamshire. Wyat’s in¬
surrection, prompted by the rumoured marriage of Mary
with Philip of Spain, made her still more an object of sus¬
picion and distrust, as the hopes of the Protestant party
were on all occasions turned to Elizabeth. The young
princess was taken from Ashridge and privately committed
to the Tower. Her death was demanded by some of the
bigoted adherents of the court, but Mary dared not and
probably did not desire to proceed to this extremity ; Philip,
when allied to the English crown, interceded on behalf of
the fair captive, and Elizabeth was removed to Woodstock,
under care of a fierce Catholic, Sir Henry Bedingfield.
Her extreme wariness and circumspection baffled every
effort to entrap her. She conformed outwardly to the
Catholic Church, opening a chapel in her house at Wood-
stock, and keeping a large crucifix in her chamber. This
conformity was not unnaturally ascribed to dissimulation,
but part was probably real. To the end of her life, Eliza¬
beth retained a portion of the old belief. She had always
a crucifix with lighted tapers before it in her private chapel;
she put up prayers to the Virgin (being, she said, a virgin
herself, she saw no sin in this), she disliked all preaching
and controversy on the subject of the real presence, and
she was zealous almost to slaying against the marriage of
the clergy. She was anxious to retain as much as possible
of the Catholic ceremonial and the splendid celebrations
of the church festivals, which the ardent reformers would
gladly have swept away, as had been done in Scotland.
The Anglican Church was a compromise.
The wretched and inglorious reign of Mary terminated
on the 17th of November 1558. Elizabeth heard the news
of her accession at Hatfield, and she fell down on her knees
exclaiming in Latin, “ It is the Lord’s doing, and marvel¬
lous in our eyes,” words which she afterwards caused to be
stamped on a gold coin, impressing on her silver coin
another pious motto, “ I have chosen God for my helper.”
All her perils were now passed. The nation received her
with umbounded enthusiasm. Church bells were rung,
bonfires blazed, tables were spread on the streets, the Pro¬
testants exulted with a holy joy.
Elizabeth was in her 25th year when she ascended the
throne. She had been better disciplined and trained for
her high trust than most princes, yet the difficulties that
surrounded the English crown at this time might well have
appalled her. The nation was struggling in a war with
France, trade was much decayed, Calais had been lost, and
England w7as distracted by religious divisions and animosi¬
ties. All Catholic Europe might be expected to be arrayed
against the Protestant Queen of England. Elizabeth, how¬
ever, at once chose the better part for herself and the na¬
tion. Without waiting for the assembling of her first par¬
liament, she ordered the church service to be read in Eng¬
lish, and the elevation of the host to be discontinued. But
before this could be known abroad, she had instructed the
English ambassador at Rome to notify her accession to the
pope. Paul IV., then pontiff, arrogantly replied, that Eng¬
land was a fief of the Holy See, that Elizabeth was illegi¬
timate, and could not inherit the crown, and that she should
renounce all her pretensions and submit to his decision. If
Elizabeth had ever wavered as to the course she should
pursue, this papal fulmination must have fixed her deter¬
mination. Twelve years afterwards, a subsequent pope,
Pius V., issued a bull releasing English Catholics from their
allegiance to the queen, and formally depriving her of her
title to the throne. But the thunders of the Vatican, like
the threats of the Escurial, fell harmless on the English
BET II.
shores. The nation, under its firm monarch and her wise Elirabeth.
counsellors, Cecil, Bacon, Walsingham, Sadler, and others,
pursued its triumphant course, while its naval and military
glories were augmented beyond all former precedent. The
government of Elizabeth and the public events of her reign
will fall to be recorded in another part of this work, under
the head of England. Her first parliament passed the
famous Acts of Supremacy and Uniformity, which struck di¬
rectly at the papal power. All clergymen and public func¬
tionaries were obliged to renounce the temporal and spiritual
jurisdiction of every foreign prince and prelate ; and all
ministers, whether beneficed or not, were prohibited from
using any but the established liturgy. These statutes were
carried out with considerable severity; many Catholics suf¬
fered death; but all might have saved themselves, if they
had explicitly denied the right of the Pope to depose the
queen. The Puritans and Nonconformists, on the other
hand, were content to bear some portion of the burden of
intolerance and oppression, from the consideration that Eliza¬
beth was the bulwark of Protestantism. If they lost her
firm hand they lost all; and the numerous plots and machi¬
nations of the Catholics against the queen’s life showed how
highly it was valued, and how precious it was to Protestant
Europe. In the latter part of the queen’s reign, her do¬
mestic and fiscal regulations were justly open to censure.
The abuse of monopolies had grown to be a great evil ;
grants of exclusive right to deal in almost all commodities
had been given to the royal favourites, who were exorbi¬
tant in their demands, and oppressed the people at pleasure.
Elizabeth wisely yielded to the growing strength of the Com¬
mons, anti the monopolies complained of were cancelled.
The monarchy, though as yet arbitrary, and in some re¬
spects undefined, was still, in essential points, limited by law.
One great object of the Protestants was to secure a suc¬
cessor to the throne by the marriage of Elizabeth. The
nearest heir was Mary Queen of Scots, a zealous Catholic,
supported by all the Catholic states, and who had ostenta¬
tiously quartered the royal arms of England with her own,
thus deeply offending the proud and jealous Elizabeth.
The hand of the English queen was eagerly solicited by
numerous suitors—by Philip of Spain, who was ambitious
of continuing his connection with England, by the Arch¬
duke Charles of Austria, by Eric king of Sweden, the Duke
of Anjou, and others. With some of these Elizabeth ne¬
gotiated and coquetted for years; to Anjou she seems to
have been attached; but her affections w ere more deeply
touched, as Mr Hallam has remarked, by her favourite
Dudley, Earl of Leicester. Her early resolution, and that
which ultimately prevailed over her weakness or vanity, wras,
that she should remain single and hold undivided power.
To a deputation from the Commons on this delicate subject,
she emphatically said she had resolved to live and die a
virgin queen : “ and for me it shall be sufficient that a
marble stone declare that a queen, having reigned such a
time, lived and died a virgin.” She appears often to have
wavered in her resolution ; and in her partiality for hand¬
some courtiers and admirers, to have forgotten her prudence
and dignity. Her partiality for Essex was undisguised—it
was unhappy for both ; and making Hatton chancellor be¬
cause he could dance gracefully, was a bold but not unsuc¬
cessful achievement. Elizabeth’s fits of rage were as vio¬
lent as her fits of love. Her maids of honour sometimes
felt the weight of the royal hand; and when Essex once
turned his back on her, she appropriately dealt him a box
on the ear. As a pendant to these nugce, v7e may add, that
Elizabeth swore strongly, decided and masculine oaths.
The feminine weakness and egregious vanity of Eliza¬
beth, in the midst of so many masculine qualities of heart
And the tradition that the poet wrote his Merry Wives of Windsor by request of the queen, who wished to see Falstaff in love, is at least
highly probable.
ELI
Elizabeth, and intellect, have afforded matter for many chapters of
garrulous chroniclers. Five years after she ascended the
throne, she issued a proclamation against portrait painters
and engravers, who had erred in expressing “ that natural
representation of her majesty’s person, favour, or grace,”
that was desired by her loving subjects, and who were
ordered to desist until some “special cunning painter” might
be permitted to have access to the royal presence. The
works of the unskilful and common painters were, as Ra¬
leigh relates, by the queen’s commandment, “ knocked in
pieces and cast into the fire.” A long account is given by
the Scottish ambassador Melville, of certain interviews he
had with Elizabeth when in her most gracious and pleasant
mood. She showed him “ my lord’s picture,”—a portrait of
the unworthy favourite Dudley; she changed her dress
every day, “ one day the English weed, another the French,
and another the Italian, and so forth,” asking Melville which
became her best; her hair, he says, was rather reddish than
yellow, and curled naturally; she inquired whether the
queen of Scotland or herself was of highest stature, and
Melville answering that Mary was tallest, “ then,” saith she,
“ she is too high, for I myself am neither too high nor too
low.” Melville praised Mary’s accomplishments as a musi¬
cian and dancer, and Elizabeth contrived, as if by accident,
that he should hear her play upon the virginals: “ she in¬
quired whether my queen or she played best; in that I
found myself obliged to give her the praise.” In the matter
of the dancing, Melville was also able to answer, that Mary
did not dance “ so high and disposedfg ” as Elizabeth. De¬
termined to show all her accomplishments, Elizabeth ad¬
dressed the wary ambassador in Italian, which she spoke
“ reasonably well,” and in German, which he says, was “ not
so good.” These glimpses of the woman Elizabeth, contrast
strangely with the sovereign, who, at Tilbury camp, rode
from rank to rank of her army, bareheaded, with a general’s
truncheon in her hand, declaring to her soldiers that she
was resolved to live and die amongst them in the midst and
heat of the battle ; and that she thought it “ foul scorn that
Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to in¬
vade the borders of her realms.” Language and sentiments
like these must have insured the destruction of the troops
of Parma or Spain, even if the vaunted Armada had not
been sunk by the English fire or scattered by tempests.
The darkest stain on the memory of Elizabeth is hei
treatment of Mary Queen of Scots. To have cut off Mary
from the crown, settling it on her son, would have secured
the Protestant succession. Her execution, though clamoured
for by the English nation, was an act of cruelty peculiarly
revolting, as well as indefensible in law, on the part of a
female sovereign and kinswoman. And Elizabeth s af¬
fected reluctance to sign the death-warrant, her prompt¬
ings to Sir Amias Paulet that he should make away with
the captive queen (which the “ dainty precise fellow, as
Elizabeth termed him, refused to do), and her feigned grief
and indignation after the event had taken place, constitute
altogether a tissue of disgusting hypocrisy, as injurious to
the reputation of Elizabeth as the deed itself.1
To the end of her life, Elizabeth affected all the airs of a
coy beauty and coquette. Even her statesmen addiessed
her in a strain of fulsome adulation and semi-gallantry. She
was the Gloriana of Spenser, the “ fair vestal throned in
ELL
637
Eliza¬
bethan
Style
abroad. We have a graphic picture of her in her sixty-fifth
year by a German, Paul Hentzner, who saw the queen on
a Sunday as she proceeded to chapel. She appeared stately
and majestic; her face oblong, fair but wrinkled; her eyes Ellesmere
small, yet black and pleasant; her nose a little hooked, her y ^ , L y
lips narrow, and her teeth black. She had pearls with rich ~
drops in her ears, wore false red hair, had a small crown on
her head, her bosom uncovered, her dress white silk, bor¬
dered with pearls of the size of beans, a collar of gold and
jewels; and thus arrayed, Elizabeth passed along smiling
graciously on the spectators, who fell down on their knees
as she approached, while a marchioness bore up her train ;
a bevy of ladies followed her dressed in white, and she was
guarded on each side by fifty gentlemen pensioners, carry¬
ing gilt battle-axes. A few years afterwards we see the
eclipse of this Eastern splendour and servility. Towards the
end of March 1603, Elizabeth was seized with her mortal
illness. She became restless and melancholy, refused me¬
dicine, and sat for days and nights on cushions, silent, her
finger pressed on her mouth. When asked by Cecil who
should succeed her on the throne, she characteristically
answered, “ My seat has been the seat of kings; I will have
no rascal to succeed me.” She afterwards, when speech¬
less, joined her hands together above her head, “ in man¬
ner of a crown,” to signify, in answer to another interro¬
gatory from Cecil, that she wished the king of Scots to be
her successor. She expired on the 24th of March 1603.
And thus calmly passed away the last of the Tudors, the lion-
hearted Elizabeth. She was in the seventieth year of her age
and forty-fifth of her reign—a period of brilliant prosperity
and advancement, during which England had put forth her
brightest genius and soundest philosophy, and attained to the
highest distinction and glory among the states of Europe.
Horace Walpole has assigned to Elizabeth a place in his
Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors, and a list of thirteen
productions, exclusive of letters and speeches, is attached
to the queen’s name. They consist chiefly of translations
from the Greek, Latin, and French, with a sonnet printed
during her own lifetime, and some prayers and meditations.
The learning of Elizabeth is undoubted: it was consider¬
able even in that age of learned ladies ; but her style is stiff,
involved, quaint, and full of conceits—the whole evincing
rather a predilection for literary and scholastic studies than
literary taste or power. (R- c s‘)
ELIZABETHAN Style, in Architecture, the name
given to the impure architecture of the time of Queen Eliza¬
beth and James I. It may be called a mixture of the worst
forms of the Gothic and the Italian styles; but it neveithe-
less is capable of wonderful picturesqueness in general effect.
Deeply embayed windows, long galleries, and fantastic
gables, are its principal characteristics.
ELK, in Zoology. See index to Mammalia.
ELL (Lat. ulna), a measure used chiefly for cloth, and
varying in length in different countries. The English and
the'Flemish ells were those most in use in Great Britain.
The English ell is 45 inches, while the Flemish ell is only
27 inches, or fths of a yard. In Scotland the ell is 37£
English inches.
ELLESMERE, a market-town of Shropshire, hundred
of Pimhill, 16 miles N.N.W. of Shrewsbury. It is so called
from the beautiful lake or mere near which it stands; and
of four main streets, with a handsome chuich.
the West,” of Shakspeate, and the idol of all the leaser ed in tanning and the mak-
poets, as well as courtiers and politicians. She contmued r«P- ^aH tte taley grown in the vicinit? being of ex-
her irore-eous finery and rigorous state ceremonial, and was „ ^ ’ ,, , onnipnt rastlp. of which
her gorgeous finery and rigorous
waited upon by applauding crowds whenever she went
ceflent quality. The site of the ancient castle, of which
She hated her for her
 — , • J- a- • fKr, fisoiino- entertained by Elizabeth towards Mary.  
i There was something like personal vindictiveness in theJ^DS of Viand, for her having a “fair son,” and for her
rsonal charms and graces, for her having presumed to quarter the y b provoked by the malicious letter written by
- +he Catholic conspiracies. But more tnan all charging the queen with licentious
sth, in which she reported certain alleged sP®ech®. t t h xliii) The original letter in Mary’s handwriting
d defects, absurd vanity, foIly^vMice,^&c.^^(S^Hume,^ote^ch^^^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ n0 woman (royalty apart)
personal
complicity in the Catholic conspiracies
Mary to Elizabeth ‘ ’ ' ’ *"
amours, physical d , _ _ - .
was seen a few years since by Prince Labanoff in the
could have forgiven.
638 ELL
Ellichpoor there are now no remains, is now used as a bowling green,
IJ and commands a rich and varied prospect. Market-day
^ Elhot. ^ Tuesday. Ellesmere is connected with the Mersey by a
canal which greatly facilitates its trade.
ELLICHPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the territory
of Hyderabad, or the dominions of the Nizam, and the
principal place of a jaghire, or feudal possession of the same
name. A stone wall sixty feet in height surmounted by
battlements surrounds the town, which is of considerable
size, and contains several bazaars and houses built of brick.
The khan of Ellichpoor held his jaghire from the Nizam on
military tenure, furnishing a brigade of two battalions of
infantry, two thousand horse, and four guns; but a few
years since the relations between the feudatory and his
superior were seriously disturbed, and several actions took
place between the troops of the two chiefs, which were at¬
tended with varied success. Tranquillity was at length
restored by the sequestration of the district and its transfer
to the British, with other possessions of the Nizam, as a
provision for the support of the military contingent which
that prince is bound by treaty to maintain. The town of
Ellichpoor is distant 40 miles N.E. of Argaum, where the
Duke of Wellington gained a brilliant victory over the
Mahrattas in 1803. Eat. 21. 10., Long. 77. 36. (e.t.)
ELLIOT, the Eight Honourable George Augustus,
Lord Heathfield, was the youngest son of Sir Gilbert Elliot,
Bart, of Stobbs, in Roxburghshire, and was born about
1718. He received the rudiments of his education under
a private tutor, and at an early period of life was sent to
the university of Leyden. Being designed for a military
life, he was sent from thence to the celebrated Ecole Royale
du Genie Militaire, conducted by Vauban, at La Fere in
Picardy, where he laid the foundation of that scientific
knowledge which he so conspicuously exhibited at the de¬
fence of Gibraltar. He completed his military course on
the Continent by a tour, undertaken for the purpose of
seeing in practice what he had studied in theory; and as
Prussia was then the best model for discipline, he continued
some time as a volunteer in the service of that state.
Mr Elliot returned in the seventeenth year of his age to
Scotland; and was in the same year, 1735, entered as a
volunteer in the 23d regiment of foot, in which he continued
for upwards of a year. From the 23d regiment he wrent into
the engineer corps at Woolwich, and made great progress
in study, until through his uncle Colonel Elliot he was ap¬
pointed adjutant of the second troop of horse grenadiers.
With these troops he went upon service to Germany, and
was present with them in a variety of actions. At the battle
of Dettingen he was wounded. In this regiment he ob¬
tained the rank of captain and major, and afterwards pur¬
chased the lieutenant-colonelcy. On arriving at this grade
he resigned his commission as engineer, which he had en¬
joyed along with his regimental rank, and quitted a branch
ol the service in which he had been actively employed very
much to the advantage of his country. He received the
instructions of the lamous engineer Bellidor, and made
himself completely master of the science of gunnery ; and
had he not so disinterestedly resigned his rank in the en¬
gineer department, he would long before his death have,
by regular progression, reached the head of that corps.
Soon after this he was appointed aid-de-camp to George
II., and was distinguished for his military skill and dis¬
cipline. In 1759 he quitted the second troop of horse
grenadier guards, being selected to raise, form, and disci¬
pline the first regiment of light horse, which was called
after him Elliot’s. As soon as they were raised and formed,
he was appointed to the command of the cavalry in the
expedition on the coasts of France, with the rank of briga¬
dier-general. After this he passed into Germany, where he
was employed on the staff', and greatly distinguished him-
E L L
During the peace he was not idle. His great talents in Elliott,
the various branches of the military art procured him ample v'*-
employment. In 1775 he was appointed to succeed Gene¬
ral A’Court as commander-in-chief of the forces in Ireland ;
but he did not continue long on this station, not even long
enough to unpack all his trunks ; for finding that interfer¬
ences were made by petty authority derogatory to his own,
he resisted the practice with becoming spirit ; and not
choosing to disturb the government of the sister kingdom
on a matter personal to himself, he solicited to be recalled.
The government acceded to his request, and, in a fortunate
hour for the safety of Gibraltar, he was appointed to the
command of that important fortress. The system of his
life, as well as his education, peculiarly qualified him for
this trust. He was perhaps the most abstemious man of
the age, indulging himself neither in animal food nor in
wine. He never slept more than four hours at a time, so
that he was up later and earlier than most other men. He
so inured himself to habits of hardiness, that the things
which prove difficult and painful to other men were to him
his daily practice, and rendered pleasant by use. It could
not be easy to starve such a man into a surrender, nor
possible to surprise him. The example of the commander-
in-chief in a besieged garrison has the most persuasive effi¬
cacy in forming the manners of a soldiery. Like him, his
brave followers came to regulate their lives by the most
strict rules of discipline before there arose a necessity for
so doing; and severe exercise, with short diet, became
habitual to them from their own choice. The military
system of discipline wdiich he introduced, and the prepara¬
tions which he made for his defence, were contrived with
so much judgment, and executed with so much address,
that he was able with a handful of men to preserve his post
against an attack, the constancy of which, even apart from
the vigour with which it w’as made, would have been suffi¬
cient to exhaust any common set of men. With perfect
calmness he desisted from any premature attempts to de¬
stroy the works which it cost the enemy time, patience,
and expense to complete; he deliberately observed their
approaches, and, with the greatest discernment, seized on
the proper moment at which to make his attack with suc¬
cess. He never spent his ammunition in useless parade
or in unimportant efforts. He never relaxed his discipline
from the appearance of security, nor hazarded the lives of
his garrison by wild experiments. By a cool and temper¬
ate demeanour, he maintained his station for three years of
constant investment, in which the whole powers of Spain
were employed against him. All the eyes of Europe were
on this garrison ; and his conduct has justly exalted him to
the most elevated rank in the military annals of his time.
On his return to England, the gratitude of the British se¬
nate was as forward as the public voice in awarding him that
distinguished honour which his merit deserved. Both houses
of parliament voted a unanimous address of thanks to the
general; the king conferred on him the honour of knight
of the bath, with a pension during his own and a second life
of his own appointment; and on the 14th June 1787, His
Majesty advanced him to the peerage by the title of Lord
Heathfield, Baron Gibraltar, permitting him to take, in ad¬
dition to his family arms, the arms of the fortress which he
had so bravely defended.
His lordship died on the 9th July 1790 at Aix-la-Cha-
pelle, of a second stroke of the palsy, after having for some
weeks preceding enjoyed tolerable good health and an un¬
usual flow of spirits. His death happened two days before
he was to have set out for Leghorn on his way to Gibraltar,
of which place he had been once more appointed governor, in
the prospect of an approaching war. He married Anne,
daughter of Sir Francis Drake of Devonshire, and had by
her Francis Augustus, by whom he was succeeded in his title.
ELLIOTT, Ebenezer, the Corn-Law Rhymer, was
ELL
Ellipsis born March 17, 1781, at Masborough, in the parish of
II . Rotherham, where his father was employed in an iron-
Elliptic tonndry• At school his education was thwarted by a con-
v ^ stitutional nervousness, which prevented him from doing
little more than merely learning to write, and which kept
him aloof from his boyish companions. From his sixteenth
to his twenty-third year he wrought with his father, who
had become nominal proprietor of the foundry. He after¬
wards engaged in business in Sheffield on his own account,
and after a failure in his first attempt he succeeded in real¬
izing a competence. The last years of his life were spent
at Argilt Hill, near Barnsley, where he died December 1,
1849. His principal works are, Corn-Law Rhymes; Love,
a Poem ; The Village Patriarch ; Poetical Works; and
More Prose and Verse by the Corn-Law Rhymer, 2 vols.
His political poems are generally characterized by an ath¬
letic energy, and an almost morbid sense of wrong; but
his domestic verses will always hold a distinguished place
in the popular poetry of England.
ELLIPSIS, or Ellipse, in Geometry, an oval figure pro¬
duced from the section of a cone by a plane which cuts both
sides of it in an oblique direction. See Conic Sections.
Ellipsis, in Grammar, defect, omission; a figure of
syntax by which one or more words are omitted; as,—the
landscape I admire, for the landscape which I admire.
ELLIPTIC, pertaining to an ellipse.
Elliptic Turning. Wood and other substances are
turned into an elliptic form by means of a chuck, which is
applied on the common turning-lathe. This chuck is on the
principle of the trammel, Plate CCXXXI. fig. 1. The grooves
in the chuck are much wider than in the trammel, and the
points of the chuck that correspond to C, D, of the tram¬
mel, fig. 1, remain fixed, and in one horizontal line ; whereas
in the trammel these are the points which are put in motion.
Illustra- If two straight lines, crossing each other, be drawn on a
tion the piece 0f transparent paper ; if this transparent paper be laid
principle. Up0n a sbeet of white paper, with two points marked on it;
if the transparent paper be moved round, so that the cross
lines shall travel over the two points, in like manner as the
two points C, D, in the trammel, fig. 1, travel over the cross
grooves of the trammel; and if the point of a pencil be held
fixed, and touching the transparent paper, so as to leave a
trace on the transparent paper when the paper is moved;
then after the transparent paper has made a revolution, the
trace left on it by the point of the pencil will be an ellipse.
This method of describing an ellipse represents the action
which takes place in the chuck for turning ellipses: the
point of the pencil which remains unmoved is in the same
situation as the turner’s gouge ; the transparent paper which
receives the trace of the ellipse from the fixed pencil is ana-^
logons to the wood which is to be turned into the form of
an ellipse by the fixed cutting gouge.
Bescrip- In fig. 2 the chuck is represented as fitted on a common
tion of the turning lathe, of which A is the pulley of the mandrel, B
ehuch. ancj 0 are t|ie gicjes of t]ie frame supporting the pulley, P
the rest, D the frame in which the rest slides, E, h the feet
of that frame, I the nut and screw which serve to fix the
rest, G, H are the continuation of the sides B, C. K is the
elliptic chuck, with two grooves, through which the knobs
of the slider pass. These knobs are connected by a strong
bar of iron screwed into their ends; and on this bar of iron
is seen the screw for fastening the board, to which is fixed the
wood or other substance which is to be turned elliptically.
Fig. 3. shows the other side of the chuck, which in fig. 2
is turned towards the side of the frame C. N, in fig 3, is
the board with the grooves which contain the slidei O. In
the middle of N is seen the end of the screw, which is fixed
to the mandrel. The board N has a circular motion, being
fixed on the axis of the mandrel, whilst the slider O, at the
same time that it is carried round by the circular motion of
N, is constrained to perform other motions by the grooves
ELL 639
in N and by the groove in O, fig. 3, which slides on the ring Ellipto-
M, fig. 4. graph.
In fig. 4, L is a part of the side C of the mandrel frame,
with the ring M fastened to it. On this ring the broad
groove in the slider O, fig. 3, moves when the lathe is set
agoing; and this groove is at right angles to the grooves in
N, fig. 3, in which the knobs of O move. In fig. 4 it is seen
that the centre of the ring M may be made to coincide with
the centre of the spindle of the mandrel, in which case a
circle is described. If the ring is fixed, so that the centre
of the ring does not coincide with the centre of the mandrel,
an ellipse is described by the wood screwed upon the bar of
O in fig. 2 ; and the most eccentric ellipse that the machine
describes is obtained when the mandrel is at the circum¬
ference of the ring. The centre of the spindle of the man¬
drel, and the centre of the ring M, are always in one im¬
moveable horizontal line, and are analogous to the points
C, D, of the trammel, fig. 1. In fig. 3 it is seen that the
sides of the grooves may be brought nearer together by
means of screws ; so that the sliders and the cylindric ring
may fit exactly to the grooves. The best elliptic chucks
are made of brass. (See Mechanical Exercises, by Peter
Nicholson, London, 1812.) (w. A. c.)
ELLIPTOGRAPH, an instrument for drawing ellipses.
The trammel is an instrument which has long been known
and used for describing ellipses. On the principle of the
trammel Mr Farey constructed his elliptograph in a form
much more commodious for drawing. Mr Farcy’s ellipto¬
graph is represented at Plate CCXXXI. fig. 5. The circle
A slides between the two parallel rulers D, E. The circle B
slides between two parallel rulers F, G, at right angles to
the former. In this way, if a line joining the centres of
the circles is made to revolve, M, the extremity of that line,
will describe an ellipse in the same manner as the extremity
E of the line CDE, fig. 1, does in the trammel. The ellip¬
tograph may be considered as a trammel, in which the pins
C and D, fig. 1, are enlarged into the circles A and B, fig.
5. The pinion at K, fixed to one of the arms of the lower
circle, acting on a rack screwed to the upper circle, serves
to alter the distance of the centres of the circles A and B ;
and, by so doing, this pinion serves to vary the eccentricity
of the ellipses which the instrument describes. When the
centres of the circles A, B, coincide, the describing pen M
draws a circle. When the centres are removed from each
other, and on the circles being turned round, an ellipse is
described by the pen ; and when the distance of the centres
is increased, the eccentricity of the ellipse is increased.
When the pen is at the centre it describes a straight line,
continually moving to and fro on that line when the circles
are turned round. The two circles are fixed together by
screws, and can only be made to slide the upper ciicle ovei
the lower by the action of the pinion K. The pinion at L
moves a rack, by which the describing pen M, which draws
the ellipse, is brought nearer to the centre for the purpose
of drawing a small ellipse, and removed linther from the
centre ot the ellipse when a large one is to be drawn. I he
size of the ellipse may be increased as far as the size of the
instrument will admit. The pair of rulers D, E, aie placed
below the pair F, G, as is seen in fig. 6. The instrument,
when used, is held upon the paper with the thumb and a
finger of the left hand at the nuts N, O ; and the circles are
moved by applying the right hand to the pins^; the pen M,
pressing by its weight on the paper, then desciibes the ellipse.
Fi<r.t7 shows H, the socket for the compasses, with the
centre pin on which the socket moves j and the pinion L
and rack h, for moving along the frame g between the bars;
and the other pinion K, for separating the circles.
The ruler P has two points, to fix the instrument to the
paper. The ruler is united to the frame by screws, which
serve to adjust the position of the instrument after the
ruler has been fixed to the paper.
640
Ellore
Elmacinus
Mode of
using the
instru¬
ment.
Ellipto-
graph for
engraving.
ELM E L 0
By means of the elliptograph any ellipse can be described,
of which the long and short axes are given, provided it does
not exceed the size of the instrument. When an ellipse is
to be described, draw on the paper the longer and shorter
axes, bisecting each other; place the instrument on the
paper, so that the centre of the four rulers appears to coin¬
cide with the centre or the intersection of the two axes of
the ellipse; and fix the instrument in this situation by the
points that go into the paper. By the pinion L move the
pen to one extremity of the short axis of the ellipse; turn
the circles half round, to see if the pen comes to the other
end of the short axis ; if it does not, adjust the error one
half, by moving the pen by the pinion L, the other half by
moving the frame on the paper; continue this adjustment
till the pen, setting out from the one end of the short axis,
arrives in a half revolution at the other end. Next, by
means of the pinion K, bring the pen to one end of the
long axis of the ellipse; turn the circles half round, and if
the pen reaches the other extremity of the long axis of the
ellipse, the instrument is rectified ; if not, one half of the
error is to be corrected by moving the circles by means of
the pinion K, and the other half by moving the instrument
to a side on the paper, by means of the nuts N, O. The
instrument is now adjusted; and the pen, resting on the
paper, traces the ellipse required when the circles are turned
round by the handles.
An instrument similar to the elliptograph has been em¬
ployed for engraving ellipses on copper plates, and for
dividing these ellipses accurately, so as to give the perspec¬
tive representation of a circle divided into equal parts, both
in the case where the distance of the eye is limited, and in
the orthographic projection. The Society for Encouraging
Arts rewarded Mr Farey with their gold medal for his
invention, and a description of the elliptograph is contained
in the thirty-first volume of the Transactions of that
society. (w. A. c.)
ELLORE, in Hindustan, in the British district of Masu-
lipatam, presidency of Madras, a town with a military
station, situated on the Jummalair, a torrent which about
3 miles below falls into the Colair Lake. The town is
populous and well built; and the sides of the streets are
planted with rows of trees affording grateful shade in a
place where the heat is oppressive, the thermometer having
been known to rise to 110° in the house, and to upwards
of 120° in officers’ tents. Lat. 16. 42., Long. 81. 10.
ELLRICH, a town in the Prussian province of Saxony,
government of Erfurt and circle of Nordhausen, on the
river Zorge, 45 miles N.N.W. of Erfurt. It has some paper
and oil mills, and manufactures of linen and woollen goods.
Pop. (1849) 2942. In the vicinity is the calcareous grotto
of Kelle, 290 feet long, 260 broad, and 158 high.
ELM. See Planting, and Timber.
ELMACINUS, Elmacin, or Elmakyn, George, author
of a History of the Saracens, and known in the East by
the name of Ibn-Amid, was a Christian of Egypt, where
he was born in the year of the Hegira 620, and of our era
1225. He occupied the place of ketib or secretary at the
court of the sultans of Egypt, an office which was usually
filled by Christians. His history consists of annals which
extend from the time of Mohammed till the year of the
Hegira 512 (a.d. 1117). It is principally occupied with
the affairs of the Saracen empire, but contains some pas¬
sages relating to the eastern Christians. In 1238 he suc¬
ceeded his father Yaser A1 Amid, who had held the office
of secretary to the council of war under the sultans of Egypt
for forty-five years. Elmacinus died at Damascus in the
year of the Hegira 675 (a.d. 1273). His History of the
Saracens was translated from Arabic into Latin by Erpenius,
and printed in both languages at Leyden, 1625, in folio.
Erpenius, however, died before the publication was com¬
pleted ; and the issuing of the volume was left to Golius,
who wrote a preface to the work. The title is, Historia Elmina
Saracenica, qud res gestae. Muslimorum, inde a Muham-
mede primo imperii et religionis Muslimicce auctore, usque
ad initium imperii Atabeccei, per XLIX. imperatorum
successionem Jidelissime explicantur, insertis etiam passim
Christianorum rebus in Orientispotissimum ecclesiis eodem
tempore gestis. Arabice olim exarata a G. Elmacino et
Latine reddita. Leyden, 1625, 8vo. The Latin text was
printed separately in quarto; and there also exists an
edition which only contains the Arabic text, and appears to
have been designed for the Christians of the Levant. The
work has been translated in whole or in part into several
modern languages.
ELMINA, a town and fort on the Guinea Coast of
Africa, capital of the Dutch possessions in that part. The
fort is the strongest on the coast, being surrounded with
double walls and deep ditches. Pop. about 10,000.
ELMSLEY, Peter, a distinguished philologist and
editor, was born in 1773, and educated at Westminster and
Oxford. After quitting the university he was appointed
to a small chapelry at Horksley in Essex ; but on the death
of his uncle, from whom he inherited a competent fortune,
he devoted himself to the study of Greek philology.' He
resided for some time at Edinburgh, where he lived in in¬
timacy with the projectors of the Edinburgh Review'. To
this periodical he contributed the articles on Heyne’s
Homer, Schweighauser’s/iMert^w,?, Blomfield’s Prometheus,
and Person’s Hecuba. To the Quarterly Review he also
contributed several classical articles. In 1819 he was com¬
missioned along with Sir Humphry Davy to superintend
the deciphering of the papyri at Herculaneum ; and on his
return after a short illness he was appointed principal
of St Alban’s Hall and Camden Professor of History
at Oxford. He died of disease of the heart, March 8,
1825.
ELOGY, or Eulogy, (Lat. elogium ; Fr. eloge ;) eulo-
gium, or the praise bestowed on a person or thing ; pane¬
gyric. Among the French particularly it is a very general
practice to pronounce eloges on illustrious deceased persons.
To this custom the public has been indebted for many in¬
teresting biographical sketches.
ELOHIM, in Scripture, is the abstract expression for
absolute Deity, apart from the special notions of unity,
holiness, substance, &c. It is more a philosophical than a
devotional term, and corresponds to our term deity, in the
same way as state or government is abstractedly expressive
of a king or monarch. Elohim is the plural form of eloach ;
and thus appears to be used as the pluredis excellent ice—
indicating the abundance and super-richness contained in
the Divine Being.
The word Elohim was also sometimes applied to angels,
princes, judges, &c., as indicating delegated authority.
ELOIGNED, or Eloined, (Fr. esloigner, q. d. elon-
gare, procul habere;) removed to a distance; separated
from ;—a term used chiefly in law. Thus Blackstone—“ If
the person be conveyed out of the sheriff’s jurisdiction, the
sheriff' may return that he is eloigned, elongatus.”
ELONGATION, in Astronomy, the digression or recess
of a planet from the sun, as it appears to the eye of the
spectator on our earth : the apparent recession of a planet
from the sun in its orbit, as the elongation of Venus or
Mercury.
ELORA, a town of Hindustan, in the native state of
Hyderabad, near the city of Dowlatabad. In a mountain
near this town there are some remarkable excavations, con¬
taining mythological symbols of the Hindu worship, and^
temples ornamented with representations and statues of
many of the deities worshipped by the Hindus. The prin¬
cipal figures are those of Indra the god of the firmament,
and his consort Indranee. Besides these, there are some
figures of the deities adored by the sectaries of Boodh and
ELS
ELY
Elphin
I!
Elsinore.
Parisinath ; but all of them have been forsaken by the
priests. The temples here are said to have been executed by
the rajah Edoo of Ellichpoor, who was cured of some cuta¬
neous disorders by a spring near the place, and in gratitude
gave orders for the construction of the temple. It mea¬
sures 138 feet in front, and in the interior extends 247 feet
in length by 150 feet in breadth, and is in some places 100
feet high. A minute account of these curious antiquities
is contained in the sixth volume of the Asiatic Researches.
Elora was ceded in 1818 by Holcar, under the treaty of
Mondesoor, to the British, who transferred it to the Nizam
in 1822 by the treaty of Hyderabad. Lat. 20. 2., Long.
75. 13. (et.)
ELPHIN, a market-town and bishop’s see of Ireland,
county of Roscommon, and 14 miles N. of the town of that
name. The cathedral is a plain building with an ancient
tower. Pop. (1851) 1225.
ELPHINSTONE, William, a Scottish prelate and
statesman of considerable eminence, was born at Glasgow
in 1431. He received his education at the university of
that city, and in the learning which distinguished the period
he made extraordinary proficiency. He afterwards studied
civil and canon law in the university of Paris, where in due
time he became professor, and for six years discharged the
duties of his office with great reputation. On his return to
Scotland he entered into holy orders, and was successively
appointed official of Glasgow, St Andrews, and Lothian.
He was also admitted a member of the privy-council; and on
the occasion of a misunderstanding between James III. of
Scotland and Louis XL of France, bis powerful mediation at
the latter court, in conjunction with the Bishop of Dunkeld
and the Earl of Buchan, effected an amicable reconciliation.
For the diplomatic ability which Elphinstone on this occa¬
sion displayed, the king rewarded him with the see of Ross,
from which he was translated to that of Aberdeen about
1484. He subsequently held the office of chancellor of the
kingdom ; and besides carrying on negotiations with the
English king, he acted as mediator between James and the
discontented nobility. During his residence at Aberdeen,
Elphinstone appears to have declined all interference with
public affairs of a political nature, and to have confined
himself to the discharge of his episcopal duties. But when
James IV. ascended the throne, his abilities as a statesman
were again called forth, and he was chosen ambassador to
the Emperor Maximilian, in order to negotiate a marriage
between his royal master and the emperor’s daughter. The
bishop’s mission, although it failed in the object for which
it was set on foot, was not without its salutary effects, and
was the means of terminating an enmity which had long
existed between the Dutch and Scots. The masterly manner
in which he conducted this affair raised him in the estima¬
tion of James, who undertook nothing of importance with¬
out first procuring his sanction. Elphinstone was also the
zealous patron of learning ; and it is generally believed that
the establishment of a university at Aberdeen was entirely
owing to his influence with the pope, from whom he obtained
a bull for that purpose; and it was almost entirely by his
exertions that King’s College was undertaken and completed.
At his death, which took place in 1514, he bequeathed a sum
of 10,000 pounds Scots for its erection and endowment, as
well as for the maintenance of a bridge over the Dee. Al¬
though at his death he had attained the age of about eighty-
three, his constitutional vigour was very little impaired, and
all the faculties of his mind were in full force; but the
calamity which the nation sustained at h lodden bield had
broken his heart. Besides a history of Scotland now pre¬
served among the Fairfax MSS. in the Bodleian Library,^
Elphinstone wrote a book of canons and some lives of
Scottish saints.
ELSINORE or Elsineur (Danish Helsingor), a sea¬
port-town of Denmark Proper, on the east coast of the
VOL. VIII.
island of Seeland. It stands at the narrowest part of the
Sound, opposite the Swedish town of Helsingborg, from
which it is three miles distant. The town is well-built, and
contains some good buildings, among which are two churches,
the town-hall, high school, hospital, theatre, and a quaran¬
tine establishment. Pop. (1850) 8111. On a tongue of
land east of the town stands the castle and fortress of
Kronborg (Crown Castle), the guns of which command the
Sound in all directions. It was built by Frederick II. to¬
wards the end of the sixteenth century, and is a magnifi¬
cent, solid, and venerable Gothic structure. The great
tower, and the lighthouse which rises at the N.W. angle
of the courtyard, command fine views of the strait and
the neighbouring countries. The principal object of inter¬
est within the castle is the apartment in which the unfor¬
tunate Queen Matilda, sister of George III. was confined.
All merchant vessels are obliged, under certain reserva¬
tions depending on the weather, to salute the castle by
lowering their top-sails in passing. In the vicinity is Ma-
rierilyst (Mary’s delight), till lately a royal chateau, now
the property of the corporation, and let to a private family.
The pleasure-grounds are open to the public, and command
fine views. Elsinore is 26 miles from Copenhagen, with
which in summer it has steamboat communication twice
a-day. All merchant ships passing the Sound have to clear
out at Elsinore. The Sound duties had their origin in an
agreement between the king of Denmark and the Hanse
towns, by which the former undertook to construct light¬
houses, landmarks, &c., along the Cattegat, and the latter to
pay duty for the same. The annual amount of the Sound
dues may be computed in round numbers at L.230,000.
The average number of vessels that passed the Sound in
the ten years from 1843 to 1852 was 18,088, and of Bri¬
tish 4900 ; the greatest number of vessels in one year was
in 1847, 21,526, and of British, in 1849, 6846. Ships of
war are exempt from duty. Most maritime nations have
consuls here. Elsinore is well known as the scene of
Shakspeare’s tragedy of Hamlet. It was the birthplace
of Saxo-Grammaticus, the celebrated Danish historian of
the twelfth century, from which Shakspeare derived the ma¬
terials of his drama.
ELTHAM, a parish, formerly a market-town of England,
county of Kent, 8 miles E. by S. of London. Pop. (J851)
1207. Of the royal palace which formerly existed here,
only the great hall now remains. The parish church is a
neat structure, and contains some interesting monuments.
ELYAS, a fortified frontier city of Portugal, province of
Alemtejo, 12 miles west of Badajos. Pop. 16,460. It is
picturesquely situated on a hill between two others on which
stand the fortresses of Santa Lucia and La Lippe. The
town is generally ill-built and dirty, while the number of
Moorish buildings give it an antique and venerable appear¬
ance. The chief edifices are the cathedral, arsenal, bomb¬
proof barracks for 6000 or 7000 men, theatre, prison, pub¬
lic hospital, college, seminary, and a singularly formed tower.
The town is supplied with water by means of a large Moor¬
ish aqueduct. Manufactures—hardware and jewellery;
but many of the inhabitants depend on the contraband trade
carried on with Spain. I his was a place of gieat impoi-
tance during the Peninsular war. It was taken by Marshal
Junot in March 1808, and held by the French till the Au¬
gust following, when it was given up in terms of the con¬
vention at Cintra.
ELUTRIATION (elutriare, to purify hj washing), the
operation of diffusing an insoluble pulverulent substance in
a large quantity of water, and, after the coarser particles
have subsided, drawing off the supernatant liquid with a
siphon, or by careful decantation. This liquor will be found
to contain an impalpable powder, which is to be allowed to
subside, and then taken out and dried.
ELY, a city of Cambridgeshire, capital of that division
4 M
641
Eltham
642 ELY
Elysium of the county called the Isle of Ely. See Cambridge-
11 shire. The city stands on a considerable eminence near
k Elytr^- j the Ouse, 16 miles N.N.E. of Cambridge. It consists chiefly
of one long street, and the houses are mostly old. A mo¬
nastery was founded here about 670; but in 870 it was pil¬
laged and destroyed by the Danes, and was not rebuilt till
about a century later. In 1107 Ely was erected into a
bishopric by Henry I. After the dissolution of the mo¬
nasteries Henry VIII. converted the conventual church
into a cathedral. This edifice displays a singular mixture
of various styles of architecture ; but taken as a whole, it is
a noble structure. The interior is exceedingly beautiful,
and contains many interesting monuments. It has recently
been almost entirely restored. The length of the building
is 517 feet, and the western tower is 270 feet high. St
Mary’s church is a handsome building, partly in the Nor¬
man, and partly in the early English style of architecture.
The church of the Holy Trinity, which is attached to the
cathedral, was commenced in the reign of Edward II., and
is one of the most perfect buildings of that age. Ely has
also places of worship for Independents, Baptists, Method¬
ists, &c.; a grammar-school founded by Henry VIII.; na¬
tional, charity, and other schools ; mechanics’ institute, sav¬
ings-bank, a house of correction, and infirmary. There
is a considerable manufactory of earthenware and tobacco
pipes, and there are several mills in the isle for the pre¬
paration of oil from flax, hemp, and cole-seed. Market-
day Thursday. Pop. (1851) 6176. The soil in the vici¬
nity is very fertile, and cultivated chiefly by market gar-
deners, who send large quantities of fruit and vegetables to
the London market.
ELYSIUM, the place which, according to the ancient
poets, the souls of the blessed inhabited. By Homer it was
placed in the vicinity of Oceanus, and on the extreme con¬
fines of the earth. Here Nature produced her most deli¬
cious fruits without assistance from the hand of man. No
winter storm ever obscured the brilliancy of the atmosphere;
but cooling zephyrs refreshed the air, and wafted on their
wings the most delightful perfumes. Admission into this
realm of pleasure and repose was a favour which could only
be purchased by an irreproachable life, or by brilliant ex¬
ploits. The souls of the dead had to appear before the
awful tribunal of the infernal judges, Abacus, Minos, and
Rhadamanthus, who decided without appeal upon their
claims, and either allowed them to pass into Elysium or con¬
demned them to the torments of Tartarus. This part of the
myth has evidently allusion to an Egyptian custom, accord¬
ing to which one could only obtain the right of burial in
certain privileged cemeteries after undergoing a severe
scrutiny of his life and conduct. It is curious to observe
the various changes of position in respect to the Elysian
Fields, as a more intimate acquaintance with geography
successively dispelled the erroneous impressions derived
from the foolish statements of travellers. The Greeks
in the earlier ages placed them in the district of Thes-
protia, where they also found the Acheron, Cocytus, and
Avernus ; and it was to this elysium that Homer tells
us Mercury conducted the souls of the suitors of Penelope,
after they had been slain by Ulysses. But they afterwards
transported the Elysian Fields and Avernus to the vicinity
of Bairn in Campania.
Largior hie campos aether et lumine vestit
Purpureo; solemque suum, sua sidera norunt.
It was not till later times that these imaginary abodes
were fixed at the extremity of Iberia, where they found the
Lethe, “ that slow and silent stream, the river of oblivion,”
now called Guadalete, as well as another of the same name
in Lusitania.
EL\ TRA (eA.vrpov), in Evtomology, the wing-sheaths
or thick upper membranes which form the superior wings
E M A
of the beetle tribe. They serve to protect the true mem¬
branous wing.
ELZEVIRS, celebrated printers at Amsterdam and
Leyden, who produced many beautiful editions of the an¬
cient classics. Their names were Louis, Bonaventure,
Abraham, Lewis, and Daniel. Louis began to be famous
at Leyden in 1595, and was remarkable for being the first
who observed the distinction between the v consonant and
u vowel, which had been recommended by Ramus and
other writers long before, but never regarded. Daniel died
in 1680, and though he left children who carried on the
business, he is considered as the last of the family who ex¬
celled in printing.
EMANATION {e and manure, to flow), the act of
flowing or proceeding from some source or origin. Also
that which issues, flows, or proceeds from any source, sub¬
stance, or body. Thus, light is an emanation from the sun ;
wisdom from God, &c.
EMANCIPATION (Lat. emancipatio), the act of set¬
ting free from slavery, servitude, subjection, or dependence ;
liberation from bondage or dependence, &c.
Emancipatio, in the Roman Law, was used in a special
sense to denote an act by which the patris potestas, or the
power of a father over his son, was dissolved in the lifetime
of the parent. This end was effected by a certain forma¬
lity in the manner of a sale—whence the term was derived.
In some cases, according to the law of the Twelve Tables,
this ceremony was performed three times; but in others
once was sufficient, as it also was in the case of a daughter
or a grandchild.
By emancipation the son was put in a capacity of ma¬
naging his own affairs, and of marrying without his father’s
consent, although a minor. Emancipation differed from
manumission, as the latter was the act of a master in fa¬
vour of a slave, whereas the former was that of a lather in
favour of his son.
There were two kinds of emancipation; the one tacit,
which was by the son’s being promoted to some dignity,
by his coming of age, or by his marrying—in all which cases
he became his own master of course; the other express,
where the father declared before a magistrate that he
emancipated his son. In performing this act, the father
executed an imaginary sale of his son to another person,
who was called pater flduciarius, or father in trust; from
whom the son was immediately purchased by the natural
father, who thereafter manumitted him before the magis¬
trate by a verbal declaration. (For further details, see
Smith’s Diet, of Greek and Roman Antiquities^)
EMATHIA, in Ancient Geography, a central division of
Macedonia, encircled on the north by the rivers Erigon and
Axius, and on the south by the Plaliacmon. It formed
naturally a distinct and isolated country, comprising within
its own limits all the elements of independence. The rivers
and mountain ranges which begirt it on every side secured
it against all attack from without, while its fertile plains,
adorned with every variety of wood and water, formed the
most important of its internal resources. Some of the
strongest natural fortresses in Greece belonged to Emathia,
such as Edessa and Beroea. It was in this country that the
Macedonian dynasty, which ultimately subdued the whole
of Greece, first began to develop itself.
Under the Romans Emathia formed part of the third
region of Macedonia. Its principal cities at this time were
Almopia, Atalanta, Bercea, Citium, Cyrrhus, Edessa, Euro¬
pus, Gortynia, and Idomene. (See Leake’s Abr^Aerw Greece,
vol. iii.)
EMAUM GHUR, in Scinde, was lately a strong fortress
in the Thur or Great Sandy Desert, separating that province
from the rajpoot state of Jessulmere. As scarcely a drop
of fresh water can be had on the route from Scinde after
leaving Choonkee, distant about fifty miles from Emaum
Elzevirs
I!
Emaum
Ghur.
E M B
Embalm- Ghur, this fortress was generally considered by the Ameers
ing- as an inexpugnable place of refuge. On this account, when
the disputes between them and the British came to ex¬
tremity, Sir Charles Napier determined at all risks to at¬
tempt its seizure. Setting out in January 1843 with fifty
cavalry, two twenty-four pound howitzers drawn by camels,
and three hundred and fifty European infantry mounted on
animals of the same description—two on each, he, after a
very trying march of three days over a succession of steep
sandhills, reached the fort, which was immediately surren¬
dered. The captor describes it as “ exceedingly strong
against any force without artillery. The walls are forty
feet high, one tower is fifty feet high, and built of burned
bricks. It is square, with eight round towers, surrounded
by an exterior wall of fifteen feet high, lately built. There
are some bomb-proof chambers.” Twenty thousand pounds
of powder were found in various places built up for its con¬
cealment. These w7ere employed in springing thirty-four
mines, which reduced the fort to a mass of ruins, shapeless
and irretrievable. The British force marched back to the
interior of Scinde without any loss. Emaum Ghur is in Lat.
26. 31., Long. 69. 31 (e.t.)
EMBALMING, the operation of opening a dead body,
taking out the intestines, and filling the space with odori¬
ferous and dessicative drugs and spices, in order to pre¬
serve it from decay. The Egyptians excelled all other
nations in this art: some bodies embalmed by them several
thousand years ago remain to this day, and very perfect
specimens of mummies are to be seen in many public mu¬
seums. Their manner of embalming was this: With an
iron scoop they extracted the brain at the nostrils, and
threw in medicaments to fill up the vacuum ; they also took
out the entrails, and having filled the body with myrrh,
cassia, and other spices (except frankincense), proper to dry
up the humours, they pickled it in nitre, leaving it to soak
lor seventy days. The body was then wrapped up in ban¬
dages of fine linen and gums, to make it stick like glue;
and so was delivered to the kindred of the deceased, entire
in all its features, the very hairs of the eyelids being pre¬
served. They used to keep the bodies of their ancestors,
thus embalmed, in apartments magnificently adorned, and
took great pleasure in beholding them thus preserved with
comparatively little change in the form of their features. The
Egyptians also embalmed the Ibis and other sacred animals;
and the prices charged for embalming varied considerably
according to circumstances. The highest sum was a talent,
the next twenty minae, and so on, decreasing to a very small
amount. The poorer class contented themselves with in¬
jecting the intestines, by means of a syringe, with a certain
oily liquor extracted from the cedar. This oil was suffered
to remain there a considerable time, and the body was
wrapped up with nitre. The oil thus injected acted upon
the intestines, so that when taken out, the intestines came
away dried, and not in the least putrified. I he body was
then wrapped up with more nitre; and it gradually dried up,
till nothing remained except the skin, glued as it were to the
bones. The process of embalming is described both by
Herodotus and Diodorus. The former, who is unquestion¬
ably the better authority, says (ii. 85), “ This service is per¬
formed by persons appointed to exercise the art as their
business. When a dead body is brought to them, they show
their patterns of mummies in wood, imitated by sculp¬
ture ; and the most elaborate of these, they say, belongs to
the character of one (Osiris) whose name I do not think
it pious to mention on such an occasion; the second that
they show is less costly; the third, the cheapest of all:
and having shown these, they inquire in which way the
service shall be performed; upon which the parties make
their agreement, and the body is left for preparation.
1 Railway and road embankments are more particularly
E M B 643
The interior soft parts being removed both from the head EmbanK-
and from the trunk, the cavities are washed with palm ment.
wine and fragrant gums, and partly filled up with myrrh
and cassia and other spices; the whole is then steeped in a
solution of nitre for seventy days, which is the longest time
permitted; and then, having been washed, the body is
rolled up with bandages of linen cloth, being first smeared
with gum instead of glue. The relations, on receiving the
body, procure a wooden case in a human shape, and inclose
the dead body in it; and when thus inclosed, they treasure
it up in an appropriate building or apartment, placing it up¬
right against the wall. This is the most expensive mode of
preparation. For those who wish to avoid expense, the
process is simplified by omitting the actual removal of the
interior parts, and introducing a corrosive liquid to melt
them down. The nitre consumes the flesh, so that skin and
bone only are left when the body is returned to the friends.
The third and simplest process is merely to cleanse the
body well, within and without, by means of some vegetable
decoctions, and to keep it in the saline solution for the
seventy days, without farther precautions.” Embalming
appears also to have been performed by filling the cavities of
the thorax and abdomen, after the intestines were removed,
with a species of bitumen, which was poured into the
trunk of the body in a liquid state, through an aperture
made on purpose in the side, whilst the head was treated in
a similar manner. An excellent account of these several
processes is given in Mr Pettigrewrs work upon Mummies.
EMBANKMENT, a mound or wall of earth or other
materials, used as a defence against the inundations of
rivers, the extraordinary flux of the sea, or to serve as
roads.1
The great value of alluvial soil to the agriculturist no
doubt gave rise to the invention of banks or other barriers
to protect such soils from the overflowing of their accom¬
panying rivers. The civilized nations of the highest anti¬
quity were chiefly inhabitants of valleys and alluvial plains,
the soil, moisture, and warmth of which, by enlarging the
parts and ameliorating the fruits of the vegetable kingdom,
afforded to man better nourishment at less labour than
could be obtained in hilly districts. The country of Para¬
dise and around Babylon was flat, and the soil a sapona¬
ceous clay, occasionally overflowed by the Euphrates. T he
inhabited part of Egypt was also entirely of this description.
Historians inform us that embankments were first used by
the Babylonians and Egyptians, very little by the Greeks,
and a good deal by the Romans, who embanked the Tiber
near Rome, and the Po for many stadia from its embouchure.
The latter is perhaps one of the most singular cases of em¬
bankment in the world. (See Po.)
The oldest embankment in England is that of Romney
Marsh, as to the origin of which Dugdale remarks, “ that
there is no testimony left to us from any record or histo¬
rian. {History of Embanking and Draining?) It is con¬
jectured to have been the work of the Romans, as well as
the banks on each side of the Thames for several miles
above London, which protect from floods and spring-tides
several thousand acres of the richest garden ground in the
neighbourhood of the metropolis.
The commencement of modern embankments in Eng¬
land took place about the middle of the seventeenth century,
under Cromwell. In the space of a few years previously
to 1651, about 425,000 acres of fens, morasses, or over¬
flowed muddy lands, were recovered in Lincolnshire, Cam¬
bridgeshire, Hampshire, and Kent, and let at from 2s. 6d.
to 30s. an acre. (Harte’s Essays, p. 54, 2d edit.) Ver-
muyden a Fleming, who had served in Germany during the
Thirty Years’ War, and was a colonel of horse under Crom¬
well, was the principal undertaker of these works.
reated of under the heads Construction and Railways.
644
EMBANKMENT.
Embank- Previously to entering on the detail of the different de- earth from the general surface of the ground to be pro- Embank¬
ment. scriptions of banks for the purpose of embanking, we shall tected, or from a collateral excavation, distant at least the nient-
here observe, that the pressure of still water against the width of the mound from its base line, and heaping it up
sides of the vessel containing it being as its depth, it fol- in the desired form. The surface is then in general cases
lows that a bank of any material whatever, impervious to covered with turf, well rolled in order to bind it to the
water, whose section is a right-angled triangle, and the loose earth. The earth of such mounds is generally
height of whose perpendicular side is equal to that of the wheeled by barrows; but sometimes it is led by carts
water it is to dam out, will balance or resist this water, placed on a wooden roller instead of wheels, which, with
whatever may be the breadth of the surface of the latter; the treading of the horses, serves in some degree to con-
and therefore, that as far as width or extent is concerned, solidate the bank.
it is just as easy to exclude the Atlantic Ocean as a lake The excavation within serves the same purpose as the
or a river of a few yards in width. open drain in the earthen wall, and similarly constructed
Theearth- 1. The Earthen Wall (Plate CCXXXI. fig. 1,) is sluices or valves are introduced on a larger scale. Some-
ea wall. tile simplest description of embankment, and is frequently times also the interior water is drawn off by windmills,
erected by temporary occupiers of lands, on the general and thrown over the mound into the river. This is very
principle of inclosing and subdividing, which is sometimes common in Huntingdonshire, and might be greatly im-
made a condition of tenure between the landlord and te- proved on by employing steam-engines for entire districts,
nant. This wall applies to lands occasionally but rarely one of which, of a ten-horse power, would do the work of
overflowed or inundated, and is set out in a direction ge- twenty mills, and this in calm weather, when the latter
nerally parallel to the river or shore. Its base is com- cannot move.
menced on the surface from two to five feet wide, regu- Embankments of this description are the most univer-
larly built of turf on the outsides, with the grassy sides sal of any, and their sections vary from a scalene triangle
underneath. The middle of the wall is filled up with of ten feet in base and three feet in height, as on the
loose earth. The wall is carried up with the sides bevel- Forth near Stirling, and the Thames at I* ulham, to a base
led towards the centre, so as to finish in a width of one of 100 feet and a height of ten feet, as on the great bank
foot or eighteen inches at five or six feet in height. In of the Ouse, near Wisbeach. I he great rivers of Ger-
the inside of such walls, and at the distance of three or many and Holland are embanked in this way when so far
four feet, a small open drain is formed, as well to collect the from the sea as to be out of the reach of the tide ; as the
surface-water of the grounds within, as that which in time Vistula at Marienwerder, the banks of which, near Dant-
of floods will necessarily oose through a wall of this con- zic, are above fifteen feet in height; the Oder, the Elbe,
struction. The water so collected is let through the wall &c. All these banks are closely covered in every part
by tubes, or tunnels of boards, with a valve opening out- with a grassy surface, and sometimes ornamented with
wards on their exterior extremity. Such a tube and valve rows of trees.
is represented by fig. 2. When the flow of water from But near the sea, where such banks are washed by every
without approaches, it shuts the valve, which remains in tide when the course of the wind is towards the shore,
this state till the flood subsides, when, the height of the and by all land floods and spring tides, grass is only to be
water within being greater than that without, it presses found on and near their summits. The rest of the bank is
open the valve and escapes. Walls and valves of this bare, and to preserve it from the action of waves, currents,
kind were erected about the year 1800, on the estate of and the stones, pieces of wood, and other foreign matters
the Earl of Galloway near Wigton, by Mr Hannah, tenant which they carry with them, the surface is covered with
for life of Cue farm, and b}r Mr Hutchinson, tenant for gravel, reeds, or straw, kept down by pieces of wood, fag-
thirty years of Mersehead farm, on the Solway Frith, gots, wicker hurdles, nets of straw-ropes, or any other
(Farmers Magazine.) They are common enough in the contrivance, according to the situation, to prevent the
drier parts of the fenny districts of Lincolnshire and Cam- washing away of the bank. It is common to attribute to
bridgeshire; and in Caernarvonshire 1800 acres were in these coverings the power of breaking the force of the
1804 completely protected in this way on the estate of waves ; but this power depends, as we have already stated,
Tre Madoc, by the proprietor, who has since made greater on the slope of the bank and its smoothness ; and the use
efforts in embanking, to be afterwards described. of the surface covering, and of the constant attention re-
Theearth- 2. The Earthen Mound (fig. 3) is the most general quired to remove all obstacles which may be left on it by
en mound, description of embankment, and, as it is executed at con- floods and tides, is to pi event the loosening power of the
siderable expense, is only undertaken by such as have a water from wearing it into holes. For this purpose, a
permanent interest in the soil. This barrier applies to sheet of canvass or straw-netting is as good whilst it lasts
sea lands overflowed by every spring tide, and to alluvial as a covering of plate-iron or stone pavement,
plains inundated by every flood. It is set out in a direc- All banks whatever require to be constantly watched in
tion parallel to the shore and to the general turns of the time of floods or spring-tides, in order to remove every
river, but not to its minute windings; and it is placed far- object, excepting sand or mud, which may be left by the
ther from or nearer to the latter, according to the quan- water. Such objects, put in motion by the water, in a
tity of water in time of floods, the rapidity of the current short time wear out large holes. Ihese holes, presenting
from the declivity of the bed, the straight course of the abrupt points to the stream, act as obstructions, soon be-
stream, and the intended height of the bank. The two come much larger, and, if not immediately filled up, turf-
sides of such a mound are generally formed in different ed over, and the turfs pinned down, or the new turfs ren-
slopes. That towards the land is always the most abrupt, dered by some other means not easily softened and raised
but can never be secure if more so than 45° ; that towards up by the water, will end in a breach of the bank. A si-
the water varies from 45° to 15° ; the power of the bank milar effect is produced by a surface formed of unequal
to resist the weight of the water, as well as to break its degrees of hardness and durability. Ihe banks of this de¬
force when in motion, being inversely as its steepness, scription in Holland, at Cuxhaven, and along the coast
The power of water to lessen the gravity of bodies, or, in of Lincolnshire, are regularly watched throughout the
other words, to loosen the surfaces over which they flow year ; the surface protection is renewed whenever it goes
or stand, is also lessened in a ratio somewhat similar. out of repair, as is the body of the bank in the summer
The formation of such a mound consists merely in taking season.
EMBANKMENT.
645
Embank¬
ment.
Varieties
of the
mound.
Mound with puddle-wall.—It generally happens that may serve as an example of a river case with a founda- Embank-
the earth of such banks is alluvial, and their foundation of tion of soft bog earth. A space of the river, say 100 feet ment-
the same description; but there are some cases where the long, and twenty wide along shore, being inclosed by a
basis is sand, silt, or gravel, or a mud or black earth, as in double row of piles, and filled in with loam in the usual
some parts of Cambridgeshire and Lincolnshire, which does way, the water is pumped out, and the ground excavated
not easily become so compact. Here it is common, be- about ten feet deeper than the margin of the bed of the
fore beginning the bank, to bring up what is called a pud- river. Poles are then inserted nearly as close as they can
dle-ditch, or section of clay, in the centre of the highest be put in, and driven to their full length. When finished,
part of the mound in the direction of its length, and of this foundation occupies a breadth of from twelve to eigh-
three or five feet wide, according to the depth of the silt teen feet, generally fifteen. The tops of the piles are now
and the intended height of the bank. When the clay of cut level, and covered with planks, and on this is raised a
this puddle-ditch is well worked, either by men’s feet or mass of brick-work for five or six feet, sloping on both
clay rammers, the bank will be perfectly impervious to sides as it ascends towards the centre line of the wall. In
the course of rising six or seven feet, it is narrowed to five
feet, and is within five feet of the bed of the margin of
the river. Here the granite facing begins in immense
blocks, and is continued at a slope of fifteen degrees from
the perpendicular, till it reaches the surface of the intend¬
ed pathway. Here the wall from three feet is narrowed
to an upright parapet eighteen inches wide ; and at four
feet of height it is finished in a projecting coping of Fin-
water, and, if against a mild stream or shore, need not con¬
tain such an accumulation of earth as where the imper¬
viousness of the bank to water depends chiefly on the
mass of materials. An important point to attend to in
this variety of mound is, to found the section or wall of
clay so deep as to be in contact with a stratum, either by
induration or its argillaceous nature impervious to water.
Mounds with reversed slopes (fig. 4).—In some cases of
embanking rivers, as where they pass through parks, it is
desirable to conceal as much as possible the appearance
of a bank from the protected grounds, less able to break
the force of waves. Here the mound is simply reversed,
the steepest side being placed next the water. It is pro-
nish granite. The voids on each side of the wall are now
filled with earth, the pavement on the land side (generally
narrow) completed, and the piles removed, and another
length taken in to repeat the operation.
There is another mode, adopted in Petersburg, of build-
per to observe, that such banks are not so strong by the ing under water by driving the piles and cutting them over
.Uff   the weight of the triangle of water which level with « imnrhine. and then sinking eaissnns of hrirk-
difference of
would rest on the prolonged slope were it placed next
the river, and are more liable to be deranged in surface in
machine, and then sinking caissons of brick
work. This mode, however, is unsuitable for sea walls in
general, which ought to be founded as deep as possible, and
proportion to the difference of the slopes. at all events under the bed of the water. I he motion of
Mound faced with stones.—This is the same species of the Neva is so slow as hardly to render this worth attend-
mound, with a slope next the water of forty-five or fifty ing to.
degrees, paved or causewayed with stones or timber. In In Britain, such walls are fortunately rare ; for in pro-
Holland this pavement or causeway is often formed of portion as it is agreeable and flattering to self-love to pro¬
planking or bricks ; but in England generally with stones, tect or gain lands never before cultivated, it must be mor-
and the mortar used is either some cement which will set tifying to be obliged to protect such as have long been
under water, or, what is better, plants of moss firmly ram- subjected to agriculture, and where success can only be
med between them. The objections to such banks are said to have a negative advantage,
their expense, and their liability to be undermined invisibly ijmbanhments for fixing drifting-sands, shells, or mud.
by the admission of the water through crevices. They are, In several tracts of coast, the sea at ordinary tides barely
therefore, chiefly used where there is little room, or where covers a surface of sand, and these sands in dry weather,
it is desirable to narrow and deepen the course of a river, during high winds, are drifted and blown about in ml di-
Mound protected by a wicker hedge.—This is a Dutch rections. Great part of the north shores of the Solway
practice, and, where appearance is no object, has the ad- Frith, of Lancaster Bay, and of the coast of x oi o , is o
vantage of not requiring watching. Wicker-work, how- this description. Mr Young, in his Farmer s Letters, m-
ever, subjected to the strain of waves, will be obviously forms us, that a considerable part of the county of Norfo k
less durable than where it lies flat on the ground, and can was drift-sand, even as far inland as Brandon in
only decay chemically. This wicker hedge is sometimes a before the introduction of the turnip culture; and Hm’te
series of hurdles supported by posts and struts; but ge- (Essay I.) states, that some of what is now the iciest
nerallv in Britain it is a dead hedge or row of stalks wat- land in Holland was, about the middle of the sixteent
tied or wrought with bushes presenting their spray to the century, of this description. The suggestion of any mode,
sea or river. Besides placing such a hedge before a bank, therefore, by winch, at a modera e expense, such tracts
others are sometimes placed in parallel rows on its sur- could be fixed and covered tyith vegetation, mu
face- tbe object of which is to entrap sand, shells, and deemed worthy of a place in this aitic e. _
seaweeds, S increase the mass of nmund, or to collect The mode which nature herself employs ^ as follows:
shells for the purpose of carrying away as manure. After the tides and wind have raised a marginal strip of
The sea wcdl (fm-. 5) is an embankment formed to pro- sand as high as high-water mark, it becomes by degrtes co-
tect abrupt and earthy shores or banks of rivers, and con- vered with vegetation, and chiefly by the elymus arenarvus
sists of a wall varying in thickness, and in the inclination triticum junceum, various species of Jmwcms, and some-
of its surS according to the required height and other times by the gahum verum. With the exception of the
I’l^,
somewhat reater t ar ,, • sn “ ed composed in great part of the debris of shells, expand as
rpfprred to where the earth behind the wall is supposed composed in great part ,
o be chiefly fira. Some fine examples of such walls, for they decay, and contribute to raise the surface strl higher,
other purposes, occur in the Caledonian Canal; and when the fibrous roots of good grasses soon destroy the
perhaps the finest in the world are the granite walls which others,
embank the Neva at Petersburg, the construction of which
To assist nature in fixing drift-sands, it is only neces-
EMBANKMENT.
646
Kmbank- sary to transplant the ehjmus, which is to be had in
^ment. abundance in almost every sandy coast in Britain ; and
' as it would be liable to be blown away with the sands if
merely inserted in the common way, it seems advisable to
tie the plants to the upper ends of icillow or elder rods, of
two or three feet in length, and to insert these in the sand,
by which means there is the double chance of the grass
growing, and the truncheon taking root. The elder will
grow exposed to the sea breeze, and no plant throws out so
many and such vigorous roots in proportion to its shoots.
The mode by which sands were fixed in Holland was
by the formation of wicker work embankments, and by
sticking in the sands branches of trees, bushes, furze, &c.
in all directions. These obstructed the motion of the
sands, and collected masses of sand, shells or mud, and
sea-weeds around them, which were immediately planted
with some description of creeping grass; or, what was
more frequent, covered with a thin coating of clay, or
alluvial earth, and sown with clover.
Though the most certain and least expensive mode of
gaining such lands be undoubtedly that of seconding the
efforts of nature, by inserting bushes, and planting the
ehjmus in this way, yet it may sometimes be desirable to
make a grand effort to protect an extensive surface, by
forming a bank of branches, which might in a single or in
several tides be filled with sand and shells. It is evident
that such a bank might be constructed in various ways;
but that which would be most certain of remaining firm,
and effecting the purpose, would be one regularly con¬
structed of framed timber, the section of which would re¬
semble a trussed roof; each truss being joined in the di¬
rection of the bank by rafters, and the whole inside and
surface stuck full of branches. To retain it firm, piles
wrould require to be driven into the sand, to the upper
parts of which would be attached the trusses. The height
of such a barrier would require to be several feet above
that of the highest spring-tides; and the more its width
at base exceeded the proportion of that of an equilateral
triangle the better.
A more economical mode, and one, therefore, suited to
a less extensive scale of operation, is to intersect a sandy
shore in all directions with common dead or wicker-work
hedges, formed by first driving a row of stakes six or eight
feet into the ground, leaving their tops three or four feet
above it, and then weaving among these stakes branches
of trees or the tops of hedges. The Dutch are said to
weave straw ropes, and thereby to collect mud in the man¬
ner of warping. This mode being little expensive, seems
to deserve a trial in favourable situations ; and, in so
doing, it must not be forgotten that much depends on the
immediate management of the surface after it is in some
degree fixed. In an extensive trial of this sort made on
the west coast of Scotland, under an English gentleman,
seeds and roots were kneaded in a mixture of loam and
dung in the gravel, and then formed into masses, and
scattered over a sandy surface. These, from their weight,
will not, it is thought, be moved by the water or the
wind; but becoming more or less covered with sand,
the mass will be kept moist, and the seeds and roots
will grow, and, fixing themselves in the soil, will in time
cover the surface with verdure.
Embankments for straightening the course of rivers.—
Where a river in a fertile valley is very circuitous in its
course, land may be gained, and a more rapid efflux of
the water produced, by straightening its course. The
best plan in general for effecting this is, to find an en¬
tirely new bed or course for the river; otherwise, when it
passes alternately through new soil and through a part of
Us old bed, its action on surfaces which are so different
in regard to induration ends, if great care be not taken, in
holes and gulleys in the new bank, which require to be con- Embank-
stantly filled up with loose stones thrown in, and left to be ment.
fixed by the pressure and motion of the water.
The embankment used in straightening the course of
rivers is almost always the mound with a clay wall in the
centre, varying in width according to the depth of the dif¬
ferent parts of the old bed of the river which it has to
intersect. The materials for these banks are obtained
from excavations for the new bed.
The pier called the protecting pier is to be considered
as a species of embankment the object of which is to pre¬
vent the increase of partial breaches made in the banks of
rivers, by accidental obstructions during floods. A tree
or branch carried down by a stream, and deposited or ac¬
cidentally fixed or retained in its banks, will repel that
part of the stream which strikes against it, and the im¬
pulse, counteracted more or less by the general current,
will direct a substream against the opposite bank. The
effect of this continual action against one point of the op¬
posite bank is to wear out a hole or breach, and the pro¬
tecting pier is placed so as to receive the impulse of the
substream, and reverberate it to the middle of the gene¬
ral stream. If this pier be not placed very obliquely to
the substream, as well as to the general stream, it will
prove injurious to the opposite bank, by directing a sub¬
current there as great as the first; and, indeed, it is next
to impossible to avoid this ; so much so, that Mr Smea-
ton, in every instance in which he was consulted in cases
of this sort, recommended removing the obstacle where
that could be done, and then throwing loose stones into
the breach. A perfect bed of a river would be a perfect
half cylinder, and therefore we are decidedly of opinion
that Mr Smeaton’s mode is the best, as tending to main¬
tain as much as possible this form. Mr Marshal (Trea¬
tise on Landed Property) has treated on piers of this de¬
scription at considerable length ; but a very little reflec¬
tion will show that they are more likely to increase than
to remedy the evil they are intended to cure. We have
seen the injurious effects of such piers on the Tay and
the Dee; and on a part of the Jed near Crailing they are
so numerous that the stream is, to use a familiar phrase,
bandied about like a football from one shore to the other;
behind every pier an eddy is formed, and, if the stream
does not strike it exactly, a breach in the bank. Many
of these piers have in consequence been taken down.
The use of such piers can only be justified where the
obstruction, from ill neighbourhood or some such cause,
cannot be removed from the opposite bank; or where, as
is sometimes the case, it arises from an island of sand or
gravel thrown out by the river near its middle, and which,
however absurd it may appear, the interested parties can¬
not agree as to who may remove it. The case of build¬
ings also being in danger may justify such a pier for im¬
mediate protection ; but if such breaches are taken in
time, a few loads of loose stones will effect a remedy with¬
out the risk of incurring or occasioning a greater evil.
Such piers are frequently constructed of wicker work;
either a mere wicker hedge projecting into the water, as
is common where the rivers are of slow motion, as in
England, and particularly on the Thames, Tame, and
Severn; or a case of wicker work filled with stones, as is
common where the motion is rapid, as in Scotland, and
particularly on the Esk, Tweed, Tay, and Clyde.
Embankments to serve as roads are generally mounds
without clay walls, carried through countries liable to be
overflowed, without reference to protecting any part from
water, through lakes or marshes, or across straits of the
sea. The earth in such mounds is generally allowed
to take its own slope on both sides, which is commonly
from forty to forty-five degrees, and the width at top is
E M B
Embank- regulated by that of the intended road. The materials,
ment. when the mound is formed in a country merely liable to
be overflown, as in many parts of Lincolnshire and Hun¬
tingdonshire, are excavated from ditches, or taken from
the surface on each side of the mound. In Holland tlve
roads formed on such mounds are bounded by rows of
trees; a practice which it is to be regretted has not
been more attended to in England, where accidents not
unfrequently happen in the night, and particularly on the
Boston and Wisebeach roads, both of which are formed
in great part on such mounds, unprotected by hedges,
rails, or trees. In passing through part of a lake, or strait,
or marsh, the earth must of course be taken from the firm
ground on the shores ; and here the ground being gene¬
rally soft below, the first operation is to lay a foundation
three or four feet thick, of branches or faggots of copse-
wood, in order that the mound may sink in a body. The
next thing, the direction of the mound being marked out
by a line of poles placed along its centre, is to begin at
one end, and wheel or cart on earth, throwing it down in
the direction of the bank, raising it to its proper height and
width, leaving the slopes at the sides to adjust themselves,
either by the gravity of the material alone, or jointly
with the loosening and spreading operation of the water.
The noblest attempt of this sort ever made in Britain
was that of W. A. Madocks, Esq. in order to unite the
counties of Merioneth and Caernarvon by a mound across
an estuary and embouchure of the Glasslyn, two miles
wide. Mr Madocks had, in 1802, succeeded in protect¬
ing from spring tides, by a wall or bank of the first spe¬
cies, 1800 acres of good alluvial soil, which he let at from
30s. to 50s. per acre; and his enterprising spirit induced
him to contemplate the idea of gaining the whole bay or
mouth of the stream, extending to nearly 4000 acres of
alluvial and sandy earth, overflowed in great part by every
tide. Besides the mere gaining of the land, this patriotic
improver had another object in view ; that of uniting two
maritime points in two counties which at that time were
separated by a day’s journey ; ana, by effecting this, he
would at the same time have rendered practicable a new
line of road from Worcester along the top of this embank¬
ment, through a creation of his own, called the town of
Tre Madoc, to the newly formed harbour of Porthdyn-
lleyn, by which forty miles would have been saved to the
public between Dublin and London, and fifty between
Dublin and Bath.
After consulting various engineers, the first operation
was begun in 1807, and consisted in forming an immense
bridge of flood-gates in the solid rock of the shore, as
such a bridge and gates could not be formed in any pai t
of the mound. The use of this was to admit the exit of
the river. This done, the mound was commenced fiom
both shores, and rocky, sandy, and clayey materials thrown
down in the direction of the mound, and left to take then
own slope. The greater part of these materials consisted
of argillaceous rock broken into small pieces, which being
mixed with clay, the mound would have been of the
strongest texture. As the work proceeded, an iron i ail-
road was laid along the top of it, and extended to the
quarries and excavations, by which means much labour
was saved. In the course of three years the work was
brought within fifty yards of meeting in the middle, but it
was found extremely difficult to close it, from the rapidity
of the influx and reflux of the tide. This difficulty, how¬
ever, would have been overcome, and the proposed im¬
provement effected at little more than the estimated cost,
L.20,000, had not the various and extensive projects in
which the proprietor was at that time engaged led him
into pecuniary difficulties, which put an end to the under¬
taking, and, as is usual in such cases, called foi 11 popu-
E M B 647
lar clamour against the plan. It is but just, however, to Embargo
state, that the very plan now put in execution was contem- II
plated about two centuries ago by Sir Hugh Middleton, Emblem-
who then wrote to a friend, that if he were not so deeply
engaged in the scheme of bringing water to London, he
should certainly engage in it. (See Bedford Level.)
4 he writings of Smeaton, Young, Gregory, and others,
contain the general principles on which is founded the art
of embanking, and every other operation connected with
water. (j. c. l.)
EMBARGO, an order issued by the government of a
country to prevent the sailing of ships, either into or out of
port, or both. Embargoes are usually imposed only in
time of war, or under apprehension of invasion.
EMBASSY. See Ambassador, and Diplomacy.
EMBATTLED, in Architecture, furnished with an in¬
dented parapet, or having the form of embrasures.
EMBDEN or Emden, a fortified seaport-town of Han¬
over, province of Aurich, and 12 miles S.W. of the town
of that name. Though not the capital, it is the largest
town in the province, and in 1848 contained 11,964 inhabit¬
ants. It stands on the Dollart; and although the harbour
is shallow, the roadstead is capable of accommodating the
largest vessels. The trade is considerable : in 1851, 435
vessels of the aggregate burden of 18,097 lasts entered, and
443 of 12,616 lasts left the port. The chief exports are
corn, butter, cheese, tallow, honey, wax, wool, and hides;
the imports—timber, hemp, potash, and French wine.
The herring fishery, formerly considerable, has much de¬
clined, as indeed has also the town itself; for in 1652 it
contained upwards of 20,000 inhabitants, and its trade was
much more extensive than at present. Canals intersect the
town in various directions, and also connect it with Aurich,
the Eras, See. Shipbuilding is carried on to a considerable
extent, and there are also manufactories of linen and cotton
goods, hosiery, hats, soap, leather, tobacco, and brandy.
Among the principal public buildings are the town-house,
a Roman Catholic and also a large Protestant church, the
barracks, exchange, and custom-house. Embden has also a
gymnasium, midwifery school, school of navigation, house
of correction, deaf-mute institution, and a marine insurance
society.
EMBER Weeks are those in which the ember or em-
bring days fall.
In the laws of King Alfred and those of Canute, these
days are called ymbren, that is, circular days, from which
the word was probably corrupted into ember days. By the
canonists they are called quatuor anni tempora, the four
cardinal seasons on which the circle of the year turns; and
hence Henshaw takes the word to have been formed by
corruption from tempora. The ember days are the Wed¬
nesday, Friday, and Saturday, after Quadragesima Sunday,
after Whitsunday, after Holy-rood day on the 14th of Sep¬
tember, and after St Lucia’s day, 13th December; which
four dates correspond generally with the four seasons ot the
year, spring, summer, autumn, and winter. It would ap¬
pear that they were originally fasts, instituted in order to
implore the blessing of the Almighty on the fruits of the
earth ; agreeably to which, Skinner supposes the word em¬
ber taken from the ashes or embers then strewed on the
head. , rT
EMBLAZONING. See Blazonry, and Heraldry.
EMBLEM (zpPXriya, literally, that which is put in or
on, something inlaid, from ejiflaWeiv, to cast in or insert),
in its ordinary acceptation, denotes a figurative representa¬
tion which, by the power of association, suggests to the
mind some idea not made evident to the senses; or, in
other words, a figure or picture which represents one thing
to the eye and another to the understanding. It has been
otherwise defined as a kind of painted enigma, or a figure
648 E M B E M E
Embolism representing some obvious history instructing us in some
1! moral truth. Such is the image of Scaevola holding his
Embroi- iiantj ;n the flameS5 and inscribed with the words “ Agere
v e y' j et pati fortiter Romanum est” The Greeks applied the
“r term t/a/3Ar//xa to inlaid or mosaic work, and also to all kinds
of raised ornaments on vases, &c. The Romans too used
emblema in the same sense. Thus Cicero, reproaching
Verres with his plunder of statues and other works of art
from the Sicilians, calls the ornaments upon them emblemata.
It may be farther observed, that the Latin authors frequently
compare the figures and ornaments of discourse to these
emblemala. Thus, an ancient Latin poet, praising an ora¬
tor, says, that all his words were ranged like the pieces in
mosaic :—
Quam lepide ki%en compostas, ut tesserulae omnes,
Arte pavimento, atque emblemate vermiculato.
The word emblem is now chiefly applied to a figure or re¬
presentation intended to convey some moral or political in¬
struction. Thus a balance is an emblem of justice ; and in
Scripture a white robe is an emblem of purity or righteous¬
ness. An emblem differs from a device in that the words
of an emblem have a full and complete sense of themselves ;
while those of a device are significative only with reference
to some particular person or thing. This difference will be
more apparent by a comparison of the emblem above quoted
with the device of a candle lighted, and the words Juvando
consumor, “ I am wasted in doing good.”
EMBOLISM (ip.(36\iafjL6<;, from ifx/SdXXeLv to insert),
intercalation; or the insertion of days, months, or years, in
a cycle or period of time, in order to produce regularity.
The Greeks made use of the lunar year of 354 days, and in
order to adjust it to the solar year of 365 days they added
a lunar month every second or third year, which additional
month they called embolimeens, i. e. the inserted one. See
Calendar.
EMBOSSING, the forming of works in relief upon any
substance, whether by cutting, stamping, casting, or any
other method. In sculpture particularly, according as the
figures are more or less prominent, they are said to be in
alto, mezzo, or basso-relievo ; or high, intermediate, or low
relief.
EMBRASURE, in Architecture, an opening in a wall
splaying or spreading inwards. In fortification it is applied to
the openings in the wall or parapet of a fortified place, or in
the breastwork of a battery, through which the guns are fired.
EMBROCATION {igfSpe^eLv, to moisten), any liquid
applied externally to the body to reduce swelling or relieve
pain.
EMBROIDERY (in French, broderie). To embroider
signifies properly to surround with an edge or border, but
more generally to adorn with figures of needlework. The
art of embroidery was practised at a very early period. In
Exodus we are told that Aholiab was “ an embroiderer in
blue and in purple and in scarlet and fine linen and long
before the Trojan war the women of Sidon had acquired
celebrity for their skill in this art. The Greeks ascribed
the invention of it to Minerva, but it is probable that they
derived their knowledge of it from the Phrygians. The
Grecian women attained to such a degree of skill in this art,
that their performances were said to rival the finest paintings.
Embroidery is wrought upon stuffs or muslin by means
of a needle and various kinds of thread. When it is done
upon stuffs, the threads are of silk, cotton, wool, gold, and
silver; and the work is sometimes adorned with spangles,
mock or real pearls, &c. This species of embroidery is
wrought on a kind of loom or frame. In muslin embroidery
the muslin is stretched on a pattern already designed, and
the thread is of cotton. The modes of embroidering are
extremely various, and a minute description of them would
be uninteresting to the general reader.
According to the census report of 1851, the number of
females so employed in England was 2521, and in Scotland Embrun
2071 ; while in Ireland, for which no returns have been made II
the number is vastly greater; one house in Glasgow alone ®mera1^
affording employment to upwards of 3000 hands in that
country. The introduction in 1834 of a machine, by means
of which the most difficult patterns may be wrought with the
greatest nicety by 130 needles all in motion at once, has con¬
siderably affected this art as a trade, and will doubtless in
a great measure supersede it. As a description of this in¬
teresting machine could not be made intelligible without
illustrations, we must refer to Ure’s Dictionary of Arts, &jc.
EMBRUN, the ancient Ebrodunum, a fortified town of
France, capital of a cognominal arrondissement in the de¬
partment of Hautes-Alpes, on a steep rock near the right
bank of the Durance, 25 miles E. of Gap. Pop. (1851)
3201. Embrun was an important military station in the time
of the Romans. In the time of Constantine it was the see
of a bishop, and afterwards of an archbishop, which was
suppressed at the Revolution. The principal building in
Embrun is the cathedral, a handsome Gothic structure sur¬
mounted by a lofty tower.
EMBRYO (ejjL/Spvov), in Physiology, the first rudiments
of an animal in the uterus, before the several members are
distinctly formed; after which it is termed & foetus.
EMERALD, Smaragdus, Schmaragd, Emeraude verte.
In mineralogy this includes two subspecies; the emerald
properly so called, or the precious emerald—comprehending
the transparent and beautiful green-coloured varieties—and
the beryl, which has already been described under its ap¬
propriate head.
The emerald always occurs crystallized, its most common
form being that of a regular six-sided prism, occasionally
modified by truncations on the terminal edges. It is
in general well characterized by that pure and lively green
colour which has hence received the name of emerald green ;
its hue, however, varies somewhat, inclining at times to
verdigris or grass green, and frequently becoming rather
pale. This fine colour is occasioned by the presence of a
minute portion of the oxide of chrome, to which indeed
may be attributed the principal distinction between eme¬
rald and the beryl; the mountain-green and yellow colours
of the latter being produced by an admixture of iron in
different states of oxidation. The most magnificent crystals
of emerald occur in veins of magnesian carbonate of lime
which traverse a hornblende rock in the mine of Muso, near
Santa Fe de Bogota, in Peru. A hexagonal prism from
this locality, upwards of two inches in length, and measur¬
ing across its three diameters 2^, 2g> and 1 finches, is now
in the possession of the Duke of Devonshire : it weighs
eight ounces and eighteen dwts., and, though imperfect for
the lapidary’s purposes from the numerous Haws it contains,
is unquestionably the finest crystallized emerald at present
in Great Britain. There are some magnificent crystals of
emerald in the Royal Collection at Madrid, some of them
as large as those of the Duke’s collection, and of the finest
water. Less distinct varieties, generally of muddy emerald-
green colours, occur imbedded in mica-slate in the Pinzgau
valley, Saltzburg; also in mica-schiste at Mount Zabara in
Upper Egypt, a locality whence the ancients are believed
to have obtained their emeralds.
The Peruvian emerald, according to the analyses of
Klaproth and Vauquelin, contains,
Silica  68 50  64-50
Alumina  15-75  16-00
Glucina  12-50  13-00
Oxide of iron  1-00  0"00
Oxide of chrome  0-30  3-25
Lime  0-25  1-60
Its specific gravity ranges between 2-6 and 2#8, and its
hardness between 7‘5 and 8‘0 of the scale of Mohs ; that
is, it scratches quartz, and is very little inferior to topaz
in hardness. It possesses a vitreous lustre more or less
E M E
Emeritus shining, and a conchoidal uneven fracture. By friction
I! it becomes electric; and before the blowpipe with borax it
Emerson. fuses jnto a transparent colourless glass. But it is as a gem,
inferior only to the diamond and the ruby, that this mineral
is so highly prized and esteemed. Its colour, which is per¬
fectly distinct from that of any other gem, is very rich, and
presents by daylight the most pleasing hue. Consequently
this gem, when of considerable surface and free from flaws and
impurities, has always been very highly prized, and, as Pliny
observes (xxxvii.), in his time commanded immense sums.
Haiiy describes one in the tiara of the sovereign pontiff
when in Paris in 1804, consisting of a cylinder about two
inches long by two and a quarter broad, which is supposed
to have been brought from Africa, as it bears the name of
Julius II., who flourished anterior to the conquest of Peru.
The most magnificent cut emerald in this country is that in
the possession of Mr Hope of London. It weighs six ounces,
is perfect in colour and transparency, and cost L.500. It is
believed to be from Coimbetoor.
Emeralds are cut and polished with facility. The usual
form given them is that of a square table with the edges
replaced, the lower surface being cut into facets parallel to
their sides. When fine they are always set without a foil;
and, as their brilliancy is somewhat impaired by candle¬
light, they are generally surrounded with small diamonds or
pearls, which enhance their lustre and effect. This gem
has been very successfully imitated by the French manu¬
facturers of paste stones, the colouring matter used being
the oxide of chrome.
EMERITUS, a Latin word signifying one who has com¬
pleted his term of service. It was the name given by the
Romans to a soldier or other public functionary who was ex¬
empted from further duty, and received a retiring allowance.
EMERSION, in Physics, the rising of any solid above
the surface of a fluid specifically heavier than itself in which
it has been forcibly immerged.
Emersion, in Astronomy, the gradual reappearance of the
sun, moon, or other celestial body, after it has been eclipsed.
It also denotes the reappearance of a star which has been
hid in the effulgence of the sun’s light.
EMERSON, William, an eminent but eccentric mathe¬
matician, was born May 14, 1701, at Hurworth, near Dar¬
lington, where his father Dudley Emerson taught a school.
From him young Emerson received a thorough mathe¬
matical education, and the bequest of a good mathematical
library. In the earlier part of his life he followed his father s
profession, but with little success; and having received a
moderate competence from his parents, he soon after de¬
voted himself entirely to studious retirement. 1 owards the
close of 1781, he relinquished his studies and disposed of his
library. His death took place soon after, May 20, 1782, at
his native village, and in the eighty-first year of his age.
Emerson in person was rather short, but strong and well
made, with an open countenance and ruddy complexion.
In dress, mannei's, and appearance, he was eccentric and
indeed clownish ; but with all his eccentricities he possessed
an uncompromising independence of character, and intellec¬
tual energy of a very high order. He invariably shut him¬
self up in"London during the pxxblication of his works, and
carefully revised them- sheet by sheet himself, so that they
are sinmilarly free from errata. In mechanics, he never
advanced a proposition which he had not previously tested
in practice, nor published an invention without first proving
its effects by a model. Emerson was married, but had no
family. His wife employed her leisure in spinning on a
curious wheel, of which an accurate drawing is given in his
Mechanics ; and his favourite recreation was fishing. He
was skilled in the science of music, the theory of sounds, and
the ancient and modern scales ; but he never attained any
excellence as a performer.
The following is a list of Emerson's works:—The Doctrine of
VOL. VIII.
E M 1 649
Fluxions, 1748, 8vo ; The Projection of the Sphere, orthographic, ste~ Emery
reographic, and gnomical, 1749, 8vo; The Elements of Trigonometry,
1749, 8vo; The Principles of Mechanics, 1754, 8vo; A Treatise of Emigra-
Navigation, 1755, 12mo; A Treatise of Algebra, in two books, 1765, tion.
8vo ; The Arithmetic of Infinites, and the Differential Method, Ulus- \ <|| | )
trated by Examples, 1767, 8vo ; Mechanics, or the Doctrine of Motion,
1769, 8vo ; The Elements of Optics, in four books, 1768, 8vo ; A Sys¬
tem of Astronomy, 1769, 8vo ; The Laws of Centripetal and Centri¬
fugal Force, 1769, 8vo ; The Mathematical Principles of Geography,
1770, 8vo; Tracts, 1770, 8vo; Cyclomathesis, or an easy Introduc¬
tion to the several branches of the Mathematics, 1770, in 10 vols. 8vo ;
A short Comment on Sir Isaac Newton’s Principia ; to which is added,
A Defence of Sir Isaac against the objections that have been made to
several parts of his works, 1770, 8vo ; A Miscellaneous Treatise, con¬
taining several Mathematical Subjects, 1776, 8vo.
EMERY, a mineral substance long regarded as an ore
of iron, but which appears to be a mixture of corundum
and oxide of iron. Emery, reduced to a fine powder by
grinding and elutriation, is very extensively used for po¬
lishing metals, glass, marble, and other hard bodies. It is
imported into this country chiefly from the Isle of Naxos,
where it exists in great quantities ; and it also occurs in
Germany, Italy, Spain, and in some other parts of the
world. It is found in beds in strata of mica slate, and in
colour is intermediate between grayish-black and bluish-
gray. Specific gravity about 4-000. It varies considerably
in quality. The constituents of good emery have been given
as follows:—alumina, 80; silica, 3; iron, 4. The great
hardness of emery constitutes its value as a material for
polishing. Ground emery is used in various ways ; as, for
instance, applied with glue to paper, cloth, or wood, to be
used in rubbing ; or formed into paste as an artificial stone
for grinding-wheels, &c.
EMETIC (ipein, to vomit), a medicine that excites vo¬
miting by a specific action on the stomach, independently
of its "taste or odour.. The emetics most in use are ipeca¬
cuanha, the tartrate of antimony and potash (tartar emetic),
sulphate of zinc, and sulphate of copper.
EMIGRATION is the act of leaving the country or Definition,
place in which one has previously resided, in the view of
residing in some other country or place. Persons so leaving
the place of their residence are called emigrants; and lat¬
terly the term immigrants has been employed to designate
persons arriving from a distance in some place or country
with the intention of settling in it. Persons leaving a country
for a while, to which they intend to return, are not reckoned
emigrants. This term is appropriated to those who leave
their present habitations to establish themselves permanently
elsewhere.
The motives which lead to emigration are various in Motives
the extreme; but, whatever its immediate cause may be,
all emigrants expect either to avoid some considerable °
evil, or to improve or amend their situation. The natuial
multiplication of man and of the animals which he do¬
mesticates, and the tendency of both to increase beyond
such means of subsistence as may be easily made available
for their support, have been in all ages the^ great cause of
emigrations. W hen the flocks and herds of the occupiers
of particular districts began to be so numerous that pas¬
ture became deficient, it was an obvious resource, in the
event of any unoccupied lands being in their vicinity, for
a portion of the tribe to emigrate to them. The Book of
Genesis affords a striking illustration of what is now stated.
The herds, of Abraham and Lot, it is there stated, had so
oready increased, that, there not being room for them both,
contests took place between their servants. Whereupon
Abraham said to Lot, “ Is not the whole land before thee ?
Separate thyself, I pray thee, from me. If thou wilt take
the left hand, then I will go to the right; or if thou depart
to the right hand, then I will go to the left. Then Lot
chose him all the plain of Jordan, and Lot journeyed east^;
and they separated themselves the one from the other.”
(Chap. xiii. v. 8-11.) And what happens to herdsmen hap-
650 * EMIGRATION.
Emigra¬
tion.
Emigra¬
tions from
Greece and
Rome.
pens to agriculturists. It would be easy, indeed, to show,
by entering into historical details, that this was in fact the
way in which population was extended over all countries.
But the thing is so very evident that this would be quite
unnecessary—a mere accumulation of proof in a case where
none is required.
Many of the emigrants from the Greek states of antiquity
consisted of citizens forced by the violence of contending
factions to seek new settlements in other countries. But
Greece also sent forth emigrants, impelled by the difficulty
of maintaining themselves at home, or allured by the glow¬
ing descriptions of the comparative abundance they would
enjoy in distant lands. Both these classes of emigrants esta¬
blished themselves, for the most part, either in countries
with a scanty population, or whose inhabitants were in a
decidedly lower state of civilization. And the greater re¬
finement and ingenuity of the Greeks, and their indus¬
trious habits, enabled them to make a rapid progress, so
that several of these colonies became, in no very lengthened
period, populous and powerful states.
But few voluntary emigrants ever left Rome. The
colonies which she sent forth were intended to bridle sub¬
jugated provinces, and should be regarded rather as the out¬
posts of an immense army, the headquarters of which were
at Rome, than as establishments of individuals who had bid
adieu to their mother country, and w'ho intended to main¬
tain themselves in their new residence by their own industry.
Emigra- But in their wish to amend their condition, emigrants
tions of the have not always been contented to establish themselves in
northern unoccupied or thinly-peopled countries. Sometimes, as in
nations. tjle case of ^ irrupti0n of the northern nations into the
Roman empire, they have attacked countries that were
densely peopled ; and, having subdued the inhabitants, have
seized upon the whole, or upon a greater or less proportion
of their lands.
Pastoral nations, inasmuch as they can carry with them
the flocks and herds from which they derive their subsis¬
tence, may emigrate in very large bodies ; and previously
to the invention of gunpowder, and other improvements in
warfare, were very dangerous neighbours. The danger was
further increased, or rather was perpetually kept up, by the
fact that the emigration of one tribe or nation, by making
more room for those that remained behind, gave a corre¬
sponding stimulus to population, so that the vacuum being
soon filled up, the motive to fresh emigration became as
great as ever. On this principle we are able to account
satisfactorily for the successive swarms of barbarians that,
issuingfrom the countries in the north of Europe, first attacked
and ultimately overthrew the colossal fabric of Roman
power. It admits of demonstration that these countries
were then not nearly so populous as at present, that they
had not more, perhaps, than a fifth or a sixth part of the
inhabitants by which they are now occupied. But as they
depended principally on pasturage, their numbers were
often in excess compared with their means of support.
And the pressure of want, that is, the necessity of find¬
ing additional room for their flocks and herds on the one
hand, and, on the other, the prospect of vast wealth and
riches of which they might hope to possess themselves,
precipitated them into those expeditions in which, though
often defeated, they were in the end successful. I he lines
of Gray, in reference to these irruptions, are as true as
they are beautiful:
The prostrate South to the destroyer yields
Her boasted titles, and her golden fields:
With grim delight the brood of winter view
A brighter day, and heav’ns of azure hue ;
Scent the new fragrance of the breathing rose,
And quatf the pendent vintage as it grows.
Thanks, however, to the progress of science and of arts,
the civilized world is now secure against being again over
run by barbarians. Those who overcome the armies, the Enugra-
fleets, and other means of defence of refined and polished tion.
nations, must themselves be to a considerable extent re-
fined and polished. The brute force of mere barbarism
can no longer contend with the tremendous energies which
civilised nations can press into their service. If the sun of
Europe is destined to be again obscured, it will not be by
a fresh irruption of barbarians.
In modern times America, and, more recently, Australia, Emigra-
have formed the favourite outlets for the emigrants from ^ons *°
the Old World. When first discovered, these vast conti- an™e^g_
nents were wholly or almost wholly occupied by the scanty tralia>
population of hunters, hardly more advanced than the wild
animals which they made their prey. Europeans conse¬
quently had very little difficulty in subjugating and occupy¬
ing the most extensive territories on the other side ot the
Atlantic and in the Southern Ocean, while their propitious
climate and extraordinary fertility (of America at least) held
out every encouragement to draw to them not only the
poor and needy, but also the aspiring, the industrious, the
discontented, and the rejected population of this and other
old settled countries. To these America has truly been
a “ city of refuge.” The hosts of paupers and outcasts that
have fled or been driven to her hospitable shores have become
citizens of free and independent communities, and have
mostly attained to a state of comfort or it may be of inde¬
pendence. And the benefits of this emigration have not
only been, but they continue to be, of a gigantic description.
Besides the gain to humanity by the establishment of arts,
science, and religion in the vast wildernesses of America
and Australia, and the advantageous asylum they afford to
all who resort to them, the endless variety and abundance
of their animal, vegetable, and mineral products, supply the
means of carrying on a commerce which is becoming every
day more and more important, and which has already done
more than anything else to stimulate the inventive and pro¬
ductive energies of the English and other nations of Europe.
And it is satisfactory to know, that notwithstanding the
rapid progress of population in America, a long series of
years will have to elapse before the temperate portions of
that great continent will have accumulated anything like
an average number of inhabitants. Owing to the general
inferiority of its soil, Australia is npt so well fitted to sup¬
port a dense population as the extra-tropical regions of
America. But what with its vast size, its prodigious mi¬
neral wealth, and other resources, it is not easy to antici¬
pate to what a flourishing state it may arrive, or how long
it may be a favourite resort of industrious emigrants.
We are not, however, of the number of those who suppose Capacity of
that the field for emigration is to be restricted in all time to Asia Minor
come to the temperate regions of America and to Australia, ^^.eeg
We believe that the events which are now in progress, £ound the
whatever may be their results in other respects, will most Black Sea
probably assist in opening the extensive countries in south- to receive
eastern Europe and western Asia to the enterprise ot Jhi- emigrants,
ropeans. It is not possible to imagine that the great pen-;
insula of Asia Minor, once the favoured seat of arts and in-,
dustry, and of many flourishing and powerful states, should
be destined to crouch indefinitely under the loathsome des¬
potism which has so long weighed down and extinguished
all its energies; and if it and the countries on the west
and north shores of the Black Sea were once opened to
settlers from the more civilized European States, their
great extent, genial climate, and superior soil, would make
them be eagerly resorted to by emigrants. At all events,
it must be sufficiently obvious to any one who takes up a
map of the world, that many generations may be expected,
to pass away before parties desirous ot emigrating from
the older European states will have- much difficulty in find-,
ing localities in which they may advantageously establish?
themselves.
651
EMIGRATION.
on emigra'
tion.
Emigra¬
tion may
sometimes
be advan-
Emigra- Hitherto most emigrations that have taken place have
tion. consisted of individuals who have emigrated at their own
risk and expense. Sometimes, indeed, it has been attempted
Impolicy of t0 hinder certain parties, such as skilled labourers, from
'fnctions emigrating, from an apprehension that they might, by in¬
structing foreigners in their peculiar arts, enable them to be¬
come successful competitors in those arts with the countries
which the emigrants had left. But such restrictions are at
once oppressive and inefficient: oppressive because they
hinder individuals from attempting to improve their condi¬
tion by emigrating, and inefficient because the arts which
they practise may be learned in a great many ways—by
written descriptions, by foreigners sending emissaries to
the countries in which they are practised, by their smug¬
gling away a few individuals, and so forth. And we are
glad to have to state that the justice of this reasoning is now
generally admitted; and that, for some years past, all classes
of artificers have had full liberty to leave this country.
But besides giving free leave to individuals to emigrate,
there are many occasions in which it may he highly expe¬
dient for government and public bodies to come forward to
assist them in leaving the country. Wherever there is a
assisted b surplus population, that is, wherever the population is not
govern- wholly employed, or where, though employed, wages are so
ment, &c. low as not to afford work-people a sufficient supply of neces¬
saries and conveniences, emigration may be advantage¬
ously resorted to. The sum required to maintain an able-
bodied labourer for twelve months or thereby in a work-
house would suffice to carry him to Upper Canada, or to
some other part of America, where he would find immediate
employment, and from being a pauper, would forthwith be¬
come independent. It is not easy, indeed, to see how the
money of parishes could be more profitably laid out than
in enabling such parties to emigrate. By doing so they re¬
lieve themselves at a trifling cost of a permanent burden ;
and while they greatly improve the condition of the emi¬
grants, they also improve the condition of the labourers
who are left at home, and raise up customers for our manu¬
factures in foreign and distant countries.
The late extraordinary emigration from Ireland (1846-
1854) has done more perhaps to improve its condition than
anything else that could have happened. In consequence
of the diminution that has been effected in the population,
employment is more easily obtained, and the rate of wages
has increased ; a considerable progress has been made in
many parts of the country in the consolidation of small
patches of land into something like farms of a reasonable size,
and susceptible of a better system of cultivation ; the towns
and workhouses have been, in part at least, relieved of their
pauper population; and agitation, crime, and outrage, are
Emigra- less prevalent. Nor is there any reason to fear, that either
tion cannot in Ireland or anywhere else, emigration will be, or indeed
be carried can be, carried to excess. The rise of wages and the brisker
demand for labour, which it invariably occasions, are^ in¬
superable obstacles in the way of such a result. The
danger, indeed, is all on the other side-—that emigration
will either stop or decline too much and too soon. It maj/
yet be carried much farther with infinite advantage to Ire¬
land. From the want of coal, Ireland is ill-fitted for manu¬
facturing industry ; and from the nature of the soil and the
humidity of the climate, it is much better suited to pastur¬
age than to tillage. And such being the case, the popula¬
tion is still (1854) so much in excess, that an emigration
by which it would be farther reduced by one or two millions,
would contribute most materially to its well-being.
The emigrations from certain parts of the Scottish llig ^
lands, in regard to which so loud a clamour was raised,
have been highly advantageous to all parties directly or
indirectly connected with'them ; to the emigrants who
were carried from narrow, barren, and over-peopled districts,
to countries of boundless extent, rich, and under-peopled ;
Emigra¬
tion from
Ireland.
to excess.
Emigra¬
tion from
the High¬
lands.
to the proprietors who were enabled to turn their estates Emigra-
to the best account; and to the public who are always in- tion.
terested in having lands occupied in the most beneficial
manner. Unluckily the emigration has stopped far short
of the point to which it ought to be carried. Many estates,
both in the mainland and in the islands, continue to be
overstocked with a half-employed, beggarly population.
Owing to causes which are too obvious to need being Advan-
pointed out, the greater number of emigrants, especially of tage of
those who go to new settlements, consist of males; and the sending out
want of a proper proportion of females is often productive feraale emi~
of the worst consequences. Inasmuch, too, as the female Srants-
portion of the population in old settled countries is gene¬
rally that which is most in excess, it is plain that every faci¬
lity and encouragement should be given to the emigration
of women. Nothing, therefore, can be more consistent
with sound policy than the efforts which have recently been
made by government, and by private individuals, to send
out well-conducted females to Australia; and it is to be
hoped that they will not relax in their benevolent labours
till the wide disproportion which now (1854) exists between
the sexes in that continent be materially reduced.
The application of steam to the propulsion of vessels and Emigra-
the other improvements that have been made in the art of tion from
navigation, have greatly diminished the cost, risk, and time ^.e L,'llte<1
spent in distant voyages, and have given a proportional ex- ^c‘ng ora’
tension to emigration. Notwithstanding their great dis¬
tance, the emigration from Europe to America and Aus¬
tralia, but especially the former, has latterly attained to a
magnitude which, previously to the employment of steam
in navigation, would not have been conceived possible.
For a lengthened period the United Kingdom has furnished
the largest supply of transatlantic emigrants; but of late
years the emigration from Germany has become very ex¬
tensive, and promises at no distant period to equal, if it do
not surpass, that which is carried on from this country. The
vast majority of the German emigrants are destined for the
United States, where (in Pennsylvania-principally) they oc¬
cupy extensive districts, and have established themselves in
great numbers. The States have also become, since 183o,
the principal resort of the emigrants from the United King¬
dom, more particularly of those from Ireland ; though large
numbers of the English and Scotch emigrants, with a smallex
number of Irish, continue to resort in preference to Canada.
Since the discovery of the gold-fields ot Australia, great
numbers of emigrants have gone to that continent. But its
much greater distance, and the consequent length and cost
of the voyage, make it difficult for the poorer classes to find,
without assistance, their way to this new El Dorado. And.
we may add, that to the natural difficulties in the way of
emigration to Australia have been superadded those which
arise from an extravagant minimum price of 20s. an acre
having been set on all waste land in that continent, even
though it should require three, four, or five acres to depas¬
ture a single sheep. But it is not to be supposed that this
mischievous or rather insane regulation will be permitted
much longer to disgrace our colonial legislation. It is
abundantly certain, that its repeal wall do more than any¬
thing else to promote the emigration to, and the settlement
of, our great south-eastern colonies.
Next to the United Kingdom and Germany, China fur¬
nishes the greater number of over-sea emigrants., A Chinese
population has long been settled in large numbers in many
parts of the Eastern Archipelago, where they are distin¬
guished by their industry and good order; and recently
many thousands of them have found their way to California
and Australia. We beg to subjoin an account of the num¬
ber of emigrants from the United Kingdom in each year
from 1815 to 1853, both inclusive, specifying the countries
for which they sailed, and the numbers that sailed for
each.
652
E M M
Eminence
II
Emmerich.
Years.
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
Total
North
American
Colonies.
680
3,370
9,797
15,136
23,534
17,921
12,955
16,013
11,355
8.774
8,741
12.818
12,648
12,084
13,307
30,574
58,067
66,339
28,808
40,060
15,573
34,226
29,884
4,577
12,658
32,293
38,164
54,123
23,518
22,924
31,803
43,439
109,680
31,065
41,367
32,961
42,605
32,876
34,522
1,071,239
United
States.
1,209
9,022
10,280
12,429
10,674
6,745
4,958
4,137
5,032
5,152
5,551
7,063
14,526
12,817
15,678
24,887
23,418
32,872
29,109
33,074
26,720
37,774
36,770
14,332
33,536
40,642
45,017
63,852
28,335
43,660
58,538
82,239
142,154
188,233
219,450
223,078
267,357
244,261
230,885
2,295,466
Australian
Colonies
and New
Zealand.
485
903
715
1,056
2,016
1,242
1,561
3,733
4,093
2,800
1,860
3,124
5,054
14,021
15,786
15,850
32,625
8,534
3,478
2,229
830
2,347
4,949
23,904
32,091
16,037
21,532
87,424
61,401
371,680
All other
Places.
192
118
557
222
579
1,063
384
279
163
99
114
116
114
135
197
204
114
196
517
288
325
293
326
292
227
1,958
2,786
1,835
1,881
1,873
2,330
1,826
1,487
4,887
6,590
8,773
4,472
4,203
3,129
55,144
Total.
2,081
12,510
20,634
27.787
34.787
25,729
18,297
20,429
16,550
14,025
14,891
20,900
28,003
26,092
31,198
56,907
83,160
103,140
62,527
76.222
44.478
75,417
72,034
33.222
62,207
90,743
118,592
128,344
57,212
70,686
93,501
129,851
258,270
248,089
299,498
280,849
335,966
368,764
329,937
3,793,529
Annual emigration from the United Kingdom —
From 1815 to 1853  97,269
For the five years ending 1853  323,002
(j. R. M.)
EMINENCE, literally elevation or height; but usually
a rising ground, or a hill of moderate elevation above the
adjacent country, &c.
Eminence, as a title of honour, was first given to cardi¬
nals byapapal decree bearing date Jan. 10,1630; previous to
which time they had been addressed as illustrissimi and
reverendissimi. The title of Eminence has been applied to
various dignitaries at different times ; as to the grand master
of Malta, to the kings of France, the emperor, &c.
EMIR {Arabic), a title of dignity among the Turks. It
signifies lord or chief, and was first given to the khalifs ; but
when they assumed the title of Sultan the title of Emir was
given to their children, as that of Caesar among the Romans.
The title of Emir is now given, by prescriptive usage, to all
who are considered to be descended from Mohammed by
his daughter Fatima, and who consequently wear the green
turban instead of the white. As prefixed to another word
indicative of a particular command or office, it is a common
title of dignity, and is borne bv viziers, pachas, &c.
EMMANUEL, or Immanuel, a Hebrew word which
signifies ‘‘ God with us.” It is applied to our Saviour as
God-man, prophetically by Isaiah (vii. 14, viii. 8), and his¬
torically by Matthew (i. 23).
EMMERICH, a fortified town of Rhenish Prussia, go¬
vernment of Dusseldorf, situated on the right bank of the
Rhine, 5 miles N.E. of Cleves. Pop. (l'849) 6647. It
has several churches, a gymnasium, Roman Catholic semi-
E M P
nary ; and manufactures of woollen and linen goods, leather, Emmius
and soap. Emmerich was formerly a member of the Han- II
seatic League. Empe-
EMMIUS, Abbo (1547-1625), a celebrated historian v ^ ^ .
and geographer, was born at Gretha in East Friesland. He ^
was chosen rector of the college of Norden in 1579; but
was ejected in 1587 for refusing to subscribe the confession
of Augsburg. He was subsequently rector of the colleges
of Leer and Groningen, and ultimately professor in the uni¬
versity of the latter city. His principal works are—Opus
Chronologicum, Gronin., 1619, fob; Vetus Gracia illustrata,
Leyd., 1626,8vo; Rerum Frisicarum Historia, Leyd., 1616,
fob; Historia Temporis nostri, Gronin., 1732, 4to.
EMPALEMENT (Eat. in, and palus, a stake), a fencing
or inclosing with stakes ; a stockade. The word is particu¬
larly applied to a barbarous kind of punishment by thrusting
a stake up the fundament, and thus leaving the victim to
perish. Instances are on record of persons who lingered
under this torture for several days. Empalement was much
practised in ancient times at Rome; and even within a
very recent period among the Turks and other barbarous
nations.
EMPEDOCLES, a celebrated philosopher of Agrigen-
tum in Sicily, who flourished about the middle of the fifth
century b.c. Of his history little is known. He joined in
the revolution by which Thrasydaeus was expelled ; and
amongst his countrymen he enjoyed a reputation not only
for statesmanship, but for supernatural ability to control the
adverse powers of nature. The general story in regard to
his death is that he threw himself into the crater of Mount
AStna, in order that no trace of his earthly existence might
remain, and that he might seem to have been translated
into heaven. The origin of this marvellous account, how¬
ever, may be found in the too personal interpretation of his
haughty pretensions as a philosopher, and especially of the
opening lines of his Katharmoi ; in which, in his own name,
he treats of the divinity of the human soul. According to
Aristotle, however, Empedocles died peacefully at the age
of sixty. It is not easy to determine his relation to the
great philosophical schools of antiquity ; and in the allusions
which he makes to a great master, it is difficult to say whe¬
ther the reference is made to Pythagoras, Parmenides, or
perhaps Anaxagoras. His philosophical scheme, although
in the doctrine of transmigration of souls bearing some af¬
finity to the Pythagorean system, and in the application of
a mechanical physiology being closely related to the philo¬
sophy of Anaxagoras, belongs most properly to the Eclectic
school. The whole phenomena of nature were by him re¬
solved into the combinations of four primal elements—fire,
air, water, and earth—by the attractive and repulsive forces
of love and hate. Neither of these forces are to be regarded
as external to the matter on which they act; love or Deity
residing in the original chaotic mass of things, and hate or
strife in the elements individually, among which fire holds
the chief place as the great centre of intellectual and sentient
life. The present normal order of things arose out of chaos
by successive stages of combination, as the two great prin¬
ciples passed from inertness to activity; and as the elements
become exhausted by a ceaseless change, they gradually
yield to the blending influence'of love, and withdraw into
the inertness of the chaotic sphere. Empedocles seems
also to have recognised a third force, that of necessity,
based on the unconditional decree of the Deity. His theory
of cognition is in strict accordance with his philosophical
scheme in regard to the construction of the universe. Man,
as composed of the four elements, and subjected to the in¬
fluence of the two antagonistic forces, can only rise to a
comprehensive knowledge of the universal whole through
the paramount influence of love. Accordingly, what is ap¬
prehended by the senses must be carefully distinguished
from the results of the pure intellect alone, the pure unity
E M P
Emperor 0f truth residing only in the pure unity of love or Deity. The
ll. fragments of Empedocles have been collected and published
Empire. ^ p. -yy. Sturz, Leipzig, 1805.
EMPEROR (imperator), among the ancient Romans,
signified the general of an army, who, for some extraordi¬
nary success, had been complimented with this appellation.
Thus Augustus, having obtained no less than twenty famous
victories, was as often saluted with the title ; and Titus was
thus styled by his army after the reduction of Jerusalem.
Subsequently it came to denominate an absolute monarch
or supreme commander of an empire. In this sense Julius
Caesar was called imperator. The same title descended
with the dignity to Octavianus Augustus, Tiberius, and
Caligula; and afterwards it became elective. In strictness
the title emperor does not, and cannot, add anything to the
rights of sovereignty. In the East the title of emperor is
more frequent than in Europe. Thus, the sovereign princes
of China, Japan, Mogul, &c., are all emperors. In Europe,
the first who bore the title was Charlemagne, who assumed
it on his coronation at Rome by Pope Leo III.
EMPHYSEMA, a distension of the body or its mem¬
bers from an accumulation of air in the cellular or adipose
membrane, by which the part is rendered tense and elastic,
so that it crepitates when pressed.
EMPIRE (imperiurn), in Political Geography, the ter¬
ritory, region, or countries under the jurisdiction or govern¬
ment of an emperor. We read in ancient history of four
great monarchies or empires ; namely, that of the Babylo¬
nians, Chaldeans, and Assyrians ; that of the Medes and
Persians; that of the Greeks; and that of the Romans.
The first subsisted from the time of Nimrod, who founded
it in the year of the world 1800, according to the computa¬
tion of Usher, till that of Sardanapalus, their last king, in
3257; and consequently lasted above 1450 years. The
empire of the Medes commenced under Arbaces, in the
year of the world 3257, was united to that of the Babylo¬
nians and Persians under Cyrus in 3468, and closed with
the death of Darius Codomannus in 3674. The Grecian
empire lasted only during the reign of Alexander the Great,
beginning in the year of the world 3674, and terminating
with the death of this conqueror in 3681, his conquests
having been divided amongst his captains. The Roman
empire commenced with Julius Caesar, when he was made
perpetual dictator, in the year of the city 708, and of the
world 3956, forty-eight years before Christ. The seat ot
the empire was removed to Byzantium by Constantine, in
the year of our Lord 334; and the East and West were
then united under the title of the Roman empire, till the
Romans proclaimed Charlemagne emperor in the year 800.
From this epoch the East and West formed two separate
empires. That of the East, governed by Greek emperors,
commenced in the year 302; and,being gradually weakened,
terminated under Constantine Palaeologus in 1453. Ihe
Western empire was afterwards known by the appellation of
the empire, or German empire. Antiquaries distinguish
between the medals of the Upper and Lower Empire. The
curious only value those of the Upper Empire, which com¬
menced with J. Caesar, or Augustus, and ended in the year
of Christ 476. The Lower Empire comprehended near
1200 years, reckoning downwards till the destruction of
Constantinople in 1453. Two ages or periods of the Lower
Empire are usually distinguished ; the first beginning where
the Upper ends, namely, with Aurelian, and terminating
with Anastasius, including 200 years; and the second be¬
ginning with Anastasius, and ending with the Palaeologi,
which includes 1000 years.
The Empire, used absolutely and without any addition,
signifies the empire of Germany, which is also called in ju¬
ridical acts and laws the Holy Roman Empire. It had its
beginning at the commencement of the ninth century, when
Charlemagne was created first emperor by Pope Leo III.,
ENA 653
who put the crown on his head in St Peter’s church on Empiric
Christmas day in the year 800.
EMPIRIC (e/x7mpta, experience), one whose knowledge Enamel,
is founded on experience. The name of Emperici was given
to an ancient sect of Greek physicians who contended that
experience alone was needful in the healing art. Philinus of
Cos is the reputed author of this system, which was greatly
extended and improved by Serapion of Alexandria. From the
pretensions and ignorance exhibited by many of this sect, the
term empiric has become a common designation for one who
enters on practice without a regular professional education ;
and, in general, for a quack, or pretender to medical skill.
EMPORIUM, in a general sense, signifies a city or
place where extensive commercial transactions are carried
on ; but it is more particularly applied to the commercial
centre of a country, or the place to which buyers and sellers
from various countries resort.
EMPSON, William, an able critic and scholar, professor
of civil law at Haileybury College, was born in 1790. He
was educated at Winchester, and afterwards at Trinity Col¬
lege, Cambridge. On the death of Napier he succeeded to the
editorship of the Edinburgh Review, chiefly through the in¬
fluence of Francis Jeffrey, whose only child he had previously
married. He contributed to the Review upwards of sixty ar¬
ticles on various subjects. The best known is that on Stanley’s
Life of Arnold. Empson died at Haileybury, Dec. 10,1852.
EMPYEMA, a collection of pus in the cavity of the
thorax ; a not infrequent result of pleurisy. The purulent
matter is sometimes removed by making an opening for its
discharge between the sixth and seventh ribs.
EMPYREUM,or EMPYREAN(e/x7Ti;/oeixi>,Ikindle), a fanci¬
ful name given to the highest heaven, because of its supposed
splendour, as being formed of the pure element of fire or light.
EMPYREUMA, in Chemistry, the offensive odour given
out by burnt oils ; as in the distillation of animal and vege¬
table substances.
EMS, a watering-place of Nassau, and 6 miles W.N.W.
of the town of that name. It is pleasantly situated on the
Lahn, and has several thermal springs. Pop. about 800.
Ems, the ancient Amisus, a river in the N.W. of Ger¬
many, rising in the Teutoburg forest, Westphalia, S.W. of
Detmold. It flows first westward through the Prussian ter¬
ritory, and afterwards takes a northern direction through
Hanover, to the Dollart, a gulf of the North Sea between
Holland and Hanover. It has an entire course of about
160 miles, and is navigable for vessels of 80 or 100 tons as
far as Passenburg. The principal tributaries are the Aa,
the Haase, and the Leda, which fall into it from the right.
EMU, or Emeu. See Ornithology.
ENALIOSAURIA (evaAios living in the sea, and oWpos
a lizard), in Geology, a name given to the entire group of
extinct saurian animals which are characterized by broad
paddle-shaped feet, like those of the whale or turtle, and a
head and trunk resembling those of the crocodile.
ENAMEL (Fr. email) a semi-transparent or opaque vitri¬
fied substance, of the nature of glass, but differing from it
by possessing a greater degree of fusibility and opacity. 1 he
compound which serves as a basis to most kinds of enamel
is formed by the fusion of a pure crystal glass or frit, ground
up with a fine calx of lead and tin, in certain proportions;
to which is usually added white salt of tartar. The different
kinds of enamel are made by the addition of colouring sub¬
stances, and melting or incorporating the whole by fusion.
For white enamel, Neri {Be Arte Vitriar) directs only
manganese to be added to the matter which constitutes the
basis ; for azure, zaffer mixed with calx of brass ; for green,
calx of brass with scales of iron, or with crocus martis; for
black, zaffer with manganese or with crocus martis, or man¬
ganese with tartar; for red, manganese, or calx of copper
and crude tartar; for purple, manganese with calx of brass ;
for yellow, tartar and manganese; and for violet-coloured
654
ENA
Enamel- enamel, manganese with thrice-calcined brass. In making
ling these enamels great nicety is requisite. The general way
I! . of making the coloured enamel is this: Powder, sift, and
Encaustic grjnci a]j t]ie colours very nicely, and first mix them with
v "'U one another, and then with the common matter of enamels ;
'-rr”v next set them in pots in a furnace, and when they are well
mixed and incorporated, cast them into water; when dry,
set them in a furnace again to melt; and when melted, take
a proof of the enamel. If too deep-coloured, add more of
the common matter of enamels; and if too pale, add more
of the colours.
ENAMELLING, the art of laying enamel upon metals,
as gold, silver, copper, &c. Enamel ornaments for trinkets,
in almost endless variety, may be produced by the aid of the
blowpipe. The enamel is usually first drawn out into threads,
or reduced to thin laminae, to facilitate the process of fu¬
sion ; and by the same means the enamel may be laid upon
metals. Very elegant ornamental work may be thus pro¬
duced. Enamelling also signifies to paint in enamel.
Painting in enamel is performed on plates of gold or of
copper, but seldom on silver, as this metal is apt to occasion
imperfections in the surface of the enamel. Copper is the
metal most generally used for this purpose, enamelled with
the white enamel, on which painting is executed with colours
which are melted in the fire, where they take a brightness and
lustre like that of glass. This kind of painting is particularly
prized for its peculiar brightness and vivacity, which is per¬
manent, the force of its colours not being liable to be effaced
or sullied with time, as in other painting, and continuing
always as fresh as when it came out of the workman’s hands.
This method of painting is almost entirely confined to minia¬
ture : larger works being liable to certain accidents in the
operation. The most perfect kind of enamelling is prac¬
tised on plates of gold, the other metals being less pure.
Copper, for instance, sometimes scales with the application;
and silver turns the yellow white. To obviate the crack¬
ing of the enamel, the plates are generally made a little round
or oval and rather thin. The operation is usually com¬
menced by laying on a couch of white enamel on both sides
of the plate, which prevents the metal from swelling and
blistering; and this first layer serves for the ground of all
the other colours. The next step is to draw out exactly
the subject to be painted with red vitriol, mixed with oil of
spike, marking all parts of the design very lightly with a
pencil. After this, the colours (very finely ground, and
mixed with oil of spike somewhat thick) are to be laid on,
attention being given to the mixtures and colours which
agree to the different parts of the subject; for which purpose
it is necessary to understand painting in miniature.
When the colours are all laid, the painting is to be gently
dried over a slow fire to evaporate the oil, and the colours
are afterwards melted to incorporate them with the enamel,
making the plate red hot in a fire such as enamellers use.
Afterwards, the painting may be retouched; and is then
to be committed a second time to the fire, and so on till
the work be completed.
ENCAUSTIC, and Encaustum, the same with enamel¬
ling and enamel.
Encaustic Painting, a method of painting among the
ancients, in which wax was employed to give a gloss to the
colours, and to preserve them from injury.
This ancient and lost art was in a manner revived by
Count Caylus, who announced his method to the Academy
of Painting and Belles-Lettres in the year 1753; though
M. Bachelier, the author of a treatise I)e I’Histoire et du Se¬
cret de la Peinture en Cire, had produced a picture in wax
in 1749 ; and was the first who communicated to the public
the method of performing the operation of inustion, which
is the principal characteristic of encaustic painting. The
count kept his method a secret for some time, but exhibited
at the Louvre, in 1754, a picture representing the head of
E N C
Minerva, painted in wax, which excited much curiosity. In Enceinte
the interval of suspense several attempts were made to re- ^ ^.
cover the ancient method of painting; such as that of melt- ^ n enuc]
ing wax and oil of turpentine together, and using this com-
position as a vehicle for the colours. But this method did
not explain Pliny’s meaning, as in this way of managing it
the wax is not burnt. In another attempt, the wax was
melted with strong lixivium of salt of tartar, and with this
the colours were ground. When the picture was finished,
it was gently heated, so as to melt the wax, and diffuse it
through all the particles of the colours ; and thus they were
fixed to the ground, and secured from the access of air or
moisture. But the method of Count Caylus was much more
simple. The canvas or panel was waxed over by rubbing
it simply with a piece of bees-wax; the panel or canvas
being held before a fire, that the wax might gradually pene¬
trate the body, and fill the interstices of the texture of the
cloth, which when cool was painted upon; but as water¬
colours, or those which are mixed up with common water,
will not adhere to the wax, the count directs that the can¬
vas or panel thus prepared be first rubbed over with Spanish
white. When the picture is dry, it is to be placed near a
fire, when the wax melts and absorbs the colours.
Mr J. H. Muntz, in a treatise on this subject, proposed
several improvements. If the painting be on cloth, he di¬
rects it to be prepared by rubbing one side several times,
over with a piece of virgin wax, till it be coated to a con¬
siderable thickness. In fine linen this is the only operation
necessary previous to painting; but coarse cloth must be
smoothed on the unwaxed side with a pumice-stone. The
subject is then to be painted on the unwaxed side with co¬
lours prepared and tempered with water; and when the
picture is finished, it is to be exposed to the fire, that the
wax may melt and fix the colours. Crayons may be used
in a similar manner.
ENCEINTE (Fr. from cingere, to gird), in Fortifica¬
tion, the interior wall or rampart which surrounds a place ;
sometimes composed of bastions or curtains, and sometimes
only flanked by towers, which is called a Roman wall.
ENCHANTMENT. See Divination ; Magic; Dae¬
mon ; Witchcraft.
ENCHASING, or Chasing, the art of embossing or
making figures in low relief upon gold, silver, and other
metals. It is practised only on hollow thin works, such as
watch-cases, tankards, cups, &c. The design having been
traced on the exterior surface of the metal, the work is
hammered upon steel blocks or puncheons introduced with¬
in ; and thus the workman proceeds to indent the metal by
the successive application of the block and hammer to the
several parts of the design ; after which the work is cleared
with small chisels and gravers. In this simple manner a
skilful artist is able to represent foliages, figures, &c. with
admirable precision.
ENCHORIAL Characters. See Demotic.
ENCYCLOPAEDIA (eV in, kvkXos a circle, TraiSeio. in¬
struction), a term nearly synonymous with Cyclopaedia,
but adopted in preference to it in denominating the pre¬
sent work, as being etymologically more definite and com¬
plete. For, as it has been justly remarked—Cyclopcedia
may denote “ the instruction of a circle,” as Cyropcedia is
“ the instruction of Cyrus;” whereas in ENcyclopcedia, the
preposition determines the meaning to be “ instruction in
a circle.” Vossius, in his book De Vitiis Sermonis, ob¬
serves—“ that Cyclopcedia is used by some authors, but
Encyclopcedia by the best.” Some account of the history
and merits of the different Encyclopaedias which have ap¬
peared will be found in the General Preface to this work.
ENDEMIC, or Endemial (ev amongst, 8r//xo? the peo¬
ple), peculiar to a people or nation. Endemic diseases are
those to which the inhabitants of a particular district are
peculiarly subject, and which, for that reason, are attributed
Endogens
II
Enfield.
E N F
to such causes as bad air or water, or the manner of liv¬
ing. Thus agues or intermittent fevers are endemic in low
marshy districts; the goitre in the Alps; plica trichosis
or Polonica in Poland.
Epidemic, again, is applied to those diseases which, in¬
dependently of such causes, seize many persons at or about
the same season, in the same country or district. Thus,
influenza, measles, scarlet-fever, &c., are sometimes epide¬
mic. It may be observed—that according to the medical
notion of the term, it is essential that the prevalence of the
disease be tempoi'ary.
ENDOGENS, one of the primary classes of plants,
which includes those of which the stems grow by successive
additions to the interior; as in the palms, grasses, and lilia¬
ceous plants.
END OR, a town of Galilee; chiefly memorable as the
abode of the sorceress whom Saul consulted on the eve of
the battle in which he perished (1 Sam. xxviii.) In the
time of Eusebius and Jerome it still existed as a large vil¬
lage, 4 miles S. of Mount Tabor ; and at this distance, on
the northern slope of the lower ridge of Hermon, there is
still a village of this name.
ENDYMION, the poetic impersonation of perennial
sleep. By the ancient mythologists he is variously repre¬
sented as the successor of Aethlius on the throne of Elis,
or as a shepherd or huntsman perpetually asleep in the caves
of Mount Latmus in Caria, and lulled by the kisses of the
fair Selene, the goddess of the moon. According to the
former and more prosaic tradition he was the son of Aeth¬
lius and Calyce ; and on his wandering to Caria, was suc¬
ceeded by his son Epeius, who won the crown of Elis by a
successful contest in the race-course at Olympia. He was
thrown into an eternal sleep either as a punishment or as a
gift from Jupiter ; or according to others, under the spell of
the enamoured Selene. On tins legend Keats has founded
his exquisite poetical romance of Endymion.
ENFIELD, William, LL.D., a Dissenting divine of
considerable eminence, was born at Sudbury in 1741. He
received his education at the Dissenting academy at Da-
ventry, then conducted by Dr Ashworth, and was chosen
minister of the congregation of Benn’s Garden, Liverpool,
in 1763, During his residence in Liverpool he published
two volumes of sermons, as well as a collection of hymns
and family prayers, which met with a very favourable recep¬
tion. In 1770 he was appointed tutor and lecturer on the
belles-lettres at Warrington academy, p.n office which he
held till the dissolution of the academy in 1783, After the
interval of a few years spent in private tuition, he was
chosen pastor of the Dissenting congregation of Octagon
Street, jvhere he remained till his death, which took place
Nov, 3, 1797, in the 57th year of his age. During his re¬
sidence in Liverpool he married the daughter of a respect¬
able draper in that city, and to her he was much indebted
for the tranquillity and happiness of his life. Of the works
of Dr Enfield a considerable number are mere compilations
in which no higher quality is displayed than the taste which
dictated the selection. To this class belong the Preacher’s
Directory, the English Preacher, the Speaker, and others,
Among his original works, however, and especially those
published or written at the close of his life, there are some
that display considerable powers of thought and great ele¬
gance of expression. His posthumous sermons on the prin¬
cipal characters of the Old and New Testaments not only
evince the author’s ability as a commentator, but show pro¬
found insight into the ethics of history. At the recommenda¬
tion of Dr Bagot, bishop of Norwich, he published an abridg¬
ment of Brucker’s History of Philosophy, in 2 vols. 4to.
He also wrote a work entitled the Institutes of Natural 1 hi-
losophy, theoretical and experimental, 4to, 1 /83 ; esi es a
variety of occasional pamphlets and serrmms.
Enfield, a village of the hundred of Edmonton, in e
E N F
655
county of Middlesex, 10 miles from London. There are Enfilade
the remains of an ancient royal palace, in which Edward ||
VI. kept his court, and where Elizabeth rested on her way Engineer-
to London in order to assume the crown. Near to it was
Enfield chase, disforested in 1779, divided between various
parishes and the crown, and now occupied by several coun¬
try seats of the more opulent traders of London, The
parish is extensive. Pop. (1851) 9453,
ENFILADE, in the military art, is used of the situation
of a trench or other place which may be scoured by shot
along its whole length. To enfilade, signifies to scour or
rake with shot through the whole length of such line.
ENGADINE, the largest valley of Switzerland, after
the Vallais, is in the Canton of the Grisons, and extends
from S.W. to N.E. between the Lepontian and Rhaetian
Alps. It is 18 leagues in length, with an average breadth
of half a league, and is traversed through its entire extent by
the Inn. The valley is rich in pasture, and a great part of
the mountains are covered with pine forests ; the climate
is cold, and snow is absent only from June to September.
ENGASTRIMYTHI, in Pagan theology, the Pythias
or priestesses of Apollo who delivered oracles without any
action of the mouth or lips. The ancient philosophers, and
others, are divided upon the subject of the engastrimythi.
Hippocrates mentions this peculiar manifestation as a di¬
sease ; some have regarded it as a kind of divination ; others
attribute it to the agency of an evil spirit; and others
again to art and mechanism. Scotus supposes that the
engastrimythi were poets, who, when the priestesses could not
speak, supplied the defect by explaining in verse what
Apollo dictated in the cavity of the sacred tripod.
ENGHIEN, a town of Belgium, province of Hainault, 18
miles N.N.E. of Mons. Pop. (1851) 3/85, It has a fine
chateau with a park and garden, a gymnasium, and manu¬
factures of linen and cotton stuffs.
Enghien, Louis-Antoine—Henri de Bourbon Conde,
Due d’Enghien, was born at Chantilly on the 2d of August
1772. He quitted France with the French princes in 1789,
and travelled till 1792 in Belgium and Piedmont, where,
the emigrants having formed several corps, the Due
d’Enghien served in the army of the Conde and greatly dis¬
tinguished himself in numerous engagements. At the
treaty of Luneville the corps of Conde wras disbanded, and
he was forced to lay down his arms. He then letiied to
Ettenheim, an ancient residence of the Cardinal de Rohan,
on the right bank of the Rhine, four leagues from Stiasburg,
in the electorate of Baden, accompanied by Mademoiselle
de Rohan, with whom he had formed a connection in 1794,
which was only terminated with his death in 1804. (For an
account of his seizure and murder, see France.)
ENGINEER, properly signifies a person who is em¬
ployed in devising or constructing engines or machines, and
in directing their applications. .
The Military Engineer is an officer whose business it is
to delineate the plans and direct the formation of military
works, and to regulate attacks and defences. The branches
of knowledge which more particularly relate to his profes¬
sion are treated under the heads Artilleiu, Fortifica¬
tion, Gunnery, and War. .
The Civil Engineer is one who applies the principles or
mechanical and physical philosophy to the construction of
the machines and public works by which the arts and accom¬
modations of civil life are rendered more efficient, exten¬
sive, and secure. The subjects which more immediate y
belong to his important calling are treated under the fol¬
lowing heads ; Bridge, Carpentry, Docks, Gas-Lights,
Navigation, Navigation Inland, Railways, Roads,
Lighthouses, Ship-Building, I unnels, Water-w orks,
&c.; and also under the heads Dynamics, Hydrodyna¬
mics, Machinery, Mensuration, Resistance of h luids,
Strength of Materials, &c.
656
ENGLAND,
History. The southern division of the island of Great Britain. In
 ' treating of this grand division of the British empire, we
'00, shall divide the subject into three Parts; the first com¬
prehending the History of England, the second the Statis- History,
tics of that country, and the third some account of its
Government and Laws. 80°*
PART I.
HISTOPtY.
The history of England, till the period of the Saxon
Conquest, has been fully treated of in the first chapter of
the article Britain. After that event the country relapsed
into a state of obscure barbarism, nearly as great as that
from which it had been rescued by the Romans. The pro¬
vincial Britons had profited by their intercourse with that
great people. From the latter they had learned many of
the arts of civilized life, and during the period of their sub¬
jugation they had erected a considerable number of cities,
towns, and villages; but these were subsequently levelled
with the ground by barbarian invaders, and the natives
were frequently involved in the same ruin with their habi¬
tations. We are informed by one historian that a mighty
conflagration began on the western coast, and gradually
extended itself over the whole island. To escape from the
exterminating swords of the Saxons, the Britons sought
refuge in their native fastnesses; and thus the spark of
civilization which had been struck out amongst them, and
which, in more auspicious circumstances, might have kin¬
dled into a generous flame, was totally extinguished.
About the year 700, the island of Great Britain was di¬
vided into no fewer than fifteen sovereignties. Of these,
eight were Saxon ; but the union of the two Northumbrian
principalities reduced the number to seven ; and from this
circumstance, as well as from some vague alliance amongst
these petty states, historians have designated the whole
by the name of the Heptarchy. They ruled over a con¬
siderable portion of England, and whilst they waged a
fierce and endless war with every other kingdom in the
island, they also maintained amongst themselves a con¬
tinual struggle for the superiority. It would appear that
one state usually exercised an undefined power over all
the others ; and the prince who possessed this equivocal as¬
cendency had the title of Bretwalda, or wielder of the Bri¬
tons, bestowed upon him. The history of this period is not
characterized by any event which would lead us to take
an interest in the fluctuating fortunes of the various states.
Our information relating to the earliest portion of the
Saxon rule is also scanty; but what we do possess is not
of such a nature as to awaken any feelings of regret that
more minute particulars have not been transmitted to us.
Details of the shedding of kindred blood, and acts of op¬
pression, treachery, and cruelty, exercised towards the
natives by the fierce invaders of their soil, are not calcu¬
lated to interest human feelings. The re-introduction of
Christianity, however, in some degree alleviated the dark¬
ness of the picture. The exact date of its first appearance
in Britain is uncertain, but it had made some progress
before the close of the second century. It disappeared how¬
ever, with the other traces of civilization, when the Saxons
commenced their devastations. It was in the year 596 that
Gregory the Great sent over St Augustin, with forty other
missionaries, to convert the Saxons ; and their arrival in
Kent marks a new era in its history, and probably in that
of the country. At this period Kent was governed by Ethe-
bert, an able and powerful monarch, and the third who bore
the title of Bretwalda. He received kindly the deputies of
Rome, and became a convert to their doctrine; an exam¬
ple which his subjects were not slow in following. From
this period the spread of the Christian faith over the island
appears to have been rapid; for we find that in about a
century after the arrival of St Augustin it was professed
and believed throughout Anglo-Saxon Britain. That it
conferred many temporal benefits upon the community,
cannot be doubted. But, however its divine precepts may
have influenced the conduct and ameliorated the lot of
individuals, crimes upon a great scale continued to be per¬
petrated as formerly. It may have mitigated the horrors
of war, but battle followed on battle with as uniform a
succession, and native blood flowed as freely, as hereto¬
fore. The continual struggle amongst the Anglo-Saxon
principalities for the supremacy was however fast coming
to a crisis. It is evident that such a state of affairs could
not continue for any length of time, and that it must ne¬
cessarily end in the establishment of a regular hereditary
magistracy in the island. This took place partially at the
beginning of the eighth century, in the person of Egbert,
king of Wessex, who was a lineal descendant, and the only
surviving prince, of the house of Cerdic, the founder of
that kingdom. The great talents which he early exhibited
had given offence to Brihtric, king of Wessex, who, jealous
of his popularity, projected his destruction. Egbert, how¬
ever, eluded his vengeance, and fled for protection to Offa,
king of Mercia, a monarch illustrious for the talents he dis¬
played and the prosperity he enjoyed, but whose name is
stained with perfidy and blood. Thither the vindictive Brih¬
tric pursued the youthful fugitive, who was finally com¬
pelled to cross the channel and to seek shelter beneath the
broad shield of the victorious Charlemagne. France, go¬
verned by that renowned sovereign, excelled all the states
of the West in civilization and the arts of government, as
well as those of war. Trained in such a school, therefore,
and early disciplined by adversity, he was undergoing an
admirable probation for wielding with judgment and mo¬
deration the perilous sceptre which was destined to be
transferred into his hands. The death of Brihtric, who
perished by the machinations of his queen, recalled the
fugitive from his exile. In Wessex the claim of Egbert
was at once acknowledged, while his accession to the
throne of his celebrated ancestor, an event highly popular
in itself, was ennobled by a victory, the omen of many a
future triumph.
At this period the island, though nominally under a a. d. 800.
hexarchy, was rapidly verging to a triarchy, from several
of the smaller states becoming gradually blended and
identified with their more powerful neighbours. Wessex
had been enlarged by the incorporation of Sussex; and
various favourable circumstances conspired to concentrate
in the hands of Egbert a well-organized power, which he
was prepared to wield when summoned by any great emer¬
gency. For several years, however, after his accession to
the throne, his sword remained in its sheath ; and this pro-
ENGLAND.
657
History, pitious period of tranquillity afforded him an opportunity
of turning his undivided attention to the affairs of govern-
ment. His administration was as mild as it appears to
have been politic; circumstances which completed the
attachment of his subjects, and consolidated his growing
strength. It was upon the unfortunate Britons of the west
that he first made trial of his military prowess. About the
year 809 the struggle between him and the natives com¬
menced. The latter made a strenuous but unavailing
resistance ; and Egbert carried the havoc of war and the
flames of destruction from the east to the west. In a few
years the greater part of modern Wales, as well as the
people who occupied the northern shore of the estuary
of the Severn, acknowledged his authority. The king of
Mercia, whose strength had been augmented by the ap¬
propriation of the petty sovereignties of Kent, Essex, and
East Anglia, was now the only rival for the supreme au¬
thority whom Egbert had to fear or to contend withal.
Their power was nearly equally balanced, for what Wes¬
sex wanted in numerical force was compensated by dis¬
cipline and skill. War had now become inevitable; nei¬
ther would brook a superior, and only one Bretwalda could
be acknowledged. The conflict began, therefore, and was
speedily brought to a termination. In an obstinate and
bloody battle the king of Mercia was totally defeated, and
Egbert became lord of the ascendant. State after state
was annexed to Wessex; Mercia was invaded and sub¬
dued ; and in nineteen years after he had first drawn the
sword, Egbert was acknowledged over the greater part of
the island as the eighth Bretwalda.
The authority of Egbert, however, still continued doubt¬
ful ; and the Anglo-Saxon power was as yet very far from
being consolidated. The fortunes and immunities of those
composing the several states were not dependent upon one
common legislature; and in regard to the details of govern¬
ment, the whole principalities remained as distinct from
each other as before. W'ales still continued to annoy him ;
and it was not until he had marched an army to Snowden
that North Wales quietly submitted to that of the Saxon
Bretwalda. But new and more formidable enemies than
any he had yet encountered had begun to threaten Eng¬
land, and trouble the tranquillity which it in some mea¬
sure enjoyed. These were Scandinavians, recognised in
France by the name of Normans, and in England by that of
Danes. Familiarized, from their maritime situation, to the
dangers of the ocean, this people, like the Saxons of old,
spent the greater portion of their time upon its waves. A
pernicious law of succession, which consigned the whole pa¬
trimony to the eldest son, drove the younger branches of
families to seek their fortunes by means of their ships and
their swords. It was only in this manner that they could ac¬
quire riches and renown ; and such pursuits were peculiarly
agreeable to a people who unhappily preferred the acqui¬
sitions of rapine to the fruits of laborious industry. It was
the custom of these pirates to set sail for some distant
province in squadrons, under the command of chieftains
called Vikingr, or Sea-Kings. After pillaging the coast
where they landed, they collected the spoil and returned
to their own country, where they disencumbered them¬
selves of their booty and prepared for fresh expeditions.
Three descents upon England are recorded as having
taken place in tlie eighth century, but these attempts pro¬
duced no permanent alarm. Towards the termination ot
Egbert’s reign, however, the numbers of the pirates great¬
ly0 increased, whilst their visits were annually renewed ;
and for two centuries to come the country was destined to
be a prey to these fierce and fearless invadeis.
After making several successful inroads into various
parts of England, in 835 they landed on the coast of Coin-
wall, where they succeeded in seducing the Britons from
VOL. VIII.
901.
their allegiance. The king of Wessex met the united History,
forces of the enemy at Hengstone Hill, and gained a v
bloody but decisive victory, which restored the glory of
his arms. This was the last exploit of Egbert, who died
the year following, after a reign as prosperous as it was
long, and which, allowing something for the condition ot
society at the period, may also be termed glorious.
Ethelwolf succeeded his father on the throne of Wes¬
sex; but an unfortunate arrangement, by which the for¬
mer king bequeathed all his dominions except Wessex to a
younger son, greatly weakened the power of his successor,
and lessened the influence of the Bretwalda. Ethelwolf had
been a monk, and appears to have been better adapted for
the cloister which he had left than the throne which he
now ascended. The history of his reign presents little of
interest or variety. It is merely an account of the atro¬
cities of the Danes, who made repeated descents upon
England, laying waste the country, plundering towns, and
despoiling the rich monasteries, where treasure was sup¬
posed to have been accumulated. No defeat, however
signal and decisive for the time, was capable of perma¬
nently expelling them from the island; and although routed
and compelled to flee for shelter to their ships one year,
they returned the next with persevering audacity. In
the meanwhile Ethelwolf found leisure to perform a pil¬
grimage to Rome; and in passing through France on his
journey homewards,, he espoused Judith the daughter of
Charles the Bald, king of the Franks. But he was not
permitted to enjoy undisturbed domestic tranquillity. On
his return to England he found his son Ethelbald at the
head of a formidable conspiracy, which threatened him
with deposition and exile. The two parties, however,
came without bloodshed to terms of accommodation. It
was agreed that Ethelwolf should possess the eastern states
appertaining to Wessex, whilst the kingdom of Wessex
proper, which belonged of right to the head of the family,
should be enjoyed by Ethelbald, but, it would appear, with
a nominal subjection to his father. Ethelwolf survived
these arrangements only a few years, having died in 858.
After his demise Ethelbald continued to occupy the
throne of Wessex; whilst Ethelbert, a younger brother,
succeeded to the government which had been left va¬
cant by the death of his father; but both these princes
died in a few years, and left their thrones to their brother
Ethelred, who assumed the sceptre at a most unpropitious
period. Not only was the kingdom divided against itself,
but the Danes, acting now in a well-organized confederacy,
and terrible from their numbers as well as from the fre¬
quency of their inroads, threatened the total annihilation
of the Saxon dynasty and the subjugation of the island.
In the reign of Ethelred ancient chroniclers present us
with little else than accounts of battles fought and towns
sacked, prolonged by all the sickening minutiae of rapine
and bloodshed. The conflicts were numerous and san¬
guinary ; and in one of these, which took place at Merton
in the year 870, the king received a wound of which he
soon afterwards died.
By the death of Ethelred the throne of Wessex devolv¬
ed upon Alfred, the fifth and favourite son of Ethelwolf.
As an account of this extraordinary individual has already
been given under the head of Alfred, it is unnecessary
to recapitulate the events of his life. He was succeeded by
his son Edward, who ascended what may now almost be
termed the throne of England, in the year 901. Alfred
had been called to the crown in preference to the children
of his elder brother, who were considered at the time as
too young to be entrusted with the government. Their
pretensions being also set aside at his death, Ethelwold,
one of the rejected princes, attempted by violence to seize
hold of the royal authority. He formed an alliance with
4 o
ENGLAND.
658
History, the Danes and other enemies of Edward; but in a battle
-Y-'—'' with the men of Kent he met his fate, and the island was
once more rescued from a destructive competition for the
crown.
Previously to this event the Danes had contrived, by a
union with some of the disaffected provinces, to obtain a
kind of permanent footing in the country. They possess¬
ed the north of England from the Humber to the Tweed,
and the eastern districts from the Ouse to the sea. Em¬
boldened by their strength, they invaded Mercia, but were
met by Edward, who obtained over them a decisive vic¬
tory, which effectually restored his supremacy. The most
remarkable individual after Edward was his sister Ethel-
fleda, upon whom the mantle of Alfred seems to have de¬
scended. She governed Mercia, and vigorously seconded
her brother in fortifying the country against the common
enemy. Upon her death in 920 the Anglo-Saxon mo¬
narchy received additional security from the final incor¬
poration of Mercia with Wessex. After various successes
over his northern and other enemies, Edward the elder
expired at Farrington in Berkshire, in the year 924. This
monarch would appear to greater advantage were he not
viewed in such close proximity to Alfred the Great, the
brilliancy of whose reign was calculated to eclipse that
of his successor, had the latter been even a greater man
than he actually was. Edward, however, was a great
man, and every way worthy to wield the sceptre of his
father, which he did with uncommon judgment and suc¬
cess.
He was succeeded by his son Athelstane, whom histo¬
rians, on the faith of an old song, are in the habit of styl¬
ing illegitimate; but a contemporary poetess has recog¬
nised his mother as the partner of Edward’s throne, a
circumstance which fairly balances the former authority.
There is one argument in favour of his legitimacy, which,
as far as we are aware, has been overlooked; it is the ex¬
ceeding partiality evinced towards him by his grandfather
Alfred. It seems improbable that an individual, whose
moral rectitude and ardent piety were so conspicuous as
those of Alfred, should have singled out as his especial
favourite one whose birth was a public scandal; that he
should also have invested him with the insignia of knight¬
hood whilst yet a child, and looked upon him as the fu¬
ture hope of Britain, more especially as, supposing the
youth to have been a natural son, the legitimate children
of his father had a preferable right to the throne. Viewing
the matter in this light, the truth of the hypothesis that
Athelstane was the fruit of a union sanctioned by law and
religion appears highly probable, even allowing that the
distinction of natural from legitimate children was at that
period somewhat faint. It does not appear to have been
so in the mind of Alfred the Great.
Athelstane was thirty years of age when his father ex¬
pired ; and Mercia immediately, and Wessex shortly after¬
wards, recognised him as king. Opposition was, however,
experienced in other quarters; but he ultimately suc¬
ceeded in seating himself firmly upon the throne, and
fully justified the early popularity he enjoyed with his
grandfather. In the person of Athelstane the Anglo-
Saxon sovereign became a character of dignity and con¬
sequence in Europe. His connections with the most re¬
spectable potentates on the Continent gave to his reign a
political importance, and he is moreover entitled to be
considered as the first monarch of England.
The sovereignty of the whole island appears to have
been the object of Athelstane’s ambition. In his military
enterprises he was completely successful, and compelled
the princes of the Scots, Cambrians, and Britons, to swear
fealty to him, in the same manner as the Saxon vassal was
accustomed to swear to his lord. But his prosperity was
interrupted by a powerful confederacy formed against him, History,
which threatened not only to emancipate Northumbria
from his authority, but even to overwhelm his hereditary 9',5•
government. The confederates were Constantine king of
the Scots, and Anlaff the son of Sigtryg or Sihtric, who
was king of Northumbria at the time of Athelstane’s ac¬
cession. Anlaff had received the hand of Athelstane’s
sister; but he drove her from his court, for which barbar¬
ous conduct the Anglo-Saxon monarch stripped him of
his kingdom and ejected him from the island. Anlaff’ had
fled to Ireland, whence he returned with a large fleet, in
order to retaliate the insult of his expulsion. The re¬
maining malcontents were the Welsh princes who had been
humbled into submission, the Danes who inhabited the
eastern coast from Tweed to Thames, the petty states of
Cambria, and a constantly increasing host of lawless pi¬
rates and freebooters from Scandinavia.
Athelstane prepared with firmness and energy to meet
the storm which threatened him with destruction. The
armies met at Brunanburgh in Northumbria, and a battle
was fought, celebrated in Saxon and Scandinavian poetry.
The confederates were routed with great slaughter, and
Anlaff and Constantine effected their escape with great
difficulty. So complete was the overthrow, and so decisive
the victory, that the remainder of Athelstane’s reign was
undisturbed by the rebellion of his subjects or the inva¬
sion of a foreign enemy. The throne of his ancestors
was now effectually secured to him ; and the Britons were
so completely humbled, that to him belongs the glory of
having been the founder of the English monarchy. The
fame of his accomplishments, his talents, and his suc¬
cesses, was not confined to the insulated kingdom which
he governed; it extended throughout all Christendom.
With several foreign courts he maintained a friendly corre¬
spondence ; and three princes, who afterwards became emi¬
nent in Europe, were fostered under his care, and restored
by his aid or influence. These wrere Haco of Norway,
Alan of Bretagne, and the son of his sister, Louis d’Ou-
tremer, so called from his residence in England. A con¬
cern in the death of a brother named Edwin is generally
ascribed to him, but the story is somewhat doubtful; and
if the other events of Athelstane’s life, his public services
and private virtues, be allowed to have any influence upon
our judgment, it must be pronounced as improbable. Athel¬
stane died in the year 940, regretted by his subjects,
amongst whom he was revered as a prince alike distin¬
guished for wisdom, justice, and benevolence.
Having left no issue, he was succeeded by his brother
Edmund, who perished by the dagger of an assassin six
years afterwards. The life of this king is not characterized
by any events of importance. He was succeeded by his
brother Edred, whose reign was short, and distinguished
by no remarkable circumstance, except the complete in¬
corporation of Northumbria with the rest of the Anglo-
Saxon kingdom.
Edred died in 955, and left the throne to Edwin, who is
usually styled Edwy, the eldest son of Edmund the Elder.
The name of this monarch is intimately connected with that
of the celebrated Dunstan, abbot of Glastonbury. The life
of that individual having been already given under the
head of Dunstan, we shall only mention here a few cir¬
cumstances which are indispensably necessary to the com¬
plete chain of historical events. The reign of his uncle
Edred had been looked upon by Edwy as a usurpation,
and when he himself ascended the throne, the counsellors
of the former monarch became the objects of his antipathy.
He discarded them altogether, and surrounded himself
with a host of young courtiers, more ready to emulate
the vices of their master than to suggest prudent mea¬
sures of government. At their instigation Edwy imposed
I
ENGLAND.
659
History, unjust taxes upon his subjects, despoiled the clergy, and
committed other unseemly acts. Dunstan, having been
one of the leading advisers of Edred, was most probably
obnoxious to the young king ; and at his coronation a cir¬
cumstance occurred which brought the hostile parties
immediately into collision. On that day Edwin, after the
ceremony, withdrew from the festive board at which the
nobles and clergy were regaling themselves, and retired
to his own apartments. This indecorous act appears to
have displeased the assembly; and Odo, archbishop of
Canterbury, deputed Dunstan and another individual to
bring back the king to join in their carousals. Dunstan
penetrated into the private apartments of his sovereign,
whom he found in company with Ethelgiva or Elgiva, his
wife or mistress; the mother of the latter was also pre¬
sent. The two deputies forcibly tore the king from the
company of the ladies, and brought him back to that of
the nobles. This daring and insolent conduct of the monk
towards the newly-consecrated monarch drew down upon
him the royal vengeance. At the instigation of Elgiva,
Dunstan was deprived of his honours, and condemned to
exile. During his absence, Odo contrived to take Elgiva
from her husband’s residence, and send her a prisoner to
Ireland, where her face was branded with red-hot irons,
for the purpose of obliterating her charms; but in vain.
They revived with the healing of the wounds ; but on her
return to England she was pursued by the opposite party,
who falling in with her at Gloucester, actually hamstrung
the unfortunate fair one. In a few days death released
her from the vengeance of her enemies and from her own
sufferings.1 In the meanwhile a conspiracy was formed
against the now unpopular Edwy; and at the head of it
was his brother Edgar, who, supported by the Northum¬
brians and Mercians, drove the unfortunate monarch be¬
yond the Thames. His sufferings and humiliation, how¬
ever, were of short duration, for he died in 959, ere he
had attained the full age of manhood. By some histo¬
rians he is said to have been assassinated; others state
that he pined to death for the loss of his throne, and his
Elgiva, whom he tenderly loved; but all agree that his
demise was as miserable as it was premature. His youth
was the source of all his calamities, for it seems certain
that he was only sixteen or seventeen years of age when
he assumed the sceptre. He had also the misfortune to
live at a very critical period. It was the commencement
of that struggle between seculars and regulars which was
to be maintained for many centuries thereafter. I he in¬
trusion of Dunstan into the king’s private chamber was
the earnest of many a bold step upon the part of the
clergy. It is thus memorable as being one of the earliest
instances in our history, of the putting forth of that over¬
whelming strength with which the church of Kome was
armed, and which was destined ere long to exercise so.
preponderating an influence over the political affairs of
every court in Christendom, whose haughtiest monarchs
were soon taught to tremble at the thunder of the Vatican.
The death of Edwin put his brother and rival Edgar
in peaceable possession of the whole Anglo-Saxon teni-
tory. His reign was tranquil, neither foreign enemy
nor domestic broils having interrupted its quiet, so that
posterity has styled him “ the peaceful.” The only event
of a warlike character ascribed to him is an invasion of
Wales. In his personal character he was distinguished
alike for his religious zeal and for his licentiousness. A few
facts relating to each of these may be stated here. He
959.
espoused the cause of the monks, and, during the sixteen History,
years of his reign, erected a vast number of Benedictine
monasteries. He recalled Dunstan from exile, placed the
bold saint at his right hand as chief counsellor, and con¬
ferred upon him the see of Canterbury. In this situation that
celebrated ecclesiastic prosecuted his ambitious schemes
connected with the order to which he belonged with re¬
doubled vigour. He expelled the clergy from the mo¬
nasteries, and supplied their places with Benedictines,
making the rule of their founder everywhere predomi¬
nant throughout the nation.
We now find the church so intimately mixed up with
political affairs, that some account of it is necessary for
the elucidation of history. Although religious indivi¬
duals had been collected in monasteries from the period
of Augustin’s landing in Kent, yet the order of Benedic¬
tines seems to be the most ancient example of monastic
rule. Each congregation of recluses lived according to
its own internal regulations, nor were the several monas¬
teries consolidated into one community before the time of
Dunstan. The Scottish or Irish, the Pictish and British
churches, though in communion with Rome, were still
independent of the papal see; and it was the object of
the popes to suppress this independence of the different
national churches; a cause which was warmly espoused by
Dunstan. Plis policy was to enforce clerical celibacy; to
expel at least all the married clergy from canonries and
prebends in cathedrals, in order to make way for Bene¬
dictines ; and to reduce all monasteries to the rule of the
founder of that order. The opposition he encountered
was formidable, and the cause of the clergy was espoused
by the laity. Amongst the latter the secular priests found
many powerful partizans, and the schisms of the church
at last degenerated into factions amongst the people. But
Dunstan was impetuous, and determined to carry through
the reformation which he had begun, for he looked upon
himself in the light of a reformer; and although the ex¬
tension of his own power and that of his order may have
been so blended with his zeal for the service of God as to
deceive even himself, yet there seems no reason to doubt
his sincerity. That there were many clerical abuses to be
corrected, is consistent with the history of religion in all
ages. The Danish invasions, and other national calami¬
ties, dispersed the clergy amongst the laity, with whose
vices they doubtless became contaminated. The necessi¬
ties of his situation compelled the prelate to be a states¬
man and an intriguer. He made some progress during the
reign of Edred ; in that of Edwy we have seen him check¬
ed ; but in the present one, invested with the highest ec¬
clesiastical dignities, and backed by the power of his sove¬
reign, he appears before us under auspices which enabled
him to carry his lof tiest projects into execution. And he
was not slow in seizing the opportunity. Not content
with the ordinary engines of intrigue and supple policy, he
drew upon the superstitious feelings of the time, and arro¬
gated to himself divine intuition and the power o working
miracles. He succeeded in deceiving that unenlightened
age, and perhaps also himself.
The foregoing remarks may afford a key to some of
the more prominent events of Edgar s reign. A national
synod was held, at which the king publicly expressed his
sentiments in favour of the Benedictine cause. It fol¬
lowed as a consequence of this, that the unfortunate se¬
culars were ejected if they refused to comply with the
enactments made by Dunstan and his party, under the
I’SiSiriCf.U’in K!" Ji bj
and praised by the encomiasts, of the archbishop.
660 ENGL
History, sanction of the sovereign ; whilst monks were everywhere
received with honour, and the erection of monasteries was
975. for a time a royal mania. During the sixteen years of
his reign Edgar built no less than forty-eight of these
establishments.
In the midst of all this holy zeal, however, he found
leisure for the indulgence of his licentious appetites. On
one occasion he violently carried off a young lady edu¬
cated in a convent, and made her his concubine. For
this offence he was reproved by Dunstan, and compelled to
do penance during seven years ; but the mortifications im¬
posed were not of a very severe character. His second
marriage was connected with circumstances of a very tra¬
gical nature. The beauty of a young and noble lady hav¬
ing been praised to him, he commissioned Ethelwold, a
favourite minister, to visit her residence, and report upon
her charms. The deputy was himself captivated with the
lady. He represented her in an unfavourable light to his
sovereign, and married her himself; but Edgar, not being
satisfied with the report, paid a personal visit to Elfriua,
and, fascinated by her beauty, he procured the destruction
of her husband, and espoused the bereaved lady himself.1
In extenuation of these delinquencies, he has been al¬
lowed the honourable distinction of having warmly patron¬
ized trade with foreigners. His commuting the tribute
from Wales into three hundred wolves’ heads, and his re¬
formation of the coinage, also redound to his credit. By
his orders a numerous fleet constantly guarded the king¬
dom from invasion, and he regularly visited his provinces
in order to countenance the execution of the laws. His
reign was glorious, and he seems to have converted his
prosperity into ostentatious pomp. It is stated that eight
kings, amongst whom were Kenneth of Scotland, and his
son Malcolm of Cimbria, did him homage by rowing his
barge down the river Dee.
Edgar died in 975, in the thirty-second year of his age,
and was succeeded by Edward, surnamed the Martyr, his
eldest son. A younger brother, Ethelred, by Elfrida, dis¬
puted the crown with Edward ; but the latter was finally
established upon the throne through the influence of Dun¬
stan. His reign was chiefly occupied with disputes be¬
tween the two clerical systems before mentioned, Elfrida
having, on account of her son Ethelred, espoused the cause
of the seculars, in opposition to Dunstan, who headed
the regulars, and who was also the means of supplanting
her son. The monks gained a complete victory over the
seculars, who were now totally expelled from their con¬
vents. During this reign occurred that tragical circum¬
stance which has afforded modern historians an opportu¬
nity of accusing the primate of murder. A council of nobles
had been summoned to meet at Caine. During the pro¬
ceedings, and just as the wily Dunstan had pronounced
these words, “ I confess I am unwilling to be overcome;
I commit the cause of the church to the decision of God,”
AND.
the floor fell instantly down, and numbers of his opponents History,
were killed and wmunded. The primate, and probably
his partizans, escaped unhurt, a circumstance which can 881'
only be accounted for by supposing that their seat re¬
mained unmoved. Some historians charge Dunstan with
having secretly loosened the floor from the walls, and affirm
that during the debate the temporary props which support¬
ed it were withdrawn according to his directions. This
is very improbable; but there can be little doubt that he
interpreted the occurrence as a divine judgment upon his
enemies, and thus wrought upon the prejudices of that
superstitious age. Several heinous crimes are laid to the
charge of the queen dowager, but the last was the darkest
and most atrocious of all. Edward, in one of his hunting
excursions, visited Corfe Castle, in Dorsetshire, where El¬
frida resided with her son Ethelred. He was received with
the utmost cordiality, and invited to enter the castle, but
declined, requesting at the same time to see his brother,
and also the favour of some refreshment. Whilst in the
act of raising a cup of wine to his lips, he was mortally
stabbed in the back by the orders of his stepmother. On
account of his violent death he has been surnamed the
Martyr.
Edward was succeeded in 978 by Ethelred, the uncon¬
scious cause of his untimely fate. When the latter attained
the crown he was only in his boyhood, and throughout a
long life he never rose above it. This is one of those reigns
which it is painful to narrate. It was the saddest which
the descendants of Alfred yet had seen, and presents a
strong contrast to that of his father. Edward compelled
kings to be his watermen. His son by Elfrida became the
sport of traitors ; and having five times purchased his crown
from the roving Danes, he was forced at last to make an
ignominious surrender of it to a foreign invader.
For more than a century the Northmen had formed the
chief part of the population of Northumberland and East
Anglia, and they now stretched their power to the utmost
in order to place one of their chiefs upon the Saxon throne.
In 980, and for ten years thereafter, England was insulted
by a series of inroads, which, although unimportant of
themselves, were calculated to excite some alarm amongst
the people, when the latter contemplated on the one hand
the power and audacity of the Danes, and on the other a
pusillanimous monarch and an unguarded country. But
these petty aggressions were followed, in 991, by the ap¬
pearance of a formidable armament upon the English
coast. The invaders advanced without opposition as far as
Malden, where they gained a victory, and their retreat was
disgracefully purchased by a bribe of ten thousand pounds.
Repeatedly afterwards did the Northmen play the same
game, and Ethelred make the same debasing submission,
by purchasing a momentary respite from their ravages.
But the very means which were employed to rid the king¬
dom of these invaders one year, insured their return the
Dr Lingard, in his History of England, vol. i. p. 333, states that he is disposed to doubt this tale as improbable. “ Malmesbury,’’
says^the learned and able historian, “ on the faith of an ancient ballad, has transmitted to us a story probably invented by his (the
Ling s) enemies.” 'i he story may possibly have been invented by his enemies, but where is the evidence, direct or indirect, that
this was the case ? Dr Lingard goes on to say, “ it is improbable in itself, and supported by questionable evidence.” Now, where lies
the improbability ? The tragical character of the transaction is in perfect keeping with that of the times in which it was committed;
and as for the perpetrator himself, does not the abuse of the nun prove that, in order to gratify his unhallowed desires, even the
religion, for the propagation of which he displayed such unbounded zeal, offered no impediment. Was the law of nature with regard
to moral evil stronger in his mind than that which religion had imposed ? This is much to be doubted. Nay, it may be surmised
that the erection of so many monasteries was a voluntary penance which his conscience dictated him to perform, in extenuation of such
crimes as those that are laid to his charge. The evidence is also said to be questionable ; but if historians, and the learned Doctor along
with the rest, unhesitatingly embody as historical facts the events and transactions related in similar compositions, we see no reason
lor making an exception with respect to the legend before us, because it happens to stand in the way of a favourite hypothesis. If
we take one we must take all, exceptions being made where there is direct contradiction by more authentic evidence, which is not the
case in the present instance. Sir James Mackintosh observes, “ William of Malmesbury, who might have known the counsellors of
. ward the Confessor, relates the incident on the authority (not to be despised) of a Saxon song. The same story is told
by a later chronicler called Brompton (Dec. Scrip. 865), at great length, and with particulars characteristic of barbaric manners.”
ENGLAND.
History, next. Treason, famine, and disease, also aggravated the
calamities which overwhelmed the nation. Amongst the
y92* instances of defection, that of Alfric, earl of Mercia, de¬
mands particular attention. On account of his miscon¬
duct he had been deprived of his government, but had
recovered it again through the influence of his friends.
In 992, a meeting of the witenagemote took place at Lon-
don, where it was resolved to put the kingdom in a posture
of defence, by constructing a powerful fleet, and manning
it with picked men. This was accordingly done, and the
command of it conferred upon Alfric, with another noble¬
man and two prelates. Their commission was to surprise
the Danes at some part where they could be surrounded;
but this judicious scheme was foiled by the treachery of
the commander, who not only gave the Danes notice of
the intentions of the English, but consummated his perfidy
by secretly joining them. He urged an immediate flight;
but in the pursuit his vessel was taken, though the traitor
himself escaped. The king revenged himself upon Alfric,
by ordering his son Algar to be deprived of his eyes; an
act as barbarous as it was useless.
This bold exertion on the part of the invaded compelled
the Danes to transfer their arms from the south to the
north of England, where they extended their ravages;
but in 994 appeared two new and more powerful chief¬
tains, Sweyn, king of Denmark, and Olave, king of Nor¬
way. With ninety-four ships they sailed up the Thames,
and, although repulsed at London, they succeeded in ra¬
vaging several counties. But another humiliating subsidy
redeemed England from their grasp ; and, what is more as¬
tonishing still, Olave was honourably received at the court
of Ethelred, where he pledged his word never to molest
England more. This promise is only remarkable inas-
much as it was faithfully kept. The army of his compa¬
nion Sweyn, however, continued to occupy the country,
to which in course of time it became almost naturalized.
That it should remain inactive was not to be expected;
but that with impunity it should have been allowed to de¬
spoil provinces, displays a want of firmness, courage, and
national spirit, which seems unnatural to the island, and
can only be accounted for by supposing the existence of
a weakness almost amounting to imbecility in the sove¬
reign or his counsellors.
In 1002, Ethelred having lost his first wife, who bore
him ten children, married a Norman princess, who as¬
sumed the name of Elgiva. I he same year became me¬
morable in the history of England for the perpetration of
a crime of as black a dye as ever darkened the annals of
any people. This wicked act, which rose out of a mis¬
chievous policy, is known by the name of the Massacre of
the Danes. On the 13th of November, the festival of
St Bride, the unsuspecting Northmen, with their wives,
children, and all belonging to them, were cruelly put to
death by a royal warrant. The details of this fearful trans¬
action are too horrible to be related. Suffice it to say,
that no place, however sacred, saved the victims from their
pursuers ; and that when they fled to the chinches for
shelter, they were slaughtered in crowds around the al¬
tars. One painful episode is interwoven with this tale of
blood. Gunhilda, the sister of Sweyn, king of Denmark,
who was wedded to an English earl, saw her husband and
children massacred before her eyes, and was herself after¬
wards beheaded. It is related by all historians, that in
the agonies of death she foretold the vengeance which
would descend upon the English nation for the barbarous
act which it had committed; and the prediction was rea¬
lized, as we shall hereafter see.
The calamities of England seemed now to thicken as the
atrocities of its ruler grew darker. Common pity for the
failings of humanity would lead us to pardon Ethelred s
661
pusillanimity; but this dark deed has affixed a blot to his History,
scutcheon too deep for time ever to wash away. Sweyn was
not slow in revenging the fate of his countrymen ; and, 1013*
through negligence and perfidy on the part of England,
he succeeded in ravaging the island, for several years, al¬
most with impunity. In 1007, thirty-six thousand pounds
of silver abated his thirst of revenge. Two years after¬
wards the most powerful armament which had yet obeyed
the flag of England was collected at Sandwich ; but treason
again paralyzed its operations. The captains abandoned
their vessels, which were steered up the Thames by the
mariners. “ Thus,” say the annalists, “ perished all the
hopes of England.” The surrender of sixteen counties, and
forty-eight thousand pounds, stayed for a short period the
rapacity of the Northmen. The picture which the now
fallen and devoted England presents, it is painful to con¬
template. Accumulated treasons and defeats had unnerved
the courage of the natives; whilst the numerous victories
of the Danes had swelled their pride, and inspired them
with a preposterous idea of their warlike powers. Many
fortified cities withstood all their assaults; but the open
country was abandoned to their rapacity. Systematic de¬
struction and spoliation was their principle ; and the fields,
deserted by the husbandmen, ceased to yield the necessary
supplies of food, so that the Danes themselves were com¬
pelled to quit the island in search of provisions. Taxation,
direct and annual, which must be traced to this period,
weighed also upon the energies of the people, and ma¬
terially increased the now almost universal discontent. In
the midst of this ignominious submission and disaffection,
it is pleasing to record instances of magnanimity, and pain¬
ful to reflect that these were so few in number. The Arch¬
bishop of Canterbury having been made a prisoner by the
Danes, was offered his liberty for a moderate ransom,
on condition that he would advise Ethelred to pay them
heavy sums of money as a largess. “ I have no money,”
he replied, “ and I will not advise the king to dishonour
himself.” Still they persisted; but the dauntless prelate
remained unshaken. The barbarians condemned him to
death ; and he was immediately assailed with bones, horns,
and other remains of a feast in which they had been in¬
dulging. “ Gold, bishop; give us gold,” they exclaimed,
as they dragged him forth; but he remained unmoved,
and having been felled to the earth with the rude missiles
which were showered upon him, he received a mortal stab
from the hand of a man whom he had himself baptized.
Sweyn made his last incursion into the country in 1013.
Terrified at the universal disaffection, Ethelred fled at
last to Normandy, whence he returned on hearing of
Sweyn’s death, which occurred shortly afterwards. The
latter was succeeded by bis son Canute; for the Danes
would now appear to have put in a claim for the sove¬
reignty of the whole country. Ethelred was recalled by
the English chiefs, who exacted a promise from him that
he would govern with less tyranny than formerly ; and
pledges were also interchanged between the Danes and
Engfish. But a contest soon ensued between the two
parties; and although Ethelred succeeded in repeating
upon a small scale that system of treacherous massacre
for which he had so severely suffered, yet Canute main¬
tained his superiority in open warfare, and took a bar¬
barous revenge upon the hostages in his hands, tor the
murder of his friends. Treason again added a fearful
contribution to the accumulated evils which surrounded
the unfortunate Ethelred. His son Edmund, surnamed,
from his hardihood, Ironside, vainly attempted to make
head against the Danes; for Canute penetrated to York,
where he was joined by the Earl of Northumbria and a
number of the people. The country was now a prey to
two contending armies ; but just at this crisis it was reliev-
662 ENGL
H istory. ed from its greatest enemy, Ethelred, who died towards
the end of 1016, worn out by care and disease.
1016. Edmund Ironside was immediately chosen king by the
English ; and if the exertions of one man could have saved
the country, this achievement would have been performed
by the new king. During his short reign, for it extend¬
ed to only a few months, he gave proofs of bravery and
ability equal to any exigency, and worthy of a happier
fortune. The first struggle between him and Canute was
for the possession of London, which was held by the Eng¬
lish. During the siege Edmund fought two battles in the
provinces, one of which took place at Scearston, and is
celebrated by our annalists. Twice the darkness of night
came to the relief of the exhausted armies, which had
both suffered severely ; but the dawn of the third morning
showed the result to be in favour of the English. Canute,
however, had taken advantage of the night, and marched
upon London. Not long afterwards another battle was
fought, in which Edric, a traitor thrice steeped in infamy
by his defection, played the game of victory into the hands
of Canute. After this calamitous event the greatness of
Edmund’s soul became more conspicuous. Although a
numerous army had again rallied around his standard, he
shuddered to lavish more of his country’s blood in this
murderous warfare, and challenged Canute to decide their
quarrel by single combat. Whether this proposal was
accepted or not, is matter of uncertainty ; but at all events
a pacification was shortly afterwards agreed upon, and
England was divided between the rivals; the north being
given up to Canute, whilst Edmund retained possession of
the south. The latter, however, died shortly afterwards ;
and there is reason to believe that he perished through
the machinations of the perfidious Edric.
Edmund left two sons, infants; but by the unanimous
voice of the nation Canute obtained the sovereignty of
England. This remarkable prince was only twenty years
of age when he assumed the reins of government. His
qualities as a monarch were of a very high order, not un¬
alloyed, however, with the ferocity natural to the North¬
men of the period. The first object of his policy was the
removal of the children of the two preceding kings. Some
of the sons of Ethelred were slain, and the rest consigned
to banishment; whilst those of Edmund were sent over to
Sweden, for the purpose of being dispatched. But their
fate was averted by the prince to whom they were convey¬
ed. He sent them both to the king of Hungary, by whom
they were educated in a manner befitting their station.
One died in his youth, the other married the daughter of
Henry, the emperor of Germany; and their issue was
Edgar Atheling, who will be mentioned hereafter.
Canute divided the kingdom into four governments. He
retained Wessex to himself. East Anglia was conferred
on a chief named Thurchil, who had formerly distinguish¬
ed himself; and Eric and Edric were continued in North¬
umberland and Mercia. But the latter shortly afterwards
received the full reward of his crimes and perfidy. At
a Christmas festival celebrated in London, he had the au¬
dacity to boast of his services, when Canute ordered him
to be cut down, and his body thrown into the Thames.
The Danish king had embraced Christianity, and also
taken to wife Emma, widow of Ethelred. The profession
of the former removed the main barrier between his Eng¬
lish and Danish subjects; and his espousal of a royal
female was no doubt intended to conciliate the affections
of the Saxons; and it seems to have had a considerable
effect in this respect. The other events of this reign will
be found related under the head of Canute. He died at
Shaftesbury in 1035, and was interred at Winchester. By
his wife Emma he had a son and daughter; the former
called Hardicanute, or Canute the Hardy. But previ-
A N D.
ously to his marriage he had by another lady two sons, History,
named Sweyn and Harold. The former was installed in w
the sovereignty of Norway, and the latter ascended the 1051,
throne of England.
Harold was not entitled to the crown; for it had been
provided in the marriage settlement of Emma, that the
issue of Canute by her alone should reign ; yet he being
on the spot, succeeded in obtaining the sceptre as well as
the treasures of his father. Edward the son of Ethelred,
certainly the legitimate sovereign of the kingdom, made an
attempt to obtain it, but proved unsuccessful. His brother
Alfred renewed the enterprise, which proved fatal to him
and to most of his followers. This prince received a let¬
ter, which purported to be from his mother, inviting him
to come over and take possession of his father’s dominions.
The proposition was flattering, and in an unlucky moment
he yielded to it. Having landed with six hundred fol¬
lowers, he was treacherously made prisoner, along with
his companions. Every tenth man was set at liberty, a
few more were reserved as slaves, and the remainder
were massacred and mutilated with the most capricious
cruelty. Prince Alfred himself was deprived of his eyes;
and this shocking barbarity soon afterwards terminated
in his death. The unfortunate sufterer was the dupe of
a forgery; and the whole villanous transaction seems to
have been planned by Harold, and executed by his mi¬
nions, particularly Earl Godwin. This remarkable indi¬
vidual, according to the only account of him which we
possess, was the son of a Saxon herdsman. In his youth
he had assisted Ulfr, a Danish chieftain, to make his
escape to the ships of Canute. The Northman took him
under his charge, and by successive steps he rose to the
dignity of a Jarl, and to the possession of power little less
than sovereign during three reigns. The atrocious deed
of blood above related is the only event of importance as¬
sociated with the name of Harold the First. He died in
1040, and was succeeded by Hardicanute, his brother by
the half blood.
This sovereign reigned about two years; and the little
that is recorded of him is of a very mixed character. He
came over from Denmark, breathing revenge against the
murderers of Alfred, and even went so far as brutally to
insult the lifeless remains of Harold. Godwin stood pro¬
minently forward as an object of punishment, but a splen¬
did present turned aside the shaft of vengeance. Others
also escaped by appealing to his avarice, which seems to
have been his ruling passion. Edward the son of Ethel¬
red was kindly and honourably received at his court—a
noble act of generosity; yet the author of it died of in¬
temperance at the nuptial feast of a Danish lord.
Edward, surnamed the Confessor, the surviving son of
Ethelred, was chosen king of England in 1042. He was
a weak and feeble prince, and incompetent to the task ol
vigorous government; yet the commencement of his reign
was characterized by an act of severity. He despoiled
his mother Emma of her property, and deprived her ol
her influence. These proceedings were prompted by the
antipathy which she bore to the king, and by her luke¬
warmness in not punishing the murderers of her son Al¬
fred, of whose blood it was even whispered she was not
entirely guiltless. The weak and irresolute character of
the king threw the power entirely into the hands ol the
three noblemen who divided the Saxon territory amongst
them, Siward earl of Northumberland, Leofric earl of Mer¬
cia, and Godwin earl of Kent, whose daughter, Editha,
Edward had been induced to marry. Godwin was by far
the most powerful of the three; for besides his own ter¬
ritory in Wessex, his two sons, Sweyn and Harold, held
large domains northward of the Thames. In 1051 he at
last presumed to bid defiance to his sovereign and son-in-
ENGLAND.
663
1051.
History. law. Edward, who had sojourned a long time in Nor-
mandy, where he was well treated, when he ascended the
throne invited the guardians and friends of his youth to
accompany him to England. They accordingly flocked
to him in great numbers, and received ample preferment.
One of them, named Robert, obtained the primacy, at that
time the station of highest dignity and power. Amongst
those who resorted to England was Eustace count of Bou¬
logne, who had married Edward’s sister. At Dover, one
of Godwin’s towns, a foolish affray took place between the
followers of the count and the English. This circum¬
stance gave vent to the popular jealousy of the people
against foreigners. Godwin assembled a force, and claim¬
ed the surrender of Eustace; but the latter was support¬
ed by the king, who ultimately succeeded in driving God¬
win and his sons into exile. The star of Godwin seemed
now to have fairly set; but just at this moment there
arose another of far more disastrous omen to the Saxon
line. William duke of Normandy came to England with
many of his followers, on a visit to his cousin Edward.
He was received with great honour, and loaded with pre¬
sents when he returned to his own country.
Had the illustrious stranger never risen to be ruler of
England, his first visit to it would probably have been
passed over by historians with a simple relation of the
event. But his singular fortune has induced some writers
to find in it a clue to his subsequent proceedings. It is
impossible to conjecture what may have passed in his
mind upon this occasion. On the one hand he saw, that
in the course of a few years, the crown would soon become
vacant, for its possessor was now stricken in years, and,
moreover, childless. On the other hand, there stood in
the way of his claim to it, first of all, Edward, the son
of Edmund Ironside; then his son Edgar Atheling, a
weak prince, however; and afterwards the brothers of
Edward’s queen. Under such circumstances his vaulting
ambition may have led him to indulge in aspirations to
the crown; but only a vague probability of ultimate suc¬
cess must have been awakened in a mind possessed of such
high reflecting powers as that of W illiam the Conqueror.
Too many obstacles stood in the way of his fostering any
sanguine hopes of acceding to the throne of England; and
it is certain that the objects of his first visit were pacific.
It appears highly probable that his politic foresight might
induce him to take measures for securing the crown after
the death of Edward the son of Ironside, which took place
some years subsequently to his visit to England; and a
conjecture may be hazarded that it was immediately after
the demise of his brother’s son that the Confessor made
a promise to William of leaving him the crown. That
such a promise was given was afterwards alleged by the
Conqueror, as we shall see when he comes before us as a
claimant of the sovereignty. In about a year after this
the Godwins were restored to their honours and estates;
and Editha, who had been repudiated by the king, was
called from her prison to the throne. She was innocent
of any participation in her father’s guilt. The annalists
of the time represent her in the most amiable light, and
as incapable of devising evil either against her husband
or any other individual. On his re-instalment in his earl¬
dom and possessions, Godwin succeeded in inducing the
king to outlaw Archbishop Robert and all the Frenchmen ;
and not long after he died ripe in years and in crimes.
In 1055 Siward followed him to the grave; and two years
afterwards expired Leofric, the wise and powerful duke
of Mercia, who was succeeded in his dukedom by his son
Algar. Tostig, brother of Harold, received the earldom
of the former; but in a few years afterwards (1065), he
was deposed for his cruelties, and his sovereignty confer¬
red upon Morcar, son of the Duke of Mercia.
lotiti.
Soon after these transactions, the pacific monarch of Hisloiy.
England began to sicken. When he saw his end approach- '
ing, he ordered the magnificent church of St Peter at West¬
minster, which he had built, to be consecrated with solem¬
nity and splendour. He died two days after, on the 4th
or 5th of January 1066, in the twenty-fourth year of his
reign, and was interred in the church which he had so re¬
cently dedicated. He left no issue; for he had taken a
vow of continence for life. Edward Atheling, the only
surviving son of Edmund Ironside, had landed from Hun¬
gary with his wife and children, for the purpose of being
proclaimed heir to the crown ; but shortly after his ar¬
rival in London he expired, bequeathing his claim to his
son Edgar.
Edward the Confessor presents himself to us only in
one character, that of a royal monk. His piety and gen¬
tleness might have adorned a cloister, but, unallied with
those sterner virtues which fit a monarch for wielding the
sceptre with firmness and energy, they rendered him un¬
fit for ruling, except under the influence of able counsel,
which he had the good fortune to possess during the
greater part of his reign. Abject superstition will unnerve
even a strong mind, and to a weak one it imparts a cha¬
racter of childlike feebleness, and forms such an individual
as Edward. But he had many amiable qualities, which
would have redeemed even greater weaknesses than those
with which he is chargeable. He loved his people much;
he was averse to the imposition of taxes, some of which
he abolished; and his charities were frequent and exten¬
sive. His subjects repaid his attentions by lamenting his
loss as a national misfortune, and consigning his memory
to the veneration of posterity.
The day which witnessed the funeral of Edward, saw
the coronation of Harold, the son ot Godwin. A report
had been circulated that the Confessor had appointed him
his successor, which greatly conciliated the chiefs; in¬
deed the only opposition which he experienced was from
his own unnatural family. On Edgar Atheling, the last
surviving prince of the house of Cerdic, was confer¬
red the earldom of Oxford, in lieu of the crown. Tostig,
the brother of the king, was a competitor for the crown.
Harold Hardrada, king of Norway, promised him his sup¬
port, and the politic duke of Normandy did the same. In
Flanders he was permitted to raise an army, with which he
landed in Northumberland; but he was defeated by Mor¬
car, on whom the earldom of the province had been con¬
ferred. The discomfited Tostig fled to Malcolm, king of
Scotland, where he was well received. The Caledonian
monarch had himself been sheltered at the English court
during the usurpation of Macbeth, and was established on
the throne of his ancestors by the aid of England.. As a
grateful return for the attentions he had received in that
country, he always readily welcomed the malcontents who
fled from it. The arrival of his Norwegian ally recalled
Tostig from his exile. They joined forces at the mouth
of the Tyne, and marched upon York, in the neighbour¬
hood of which city the Saxon army sustained a defeat.
But this was only a prelude to the grand struggle. Harold,
the king, notwithstanding the necessity under which he
lay of watching the south-eastern extremity of the island
from a still more formidable rival, collected a considerable
army, and marched with promptitude and secrecy to meet
Tostig and his Norwegian ally. So rapid had been the
movements of the king that he took the enemy in some de¬
gree by surprise. They, however, retired upon Stamford-
bridge on the Derwent, where they drew out their line of
battfe. The contest which ensued was bloody, and long
of doubtful issue. For a while the firm array of the Nor¬
wegians bade defiance to all the effoits of the English ca¬
valry, which, accustomed to charge in detached masses,
664
ENGLAND.
History, fell in this dispersed state almost harmless upon the
bristling rampart of Scandinavian spears. The king of Nor-
10G6. conspicuous by his blue tunic and glittering helmet,
made the most heroic exertions ; but victory forsook his
standard ; a fatal dart pierced his throat, and he fell lifeless
to the ground. Tostig assumed the command, and after
a desperate effort to turn the fortune of the day, he perish¬
ed, with the flower of the Norwegian army. This victory,
which is memorable on account of the dreadful slaughter
that distinguished it, wras gained on the 25th of September
1066. It must be recorded to the honour of Harold, that
twice he offered peace and pardon to his rebellious bro¬
ther, once before and once during the heat of battle, when
the Norwegian had fallen, but both times these offers were
refused. Three days after this conflict William duke of Nor¬
mandy landed in England, and Harold had to prepare for
another desperate struggle to retain the crowm. It will
now be necessary to examine how far the pretensions of
the new competitor for it were legitimate.
This celebrated claimant to the sceptre of England was
the descendant of Rollo, a renowned Vikingr or Sea-King,
who flourished at the beginning of the tenth century.
Rognvalldr, the father of Rollo, was one of those earls ap¬
pointed by Harold Harfager, or the fair-haired, to guard
his conquests. He had two sons, Thorer and Rolfr, better
known by his more celebrated name of Rollo.1 The pro¬
genitor of William the Conqueror was expelled from his
country on account of a violation of the law which for¬
bade freebooters, under pain of death, to destroy cattle on
the Norwegian shore. Driven from his paternal shores,
he resolved to seek for a kingdom elsewhere; and after
much successful valour he succeeded in establishing a
Scandinavian state in France. Rollo proved himself a
prince worthy of a kingdom, and his acquisition in course
of time assumed the name of Normandy. His exertions
for the improvement of his dominions, the civilization of
the rude Northmen, and the humanizing of their minds to
the love of order, justice, and the arts of peace, class him
with those illustrious individuals who have proved them¬
selves benefactors of the human race. He died in 931,
and was succeeded by his son William. After two others,
Robert the Magnificent, or the Devil as he was perhaps
more appropriately designated, succeeded. He was father
to the duke, who now appears before us as a competitor
for the English throne. William was an illegitimate child
by a damsel of humble condition, of whom his father was
enamoured, but could not wed during the lifetime of his
duchess, the sister of Canute. Like their northern pro¬
genitors, the nobles of the Norman duke were careless of
the distinction between concubinage and wedlock, so that
on the death of Robert in 1035, William, although then
only eight years of age, was triumphantly placed upon
the ducal throne, which he filled with renown for fifty-
three years.
The circumstance of numerous Norman barons having
settled in England during the reign of Edward the Con¬
fessor, who was the grandson of a duke of Normandy, has
already been noticed; as also the visit paid by William to
the childless monarch. It was afterwards asserted by the
Duke of Normandy, that upon one occasion, probably that
to which we have already alluded, Edward had bequeathed
to him the crown of England. He also alleged a testa-
mentar}' bequest, as well as Harold. Both were alike des¬
titute of any claim founded on the modern principles of
hereditary descent, but both by consanguinity made out
a species of right to inherit; William as the grand uncle
of Emma the king’s mother, and Harold as the king’s
brother-in-law. The claims of the champions were there¬
fore nearly balanced, and seem to have contented their
partizans ; the sword alone could decide to whom the real
title should belong.
In the mean time the claim of Harold suffered consider¬
ably on account of a circumstance which occurred a short
time before the demise of the late king. The Saxon had
been shipwrecked in France, but obtained leave to proceed
to Normandy by alleging that he was intrusted with some
communications to Duke William. That prince received
him kindly, and imparted to him the hopes which he che¬
rished of obtaining the English crown. He received a
promise of aid from Harold, and by an artifice succeeded
in making him swear fealty to his cause. Underneath the
missal on which the Saxon had sworn were concealed va¬
rious sacred relics, such as the bones of saints and martyrs,
and thus he had unconsciously bound himself by the most
solemn oath. When the struggle came, Harold urged the
plea of compulsion as releasing him from any obligation
to keep his vow. Abhorrence of oath-breakers, however,
is characteristic of a superstitious age ; and whilst the cir¬
cumstance materially weakened the cause of Harold, it
strengthened in a corresponding degree that of his rival.
There is also every reason to believe that it w^as the prin¬
cipal means of enabling William to obtain from the holy
see a declaration in favour of his enterprise. At such a
period a bull from the pope was itself worth an army, and
this the adventurer not only obtained, but also a conse¬
crated standard, a ring, and a lock of his holiness’s hair.
William now set busily to work in preparing the means
of offensive aggression. When his purpose was known, he
was speedily joined by all the young knights of the neigh¬
bouring countries who sought fortune or renown, and by
all the freebooters whom the hope of spoil allured to his
standard. With an armament more formidable than the
western nations had yet witnessed, he accordingly put to
sea. Annalists have greatly exaggerated the number of
his troops; for altogether they did not probably much ex¬
ceed twenty-five thousand men. With this army he landed
without opposition at Pevensey, in the county of Sussex,
as has already been observed. He made no stay at that
place, however, but proceeded immediately to Hastings to
procure provisions. Harold, apprised of the arrival of
his most dreaded enemy, flew to attack him. William,
informed of his victory and advance, was counselled by
some to remain in his entrenchments, and not to hazard an
open engagement. But the mind of the future conqueror
was not liable to the agitations of fear. He had thrown
his life upon a cast, and was resolved to stand the hazard
of the die. In this emergency the conduct of Harold
has been severely censured. He appropriated to him-
Historj.
lOGo.
1 In the History of England by Sir James Mackintosh (vol. i. p. 90), the following sentence occurs :—“ One of the sons of Rogue-
vald, called in the Icelandic poems Hrolpt, better known to us by the name of Rollo, had, for reasons unknown to our authorities,
been excluded from all share in his father’s domains, and had no resource but piracy.” The reason of his exclusion was in all like¬
lihood his being a younger son. We have already noticed, that amongst the Northmen of this period an absurd law obtained, by
which all but the eldest son were excluded from any participation in the property left by the father. Ey this pernicious arrange-
merit the younger branches of families were driven to seek their fortune upon the sea. It is certain that Roguevald left
two sons; it is also next to certain that he would observe the law of the land as it then existed. Now, the question comes to be,
which of the two was the first born. There is no direct evidence upon the point, but the circumstance of Thorer’s name having always
the precedence when the brothers are mentioned together, and also that of Rollo’s piratical exploits, whilst there is no mention made
of his brother in that capacity, seem to determine the point that the progenitor of a future royal family of England was the young¬
est son ;—and thus the difficulty is explained.
ENGLAND.
665
History, self all the spoils of the late battle, which added to his un-
""T?! / popularity ; whilst the death of his brother was by common
1°6G. rep0rl imputed to him. On his march against William, a
considerable portion of his army deserted him, and their
place had to be supplied by raw and undisciplined levies.
When the two rivals were near enough to interchange
messages, the Norman offered Harold the choice of abdi¬
cation, of single combat, or of appeal to the pope. These
propositions being rejected, be was then offered Northum¬
berland for himself, whilst Kent would be conceded to his
brother Gurth; but the latter proposal shared the fate of
the former one ; upon which William declared his inten¬
tion of giving battle to bis rival, whom he looked upon and
designated as a liar and a perjured wretch, excommuni¬
cated by the holy father. He even expressed astonish¬
ment that an individual conscious of such guilt as that
with which Harold was chargeable should venture his per¬
son in battle. We are told that such a feeling also pre¬
vailed in the English army, and that the king was advised
by his brothers Gurth and Leofwin to withdraw, whilst
they would lead on the battle. Harold, however, only
smiled at their apprehensions, and expressed his resolu¬
tion of commanding the army in person.
On the morning of Saturday the 14th of October William
advanced to the attack of the Saxons, after having solemn¬
ly heard mass and received the sacrament. The previous
night is also said to have been passed in devotion, whilst
songs and revelry resounded throughout the Saxon camp.
The spot which Harold had fixed upon for this important
contest was a piece of rising ground about eight miles in¬
land from Hastings. It was open towards the south, and
was covered at the back by an extensive wood. On the
front of the declivity the troops were arranged in one com¬
pact mass, in the centre of which floated the royal ban¬
ner, with the king and his two brothers near it. On an
opposite hill stood William in front of his warriors, with
the relics upon which Harold had sworn hung round his
neck, and the consecrated standard waving by his side.
After a short address to animate his soldiers, he advanced
upon the enemy, shouting the national war-cry “ God is
our helpwhilst the cry of “ Christ’s rood, the holy rood,’*
rose from the adverse ranks. The impetuous onset of the
Normans was received by the English with their battle-
axes, with which they broke the lances and cut the coats
of mail, on which their opponents placed great reliance.
The confidence of the Normans began to waver, and the
left wing, both horse and foot, actually gave way. With
eager rashness the English pursued, and thus exposed
themselves to the hazard of being cut off; for William
with dauntless fortitude and presence of mind had suc¬
ceeded in rallying his fugitive bands. The attack was re¬
newed, and again the English repulsed it. The duke had
now recourse to an artifice which ultimately proved the
destruction of the enemy’s army. By a feigned flight he
allured a body of them from their strong position, and,
whilst the latter too eagerly pursued, he turned upon them
with his cavalry, and hewed them in pieces. Twice was
this stratagem repeated, and each time with perfect suc¬
cess. Still the main body of the English presented an
unbroken rampart of shields, against which the mass of
Norman chivalry for a long time was hurled in vain.
During the conflict both leaders gave proofs of perso¬
nal bravery and skill worthy of the crown which the one
was combating to retain and the other to wrench from his
grasp. William had three horses killed under him, and
hand to hand he had grappled on foot with his adversaries.
A little before sunset Harold, both of whose brothers had
already fallen, received an arrow in the eye, which pene¬
trated to the brain. His fall relaxed the vigour of the
English. Their lines were penetrated, their standard
YOL. vm.
taken; and a panic having seized upon them, they broke
and dispersed through the wood, whilst darkness closed
upon the spoils of the field and the hopes of the Saxons.
Thus ended the battle of Hastings, memorable in vari¬
ous respects, first, as introducing a new dynasty of mo-
narchs to rule the southern part of Britain ; and secondly,
as opening up to the inhabitants of the island the means
of a more extensive intercourse with the continent than
they had ever yet enjoyed. By this means were introduced
Into Britain those modes of life, manners, customs, and
institutions which were at the time considered as charac¬
teristic of civilization and refined society ; and henceforth
England was destined to take a large share in the trans¬
actions and fortunes of the continental powers, perhaps
ultimately for the mutual benefit of all parties.
On the morning after the battle, the victors, having
stripped the bodies of the slain, pranced wantonly over
them with their horses. The mother of Harold, like an¬
other Andromache, begged the corpse of her son from the
conqueror ; but whether her maternal request was complied
with or not is a matter of great uncertainty ; for upon this
point our annalists are either contradictory or ambiguous.
By one party it is asserted that the corpse of the fallen
monarch was interred upon the beach ; by another that it
was given up when demanded, its weight in gold having
been offered as a ransom. Perhaps both are correct; for
it is probable enough that it was first buried on the shore,
and afterwards exhumated at the request of the mother.
Without entering into any speculation connected with the
Norman conquest, we may simply remark, that in order to
interest the reader of English history, and excite commi¬
seration and pity for Harold, he has, by a number of his¬
torians, been invested with talents, virtues, and accom¬
plishments which he did not possess in a degree sufficient
to command the entire affection of his countrymen during
his life ; whilst his death has also been deplored with un¬
necessary regret, as a sort of national loss. Where the
stakes are equal, and the game a fair trial of strength and
dexterity, sympathy will always side with the loser. Over
his opponent Harold had the advantage of fighting for his
native land against a foreign invader; but it must be ob¬
served that his own aggrandisement and the independence
of the nation were inseparably connected, and that in pur¬
suing the one he was combating for the other.
Before entering into the subsequent history of the con¬
queror’s proceedings, it will be necessary to pause and
take a rapid glance at the Anglo-Saxon institutions be¬
fore they were supplanted by the system which the suc¬
cessful invasion of the Normans was destined to introduce.
The Anglo-Saxon king, without possessing despotic sove¬
reignty, was in dignity, property, and power elevated far
above the level of the rest of the nation. He was elected by
the assembly called the wittena-gemote, a meeting of wise or
prudent men. This was the great council of the nation,
and seems to have resembled what our modern parliament
would be if lords and commons mingled together and de¬
bated in one house. It was composed of the prelates,
earls, and a great many thanes or considerable proprietors
of land, a class similar to our modern gentry; so that the
Saxons may be said to have possessed the elements of a
free and popular government, though as yet in a rude
and chaotic state. This supreme judicial and legislative
assembly was convened by the king, and held its meet¬
ings on the great festival days of the church, such as
Christmas. But these were not confined to such seasons,
being called together according as circumstances required.
Besides electing the king, and presiding at his coronation,
they assisted him in making laws and treaties, in military
preparations, in administering justice, and the other affairs
of government. Their power was considerable, but it de-
History.
10G6.
666
ENGLAND.
History.
1066.
pended in a great measure upon the character and capa¬
city of the sovereign. The highest officer in the kingdom
was the ealdorman ; he was chief of a shire, and had great
judicial powers. An eorl was the next dignity, which re¬
mained separate from the former until towards the close
of the Anglo-Saxon period, when the title of ealdorman
seems to have been superseded by that of eorl; under
them were other officers, whom it is unnecessary to par¬
ticularise. There was of course a wittena-gemote to every
kingdom ; and when all the principalities merged in Wes¬
sex, and gave rise to a single one for the whole country,
the monarch occasionally held shire-gemotes, or county
meetings, where the laws made by the king and his coun¬
sellors were proclaimed, and being acknowledged and
sworn to, became binding on the whole nation.
The Anglo-Saxons were divided into freemen and slaves.
But there was a third class, such as bordars, cottars, and
others, who were cultivators of the soil, and, ranking pro¬
bably in the lowest order of freemen, were scarcely re¬
duced to the degrading level of slaves. As far as has yet
been ascertained, the class which was subject to the most
complete thraldom was small in comparison with those
who enjoyed superior privileges, probably about one in
seven. The Anglo-Saxons paid some attention to the
cultivation of the land, which was held by various te¬
nures, and liable to certain burdens, which varied in kind
and quantity. Military service, which consisted in pro¬
viding a certain number of armed men when public safety
required them, was one of these. The other two great
services were the constructing or repairing of bridges, for¬
tresses, and walls. Besides these, the sub-proprietors of
land were more or less liable to many other burdens. W ith
regard to their conveyances, we have several of their
grants of land without any pecuniary consideration; of
their conveyances on purchase; of their deeds of ex¬
change ; of their testamentary devises, and their leases.
These were, in the early periods of Anglo-Saxon history,
short and simple ; but in grants of a more recent date the
general words are nearly as numerous as in our present
deeds.
The supreme legal tribunal was the wittena-gemote,
which, like the present House of Lords, was paramount
to every other. There were also shire-gemotes and burgh-
gemotes, so many yearly meetings of which were strictly
enjoined upon those who composed them. Much of their
judicial proceedings rested upon oaths, and perjury was
therefore severely punished. For the various breaches
of the law the punishments were commonly pecuniary.
In the case of murder, the amount, which was partly le¬
vied by the state as a penalty, and partly granted to the
family of the deceased as a satisfaction for the loss of their
relative, was proportioned to the rank of the murdered man.
Persons accused of crimes had occasionally to pass through
an ordeal of hot water or hot iron, of which they had their
option.
There were many popular institutions which rendered
the king subordinate to the community. The meetings
of the people at the various courts, from the folkmote of
the hundred, to the wittena-gemote of the nation, contri¬
buted to foster the principles of equal law and of popu¬
lar government. From the Anglo-Saxons we derive our
language, the names of the most ancient officers among us,
and those of the greater part of the divisions of the king¬
dom, and of almost all our towns and villages.
In their domestic habits the Anglo-Saxons were social,
and loved the pleasures of the table. Their food was that
mixture of vegetable and animal diet which always marks
the progress of civilization. Ale and mead were their fa- History
vourite drinks, and wine was an occasional luxury. They
had become so far acquainted with the conveniences of
civilized life as to display both variety and vanity in adorn¬
ing their persons. Their dwelling-houses seem to have
been small and inconvenient, although they were both
expensive and magnificent in their ecclesiastical buildings.
Amongst the Anglo-Saxons females were very respectfully
treated, and occupied the same independent rank in so¬
ciety which they now enjoy. The trades and mechanical
arts had made considerable progress, and even foreign com¬
merce was carried on and considered as a highly honour¬
able calling. With regard to their circulating medium, it
may be shortly stated, that they had their pounds, shil¬
lings, pence, and farthings, exactly as we have at present.
Learning, except amongst ecclesiastics, was neglected ;
and with regard to literature, little can be said with cer¬
tainty, for the monuments of this kind which they have
left us, except what is historical, have not yet been exa¬
mined with sufficient care.1
The conquest of England did not altogether terminate
with the battle of Hastings. London and other important
towns were put in a posture of defence, whilst a nume¬
rous fleet had assembled at Dover to interrupt the pro¬
ceedings and distract the attention of the invader. Ed¬
gar, the legitimate heir to the throne, appears to have
been either crowned or acknowledged as sovereign at Lon¬
don, where the two powerful earls Morcar and Edwin,
with the loyal inhabitants, resolved to make a desperate
stand against the advancing foe. William, however, in¬
stead of attacking the city, chose rather to lay waste the
country, which he did most effectually, consigning to the
flames what could not be forcibly removed. He now ap¬
pears before us in a character somewhat new. Formerly
he had combated for the crown against an individual who,
according to all modern notions of legitimacy, had no more
right to it than himself; but in the present instance he was
attempting to snatch it from the brow of him who alone
had a hereditary claim to wear it. On this account the
atrocities committed by his troops are justly contemplated
with horror, whilst the disposition to palliate them is pro¬
portionally lessened.
William, however, was the candidate favoured by the
see of Rome, and the bishops interfered in his behalf.
Stigand, the metropolitan, was the first to throw himself
on the mercy of William, whom he met as the conqueror
crossed the Thames at Wallingford, and swore fealty to
him as his sovereign ; others followed his example, as did
Edgar, Edwin, and Morcar upon the part of the nobility.
The crown was offered to him, and he was formally invested
with it in Westminster Abbey, on Christmas 1066. Dur¬
ing the ceremony a tumult arose which made the stout
heart of the conqueror to tremble beneath its iron mail;
and, had an English force, led by any competent comman¬
der, and capable of making head against the Normans, ap¬
peared at the moment, it might have cost him his crown
and his life. Whilst, by loud acclamations, both English
and Normans expressed their willingness to have William
for king, his troops set fire to the houses, and commenced
the plunder of the city. The coronation service was hastily
concluded, and the insurrection quelled without much dif¬
ficulty, although the English looked upon it as a bad omen,
and William as a most unfortunate occurrence. It was his
interest to propitiate the affections of the people whom
he had now been appointed to govern, and he anxiously
wished to do so. In explanation of this occurrence, it is
usually alleged that the Normans mistook the acclama-
1 Turner’s Anglo-Saxons, vol. n. passim. Mackintosh’s England, \o\. i. p. 71*
ENGL
History, tions of those who shouted within the church for an alarm
of the English to rise in revolt. But if this had been the
1006. casej why t]ley not instantly fly to the rescue of their
king, instead of spreading themselves about and firing and
pillaging the city ? His safety was surely their first care ;
for had he fallen, their fate w'as inevitable. The whole
unquestionably originated in the desire of the troops for
sack and pillage.1
Hitherto William had been called the Bastard ; from
this period he obtained the surname of the Conqueror,
a term which at the time was employed to designate a
person who had sought and obtained his right, as well as
a subjugator. It was necessary for William to maintain a
strong military force in order to compel the obedience of
his subjects; and he could only feel himself secure sur¬
rounded by his trusty Norman barons. But the duration
of their services being limited to a certain term, they na¬
turally expected to be released from their engagements,
and re-conveyed to their country, when the period of ser¬
vitude had expired. In order to encourage them to re¬
main, he put into their hands the strongholds and princi¬
pal towns of the kingdom, whilst all the conquered terri¬
tory of the English, which he had at his command, was
likewise distributed amongst them. Having thus put his
dominions in a secure posture, he embarked for Normandy,
carrying along with him Morcar, Edgar, and Edwin, and
leaving the chief management of affairs in England in the
hands of William Fitzosbern, a Norman baron, and Odo,
bishop of Bayeux, the son of his mother by a plebeian
husband. During the absence of the Conqueror, the
Saxons began to mutter threats of vengeance, and even
went so far as to enter into a conspiracy to cut off the Nor¬
mans as their forefathers had done the Danes. It appears,
from the testimony of several credible annalists, that the
oppression which the English suffered at the hands of the
insolent soldiery was most galling, and called loudly for
retaliation. These alarming rumours crossed the channel,
and reached the ears of William, who hastened from his
continental dominions, and, landing in England in De¬
cember 1067, made a sort of second conquest of that
country. The Saxons of Devonshire, joined by the neigh¬
bouring Britons in Cornwall, had thrown off their alle¬
giance to him, and against them he first turned his arms.
They made a gallant stand; but William having reduced
Exeter, succeeded in breaking the spirit of resistance for
a time. About this period, Edgar, with his mother and
two sisters, having embarked for Hungary, were driven by
a tempest upon the coast of Scotland. That country was
at the time governed by Malcolm, surnamed Ceanmore,
who gladly received the fugitives, and made them a re¬
turn for that kindness which he had himself experienced
under similar circumstances at the English court. Many
Saxon nobles followed Edgar, who, with subsequent emi¬
grations of disaffected Normans, founded the greater num¬
ber of the Scottish noble families. Malcolm afterwards
married Matilda, the eldest sister of Edgar.
William the Conqueror now turned his attention to the
north, where his authority had not yet been properly esta-
AND. 667
blished. From the heart of Mercia to the confines of History.
Scotland a spirit of open insubordination prevailed, and
was fostered by Edwin, who had been at one time promised 1067.
the hand of William’s daughter, but was afterwards refused
it. The insurrection became formidable ; but it was soon
quelled, and this served more and more to confirm the
power of the Normans. William penetrated as far as York,
which opened its gates to him, scattered the isolated and
feeble bands who opposed his march, and reduced all the
important towns on his way. During this expedition he
also fortified a number of castles. The tranquillity thus
produced was, however, of short duration. At Durham
the English succeeded in massacring the whole Norman
force established there, excepting two men. York followed
the example of Durham, and rising upon the garrison,
killed the governor, with many of his retainers. Shortly
after this event, the sons of Harold, the late king, landed
from Ireland with the intention of making an effort to re¬
cover the crown; but they were utterly defeated in two
engagements, by Brian, son of the Earl of Bretagne.
A new and formidable auxiliary of the malcontents had
now however arrived in the Humber ; this was a powerful
Danish armament. Edgar Atheling, several illustrious
Saxons, and crowds of the English, having joined them,
they successfully assaulted York; but William, apprised
of their descent, hastened to the scene of war. His usual
good fortune attended him; and the Danes were compel¬
led to quit the country without crossing arms with theNor-
mans in any conflict worthy the name of a battle. Hints
have occasionally been thrown out that they were bribed
by the Conqueror; but of this circumstance there is no di¬
rect evidence. Upon another point, however, all historians
are agreed, namely, that, piqued by these repeated insur¬
rections, the king, in a transport of passion, had sworn to
extirpate Northumbria. This merciless vow was perform¬
ed nearly to the letter. Unbounded license was given to
the soldiery, who ravaged the country with fire and sword.
The destroying angel could scarcely have left a more de¬
solate wilderness behind. An historian, William of Malmes¬
bury, who wrote sixty years after the event, thus describes
it: “ From York to Durham not one inhabited village
remained; fire, slaughter, and desolation made it a vast
desert, which continues to this day.” The dead remained
unburied; famine, with pestilence in its train, stalked
throughout the neighbouring provinces; whilst confisca¬
tion brought up the rear of this terrible visitation, and
completed the ruin of the country and its inhabitants,
gleaning whatever the sword had not destroyed. Such
atrocities as these imprint a blot upon the escutcheon of
William which it is impossible to obliterate. To his au¬
thority the rebel chieftains were compelled to submit; and
having thus in the most summary manner crushed rebel¬
lion in this quarter of his dominions, he returned south¬
wards, clearing the provinces of the disaffected as he pro¬
ceeded, and repairing or building castles for the subjection
of the country.
William was now undisputed master of England. The
conquest of the country, properly speaking, only began
1 Although not mentioned by our historians, contemporary annalists establish and illustrate the fact that the armies of the conti¬
nent at this period were in a great measure composed of mercenaries, who followed war as a profession, and hired themselves out to
the best paymaster. These individuals were different from those who followed the banners of the barons according to the feudal
system. They were little better than hired banditti, and were very numerous in the Low Countries, whence William had sprung. I at
the force wkh vvhich he invaded England contained vast numbers of these condottieri is no only probable, but appears nearly
certain when we contemplate the methods of furnishing out an army in those days. The plunder of the provinces which they
overran or conquered seems to have been looked upon by them as not only allowable, bu as forming part of their reward.
That the affaTr at William’s coronation arose from their rapacity for pillage, which they looked upon as a right, there can be
little doubt; and thev chose the most fitting time for successfully carrying their project into execution; a time when their leaders
were withdrawn, and' in attendance at the ceremony going on within the church. They had previously broken out in the same
way at Dover.
668 ENGLAND,
History, with the battle of Hastings. It was not until seven years
thereafter, when he carried the terror of his arms to
1067. York, that the country wras completely subdued. Before
that period not one half of England acknowledged his au¬
thority. But the spirit of the Saxons was now fairly bro¬
ken, and finding themselves pursued with such extirpating
vengeance, many of them sought refuge amongst the hills
and forests, whilst others emigrated to foreign lands. A
party of them under Hereward, a resolute chief, attempt¬
ed to make a stand in the island of Ely, immediately after
the northern massacre. This land of fens and marshes
was the last asylum of Saxon independence ; and Morcar,
with some bishops and the remainder of the most conspi¬
cuous Saxons, repaired thither. For a while William dis¬
dained to notice the efforts of Hereward; but at last he
invaded his circumscribed territory, and, scattering his
little band, compelled him to fly. This bold and patriotic
chieftain afterwards gave in his submission, and being
allowed to retain his paternal possessions, the end of his
days proved happy. His daring exploits had endeared
him to his countrymen, and conferred on him a romantic
celebrity. His actions were the theme of many a Saxon
song; and even the Normans did homage to his warlike
virtues. He was the last of the Saxons who drew the
sword in the cause of national independence.
William having now quieted the tumults at home, turn¬
ed his attention to Malcolm, king of Scotland, whom he
compelled to submit. The affairs of the church also oc¬
cupied him for a time; and several changes were effect¬
ed, not, it may well be believed, to the advantage of the
Saxon prelates. One of them, the Archbishop of Canter¬
bury, was deposed, and his place supplied by Lanfranc,
who, although a worthy man, was the creature of Whlliam,
and in bondage to Rome. In the meanwhile, Edgar Athe-
ling had sought and obtained the friendship of the Con¬
queror, who, to his honour, ever afterwards maintained
this weak and almost imbecile youth in ease and affluence
at his court.1 William now ventured upon another visit
to Normandy, where we shall leave him engaged in petty
contests, and take a view of the state of England after its
subjugation.
By the introduction of a foreign sovereign, a foreign
hierarchy, and a foreign nobility, the native population
suffered severe depression. To supply the liberal grants
of land and places of honour and trust to his followers, the
English were of course sacrificed ; and thus they were com¬
pelled to become the servants or dependents of their con¬
querors. Contempt and oppression became their heritage.
Their farms were pillaged, their females violated, their
persons imprisoned, and other indignities heaped upon
them, at the caprice of the petty tyrants who were set over
them. The principal favourites of the Conqueror had an¬
other distinction conferred upon them in addition to the
grants of land. This was the earldom or command of the
several counties. Two legal revolutions occurred or were
completed during the reign of William ; the separation of
the ecclesiastical from the civil judicature, and the intro¬
duction or consummation of the feudal system, for an ac¬
count of which the reader is referred to the proper head.
He effected various other judicial changes which were ul¬
timately beneficial to the community. The crown reve¬
nues were a continuation of those which the Anglo-Saxon
kings enjoyed ; but they appear to have been considerably History,
increased by the various changes which took place, and 'w
also very carefully collected ; for from an ancient historian 1087.
we learn that the king’s daily income amounted to above
one thousand pounds, a sum almost incredible when we
reflect that gold was then three times and silver ten times
the value which they possess in modern times.
During the visit of William to his continental posses¬
sions, the Norman barons rebelled against him, and were
joined by some Saxon chiefs. The king hastened across
seas with a band of auxiliaries, and made an easy conquest
of the insurgents. The remaining events of his reign are
not sufficiently important to require a minute recital. The
most remarkable is the revolt of his son Robert, who had
been promised the duchy of Normandy when William first
invaded England. The French monarch fomented the
hostilities between the father and son, which existed for
several years, and closed with a most romantic incident.
Robert, being besieged in the castle of Gorberoi, engaged
a knight enveloped in complete armour, and unhorsed him,
at the same time inflicting a wound in his arm. When
about to pursue his advantage, Robert recognised in the
fallen warrior the voice of his father. A reconciliation
was finally effected by the tears and entreaties of Matilda,
the mother of this Norman Absalom.
Whilst engaged in a desolating warfare against Philip,
king of France, William came before the town of Montes
in July 1087, and ordered it to be burned. He rode to
view the scene, and galloping among the smouldering ruins,
his horse reared and plunged so violently as severely to
wound the rider, who was at the time very corpulent and
unwieldy. He was carried in a dangerous state to the
vicinity of Rouen, where he breathed his last, on the 9th
of September. On his death-bed the conscience of the
Conqueror appears to have stung him deeply; for he or¬
dered that several prisoners in England, amongst whom
was Odo his half-brother, should be set at large ; and that
restitution should be made for what he had violently de¬
stroyed. But these atonements were inadequate to expi¬
ate the crimes of which he had been guilty.
The character of William has been drawn in the Saxon
chronicle by an Englishman, who was his contemporary,
and lived at his court. From this document we learn that
the king was very wise, very rich, and “ more worshipfull
and strong than any of his fore-gangers.” It is added,
that “ he was mild to good men who loved God, and stark
beyond all bounds to those who withstaid his willand
the chronicler goes on to show that he exercised a pas¬
sionate as well as politic tyranny. That, in fact, he sur¬
passed his contemporary rulers in capacity for command,
the events of his life bear ample testimony. All those
qualities which fit an individual for directing and control¬
ling the minds of men in troubled times he possessed in
an eminent degree. In extenuation of his perfidy and
cruelty, it may be urged that these detestable qualities
were not more characteristic of him than of the age in
which he lived ; and that he is conspicuous for them above
his competitors only because, from the vigour of his mind,
and the great transactions in which he interested himself,
he was their superior in every thing else. In a happier
state of society, when moral restraint is generally recog¬
nised, and influences the development of the mental con-
1 Sir James Mackintosh, in his History of England (vol. i. p. 108), gives a somewhat different account of this youth, but upon
what authority is not stated ; ours is Mr Turner, who quotes from William of Malmesbury. There is considerable ambiguity in the
passage ; for Sir James (p. 102 of the same work) says that Malcolm Ceanmore “ married the Princess Margaret, after the death of
her brother Edgar." Now the king of Scotland espoused this princess several years before the events noticed in p. 108, so that one
or other of these statements must be erroneous ; for none of our historians makes mention of two contemporary princes named Edgar
belonging to the royal house of Wessex.
ENGLAND.
1087.
History, stitution of man, his glories would not probably have ap-
peared more stained with blood than those of Cromwell
and other warriors who have attained the seat of success¬
ful ambition and uneasy power. Neither these palliatives,
however, nor his death-bed penitence, can atone for irre¬
vocable crimes, or erase from the page of history such
deeds as the Northumbrian massacre.
Much has been written concerning tbe Norman con¬
quest, for it is a subject of inexhaustible interest. That
it became ultimately of incalculable benefit to tbe coun¬
try, whatever may have been the suffering immediately
consequent upon the event itself, no one can doubt who
reflects upon the fluctuating condition of England, its os¬
cillation between foreign bondage and native independ¬
ence, its internal broils and never-ending distractions, pre¬
viously to the invasion of the Normans, with the consoli¬
dated strength which it internally displayed, and the dig¬
nified bearing which it outwardly assumed, after it was
conquered by them. Insurrections, though not unknown
afterwards, were of less frequent occurrance, and far less
alarming, than before; and from the period of the inva¬
sion of William, no foreign enemy dared to set his foot
upon the soil with impunity. Amongst the financial in¬
novations of his reign was the composition of the Dooms¬
day Book, for an account of which the reader is referred
to the article under that head.
The Conqueror left three sons by bis wife Matilda.
Robert, the eldest, was installed in the duchy of Norman¬
dy; whilst William, surnamed Rufus or the Red, from his
complexion, obtained the throne of England, and was
crowned on the 26th of September 1087. An attempt
was made by his half-uncle Odo to dethrone him, and to
set up his brother Robert in his stead. But William,
alarmed at the formidable demonstrations which were
made against him, appealed to the English for aid, and
his call was most loyally obeyed. The Normans who had
invaded England were compelled to fly, and William car¬
ried the war into Normandy, where a reconciliation was
effected in the year 1091. The king of England had ac¬
quired several continental fortresses, of which he was still
to retain possession. It was also stipulated between the
brothers, that on the decease of either, the survivor should
succeed to the dominions of the other. Henry, the young¬
er brother, who suffered by tbe treaty, held out several
strong places in Normandy; but they joined their forces
together, and besieged him in St Michael s Mount, whence
he was compelled to fly from want of water.
Robert accompanied his brother to England, where he
had been promised possessions as an equivalent for the
fortresses which he had yielded up in Normandy. But
William did not find it convenient to fulfil the terms of
the treaty ; upon which his brother, who had again crossed
the channel, sent over two heralds for the purpose of de¬
claring him a false and perjured knight. In order to de¬
fend his honour, the king followed them into Normandy;
but his transactions there belong rather to his own in¬
dividual history than to that of the country which he go¬
verned. The possession of his brother’s dominions was a
leading object of William’s ambition ; and he gradually ac¬
quired an ascendency in Normandy, which he repeatedly
invaded, obtaining new cessions at each adventure. Robert
finally mortgaged the whole country to him for three years,
at an equivalent of ten thousand marks. _ .
The other events of W illiam s reign were, an invasion of
Wales, which was crowned with the usual success ; and a
war with Scotland, in which the monarch of that country
was slain. His government of England was most unpo¬
pular. For the gratification of his own appetites, and the
enriching of worthless favourites, he plundered the coun¬
try with impunity. During the life of Lanfranc, his un-
669
1100.
disciplined rapacity was checked by the wisdom and in- History,
fluence of that excellent prelate. His death, however,
removed every restraint, for the king supplied his place
by the appointment of an able but remorseless counsellor,
who, according to the king himself, was capable of brav¬
ing the execrations and the vengeance of mankind, in or¬
der to gratify his master’s desires. Many bishoprics, in¬
cluding amongst these the see of Canterbury, were kept
vacant by the king for several years, until a severe illness
convinced him of the necessity of appointing a primate.
The individual whom he fixed upon was Anselm, one of
the most learned and meritorious men of his age. This
individual at first demurred to accept the archbishopric,
dreading the violence of the king ; but the earnest solici¬
tations of his friends at last induced him to comply, and
he thus became primate of England. William, as long as
his illness was of a dangerous character, showed himself
penitent and submissive. He commanded all his prison¬
ers to be released, all his debtors to be forgiven, and all
offences to be remitted ; and he solemnly vowed that if he
recovered he would govern the land in righteousness. But
no sooner was he convalescent than he showed that his
profession of amendment was only a matter of convenience,
and extorted from an unforgiving spirit by the terrors of
death. Anselm, as was usual in such cases, brought a
voluntary present to his master as an acknowledgment for
the dignity which had been conferred upon him; but the
gift, not corresponding to the avaricious views of the mo¬
narch, was refused, and the unfortunate primate was ever
afterwards persecuted by him with the most unrelenting
tyranny. Anselm at last sought shelter in Rome, where
he continued until William’s demise.
The death of the monarch, like his life, was violent.
Whilst hunting in the New Forest, he was accidentally
struck by an arrow, which buried itself in his breast, and
he expired on the spot. Ihe shaft is believed to have
been shot at random, and to have come from the bow of
Walter Tyrrel, a French knight, who immediately made
his escape. I his event happened on the 2d of Augustin
the year 1100. , „ , .
Henry the First, surnamed Beauclerk or the bcholar,
ascended the throne of England three days after the death
of his brother, the preceding monarch. The compact
which had been made between William and Robert was
set aside; but the latter, considering himself as aggriev¬
ed, invaded England. The formidable demonstrations
made by his brother, however, intimidated him, and a
pacification was at last effected at the accession of Henry;
and the latter propitiated the favour of his subjects by
many wise acts. He removed the unpopular agents of
his unfortunate brother, particularly Hambard, the ob¬
noxious minister formerly alluded to, and also abolished
the oppressive exactions which the latter had enforced.
Anselm was recalled, and the clergy conciliated, whilst
the people had restored to them the Anglo-Saxon laws
and privileges as amended by Henry’s father. He also
gratified the nation by espousing Matilda, or Maud, daugh¬
ter of Malcolm, king of Scotland, by Margaret, the sister
of Edgar Atheling. . . . ,
The king now turned his attention to the punishment
of the outlaws who had thrown off his authority. Amongst
these were included several noblemen, and particularly
Robert de Belesme, the most powerful subject in Eng¬
land, and a man haughty, rapacious, and deceitful. He
had secured himself within the walls of Shrewsbury, but
at the arrival of Henry before this place he made a humi¬
liating surrender, upon which his life was spared, but he
was condemned to perpetual exile. Some time after these
events Robert unexpectedly arrived in England, where
he was received with apparent affection by his brother,
670 ENGL
History. but very soon discovered that he was in reality a captive.
The purpose of his visit was to intercede with Henry in
1106, favour of the rebels; but instead of compounding for their
liberation, he was reduced to solicit his own, which he
obtained by consenting to pay an annuity of three thou¬
sand merks. After his return to Normandy he entered
into terms of friendship with the outlaw Belesme, who
possessed numerous castles in the country. Intelligence
of this having reached Henry, he renounced the alliance
by which he had bound himself to keep the peace with
Robert. This compact was similar to that which had sub¬
sisted between William and Robert, and a second time
the latter became a brother's dupe. Henry invaded Nor¬
mandy, and a decisive conflict before the walls of Tinche-
brai, on the 27th of April 1106, decided the fate of Ro¬
bert. His army was completely routed, and he himself
taken prisoner and sent to England, where he remained in
close confinement till his death, which happened in 1135.
The cruel fate of this prince has served as a foil to the
virtues which he possessed, and shed over them an arti¬
ficial or spurious lustre. There can be no doubt, however,
that his qualities as a warrior were brilliant, and his mind
would seem to have been forgiving and conciliatory. Per¬
haps an amiable weakness in the latter respect was the
ultimate cause of his misfortunes. Amongst the prison¬
ers taken at Tinchebrai was Edgar Atheling. Either from
his inherent weakness precluding any thing like fear on
his account, or from a desire to retain the golden opinions
of the Saxons, Henry pardoned him, and from this period
the descendant of Alfred intrudes himself no more upon
the page of English history.
Robert had a son about five years of age named William,
whom a faithful vassal succeeded in conveying to the
French court. As the age of this prince advanced, the
hopes of his partizans proportionally increased. Henry,
after obtaining possession of Normandy, had succeeded in
tranquillizing it, and restoring peace and order; but as his
nephew grew up, the claims which he possessed to the
duchy of his father became more and more popular, and
disturbed the quiet both of his uncle and the country.
Henry should have at once yielded his paternal inherit¬
ance to the young prince ; and the withholding of it was
an act of injustice which harassed his life and dishonour¬
ed his name. The Norman barons, along with the king of
France, took part with the injured youth; but this coali¬
tion terminated with the battle of Brenville, which was
fought in the year 1119. Louis, the French king, had
four hundred, and Henry of England five hundred knights.
Both princes displayed great bravery during the engage¬
ment, which ended, with comparatively but little blood¬
shed, in favour of the English. William of Normandy
made his escape ; and the pope, who paid a visit to Henry
at Gisors, effected a reconciliation between him and Louis,
without touching upon the main cause of quarrel, namely,
the difference between the English monarch and his bro¬
ther Robert, or rather his nephew William, the father be¬
ing now politically dead.
Matters having been once more pacifically arranged, and
the ambition of Henry gratified, he set sail for England
towards the end of November 1120. Upon this occasion
a most calamitous event occurred in his family, namely,
the loss of his only son William. The prince, with a large
retinue of gay young knights and noblemen, embarked
shortly after his father. Festivity, riot, and intoxication
prevailed on board; but in the midst of this feasting and
debauchery, the care of the vessel being forgotten alto¬
gether, she struck upon a rock near Harfleur, and went
down. Of three hundred individuals who were on board,
only one escaped to record the dismal fate of his com¬
panions. Prince William would have been saved but for
AND.
the shrieks of his natural sister, which recalled him to the History,
wreck with the boat in which he was proceeding towards
shore; and it sunk under the multitudes who crowded 1135‘
into it.
This sudden calamity revived the hopes of Henry's ne¬
phew William, and disturbed all the arrangements of the
king in Normandy. A new war was kindled in that country;
but it terminated in 1124 in favour of the English monarch.
The discomfited youth, however, received a new favour
of fortune. Louis of France bestowed upon him the hand
of his sister-in-law; and along with her he received se¬
veral of the provinces nearest to Paris, which had been
united to Normandy by conquest. Soon afterwards he
was invested with the earldom of Flanders, which had been
left vacant by the assassination of Charles the Good in
1127. In the meanwhile, Henry had endeavoured to per¬
petuate the succession in his own family, by marrying a
second time, after the death of Matilda, his first wife, who
had brought him a son and daughter. The premature
fate of the former we have already noticed ; and the latter,
named Matilda, had espoused the Emperor of Germany.
The marriage of the king proved to be without issue; and
his daughter having recently become a widow, was invited
to England, for the purpose of settling upon her the suc¬
cession to the throne. In a general assembly of the pre¬
lates and chief tenants of the crown she was proposed by
her father and acknowledged by the meeting as heiress
presumptive; and shortly after this transaction her father
privately married her to the Count of Anjou. This secret
negociation drew forth loud complaints from the barons;
and many of them declared that the duplicity of the king
had released them from the obligation of their oath. This
doubtless disturbed the serenity of the king’s reign; but
another and more important cause of disquietude arose
from the increasing power and fame of his nephew in
Flanders. However, the death of that prince soon after¬
wards removed all uneasiness on his account, and restored
at least the prospect of tranquillity. But this was not
realized; for a quarrel with his son-in-law retained him
in Normandy, and embroiled the last years of his reign,
which was now drawing towards a close. Robert, the
unfortunate duke of Normandy, died at Cardiff Castle in
Wales, in the eightieth year of his age and twenty-eighth
of his captivity, a great part of which had been spent in
total blindness ; for an unsuccessful attempt to escape had
provoked his brother to deprive him of sight. All the
historians of the period do not mention this circumstance,
and some state that the prisoner enjoyed every indulgence ;
so that the point is doubtful, and for the honour of huma¬
nity we leave it in this state. In about a year thereafter,
he was followed to the grave by king Henry, who died
of a surfeit of lampreys, on the 1st of December 1135,
in the sixty-seventh year of his age and thirty-fifth of his
reign.
The character of Henry has been drawn by both friends
and enemies, his contemporaries. The former extol him
as wise, rich, and brave; and the latter execrate him as
cruel, avaricious, and incontinent. By joining the two cha¬
racters together, we will form a pretty fair estimate of the
monarch. He was undoubtedly an able statesman and a
courageous soldier, whilst his resolute attack upon the
popular system of rapine which disgraced Europe at the
time is entitled to very high praise. He punished of¬
fences severely; but his administration of justice was
highly beneficial to the country; and hence arose his
title of the Lion of Justice. On the other hand, the im¬
morality of his private life, his exactions, his cruelty to
his brother and others; his dissimulation, for even his fa¬
vourites distrusted him ; and his avarice, foi he hoarded
gold like a miser; render his character exceedingly equi-
ENGLAND.
671
1135.
History, vocal as a man, whatever estimate we may form of him as
v y a sovereign. His reign offers little worthy of praise, ex¬
cepting what has been noticed above. It was moreover
so agitated, that he passed only five years of untroubled
tranquillity in England.
It was the darling plan of Henry that his beloved daugh¬
ter Maud should be his successor. By her second hus¬
band she had three sons, one or other of whom their uncle
no doubt looked upon as the future monarch of England.
But the claims of the ex-empress of Germany were waived,
and Stephen earl of Boulogne, son of Adela, the daughter
of William the Conqueror, succeeded to the throne. He
was crowned upon the 26th of December 1135, and soon
made himself very popular. According to custom, he im¬
mediately issued a charter, which promised of course good
government and ample redress of grievances. His courts
at the solemn festivals were held with extraordinary mag-
1154.
bert defeated him at Wilton; and this miserable warfare History,
continued, until, on the death of her brother Robert, Ma- v
tilda returned to Normandy in 1147, when a breathing
time of two years intervened.
In the meanwhile Henry, the son of Matilda, was ad¬
vancing in years and in fortune. By his uncle David,
king of Scotland, he had been knighted at the age of six¬
teen ; a year thereafter he obtained from his father the ces¬
sion of the duchy of Normandy ; and at the death of that
prince he succeeded to the earldom of Anjou. In 1152,
by a politic marriage, he annexed the extensive duchy of
Aquitaine to his dominions. This aggrandizement of her
son’s power having elevated the hopes of Matilda and those
of her partizans, Prince Henry landed in England ; but in
consequence of the death of Eustace, the oldest son of Ste¬
phen, the two parties agreed to terms of peace. Stephen
adopted Henry, and appointed him as his successor, one of
nificence. He repulsed the invasion of David king of the best acts of his troubled reign. They lived in harmony
Scotland, who received a severe defeat at the Battle of with each other for about a year, when Stephen died on the
the Standard, which was fought near Northallerton; he
subdued his enemies in Normandy; and, by a yearly
pension, he pacified the husband of the lady whom he
had supplanted upon the throne. Robert earl of Glou¬
cester, natural son of Henry, and the great supporter of
Maud’s rights, perceiving all hostility to be unavailing, at
last swore fealty to the king. For the first two or three
years of his reign, Stephen sat secure upon the throne;
but he was doomed to be overtaken by a series of calami¬
ties. These arose partly from the inevitable consequences
of his usurpation, and partly from his defects as a sove¬
reign. That passion for depredation and conflict which
the preceding monarch had subdued, again broke out.
Every one built his own castle and maintained his own
band of mercenary ruffians, who sallied forth day and
night to plunder the surrounding country, and drag into
dungeons such as they expected would give a high ran¬
som for their freedom. A contemporary chronicler has
drawn a horrible picture of the atrocities thus committed
with impunity; for the mildness of Stephen’s character,
25th of October 1154. He reigned nineteen years, dur¬
ing the greater part of which time England exhibited a
scene of misery unequalled since the invasion of the
Danes. The cause of these calamities we have already
alluded to. The character of Stephen is not so deeply
stained with atrocities as that of some of his predecessors,
probably because it was not so determined. In compari¬
son with them, the grasp which he held of the sceptre was
as feeble as his right to seize it at all was equivocal.
Henry II. or Plantagenet, the son of Matilda, ascended
the throne without a dissenting murmur. He was crown¬
ed, along with his queen Eleanor, at Westminster, on the
19th of December 1154, in presence of an immense con¬
course of people. The prospect which opened up to this
young sovereign was more glorious than that of any of his
forerunners in England, or his contemporaries in other
countries. An unprecedented mass of power was concen¬
trated in his hands. A third part of France, including al¬
most the whole western coast from the borders of Picardy
to the mountains of Navarre, acknowledged his authority.
and probably the recollection of his own conduct in ob- These possessions, along with England comprehended the
induced him to be forbearing and in- most warlike portion of Europe ; and had the ambition ot
taining the crown,
dulgent. His popularity rapidly declined; and in the
fourth year of his reign it appears to have altogether
ceased. In 1139 Matilda, with a few attendants, landed
in England, for the purpose of recovering her lost inhe¬
ritance. She was joined by Robert earl of Gloucester,
with a hundred and fifty knights, who commenced a war-
most warlike portion ot Europe
the individual who ruled over them been commensurate
with his power, the humiliation, if not entire subjugation, of
France would not have been reserved for the Henries and
Edwards of after times. Although by no means desti¬
tute of a passion for power, Henry possessed a love of li¬
terature, which led him to eschew the cloudy and troubled
fare which nearly hurled Stephen from the throne. After atmosphere of wai. evj]s
many conflicts, which were only characterized by the mi- mg the re.gn of his predecessor had .nflicte^
sery attendant upon them, the army of the Empress Ma- on the nat.on and
tilda or Maud defeated that of Stephen near Lincoln, in voted t le rs y eat s o S • , bevond seas the
the year 1141. The king was captured after a brave re- of standard weight and purity .hedovc beyond seas t<
sistance i and Matilda was soon afterwards crowned queen foreign mercenaries who 1'^ harbomed in Etgnd dur
of England at Winchester. The clergy, although they ,ng the reign of SyPhJ ’’“Xfed tho^liS had Ten
countenanced the accession of Stephen, now acknowledg- had been usurpe > f svstematic plunder By these
ed her prior claim ;and the queen, proceeding to London, -redfor^
was joyfully hailed by the citizens. _ Lictlr-c in his English dominions. One
But her popularity was of short duration. By her arro-
her popularity was ot snort ouratiou. oy „e, a.,o- administration taTre'stless acti-
gance and contemptuous conduct towards the fi lends o t-. horseback he was perpetually in mo-
Stephen, she soon alienated the affections of the people, vi y. n monts which he could spare from more
a„dPwas at last compelled to fly from the city and to
establish her head-quarters at Oxford. In one of the nu p iporlins- events of Henry’s reign are asso-
merous struggles which followed, the Earl Gbucester ° name of Thomas a Becket, who has been
was taken prisoner, which put the fortunes of the belli- ciate^ int and mart r; or a hypocrite and trai-
gerents nearly upon a level. I he king and the earl were p ^ rdi t0 the reijgious bias of the historian who
exchanged for each other; and as both Part,e® ha<J, nT happened to draw the picture. Under the article Becket
commander upon whom they could depend, the con nnPLr0unt of this celebrated prelate will be found ; and
was perpetuated, with increasing misery to the nation, o ^ ^ neCeSsary in this place to allude to those events
some years the balance of power hung nearly <3 j which^are identified with the history of his
poise between them. Stephen reduced Oxford, but Ko- or ms me
672 E N G I
History, country. One of Henry’s first measures was the promo-
'——v'-'w' tion of this individual to the chancellorship of England,
1161. jn which capacity he vigorously seconded the measures of
reform which the king had undertaken. His administra¬
tion has been characterized as alike beneficial to the coun¬
try and to the sovereign, who loaded his favourite minister
with honours and emoluments. By the advice of Becket,
Henry proposed a treaty of marriage between his eldest
son and the daughter of Louis king of France. On this
occasion the chancellor undertook a journey to Paris, dis¬
playing upon the occasion a pomp and parade transcen-
dently elaborate. Henry himself followed ; and although
a rupture ensued between the sovereigns about the city of
Toulouse, which belonged of right to the king of England,
their enmities terminated with the marriage of their child¬
ren whilst the infants were as yet in the cradle. We have
now arrived at that period of Becket’s life in which his
conduct has been the subject of a kind of historical cru¬
sade. In 1161 Theobald the archbishop of Canterbury died,
and Becket was recommended as his successor by the king.
The clergy of England, however, resisted the nomination,
declaring it to be unseemly for a man who was rather a
soldier than a priest, and whose life had been devoted to
hunting and falconry, to be appointed an archbishop. More
than twelve months elapsed between the nomination and
appointment, during which time Becket still retained the
chancellorship, and evinced no change in his feelings or
way of living, which was eminently worldly. He even
went so far as to smile at the idea of metamorphosing the
gay and pompous Chancellor of England into the Arch¬
bishop of Canterbury ; and he appears himself to have
thought that the choice arose from Henry’s confidence
that he would become the pliable instrument of his will
in ecclesiastical affairs. If the king anticipated such a
consummation, never were the hopes of man more miser¬
ably disappointed. For no sooner was Becket invested
with the primacy, than a change took place in his man¬
ners, more strongly contrasted with his former life than
were the two offices which he had held. Instead of a
train, which in splendour and fastidious pomp had rival¬
led the retinue of kings, he chose a few monks the most
conspicuous for their humility and mortification. Instead
of the oriental magnificence and gorgeousness of apparel
with which he loved to dazzle the eyes even of courtiers,
he selected as his chosen garment the roughest sackcloth.
His sports and revels were exchanged for deeds of peni¬
tence and humiliation. And thus far his conduct appears
to have been commendable; but did his future behaviour
warrant a belief that this sudden change was attributable
to the sincere conviction of a pure and lofty spirit, which
had changed its views regarding the relative value of
earthly and heavenly things, or to the policy of a deep and
designing hypocrite? The remaining particulars of his
life will best enable the reader to form his own judgment
as to this, which is one of the most disputed points in our
history.
The first step which Becket took after his promotion
was to return the seals of his former office to Henry, on
the ground of his incompetency to hold two such offices.
This measure is said to have at first excited the indigna¬
tion of the king, who had never before heard Becket ob¬
ject to the prelacy on that account. But it was not until
1163, when hostilities commenced between the church
and the state, that Becket and the king came fairly into
collision. Previously to the Norman conquest, ecclesias¬
tical affairs had, like others, been decided before the hun¬
dred, with the addition of the metropolitan sitting as one
of the judges. The Conqueror, however, had instituted a
separate tribunal, where the clergy were judged by a court
composed of themselves, and from that time they were inde-
/ A N D.
pendent of secular jurisdiction. Becket upheld this claim History,
with firmness, as he ought to have done, until it was for-
mally set aside by the king and his counsellors. This, how- HG4.
ever, did not justify the decisions which were pronounced,
and which had now become notoriously partial. Crimes
of the darkest description had frequently been perpetrated
by ecclesiastics with the most scandalous impunity ; for the
judges could not inflict capital, nor indeed any adequate
punishment. An abominable instance of seduction hav¬
ing attracted the notice of the king, he determined that
those chargeable with such atrocities should be tried be¬
fore the criminal tribunals of the state. For this purpose
he summoned a great council at Westminster, where he
demanded that ecclesiastics, whenever convicted of such
offences, should be degraded, and handed over to a secular
justiciary. His question was, Would they agree to observe
the ancient customs of the realm? Becket answered yes,
saving his order; an ambiguous reply, which was echoed
by the conclave of bishops present, with only one excep¬
tion. But, although not at this assembly, he was after¬
wards compelled to yield the point without any reserva¬
tion respecting his order. This formal assent was obtain¬
ed at the celebrated council of Clarendon, which took place
on the 25th of January llfiL At this great or common
council of the realm, for the word parliament had not yet
been introduced, Becket was compelled to yield compli¬
ance to the demands of his sovereign. At first he pe¬
remptorily refused his acquiescence; but the king, in¬
censed at his obstinacy, menaced him with exile or death,
whilst several individuals of rank present entreated him
with genuflections and tears to submit; by which means
a compliance was at last reluctantly wrung from him.
These customs and usages, the recognition of which was
thus so vehemently urged, were contained in sixteen ar¬
ticles, which were afterwards well known under the name
of the Institutions of Clarendon, by which it was enact¬
ed that clergymen accused of any crime should be tried
in civil courts ; that laymen should not be tried in spiri¬
tual courts, except by legal and reputable witnesses ; that
no ecclesiastical person should quit the realm without the
king’s license ; that all causes not ecclesiastical should be
finally determined in the king’s court; that all ecclesias¬
tical persons who were tenants in capite of the crown
should follow the king’s customs, sue and be sued respect¬
ing their fiefs before his justices, and attend, like other
barons, at his courts; that vacant dignities in the church
should be in the king’s hands ; and that he should also re¬
ceive the profits of his seignorial dues. These, with some
others, to the number of sixteen, were subscribed by all
the ecclesiastics present, including Becket himself. Fie
was now not only mortified in the highest degree, but, pre¬
tending extreme contrition for what he had done, did open
penance for his supposed delinquency. He attempted to
make his escape to France, but was arrested for an of¬
fence against the institutions which he had recently sign¬
ed. Henry was now exasperated beyond all bounds at
the archbishop, and assembled a parliament at Northamp¬
ton, obviously for the purpose of crushing him. Becket
was accordingly summoned to account for rents and pro¬
fits connected with his primacy. He arrayed himself in
his sacerdotal vestments, and, with the cross in his hand,
proceeded to the place appointed. The king complain¬
ed to the council of the insolent behaviour of Becket, and
the whole assembly joined in condemning his inconsis¬
tency. The suit regarding rents, which was only intend¬
ed as a menace, he attempted to free himself from, by
pleading a release by Henry the king’s son; but this was
overruled. After being condemned as a perjured traitor,
he left the palace, his eyes fixed upon the cross, which he
held uplifted in his hands ; and, travelling in disguise, he
ENGLAND.
History, reached the port of Sandwich, whence he immediately
embarked for the Continent.
Becket was received with marks of esteem by the king
of France, and likewise by the pope, whose cause he had
so strenuously defended in England. When Henry learn¬
ed the flattering reception which the obnoxious exile had
received, he dispatched an embassy to expostulate with
Louis, and sent another to Rome, to justify his conduct to
the pontiff. But the ambassadors were received with cool¬
ness, if not with something which bordered upon contempt.
The judgment of the barons and bishops was annulled by
the pope, and those who should invade the property of the
church were declared to be cutoff from the society of the
faithful. . Henry’s irritation had now reached its climax,
and he resolved upon taking a bold step, which, had the
human mind been ripe for such a measure, might have
ended in the separation of the English church from that
of Rome ; but this achievement was reserved for the Henry
of a future day. He gave orders to his justiciaries, prohi¬
biting, under severe penalties, all appeals to the pope or
the archbishop, and forbidding any person to receive man¬
dates from them, or to apply to their authority ; and he
declared it treasonable to bring over from either any in¬
terdict against the kingdom. On the other hand, the pope
was not slow in issuing his fulminations. Becket was
ordered to excommunicate Henry’s chief ministers, and
put the see of Canterbury, including about three fourths
of the kingdom, under an interdict. But Henry stood
firm, and looked with indifference upon the papal light¬
nings which played around him. At last, however, he be¬
gan to dread the powers of his victim, chiefly on account
of his continental dominions, and proposed a reconcilia¬
tion. The treaty of accommodation, although more than
once broken off, was finally concluded, and Becket return¬
ed to the see of Canterbury without having been com¬
pelled to make any express submission to the institutions
of Clarendon.
But the wounds had been too deep to be thus sudden¬
ly healed, and, though closed at the surface, the venom
still rankled underneath. The arrogance and presump¬
tion of the primate returned along with his dignity. He
refused compliance with the terms of the general am¬
nesty, and would not submit to take the oath of homage
for his baronry; neither would he withdraw the whole
of the ecclesiastical censure from the prelates who lay
under it on account of their obedience to the king’s com¬
mands. Several very imprudent excommunications soon
followed, and so provoked Henry that he is said to have
dropped certain passionate expressions, intimating some¬
thing which was interpreted into a desire that Becket s
life might be taken away. The supposed will of the king
was instantly accomplished by four knights of distinguish¬
ed rank, who repaired to the church of Canterbury, where
the primate then officiated, and barbarously slew him at
the foot of the altar. See Becket.
Thus perished by foul murder, in the fifty-third year
of his age, Thomas a Becket, who, every thing considered,
was probably the most remarkable man of his time. That
he believed he was all the while conscientiously perform¬
ing his duty, in preserving the immunities of the church,
there seems little reason to doubt; for he would not have
met his fate with such heroic and martyr-like firmness
unless this had been the case. His virtues were of an
austere character, and wanted that amiable attractive¬
ness which we usually associate with the character of one
who is profoundly inspired by the morality of the gospel.
His vices, on the other hand, were the reverse of mean and
grovelling; for his spirit was lofty and aspiring, and his
designs were invested with a dazzling grandeur, and pui-
sued with a fearless firmness much more calculated to ex-
VOL. YIII.
673
cite awe than detestation, far less contempt. That Henry History,
did not intend the murder of Becket, appears certain from v—
his subsequent conduct. He was thrown into the utmost H72.
consternation on hearing of it, knowing well that the pri¬
mate’s death would accomplish what his most violent op¬
position during his lifetime could never have effected. He
abandoned himself to sorrow and mortification, and for
some time refused to take any nourishment. The pope
was wfith some difficulty made sensible of the king’s inno¬
cence ; but declined to grant him a pardon, except on
condition that he should make every future submission,
and perform every injunction which the holy see thought
proper to prescribe or impose. He was likewise enjoin¬
ed to perform a humiliating penance at the tomb of Bec¬
ket, who was in due time canonized as a saint and vene¬
rated as a martyr. The assassins, despairing of pardon,
sought refuge in a distant castle. By the pope they were
enjoined to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, where
they all died, and were buried before the gate of the temple
at Jerusalem.
We come now to a very important event in the reign
of Henry II. that is, the annexation of Ireland to the
English crown ; but the details of his invasion it is unne¬
cessary to relate here, as they will come in due order to
be treated of under the head Ireland.
The king was scarcely freed from the Irish war, and
the dangerous controversy in which he had engaged with
the church of Rome, when he found himself involved in
the most unnatural contests with his own children, to
whom he had always behaved in the most tender and af¬
fectionate manner. He had ordered Henry, his eldest
son, to be anointed king ; and he had destined that prince
as his successor in the kingdom of England, the duchy of
Normandy, and the counties of Anjou, Maine, and Tou-
raine, territories which lay contiguous, and which might
thus easily afford mutual assistance to each other when
necessity required. Richard, his second son, was invested
with the duchy of Guienne and the county of Poitou;
Geoffrey, his third son, inherited, in right of his wife, the
duchy of Brittany ; and the new conquest of Ireland was
destined for John, his fourth and youngest son. The last
sixteen years of Henry’s life were embittered by family
hostilities. A mighty confederacy was secretly formed
against him, in which his three eldest sons participated.
Louis VII. king of France, fed the discord ; for the power
of the English monarch had now become so formidable
as to excite alarm and kindle up jealousy in the breasts
of the continental sovereigns. Ihe young prince was
persuaded to demand of his father some of the dominions
which he had been promised, and of which he was nominal
sovereign; but he was refused. Upon this the prince
made his escape, and put himself under the protection of
the king of France. The French monarch then invaded
Normandy; and Richard and Geoffrey, the sons of King
Henry, severally raised the standard of revolt in Guienne
and Bretagne. William the Lion, king of Scotland, con¬
sidering this as a favourable opportunity for invading Eng¬
land, advanced into the northern counties, destroying all
he met with. A great force of foreign mercenaries, called
Braban^ons, landed in Sussex, under the command of the
Earl of Leicester, whilst Prince Henry collected another
army in France in order to co-operate with them. ^ To
meet this formidable coalition against his authority, King
Henry made the best preparations which circumstances
admitted of; and if we may judge of these by the results
which followed, he must have taxed his constitutional ac¬
tivity to the utmost in collecting forces, and in opposing a
barrier to the tide of war which thus rolled onward from
every quarter, threatening to overwhelm his throne. Few
of his own barons could be depended upon, and he had
4 Q
ENGLAND.
674
History, recourse to the foreign mercenaries so largely employ-
ed by his adversaries. Twenty thousand of these auxi-
^74. liaries enlisted under his banners, and with them were
united such of his own nobles and retainers as could be
trusted.
The enmity of the young princes against their father
had been in no inconsiderable degree excited and fostered
by Eleanor their mother, whom the incontinent and licen¬
tious life of Henry had for ever estranged from her affec¬
tions. She attempted to make her escape; but was taken
prisoner, and consigned to close imprisonment, where, with
the exception of a short interval, she remained till the
death of her husband.
In the meanwhile, the plan devised by the allies began
to be acted upon, as already indicated ; but Henry of Eng¬
land proved himself superior to the emergency. His fo¬
reign enemies were on all sides discomfited, and William
of Scotland having accidentally fallen into the hands of
Henry, the Scottish army broke up and dispersed. Their
sovereign afterwards obtained his freedom by the humi¬
liating surrender of his authority as king of Scotland ;
for conceding to Henry the title of lord paramount of his
kingdom was virtually casting his crown at the feet of his
enemy. A pacification was brought about at Falaise, on
the 28th of September 1174, by which the princes were
pardoned and enriched with new liberalities.
King Henry, however, was permitted to enjoy but a few
years of repose. The dissensions between him and his child¬
ren again broke out. The latter also quarrelled amongst
themselves, and a most unnatural war ensued, in which
neither party gave quarter. But the death of Henry, the
eldest son, for a time suspended these disputes. This un¬
fortunate prince died in 1183, of a fever brought on by vexa¬
tion and fatigue. Three years afterwards Geoffrey perish¬
ed beneath the feet of a horse in a tournament at Paris,
so that the subjects of discord were diminished. The
widow of Geoffrey, soon after his decease, was delivered
of a son, who was named Arthur, and invested with the
duchy of Brittany, under the guardianship of his grand¬
father, who, as duke of Normandy, was also suzerain lord
of that territory. Philip, as lord paramount, disputed the
title of the English king to this wardship; but he was
obliged to yield to the wishes of the Bretons, who pre¬
ferred the government of Plenry. Some other causes in¬
flamed the dissension between these monarchs, and Philip
once more seduced Richard from his duty. He insisted
that the marriage of that prince with Adelais, his sister,
should be immediately completed, and threatened to en¬
force his demands with a formidable army. This lady had
been confined for a long time in a castle by Henry, who
procrastinated the nuptials, until a suspicion arose that he
intended to appropriate her to himself. At the conclu¬
sion of the truce which had followed the death of Geof¬
frey, Richard finally forsook his father, and did homage
to the king of France for his continental dominions.
For some time the eyes of the monarchs of Christen¬
dom had been turned to Palestine, which the Sultan Sala-
din was overrunning with his mighty hosts. Henry of
England was desirous of taking the cross and proceeding
to Syria, but his perpetual contests with his family de¬
tained him until the holy city was taken by the infidels.
The news of this event awakened feelings of regret and
indignation throughout Christendom. The Emperor of Ger¬
many marched his bravest knights towards Asia. Philip
of France and Henry agreed to follow, but the union of
the former with Richard the son of the latter compelled
the king of England, in the first place, to look to the de¬
fence of his own territories, which were once more in- History,
vaded by the confederates. The war proved very unfor-
tunate for Henry, who lost several towns, and very nar- 1189‘
rowly escaped falling into the hands of the enemy. A
treaty was at length agreed to, but the terms of it were
very humiliating to the English monarch. With a heart
overwhelmed with grief, he returned to the castle of Chi-
non, where he soon afterwards expired, on the 6th of July
1189, in the thirty-fifth year of his reign and the fifty-
seventh of his age. Upon his death-bed he was sedulously
attended by one of his natural sons, the fruit of an amour
with Rosamond, whom popular romance and tradition have
surnamed the Fair, and invested with every virtue but one.
Henry was interred with little pomp in the convent of lHon-
tevraud, in the presence of his rebellious son Richard, and
a few knights ; but Eleanor, his queen, survived him many
years, having been liberated by her son Richard. The
character of Henry II. has been already detailed at suffi¬
cient length. During his reign important changes in an¬
cient law and usage were matured, and became conspi¬
cuous, on which account they have been ascribed to the
administration of this monarch ; but it is more probable
that they resulted from the slow growth of circumstances,
with little aid from rulers, who were perhaps unconscious
that any change had occurred.1
Richard I. succeeded to the throne without opposition,
and was crowned on the 3d of September 1189. The
reign of this monarch, the Achilles of modern Europe, is
interwoven with events which are more akin to romance
than to real history. His life is made up of the adven¬
tures of a knight-errant. His character was a singular
compound of qualities noble and mean ; of the grand and
the grovelling, the sublime and the grotesque. It has
been thus drawn by Mr Turner, in his History of England:
“ Haughty, irascible, and vindictive, a towering and bar¬
baric grandeur, verging sometimes into barbarian cru¬
elty, distinguished his actions. Valiant beyond the com¬
mon measure of human daring, unparalleled in his feats
of prowess; inferior to no man in hardihood, strength,
and agility; stern and inflexible in his temper; rapacious
and selfish, yet frequently liberal to profusion ; gorgeous
to ostentation, yet often gay, familiar, satirical, and jocu¬
lar ; unshaken by adversity; resolute to obstinacy, furi¬
ous in warfare, fond of battle, and always irresistibly vic¬
torious ; his life seems rather the fiction of a poet s ima¬
gination than the sober portrait of authentic history. But
this character for martial prowess and heroism was soften¬
ed by a love of literature, particularly Provencal poetry;
and although the specimens of his compositions which have
been transmitted to us scarcely deserve the name of poetry,
still they evince the presence of the passion in his mind.
It was the same sentiment which thus penetrated the tem¬
pestuous atmosphere so congenial to his soul that imbued
his exploits with the spirit of genius and romance. An
overweening love of praise added its inspiration to his feel¬
ings, and contributed to render his actions pre-eminently
conspicuous even in the high and palmy age of chivalry.
He had no sooner ascended the throne than he began to
make arrangements for joining the new levies of crusaders
preparing to embark for the Holy Land. In such a sphere
nature had fitted the king of England to shine without a
rival. His landing in Palestine was destined to mark an
era, when the Moslemins were to encounter a warrior su¬
perior even to the most distinguished of their own in lofty
daring and proud contempt of danger, and when the brows
of their bravest chieftains were to darken at the name of
Richard.
Mackintosh’s History of England, vol. i. p. 172.
ENGLAND.
675
History. At his coronation an event occurred which it is painful
to mention, and too shocking to give in detail. The Jews,
1189. eager to express their fealty to the new sovereign, ap¬
proached him in numbers, bearing rich presents of gold
and silver, commodities which they well knew would be
peculiarly acceptable to the king. In their endeavours to
press forward towards the hall door during the state din¬
ner, a scuffle ensued. The Jews resisted the ill treatment
they received, which so inflamed the passions of the
English mob that they arose upon the defenceless stran¬
gers, and drove away or destroyed them. This example
of violence spread not only over the city, but throughout
the country; and the unfortunate Israelites were mas¬
sacred and plundered without mercy. It was in vain that
the king attempted to allay the tumult; the sanguinary
rabble would not desist until its ferocity and rapacity were
completely satiated.
Richard havingequipped his armament, and acquired the
necessary treasure by every means in his power (and from
his natural impatience he was never scrupulous upon that
point), joined Philip of France and marched with him to
Lyons. As the principal events connected with this ex¬
pedition are already embodied in the article Crusades,
we shall not recapitulate here the whole details, but only
notice such as have not been there introduced. On his
way Richard relieved Portugal, by joining the sovereign
of that country with five hundred knights, and bidding
defiance to the Moors or Saracens. This was an evil
omen for the followers of the Prophet. After landing at
Messina, he remained there six months, which were chiefly
occupied in warm disputes with Tancred, who had usurp¬
ed the Sicilian crown. On the 10th of April 1191 Richard
set sail from this place ; but his fleet having been dispers¬
ed by a storm, and the ship in which were his sister Joan,
and his betrothed wife Berengaria, being driven into Cy¬
prus, he landed on that island for the purpose of chastis¬
ing the governor, who had treated the royal ladies with
some discourtesy. Richard reduced the whole island, and
after marrying Berengaria, and causing her to be crowned
queen of England, he set sail for St Jean d’Acre, which
afterwards surrendered to him. (See Acre.) The fall of
this place opened the way to Jerusalem, towards which
he now advanced, performing on his way those chivalrous
deeds which taught the infidels to shudder at the appari¬
tion of his name. (See Crusades.) In October 1192
Richard set sail from the Holy Land for England, with a
fleet, which contained his wife and sister, who appear to
have reached their destination in safety. But a storm
having dispersed the ships, Richard was driven near Mar¬
seilles. Having learned, however, that plans were in agi¬
tation to seize his person (for Philip of France and other
continental sovereigns, together with his brother, were
leagued against him), he formed the unfortunate resolu¬
tion of passing through Germany in disguise.
He landed at Zara, and after a variety of adventures and
hairbreadth escapes, he was at last arrested by Leopold,
duke of Austria, who immediately ordered him to be loaded
with fetters. This prince had served under Richard at the
siege of Acre, where he received, or imagined he had re¬
ceived, some injury at his hands, and took this base method
of revenging himself. Henry VI. emperor of Germany,
was then equally an enemy to Richard, on account of his
having married Berengaria, the daughter of Tancred king of
Sicily. He therefore required the royal captive to be de- History,
livered into his hands, and stipulated to pay a large sum
of money to the duke as a reward for his services. 1199.
The disaster which had befallen the English monarch
could not be long concealed. The news of his captivity
spread general indignation at home; a feeling which was
responded to by the disinterested portion of Europe.
Richard’s mother, along with the clergy of Germany, ap¬
pealed to the pope ; and the emperor, finding that his con¬
duct was condemned as disgraceful, made an attempt to
justify it, by charging his prisoner with several weighty
crimes. These were, his behaviour in Sicily, his conquest
of Cyprus, and the alleged murder of Conrad, who was as¬
sassinated whilst contending for the Christian kingdom of
Palestine. The latter charge being by far the most seri¬
ous, every effort was made to vindicate Richard from the
guilt of the alleged crime. At home the ministry exert¬
ed themselves to the utmost; and the most able prelates
set out for the Continent to bargain for his ransom. He
was removed from a dungeon in the Tyrol to the resi¬
dence of the emperor at Haguenau, and was taken from
thence to Worms, for a final adjustment of differences.
In the meanwhile, his brother John, with Philip of
France, were busily prosecuting their plans for his de¬
struction. Their design was to effect the utter ruin of
Richard; and every method was tried to accomplish their
purpose. John made his feudal submission to Philip for
his brother’s continental possessions; and having assembled
an army, he returned to England with the intention of seiz¬
ing the crown, whilst his colleague invaded Normandy.
Both the confederates were completely unsuccessful. John,
by circulating false reports of his brother’s death, attempt¬
ed to give a gloss of right to his projected usurpation ; but
his duplicity was too well known, and his armament of fo¬
reign mercenaries was repulsed from the coast.
The negociations for Richard’s liberation ended at last
in the agreement that a ransom of one hundred thousand
marks of silver should be paid for it. It was in vain that
his mortal enemies, Philip and John, protracted his im¬
prisonment. By a general tax the sum was raised ; and
soon after his emancipation he set out for England, where
he arrived on the 13th of March 1194. ihe remainder
of his reign is very unimportant; it was chiefly occupied
with a species of petty bickerings with Philip of hranee.
The money required for the crusade, and the ransom of
Richard, had so exhausted the finances of England, that
the king found himself unable to undertake war upon a
grand scale. If we contemplate the character of the in¬
dividual who found himself thus fettered by pecuniary ne¬
cessities, this was a fortunate circumstance. It would be
difficult to estimate the amount of human misery which
was thus saved. After various undecisive battles and
equivocal victories, Richard was mortally wounded before
Chaluze, an obscure castle in the province of Limousin,
held by a rebellious vassal, and expired on the 6th of April
1199, in the forty-second year of his age and the tenth of
his reign.
Thus perished, in the prime of life, one of the most
romantic characters to be met with in real history. His
character we have already given ^ and with respect to his
reign, we cannot discover anything in which it added to
the civilization or prosperity of the country. For the
immense sums of money which he drew from it, the only
1 The lines which Dr Johnson applies to Charles XII. of Sweden are literally true of Richard Coeur-de-Lion of England:
His fate was destined to a foreign strand,
A petty fortress, and a dubious hand ;—
He left a name at which the world grows pale,
To point a moral or adorn a tale.
676 E N G I
History, return worthy of notice was an equalization of weights
and measures throughout the realm.
1199. John, the brother of the late king, and the youngest
legitimate son of Henry II., succeeded to the throne with¬
out opposition ; for, although the hereditary right, accord¬
ing to the modern acceptation of the term, was vested in
his nephew Arthur, son of John’s elder brother Geoffrey,
the uncle had likewise a hereditary claim, as being near¬
est of kin to the deceased monarch, and the nation de¬
clared in his favour. His coronation took place on the
27th of May 1199. The character of John is perhaps
more strongly marked, and possesses more individuality,
than that of any other monarch on the list of English kings.
In cowardly villany, in perfidious malignity, in base ingra¬
titude, in unprincipled cruelty, in grossness of appetite,
in meanness, weakness, and every vicious infirmity, this
prince figures in the page of history almost without a
rival. Other kings there may have been whose vices are
black enough to call forth the execrations of posterity;
but the halo of talent which emblazons their names
serves to mitigate the severity of censure. John, how¬
ever, stands before us utterly divested of any such quali¬
ty; his character is unredeemed by one solitary virtue;
his reign is unillustrated by one solitary good action per¬
formed without compulsion. He is altogether alone, the
lowest and most abject slave that ever wore a crown.
Richard had destined Arthur as his successor, and, on
his death, Mons, Tours, and Anjou, appointed the youth,
then Earl of Bretagne, their lord. On the assumption of
the crown of England and the dukedom of Normandy by
John, Constance, the mother of Arthur, gave her son over
to the care of Philip, king of France, who claimed for him
his continental possessions. A struggle ensued between
the monarchs of France and England. Philip, who, it
would appear, used Arthur entirely as a tool to suit his
own purposes, sent him with a military retinue into the
dominions to which he laid claim. He took the town of
Mirabeau, saving a tower, which held out under Eleanor,
the widow of Henry II.; but on the night between the
31st of July and 1st of August 1202, John arrived, and
compelled the besiegers to surrender. The prisoners were
treated with a cruelty truly demoniacal, and worthy of the
man ; but this was only the opening scene of the tragedy.
Prince Arthur was brought to Falaise, where he was con¬
fined for some time. He then all of a sudden disappeared,
and contemporary history has ascribed to John the guilt
of his murder. That the hapless youth met with a violent
death is evident, and that he fell either by his uncle’s own
hands, or by his orders, there seems no reason to doubt.
Even in that semi-barbarous age, there was scarcely an
individual capable of committing such an atrocity, ex¬
cepting the wretch who, a few years afterwards, took a
diabolical pleasure in starving to death the wife and chil¬
dren of a nobleman who had offended him, and hanging
twenty-eight Welsh hostages, besides other atrocities too
horrible to be named.
By this foul deed, a third part of John’s dominions were
wrenched from his grasp. Philip Augustus summoned
John, as duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, to answer be¬
fore a court of peers to the charge of having murdered
Arthur duke of Brittany. But he dreaded the tribunal,
and having refused to appear, he was branded as a mur¬
derer, condemned to death, and adjudged to lose all his
French territories. The king of France moved onwards
from conquest to conquest, and one by one the provinces
of the English monarch were seized and annexed to the
dominions of Philip; Touraine, Maine, and Anjou in 1203,
the duchy of Normandy in 1205, and the county of Poitou
in 1206.
Another important event in the reign of John was his
AND.
contest with the pope, the only contest indeed in which History,
he ever displayed any thing of that spirit which had fired
the bosoms of his ancestors. The clergy had for some time 1213.
acted as a community independent of the civil power,
owning subjection to the pope alone, by whom their elec¬
tions were usually confirmed. The election of the Arch¬
bishop of Canterbury had been a subject of contention be¬
tween the suffragan bishops of the province, and the monks
of St Augustin’s Abbey in that city. Each party claimed
the right of choosing ; but under this question was con¬
cealed the more important one, whether the king or the
pope had the power of nomination; for the bishops were
accessible to the influence of the crown, and the monks, in
consistency with the genius of their order, were biassed
by Rome. In the mean time the archbishop died, and the
monks privately elected Reginald their superior in his
room. The bishops remonstrated against this as an in¬
novation on their privileges ; and the king took part in
the contest, with the resolution of raising the Bishop of
Norwich to the primacy. The cause was appealed to
Rome ; and Pope Innocent III., eager to extend his power
in England, commanded the election of Stephen Langton,
a most unexceptionable individual, and one who, in the
sequel, proved himself eminently worthy of the highest
station. John, however, incensed at this proceeding, vio¬
lently expelled the monks from their convent, took pos¬
session of it himself, and seized upon the revenues. The
tiara, however, was not to be thus contemptuously treat¬
ed. An interdict was threatened, unless compliance with
the wishes of the papal court was immediately yielded.
In vain the prelates in the most supplicating manner en¬
treated the king to give his consent to the measure. With
that stoical indifference to human suffering which he uni-
formly evinced, he determined that both himself and the
nation should brave the vengeance of Rome. He swore
that if it descended upon him, he would banish the whole
clergy, and confiscate their possessions. The pope, how¬
ever, laughed his menaces to scorn, and published that
terrible interdict, which in those ages was calculated to
make the heart of a nation tremble. A stop was imme¬
diately put to divine service, and the administration of all
the rites of religion except baptism, and the confession,
absolution, and excreme unction to the dying. The church-
doors were shut, and the images of the saints deposed. The
dead were refused Christian burial, and thrown promiscu¬
ously into ditches and on the highways, without any fu¬
neral solemnity. Other injunctions, equally severe, were
included in this formidable interdict; and John, in revenge,
persecuted the clergy with unsparing rigour. But his fu¬
rious and imprudent efforts proved useless. Innocent re¬
mained firm, and, in two years thereafter, 1209, launched
his last thunderbolt at the English monarch. He excom¬
municated John, absolved his subjects from their oath of
allegiance, and soon afterwards deposed him. He also
commissioned the king of France to take his crown; and
published a crusade all over Christendom against King
John, exhorting the chivalry of Europe to take up arms
against him, and enlist under the French banner. Philip
was not less active on his part. He summoned all the
vassals of the crown to attend him at Rouen; and hav¬
ing collected a fleet of 1700 vessels, was ready in 1213 to
invade England.
But the fulminations of the pope were alike disregarded
by John and his subjects, who had now become familiar
with them. His strength does not appear to have been
lessened, for the only successful expeditions of his reign,
those against Ireland and Wales, were undertaken during
the period of his proscription by the see ot Rome. In or¬
der to meet the king of France, he assembled a vast army;
but it was not the interest of his holiness to allow matters
ENGLAND.
677
History.
1213.
to be carried to extremities. He accordingly sent over
two legates, Pandulf and Durand, who, in a meeting of
parliament holden at Northampton, ventured to declare to
John that he was bound to obey the holy see as much in
temporal as in spiritual affairs. After shuffling, according
to custom, John, at the head of an army capable of bid¬
ding defiance to any invader, surrendered himself to the
will of the pope, and acceded to all the terms which Pan¬
dulf had exacted. With a meanness of spirit almost ex¬
ceeding belief, he laid his crown at the feet of the haughty
legate, resigned England and Ireland into the hands of the
pope, swore homage to him as his liege lord, and took an
oath of fealty to his successors. The terms of this re¬
markable oath deserve a place in every history.
“ I John, by the grace of God king of England and lord
of Ireland, in order to expiate my sins, from my own free
will and the advice of my barons, give to the church of
Home, to Pope Innocent and his successors, the kingdom
of England, and all other prerogatives of my crown. I
will hereafter hold them as the pope’s vassal. I will be
faithful to God, to the church of Rome, to the pope my
master, and to his successors legitimately elected. I pro¬
mise to pay him a tribute of 1000 merks ; to wit, 700 for
the kingdom of England, and 300_ for the kingdom of
Ireland.” This memorable submission took place on the
15th of May 1213.
This oath was taken by the king before all the people,
kneeling, and with his hands held up between those of the
legate. Having then agreed to install Langton in the
primacy, he received the crown which he had been sup-
presented tbeir petition to the king, alleging that he bad History,
promised to grant a confirmation of the laws of Edward
the Confessor, at the time when he was absolved from his
excommunication. John resented their presumption ; and
required a promise under their hands and seals that they
would never demand or attempt to extort such privileges
in future. But this they refused with such unanimity and
resolution, that the king desired time to consider of their
petition; at the same time promising that, at the festival
of Easter, he would give a positive answer. He also of¬
fered securities, which the barons accepted, and thereaf¬
ter withdrew.
John, however, had no intention of complying with
their demands, for it is evident that his promise was ex¬
torted from him by fear. He had recourse to the clergy,
whose favour he propitiated by promising many things
which he had not the slightest intention of ever perform¬
ing. The pope was likewise appealed to, who threw the
weight of his authority into the scale of his vassal, and
exhorted the barons to abandon their treasonable enter¬
prise. At the same time his holiness also agreed to con¬
sider their petition, and to endeavour to obtain for them
the concession of those demands which appeared to be
just. But, happily for English liberty, the confederates
disregarded the injunctions of Innocent III., who by his
decision had now more embroiled the fray. Both parties
gave up all hopes of a peaceful negociation at the ensuing
festival, and made the best preparations they could, for
war, in which the barons had an unequivocal superiority.
After waiting until Easter, when the king promised to
behaviour of the pope, and resolved to execute his project Archbishop of Canterbury, the Earl of Pembroke, and
of conquering England in spite of him and his censures. council to know the particulars of their re-
His fleet, however, was attacked in their harbours by the others of his council, to know pa i c ^ ^ ,
English, who took three hundred vessels, and destroyed
about a hundred more; whilst Philip, finding it impos¬
sible to prevent the rest from falling into the hands of the
enemy, set fire to them himself, and thus abandoned the
enterprise. This naval action is memorable as being the
first which took place between the fleets of Prance and
England, and was a good omen for the latter.
John being thus delivered from all danger, continued to
follow the same cruel and tyrannical measures which had
hitherto rendered him odious to his subjects. His scan¬
dalous subjection to the clergy now gave the barons an
opportunity of exerting themselves, in order to reduce the
enormous prerogatives of the crown. The11' designs were
greatly facilitated by the concurrence of Langton the pri¬
mate, who on all occasions showed a sincere regard or
the interests of the kingdom. At a synod of his prelates
and clergy, convened in St Paul’s on pretence of examin¬
ing into the losses of some bishops who had been exiled
bvS John he privately conferred with a number of barons, Odiham,
t’lf whom he ^expatiated upon the vices and .njust.ce of agreed to
their sovereign. He showed them a copy of Henry l.s F°pei
charter.he oltlyone in the kingdom, ''--S »und
amidst the rubbish of an obscure monas|,"y-
horted the barons to insist on a renewal thereof, and tins
they solemnly swore to perform. The same agreement was
afterwards renewed at a more numerous meeting of barons
summoned by Langton at St Edmondsbury Hera 't „a
resolved that at Christmas they should prefer then com
mon petition in a body, and in
rated intending to put themselves in a posture of detence,
re;sato'CdoL"
IccoSrfhe military garb and with their equipage, and
quest, and what those liberties were which they so much
importuned him to grant. The barons delivered a sche¬
dule containing the chief articles of their demands, found¬
ed on the charters of Henry and Edward, but which were
in the highest degree displeasing to the king. He burst
into a funous passion, and, asking the barons why they did
not also demand his kingdom, swore that he would never
comply with such exorbitant requests. Ihe confederates
then as their general chose Robert Fitzwalter, whom they
dignified with the title of Mareschal of the army of God
and of the holy church. They laid siege t0 NolthamP'
ton, but were repulsed; they, however, took Bedford,and
were joyfully received into London. . , . . e
The concurrence of the metropolis proved decisive of
the contest. It was in vain that the pope fulminated a bull
in favour of his vassal John; the many were unanimous,
and the few were compelled to yield the point. Ihe mg,
with a court now reduced to seven attendants, reined o
Odfflam where, seeing the necessity of submitting he
a friendly conference. Ihe barons named, as a
J It was a meadow
agiecu tv ** —j , i
their sovereign. He sboied them a copy of Henry Ls JfXL*, end. like the holy
having been found situate HebrewS; it is st,U he d m veneration as
1° “not Where the standard of English freedom was firs
unfurled. On the 16th of June 1215, both parties met
there • and having taken up separate stations, a long dis¬
cussion ensued, which terminated in the king signing the
charter called, by way of pre-eminence, Magna Charta.
For a particular account of the great charter, which for
centuries afterwards was looked upon as the palladium of
our national freedom, the reader is referred to the article
M Th^charted however, at the time when it was granted,
ENGLAND.
678
History, secured liberty to the clergy, the barons, and the gentle-
men, much more than to the bulk of the people, who did
I215- not for a long time obtain any privileges of importance.
Freedom of elections was secured to the clergy; and it
was determined that fines imposed on them for any of¬
fence should be laid on in proportion to their estates, and
not the value of their benefices. Ihe privileges secured
to the barons were, either abatements in the rigour of the
feudal laws, or relief from arbitrary and ambiguous deci¬
sions before the courts. It was also decreed that barons
should recover the lands of their vassals, even though for¬
feited by felony, after having been in the possession of
the crown for a year and a day; and no tax was to be im¬
posed without consent of the great council of the nation,
excepting in case of the captivity of the king, the knight¬
ing of his eldest son, or the marriage of his eldest daugh¬
ter. No land belonging to any baron was to be seized for
a crown debt, except when the possessor had not personal
property enough to pay it; neither was any vassal to be
allowed to sell so much of his land as to incapacitate him
from performing the necessary service to his lord. It was
also determined, that when the great council of the nation
was called, the prelates, earls, and barons should be sum¬
moned by a particular writ, and that the lesser barons
should receive a summons from the sheriff. In favour of
the people it was stipulated, that they should receive from
the barons all the immunities and privileges granted by
the king to the former. Merchants were to be allowed t”o
carry on their business without any arbitrary tolls or im¬
positions, and to go out of the kingdom and return at
pleasure. The goods of every freeman were to be dis¬
posed of according to his will; or if he died intestate, the
nearest heir was in that case to succeed him. No carts,
horses, or wood were to be taken by the crown officers
without the consent of the owner. The king’s courts were
to be stationary; no delay was to take place in doing jus¬
tice to every one ; and no freeman was to be taken or im¬
prisoned, dispossessed of his free tenement, outlawed, or
banished, unless by the legal judgment of his peers. It was
likewise stipulated that London should remain in the hands
of the barons, and that the Tower should be consigned to
the primate, till the 15th of August following, or till the
articles contained in the charter were fulfilled. In order to
secure the accomplishment of this, the king allowed them
to choose twenty-five of their own number, to whose au¬
thority no limits were assigned. If any complaint were
made of a violation of the charter, either by the king or
his officers, any four of the barons might admonish the
king to redress the grievance ; and if satisfaction were not
obtained, they might assemble the whole council of twenty-
five and, in conjunction with the great council, compel
him to fulfil the charter. In case of his resistance, they
had liberty to levy war against him, attack his castles, and
use every kind of violence, except against his person, or
those of his queen or children. All men throughout the
kingdom were bound, under the penalty of confiscation,
to swear obedience to the twenty-five barons; and the
freeholders of each county were to choose twelve knights,
whose business it was to report such obnoxious customs
as ought to be redressed in terms of Magna Charta.
But although John had thus been obliged to recognise
the liberty of his subjects, he had no mind that they should
in reality enjoy it. The sense of his subjection to his own
vassals sunk deep into his soul, and he became sullen, si¬
lent, and reserved. He shunned the society of his former
friends, and retired into the Isle of Wight, as if to hide
his disgrace in solitude, but, in reality, to meditate plans
of revenge. He sent to the Continent in order to enlist
a large body of mercenary troops, and made heavy com¬
plaints to the pope on account of the insurrections of the
barons against him. The pontiff, as might he expected, History,
warmly espoused his cause ; a bull was sent over annul-
ling the whole charter; the principal barons were excom- ^2Ui.
municated by name, and declared to be worse than Sara¬
cens ; and at the same time the foreign troops arriving,
the king once more found himself in a condition to de¬
mand his own terms from his untractable subjects.
The barons had made no preparations for war, not sus¬
pecting the introduction of a foreign army. The king,
therefore, was for some time undisputed master of the
field, and the most horrid cruelties were committed by
his army. The nobility who had been most active in
procuring the great charter accordingly fled with their fa¬
milies to Scotland, where they obtained the protection of
King Alexander by doing homage to him. The barons,
finding themselves totally unable to raise an army capa¬
ble of contending with that of John, resorted to the equi¬
vocal and perilous expedient of calling in foreignaid. They
applied to their old enemy Philip of France, offering the
crown to his eldest son Louis, upon the condition of their
being protected from the fury of John, and the unprinci¬
pled mercenaries whom he commanded. The French king
eagerly accepted their proposals, and dispatched his son
with a powerful army to England. He was received by
the barons with great acclamations, and having united
their forces, they secured all the southern counties. Essex
and Sussex were soon after added; and they advanced
successfully into Norfolk, spreading around them all the
devastations of civil war. The forces of John occupied the
northern districts, where the king of Scotland harassed
him by an invasion of Northumberland. But these hos¬
tilities, which might ultimately have ruined the independ¬
ence of the country, by sinking it to the level of a French
province, w^ere happily terminated by the death of John,
in the forty-ninth year of his age, and seventeenth of his
reign. His demise took place at Newark, on the 19th of
October 1216. The death of this monarch was as much
a public blessing as his reign had been a national misfor¬
tune. The signing of Magna Charta is the only event of
his life which is worthy of being recorded in history. He,
however, deserves no credit for that act, which was the
result of compulsion. As well might we consider honesty
the actuating principle or motive of the malefactor who
consents to deliver up the treasure of which he had pos¬
sessed himself, when he comes in sight of the wheel upon
which, in case of refusal, he is to be broken alive.
John left six legitimate children, namely, three sons and
three daughters. The eldest of the former, Henry of Win¬
chester, was only ten years of age when he found himself in
possession of the title, although not entirely of the power,
of king. He was crowned as Henry HI. upon the 28th of
October 1216, nine days after he succeeded to the inchoate
right to the throne. The care of his person was entrust¬
ed to the Earl of Pembroke, earl-marshal, with the style
and title of guardian of the kingdom. Through the instru¬
mentality of this nobleman the great charter of liberties
was revived, and the claims of the crown were reconciled
with those of the subject, to the satisfaction of the ad¬
verse barons. Besides the eldest son of John, there was
another competitor for the crown, namely, Louis of France,
who had been called over by the barons of llunnymede,
in order to take possession of the English throne. For
some time Louis kept the field, and not without success;
but he was defeated at Lincoln; and a fleet which his fa¬
ther had sent to him with succours having been totally de¬
stroyed by the English, he was compelled to abandon the
enterprise, and to make an honourable retreat.
A peaceful king is looked upon either as imbecile or
as pusillanimous by an age which feels the intoxication of
military glory, and considers the principal duties of a mo-
ENGLAND.
679
History, narch to be “ to go out and in before his people, and fight
their battles.” The reign of Henry III. is but little adorn-
1225. ec| with the triumphs of war ; and, if we are not mistaken,
it has been too much depreciated on this account. But this
fact, as well as his monarchical character, we will be en¬
abled to ascertain with more certainty after we have pass¬
ed in review the principal events of his reign. Its early
history exhibits only some of those evils incident to an in¬
judicious, but not, strictly speaking, wicked administration.
In 1225 the great charter was a third time confirmed, upon
the occasion of Henry assembling a great council, and ur¬
gently demanding aid against a pretended invasion of the
French. In consequence of this, it has ever since retained
its place at the head of English statutes. The wardship
of the young king had now solely devolved upon Hubert
de Burgh, the grand justiciary, and a man of ability and
spirit, but nurtured under Richard and John. For several
years he ruled as the favourite without control, repressing
the disorders of the times with a vigorous, but, in the eye
of an enlightened age, cruel policy. In 1227, Henry was
declared in parliament to have attained to the years of dis¬
cretion ; and two years afterwards he resumed the project
of conquering France, and landed there with a considera¬
ble army. The expedition proved most disgraceful to the
English arms ; and in a year after he returned to his coun¬
try not a little humbled in its estimation, as well as his
own. The next event of importance which we meet with
is the disgrace of De Burgh, who was accused of negli¬
gence and treachery in the discharge of his duties; with
what degree of truth it is difficult now to determine. He
was imprisoned for some time, but afterwards restored to
liberty, honours, and emoluments.
In 1236, Henry espoused Eleanor of Provence. This
event gave rise to a new immigration of foreigners ot higher
rank and more specious pretensions than those who usually
flocked to the soil of England. One of the queen s uncles
became prime minister, a second was made primate, and
a third Earl of Richmond. This favouritism excited much
discontent both amongst the native barons and the people.
The other events of this long reign consist of petty wars
and bickerings with France, Scotland, and Wales. Ihe
prodigality of the king was extreme, and he was repeat¬
edly compelled to lay his necessities before parliament and
solicit supplies. These were as often afforded; but not¬
withstanding these grants, he had frequent recourse, under
specious pretexts, to the most unjust exactions. Mean¬
while England rapidly increased in wealth, and widely ex¬
tended her commercial relations with other countries.
In the year 1254, at the instance of the pope, Henry
accepted of the crown of Sicily for his son Edmund. It
had been formerly offered to his brother Richard, who was
wise enough not to accept of it, probably because he felt
himself unable to compete with the other powerful princes
who aspired to it. In order to raise the money necessary
to carry his foolish project into execution, Henry had re¬
course to every expedient which the regal or papal mini¬
sters could devise. The principal burden fell upon the
clergy, who, by the menace of excommunication on the
one side, and of forfeiture on the other, were compelled
to submit. This oppression widened more and more the
breach between the king and his people ; and he found it
necessary at last to look to the security of his own crown,
instead of fighting for a foreign diadem to grace the brow
°f Amongst the foreigners of distinction who established
themselves in England during the reign of Henry III. was
Simon de Montfort, earl of Leicester. He was the young¬
er son of the Count de Montfort, celebrated in the annals
of religious warfare for his cruel crusade against those dis¬
senters from the Roman faith called Albigois or Albigen-
1264.
ses. Simon the younger received the hand of King Henry’s History,
sister in marriage, and very early began to act a conspicu- "—
ous part in the civil commotions which agitated the coun¬
try. He was a bold and ambitious man ; and placing him¬
self at the head of the disaffected barons, he formed a pow¬
erful confederacy against the king. In the year 1258, a
famous parliament was summoned at Oxford, in order to
digest the new plan of government, and to elect to the
chief authority such individuals as were deemed worthy
of trust. This assembly, afterwards celebrated in our an¬
nals by the derisive name of the mad parliament, went
very expeditiously to work in the business of reformation.
Twenty-four barons were appointed, with supreme autho¬
rity, in order to reform the abuses of the state; and Lei¬
cester was placed at their head. Twelve of these barons
were chosen by the king’s council, and twelve by the par¬
liament. Their first step was to order four knights to be
chosen out of each county, who should examine into the
state of their respective constituents, and attend at the
ensuing parliament to give information of their complaints.
They ordained that three sessions of parliament should be
regularly held every year; that a new high sheriff should
be elected annually; that no wards nor castles should be
entrusted to foreigners, no new forests made, nor the reve¬
nues of any counties farmed out. Thus far these provisions
were good, and an approximation to popular representation,
although some modern writers have designated the whole
transaction as a revolution.
The twenty-four barons continued to conduct the affairs
of government for several years ; but they at last began to
quarrel amongst themselves. The Earls of Gloucester and
Leicester pursued opposite interests, and formed opposite
parties, who eyed each other with mutual jealousy. Lei¬
cester, perceiving that his rival was likely to gain the as¬
cendency, retired to France; but the balance was again
restored in his favour by the union of Prince Edward
with his friends. A short time after this event, the rival
parties seem to have assumed, if not the reality, at least
the appearance of unanimity. In 1262, Henry made a
fruitless attempt to escape from the authority of the ba¬
rons ; but his son Edward remained firm to their cause,
on account of his having sworn to observe the provisions
of Oxford. After other ineffectual attempts upon the
part of the king, he agreed that the twenty-four noble¬
men should continue to govern, not only during his own
reDn, but also during that of his successor. By this sti¬
pulation, Edward joined his father, which restored vigour
to the royalists, and more equally balanced the power of
the parties. It was proposed that the differences between
them should be submitted for arbitration to Louis IX., and
both swore to abide by his decision. That excellent mo¬
narch enjoined the restoration of all castles, possessions,
and royal rights enjoyed by the crown before the parlia¬
ment of Oxford, upon condition of universal amnesty, and
of the full enjoyment of all the privileges and liberties
granted by the charter. The award was confirmed by the
pope, who empowered the Archbishop of Canterbury to
excommunicate all who refused to submit to it.
The moment the decision was made known to the ba¬
rons they declared it to be contrary to truth and justice,
and immediately took the field. The contest was at first
favourable to the royal prerogative; but in 1264 Pnnce
Edward lost a great battle by his impetuosity in pursuing
too far one of the wings of the enemy’s army, which he
had defeated. His father and uncle were taken prisoners,
and placed in the castle of Lewis, where he contrived to
ioin them. They acceded to the propositions submitted
to them, and the administration of the kingdom fell into
the hands of the Earls of Gloucester and Leicester, and
the Bishop of Chichester.
ENGLAND.
680
History. The situation to which the kingdom was now reduced
proved at last the means of settling the government upon a
1265. more proper foundation. Leicester, in order to secure
himself, was obliged to have recourse to an aid, till now
entirely unknown in England, namely, that of the body
of the people. He called a parliament, where, besides the
barons of his own party, and several ecclesiastics who
were not properly tenants of the crown, he ordered re¬
turns to be made of two knights from every shire; and
also deputies from the boroughs, which had been hitherto
considered as too inconsiderable to be allowed any share
in the legislation. This parliament was called on the
22d of January 1265; and here we find the first outline
of an English House of Commons; an institution which
has ever since been considered, and justly, as the bulwark
of British liberty.
The new parliament was far from being so compliant
to Leicester as he had desired or expected. Many of the
barons who had hitherto stedfastly adhered to his party
were disgusted with his boundless ambition; and the
people, who found that a change of masters wras not a
change of circumstances, began to wish for the re-esta¬
blishment of royal authority. Leicester at last, making
a virtue of necessity, released Prince Edward from his
confinement, and had him introduced at Westminster-
hall, where his freedom was confirmed by the unanimous
voice of the barons. But though Leicester had all the
popularity of restoring the prince, he was yet politic
enough to keep a strict watch over him. Edward was no¬
minally free, but in reality a prisoner. At last, however,
he found means to effect his escape. The Duke of Glou¬
cester, being disgusted with Leicester, left the court, and
retired to his estates upon the borders of Wales. His
antagonist pursued him thither, and, in order to give the
greater authority to his arms, carried the king and Prince
Edward along with him. This afforded young Edward an
opportunity which he had long desired of making his es¬
cape. Being furnished by the Earl of Gloucester with a
horse of extraordinary speed, he took leave of his attend¬
ants, or rather his guards, under pretence of trying the
mettle of his steed. He was hotly followed ; but an end
was put to the pursuit by the appearance of some of Glou¬
cester’s troops.
No sooner was the prince at liberty than the royalists
joined him from all quarters, and an army was soon as¬
sembled which proved more than sufficient to meet the
forces of Leicester. The latter now found himself in a
remote quarter of the kingdom, surrounded by his ene¬
mies, and shut out from all communication with his friends
by the river Severn, the bridges on which Edward had bro¬
ken down. In this extremity he wrote to his son to hasten
to his assistance from London, with a considerable body
of troops which the latter had under his command. With
this view his son advanced to Kenilworth ; but here he was
surprised by Prince Edward, and the greater portion of
his followers were made prisoners. The young prince
immediately advanced upon Leicester himself, whose last
anchor had given way with the defeat of his son. He
was by no means able to cope with the royalists; his men
were inferior both in numbers and resolution to their an¬
tagonists. In the battle which ensued, the royalists gained
a signal victory over their opponents, defeating them with
great slaughter. Leicester himself was slain, together with
his eldest son Henry, and about a hundred and sixty knights
and other gentlemen. The body of the fallen earl was
mutilated in a frightful manner, and portions of it sent to
various places. His memory was long revered by the peo¬
ple, who looked upon him as a martyr to the liberties of
the realm. But a vigorous reign ensued, and the national
feeling was suppressed, or directed to other objects. He
left, however, an imperishable name, as the first who had History,
called together a parliament of which the lower house
composed part. 1286.
The victory of Evesham restored the fortunes of the
royalists. The followers of Leicester were proscribed,
and their lands distributed amongst the victors. With the
death of Montfort the spirit departed from the baronial
party, whose members hastened to give in their submission,
and to open the gates of their castles to the king. Several
places, however, still held out; but by the activity and va¬
lour of Prince Edward they were all finally reduced. The
country submitted, and the royal authority was completely
re-established throughout the realm. The good sense of
Edward, however, infused a wiser and more popular spirit
into the conduct of government. So judicious appears to
have been his administration, indeed, that, in a few years
after the battle of Evesham, he felt himself in a capacity to
take the cross, and enlist under the banners of the crusa¬
ders. This step of the heir apparent to the crown of Eng¬
land may appear somewhat extraordinary, when we con¬
sider the advanced period of life to which his father had
now attained, and the civil commotions from which he had
so recently emerged. But in an age when it was common
to ascribe any sudden transition of fortune from one ex¬
treme to another, to the immediate interposition of pro¬
vidence, it is less to be wondered at. The recent deli¬
verance of himself and his father from their enemies had
incurred a debt of gratitude to heaven which it was now
his desire to pay off. His expedition to the Holy Land
was of little importance, and was moreover in no way con¬
nected with the history of his country, although it was
distinguished by those romantic adventures and chivalrous
feats of arms peculiar to the age, and more especially to
the wars in Palestine.
The remaining events of Henry III.’s reign afford no ma¬
terials for history. He died on the 16th of November 1272,
in the fifty-seventh year of his reign. The character of
Henry is not strongly marked either by good or by evil.
During its long continuance we see no premeditated crime,
no deep laid plot involving the liberties of his subjects,
with which to impeach his memory. The evils which
grew and prospered whilst he held the sceptre did not arise
from vices in the sovereign, but from the unsettled state of
society and the turbulent spirit of the times. His virtues,
however, were not very conspicuous; they were rather
of a passive than of an active kind ; rather the negative
of vice than positive moral greatness. With regard to
intellect, he appears to have been below mediocrity; and
it is usual with historians to describe him as deficient in
capacity to govern. This was probably the case, but it was
productive of inconvenience to himself rather than misery
to his subjects. Under his pacific rule, as we have already
observed, the nation grew more rapidly in wealth and pros¬
perity than it did under the more dazzling sway of his
military progenitors.
Edward, upon hearing the news of his father’s death, and
feeling himself secure of the throne, returned slowly from
the Holy Land. He arrived in England in August 1274,
and was crowned at Westminster on the 19th of the same
month. Two years afterwards he undertook an expedi¬
tion against Lewellyn, prince of Wales, who had refused
to do homage for his crown. The conquest of that coun¬
try cost him some trouble, and was not completed until
the year 1283. After this period the principality of Wales
was annexed to the crown of England, and thenceforth
conferred a title upon the king’s eldest son. In 1286,
Wales had been so entirely broken into subjection, that
Edward undertook a journey to the Continent for the pur¬
pose of mediating a peace between Alonzo of Aragon and
Philip the Fair of France. These two monarchs had differed
History.
1286.
ENGLAND.
681
about the kingdom of Sicily; but a negociation was ef¬
fected, and the king of England returned to his country
after an absence of three years, during which period much
disorder had been introduced into his dominions. Rob¬
bery and violence had become frightfully prevalent, and
the corruption of the judges had poisoned the fountains
of justice. In order to remedy these evils, Edward sum¬
moned a parliament, and cited the delinquents to appear
and take their trial. All of them, except two clergymen,
having been convicted of flagrant acts of corruption and
bribery, were accordingly fined, and deposed from their
office.
The next great event of Edward’s reign was an attempt
to subjugate Scotland. This he never altogether effected,
although he succeeded in reducing the country to great
distress, and in even nominally attaching it to the English
crown as a conquered province. For an account of these
transactions, see the article Scotland. Edward was at
the same time engaged in expensive contests with France;
and these multiplied wars, by obliging him to have fre¬
quent recourse to parliamentary supplies, became the re¬
mote causes of great and important changes in the go¬
vernment. The parliament was modelled into the form
which it has ever since retained. As a great part of the
property of the kingdom, by the introduction of commerce
and by improvements in agriculture, was transferred from
the barons to the lower classes of the people, so their con¬
sent was thought necessary in order to raise the supplies.
For this reason the king issued writs to the sheriffs, enjoin¬
ing them to send to parliament, along with two knights of
the shire, two deputies from each borough within their
county; and these, too, provided with sufficient powers
from their constituents to grant such demands as they
should think reasonable for the safety of the state. The
charges of these deputies were to be borne by the
boroughs which sent them; and so far were they from
considering this deputation as an honour, that nothing
could be more displeasing to any borough than to be thus
obliged to send a deputy, or to any individual than to be
thus chosen. The authority of these commoners, however,
increased in course of time. Their union gave them weight;
and it became customary among them, in return for the
supplies which they granted, to prefer petitions to the
crown for the redress of grievances. The more the king’s
necessities increased, the more he found it necessary
to give them an early hearing, until, from requesting, the
commons proceeded to demanding; and having all the
property of the nation, they by degrees began also to be
possessed of a considerable share of the power.
Edward I. died of a dysentery, near Carlisle, on the 7th of
July 1307, as he was leading a great army into Scotland,
against the inhabitants of which he had vowed the most
dreadful vengeance. Edward ranks amongst the great¬
est monarchs of England. In military talents, in sound
judgment, in vigour, decision, irascibility, and vindictive¬
ness, he bore some resemblance to the Conqueror. Like
him too he possessed an unsalable ambition, and his un¬
holy crusade against the independence of Scotland must
be regarded as an indelible blot upon his memory. He
was succeeded by the eldest of his surviving sons, who bore
his father’s name, but inherited nothing of his capacity,
and who was crowned on the 8th of July 1307, with great
magnificence. His father had charged him upon his
death-bed to prosecute the war against Scotland until he
had finally subdued the kingdom ; but war had few attrac¬
tions for Edward II., and he withdrew his army inglo-
riously from the country which his father went to subju¬
gate. The first years of Edward’s reign are distinguish¬
ed for nothing but bickerings with his barons, who finally
extorted from him a reformation of abuses in full parlia-
yol. vm.
ment. The Scots in the mean time gradually recovered History,
their power; and Edward having invaded their country
with a prodigious force, was met by Robert Bruce at Ban- b‘526.
nockburn, near Stirling, who totally defeated the puissant
army of the English on the 24th of June 1314. See Scot¬
land.
1 he reign of Edward II. was one continued series of quar¬
rels with his turbulent subjects. His favourites were the
most general causes of discontent. The first of these was
one Pierce Gaveston, the son of a Gascon knight of some
distinction. The latter had honourably served the late
king, and, in reward for his services, had obtained an esta¬
blishment for his son in the family of the Prince of Wales.
To be the favourite of any king whatsoever is no doubt
in itself a sufficient offence to the rest of the courtiers.
Numberless faults were therefore found with Gaveston by
the English barons. When the king went over to France
to espouse the Princess Isabella, to whom he had been
long contracted, Gaveston was left guardian of the realm,
with more ample powers than had usually been conferred
in such cases. But upon the arrival of the queen, who was
of an imperious and intriguing spirit, Gaveston had the
misfortune to fall under her displeasure, on account of the
ascendency he had acquired over the king. A conspiracy
was soon formed against the favourite, at the head of
which was the queen and the Earl of Lancaster, a relation
of the king’s, and the most powerful nobleman in England.
Edward found himself unable to protect his favourite
against such a formidable combination, and was compelled
to banish him. His recall some time afterwards again
spread alarm over the country, and kindled a civil war.
The nobility were successful in obtaining possession of
the obnoxious Gaveston ; and, in order to free themselves
for ever from uneasiness on his account, they put him to
death.
After the defeat of Bannockburn, King Edward chose a
new favourite named Hugh le Despencer. He was a young
man of a noble English family, and possessed some merit,
and engaging accomplishments. His father was a person
of apparently unimpeachable character, but he also enjoy¬
ed the king’s favour, and that was a sufficient crime. The
king imprudently dispossessed some lords of their estates,
in order to bestow them upon young Despencer. This
afforded a sufficient pretext to the barons for openly at¬
tacking both the father and son. The Earls of Lancaster
and Mortimer, chief of the Welsh marshes, flew to arms ;
and sentence of perpetual exile against the two Spencers,
with a forfeiture of all their estates, was procured from par¬
liament. At last the king took the field, and obtained a
signal victory over the other party at Boroughbridge. The
Earl of Lancaster was made prisoner, and beheaded a few
days afterwards at his own castle of Pomfret. Ibis indi¬
vidual was canonized in 1389. Many other noblemen suf¬
fered the same punishment without having the same re¬
spect paid to their memory, whilst Mortimer was con¬
demned to perpetual imprisonment.
The triumph of the Spencers was now complete; but
the partiality with which the king regarded his two fa¬
vourites had the effect of alienating not only the affections
of his subjects, but also those of his queen. Other charges
are brought against Edward as having contributed to ef¬
fect this estrangement, and Isabella sought an opportu¬
nity of escaping from her husband. Ihe palace of hei
brother at Paris was her natural place of refuge. A rup¬
ture having commenced between England and France,
the queen proceeded to the court of the latter as negocia-
tor, and concluded a peace humiliating to her husband.
But she had another object in view in visiting her native
country. Her residence became a sanctuary for the Eng¬
lish malcontents, who flocked to her in great numbers; and
4 K
682 ENGL
History, amongst these came Mortimer, who had contrived to effect
his escape, and for whom she has been charged with enter-
1326. taining a stronger passion than that of friendship. The
cause of quarrel between the two powers was the county
of Guienne, for which the monarch of France required
Edward to do homage and fealty. The disputed terri¬
tory was resigned to the young Prince of Wales, who
joined his mother, and made the necessary submissions.
When Isabella considered that matters were sufficiently
matured for executing her purpose, she landed in England
on the 22d of September 1326, where she was universally
welcomed, and immediately joined by the most potent
barons. The unfortunate king found that the spirit of dis¬
loyalty had spread over the whole kingdom. Some de¬
pendence was placed upon the garrison of Bristol, which
was commanded by the elder Spencer; but the soldiers
rebelled against their governor, and delivered him into
the hands of the barons, by whom he was cruelly put to
death. Young Spencer did not long survive his father.
Along with some others who had followed the fortunes of
the wretched king, he was made prisoner in an obscure
convent in Wales; and the queen having no patience to
wait the formality of a trial, gave orders for his immediate
execution.
In the mean time the king was discovered and deliver¬
ed up to his adversaries, who loaded him with insults. He
was conducted to the capital, and consigned to the Tower.
The charge against him exhibited no other crimes than
his incapacity to govern, his indolence, his love of plea¬
sure, and his accessibility to evil counsel. His deposition
was quickly voted by parliament; he was assigned a pen¬
sion for his support; his son Edward, a youth of fourteen,
was appointed to succeed him, and the queen was nominat¬
ed regent during the minority. But the deposed monarch
did not long survive his disgrace. He was at first put
into the custody of the Earl of Lancaster ; but this noble¬
man having shown some marks of respect and pity for the
misfortunes of his sovereign, the latter was taken out of
his hands and delivered over to the Lords Berkeley, Mai-
travers, and Gournay, who were entrusted alternately,
each for a month, with the charge of guarding him.
Whilst he was in Berkeley’s custody, he was still treated
with some degree of humanity ; but when the turn of Mal-
travers and Gournay came, every species of indignity was
practised upon him, as if they had designed to accelerate
his death by accumulating his mental sufferings. As his
persecutors, however, saw that his death might not speed¬
ily arrive, even under every cruelty which ingenuity
could devise, and as they w'ere daily afraid of a revolution
in his favour, they determined to put their fears to rest
by destroying him at once. Mortimer, therefore, secret¬
ly gave orders to the two keepers to dispatch the king;
and these ruffians contrived to render the manner of his
death as barbarous as possible. Taking advantage of Ber¬
keley’s sickness, in whose custody he then was, and who
was thereby incapacitated from attending to his charge,
they came to Berkeley Castle, and obtained possession of
the king’s person. They threw him on a bed, and held
him down with a table which they had placed over him.
They then ran a horn pipe into his bowels, through which
they conveyed a red-hot iron ; and thus deprived him of
life without disfiguring his body. The murderers fled on
the perpetration of this horrible enormity; for the dying
agonies of the king created suspicions which ended in the
discovery of the crime. One of the fugitives was taken
at Marseilles, and beheaded on his way to England. The
other concealed himself for some years in Germany; but
having found means of rendering some services to Edward
III. he ventured to approach the person of that monarch,
and by his humiliating submission received a pardon.
A N D.
By the death of Edward II. the government fell entirely History,
into the hands of the queen and Mortimer, who had now
the disgraceful pre- eminence of royal paramour. The par- 1327’
liament, which had raised young Edward to the throne, had
indeed appointed twelve persons as his privy council, to
direct the operations of government. Mortimer excluded
himself, under a show of moderation ; but at the same time
secretly influenced all the measures which came under
their deliberation. As this influence began very soon to be
perceived, and the queen’s criminal attachment to Morti¬
mer was universally known, the administration soon be¬
came obnoxious to the people. It had continued four
years, when a circumstance occurred which added great¬
ly to its unpopularity. The Scots having made an irrup¬
tion into England, were met by an overwhelming force
under young Edward, or rather Mortimer. The results
of this mighty expedition were most ludicrous. By their
superior skill and activity, the Scots foiled the English
commanders, and made their escape into their own coun-
trjr. Soon after this inglorious campaign, a solemn treaty
of peace was concluded, in which Edward, for a sum of
money, renounced every claim of superiority over Scotland.
This, although a commendable act of moderation, was not
calculated to propitiate the favour of the English people.
It was not long before another stroke of Mortimer’s power
and policy startled the nation from its propriety, and
paved the way for his own destruction. Amongst those
who began to betray indignation against the encroaching
spirit of Mortimer, was Edmund earl of Kent, who, deceiv¬
ed into a belief that his brother Edward II. was still alive,
wrote a letter to that prince, which was betrayed into the
hands of Mortimer, now Earl of March, by the individual
who had undertaken to deliver it. The writer of the epis¬
tle was immediately tried for high treason, condemned,
and executed. There is little doubt that the whole affair
of the letter was a plot laid for the destruction of Kent,
not only to get him out of the way, but to show that there
was no one too high not to be struck down by the ven¬
geance of Mortimer.
Edward finding the restraint under which he was re¬
tained becoming irksome, resolved to shake it off, and to
rid himself and the nation at once of an authority which
had now become alike odious to both. The queen and
her paramour had repaired to Nottingham, where a parlia¬
ment was then held. They had chosen the castle as a
place of residence, and taken every precaution to ensure
their safety; for fear follows guilt like its shadow. The
enemies of Mortimer, however, found means to obtain ad¬
mission at dead of night; and having seized him as he
lay in an apartment adjoining to that of the queen, he was
taken prisoner to London, tried before his peers for various
crimes, convicted, and executed.
The queen, who was perhaps the most culpable of the
two, was screened from capital punishment by the dignity
of her station, but stripped of all power, and confined for
life to the castle of Risings. From this imprisonment she
was never liberated, but during her life the king paid her
an annual visit of ceremony.
Edward III. proved one of the greatest warriors who
had ever sat on the English throne. His first attempts
were to raise Edward Baliol to the throne of Scotland: this
however he failed in effecting. But his mind now began
to be diverted to loftier and more ambitious speculations.
The crown of France became the object of contest between
Edward, the son of Philip the Fair’s daughter Isabella,
and Philip of Valois, the son of the brother of Philip. The
question was, whether the crown was descendible only
through males, or whether it might be claimed by the near¬
est male although his descent was by females. Charles
the Fair died in 1328, and left the crown of France with-
E N G L A N D.
683
History, out direct male descendants to inherit it. The three last
- kings were the sons of Philip the Fair, and they all reign-
1327- e(j successively, but died without issue. According to
the English law, the son of the daughter precedes the
nephew in inheritance; but the French Salic law exclud¬
ed females. Edward contended that the feudal laws of
France forbade females to inherit who could not perform
the feudal duties, yet that their male heirs were not de¬
barred by the spirit of this law, because they were com¬
petent to discharge all the military services required. On
the other hand, it was insisted by the French advocates
for Philip de Valois, that the exclusion of the female in
the first instance was an exclusion of all the descendants
of either sex. If it had been a question of succession to
the English crown, it would have been rightfully deter¬
mined by the parliament and law of England; but as it
concerned the crown and law of France, it was clearly a
matter for the French state and lawyers to decide. They
decided in favour of Philip de Valois, and he was accord¬
ingly crowned king of France. In this decision they dis¬
played the soundest principles of national policy, and Ed¬
ward ought undoubtedly to have acquiesced.1 The king
of England, however, thought otherwise, and accordingly
began to make preparations for an invasion of France.
By doing homage to Philip for the duchy of Guienne,
Edward gained time to collect such an army and treasure
as were necessary for the enterprise. Two powerful con-
Cape la Hogue about the end of July 1346. His career in History.
France was a series of triumphs most glorious to the Eng- s—
lish arms. On the 26th of August 1346 was fought the 1370.
decisive battle of Cressy, which is still memorable after the
lapse of many centuries. In this celebrated conflict, Ed¬
ward the Black Prince, a youth only sixteen years of age,
gained unfading laurels. The siege of Calais followed, and
the place was reduced after an obstinate defence. The
first fruit of the reduction of this place was a truce, which
lasted till 1355, when Edward the Black Prince, who go¬
verned his father’s dominions in France, undertook an
expedition into the neighbouring provinces, and in the
following year carried his arms into the heart of France.
The victory of Poitiers was another mortifying humiliation
to the French. John their king was taken prisoner, and
treated with noble hospitality and respect by his renown¬
ed conqueror. He was conveyed to England, where his
reception resembled rather the return of a victorious
prince than the humiliation of a captive monarch. For a
particular account of these and other transactions of the
English in France, the reader is referred to the article
France.
During the absence of the king of England on the Con¬
tinent, his country was harassed by the Scots, who invad¬
ed it, but experienced a defeat at Nevelles Cross. In
1355, Edward himself invaded Scotland; and the havoc
caused by this expedition was long remembered by the
tinental allies appeared in his favour; namely, Robert of natives. I he death of Edward Baliol in 1364 left David
Bruce without a rival to the Scottish throne ; and the pre¬
tensions of the Plantagenets to Scotland were terminated
by Edward III.’s recognition of his brother-in-law. See
Scotland.
In the mean time Edward the Black Prince, after a
n.ci.,   —     —  - , Spanish campaign, in which he gained the celebrated bat-
asa pledge that he would pursue his undertaking with in- tie of Navarete, returned to England in pursuit of health
flexibility of purpose. The king of England landed at Ant- and quiet. But thirty years of toil and war had exhausted
werp in July 1338 ; but it was not until more than a year his robust frame, and he expired at Canterbury on the 8th
Artois, who had been excluded from the county to make
way for his aunt Matilda, a nearer relative by blood to
the preceding count; and James von Artaveldt, a famous
brewer of Ghent, and leader of the democratical party
among the Flemings. It was at the suggestion of the lat¬
ter that Edward assumed the title of king of the French,
of June 1376, in the forty-sixth year of his age. He left
behind him a lofty reputation for bravery and skill as a
commander, generosity as a knight, and wisdom and vigour
as a statesman. Flis father Edward III. did not long sur¬
vive his loss. He died on the 21st of June the year follow¬
ing. The reign of this monarch is generally considered by
Englishmen as the most illustrious period of their ancient
“ The victories of Cressy and Poitiers,” says
thereafter that he reached the confines of France. His
first campaign was unimportant, but in the second he
achieved a considerable naval victory on the 22d of June
1340. Flushed with this success, he marched to the siege
of Tournay at the head of 100,000 men. Near this town
the king of France had encamped himself in a situation so
strong as to bid defiance to attack. Edward challenged ^iriora
him to single combat, but this was refused; and the Eng- annas. “ ihe victories o Cressy ana roiteis says
lisli were at last compelled to raise the siege, and to retire Mr 1 urner, may have produced the popular sentiment
sullen and discontent from the place. . but the reflect,ve mtnd Wl1 P1.*6 °P,"‘0"ra®a^aeds1^:
The efforts of Edward began now to be much crippled for when ,t observes, during tins reign, that our »avy esta
want of money. The exchequer of England was unable Wished its preponderance over the most celehra d fleets
to satisfy his demands, and his allies had become clamour- that were then accustomed to navigate he Bnmh cl a -
ous for their arrears. Some of his courtiers having in- nel; that our parliament enjoyed, in ful and upnglit ex
stilled into his mind suspicions of the fidelity of his mini- ercise, those constitutional powers which the nation has
e s he suddenly returlred to London, where he landed long learnt to venerate as tts best inheritance, but which
about midnight at the Tower. Next morning he displaced weaker sovereigns have too eagerly contested that our
the’chancellor,’b-easurer, and master of the foils, coUned manufactures and oo— began to
three of the judges, and ordered the arrest of most of the ence and an expandi g ^ < ripr(rV
I>- . F . e i_:_ t[ie lineaments of our prose literature became dis¬
tinctly discernible; that the pursuit of the mathematical
and natural sciences, and of the art of reasoning, at one or
both of our venerable universities, was ardent and success-
puted "succession to the duchy ortrittany, in which he lul; that our “ht^ mosl
took the part of the indmdual who opposed Philip of malmers diSp,4,ed a mo-
— "Tie^oilectefa v^tTmy, w“* win'd, he landed near ral sentiment, which, though somewhat fantastic, and al-
his
ministers.  
his process against the primate, for the uigency of
wants admitted of no delay. #
The failure of his first two campaigns did not wean Ed¬
ward from his attachment to foreign alliances. By a dis-
• ' ’ ’ ’ he
try.
1 Turner’s History of England, vol. ii. p- I'll.
684 ENGL
History, ways pure, yet contributed to soften the horrors of war,
w'~ and has led to that more cultivated feeling which, con-
^77- tinually increasing and refining, has made Englishmen dis¬
tinguished for their generosity, magnanimity, and honour.”
It may be added, on the authority of Sir Mathew Hale,
that during this reign the law was greatly improved, and
nearly attained its meridian. The monarch himself kept
pace with the progress of the time, and his reign was suffi¬
ciently protracted to afford opportunities for the develop¬
ment and consolidation of all improvements. He left his
country ennobled in the eyes of Europe, and possessed of
gigantic energies capable of realising the glorious desti¬
nies which awaited her.
Edward III. was succeeded by Richard II. son of the
beloved Black Prince. He commenced his reign, being
only eleven years of age, on the 22d of June 1377, with
many expressions of congratulation from his subjects. His
coronation took place on the following year, and parlia¬
ment was opened with a speech from the Archbishop of
Canterbury, which, being “ soothing and gracious,” was
meant to propitiate the favour of the representatives of
the nation in behalf of the young sovereign. The Dukes
of Lancaster, York, and Gloucester, uncles to the king,
with some other noblemen, were appointed regents during
Richard’s minority. The war, which was still prosecuted
in France on a small scale, and the expenses necessary
for retaining the towns already taken, required supplies of
money, which could not be raised without additional taxa¬
tion ; and this gave rise to much discontent amongst the
people. An imposition of three groats upon each person
of both sexes and every condition who had passed the
age of sixteen, particularly excited the minds of the com¬
mon people against the government. The manner, too, of
collecting this tax, soon furnished an occasion of revolt.
The insurrection began in Essex, where a report was in¬
dustriously spread that the peasants were to be destroyed,
their houses burned, and their farms plundered. At Dart-
ford, an individual, well known by the name of Wat Tyler,
was the first who excited the malcontents to arms. The
tax-gatherers proceeded to this man’s house whilst he was
at work, and demanded payment for his daughter. He
refused to comply, on the ground that she was under the
age stipulated in the act; upon which one of these fel¬
lows offered to prove the contrary in a very indecent man¬
ner, and for this purpose laid hold of the maiden. Such
insolence, however, roused the spirit of the father, and with
one blow he laid the ruffian dead at his feet. A shout of
applause burst from the bystanders, who declared them¬
selves prepared to protect Wat from the vengeance of his
enemies. The cry of the men of Kent was responded to
by those of the neighbouring counties, and Wat soon found
himself at the head of an enormous body of insurgents.
They advanced to Blackheath in the month of May 1381,
and proceeded to enforce their counsels by an attack upon
London, in which they succeeded. The king, finding that
resistance was vain, agreed to listen to their demands.
On this they made a very humble remonstrance; requiring
a general pardon, the abolition of slavery, freedom of com¬
merce in the market-towns, and a fixed rent instead of
those services required by the tenure of villenage. The
king granted all these requests; and charters were made
out by which the grant was ratified. In the mean time, ano¬
ther body of these insurgents had broken into the Tower,
and murdered the chancellor, the primate, and the trea¬
surer, with some other officers of distinction. They then
divided themselves into parties, and took up their quarters
in different parts of the city. At the head of one of these
was Wat Tyler, who led his men into Smithfield, where
he was met by the king, who invited him to a conference,
under pretence of hearing and redressing his grievances.
AND.
Tyler ordered his companions to retire till he should give History,
them a signal, and boldly ventured to begin a conference
with the king in the midst of his retinue. His demands
were, that all slaves should be set free, that all common-
ages should be open to the poor as well as to the rich,
and that a general pardon should be granted for the late
outrages. During the interview, the rebel kept playing
with his dagger, and at last he is said to have laid his
hand on the bridle of his sovereign’s horse; upon which
Walworth, lord mayor of London, alarmed for the king,
plunged a basillard in the throat of Tyler, and at the
same moment another esquire dispatched him with his
sword. This is the tale told by the writers of the victo¬
rious party, for the partizans of Wat Tyler had no his¬
torian to give their version of the story. The insurgents
who witnessed the fall of their leader bent their bows with
the design of revenging his death. But Richard, though
only sixteen years of age, with admirable presence of
mind galloped up to them, exclaiming, “ What are you
doing, my lieges? Tyler was a traitor. Follow me, and
I will be your leader.” With sullen and wavering discon¬
tent they followed him into the fields at Islington, where
a body of troops had been collected for the protection of
the young king. The insurgents were ordered to return
to their homes instantly, and under the penalty of death
they were forbidden to skulk about the city during night.
But the whole of the rebels did not thus escape, and the
revolt was not finally extinguished without much blood¬
shed and cruelty.
The courage, address, and presence of mind which the
king had discovered in quelling such a dangerous tumult,
gave great hopes to the nation: but, in proportion as Richard
advanced in years, these hopes began to wither; and his
want of capacity, or at least of solid judgment, appeared
in every enterprise which he attempted. The king had
unluckily lost the favour of the common people after the
insurrection just mentioned. He allowed the parliament
to revoke the charters of enfranchisement and pardon
which had been granted; some of the ringleaders in the
late disorders had been severely punished, and others were
put to death without any form or process of trial. Thus
the popular leaders were greatly exasperated by this
cruelty, though probably the king did not in this follow
the dictates of his own mind so much as the advice of his
counsellors. But having thus lost the favour of one party,
he quickly afterwards fell under the displeasure of the
other also. Conceiving himself to be in too great subjec¬
tion to his uncles, particularly the Duke of Gloucester,
he attempted to shake off the yoke, by raising others to
an equal share of rank and favour. Accordingly one of
his favourites, Michael de la Pole, was created Earl of
Suffolk, and raised to the chancellorship ; whilst another,
Robert de Vere, earl of Oxford, a young man of an agree¬
able person, but dissolute in his behaviour, soon acquired
an absolute ascendency over him. This nobleman was
first created Marquis of Dublin, and afterwards Duke
of Ireland, both preposterous and invidious titles. The
duke having soon become the dispenser of all the king’s
favours, a conspiracy was formed against him by some of
the most powerful nobility in the kingdom. The Earl of
Suffolk was impeached in parliament, and, being con¬
victed of certain charges brought against him, was con¬
demned to pay a suitable fine. Soon afterwards the king
w7as prevailed upon to vest the government in the hands
of eleven commissioners along with the three great officers
of state. This measure was carried into effect by the
Duke of Gloucester, who stood at the head of the com¬
mittee ; and the king could not without regret perceive
himself thus totally deprived of authority. He first en¬
deavoured to gain over the parliament to his interests, by
ENGLAND.
685
History, influencing the sheriffs of each county, who were then the
only returning officers; and this measure failing, he next
1386. applied to the judges, who declared that the commission
which had deprived the king of his authority was unlawful,
and that those who procured or advised it deserved con¬
dign punishment; but their sentence was quickly opposed
by declarations from the lords. The Duke of Gloucester
armed his partizans, and appeared at the head of a body
of men sufficient to intimidate both the king and his ad¬
herents. These insurgents, sensible of their own power,
began by demanding of the king the names of those who
had advised the adoption of the late rash measures. A
few days afterwards they appeared armed in his pre¬
sence, and accused by name the Archbishop of York, the
Duke of Ireland, the Earl of Suffolk, and Sir Robert Tre-
sillian, one of the judges who had declared in his favour,
together with Sir Nicholas Brembre, as public and dan¬
gerous enemies to the state. The parliament which met
on the 3d of February 1388 condemned the five accused
persons to suffer the death of traitors. The Duke of Ire¬
land escaped to Flanders, where he expired four years
afterwards ; De la Pole died at Paris in the same year;
Tresillian and Brembre were put to death, and the Arch¬
bishop of York became a Flemish curate, and died in that
humble capacity. The other individuals who had sub¬
scribed the bold opinion were condemned to perpetual
imprisonment; with the exception of Black, who had drawn
up the questions, and Usk, appointed under-sheriff to ar¬
rest the Duke of Gloucester, who were both executed.
But the king became restive in the traces with which
his uncle restrained him. In a meeting of parliament he
declared himself competent to manage his own affairs, as
he had by this time attained his twenty-second year.
This bold announcement was followed by bis ordering
Thomas Arundel, whom the commissioners had recently
appointed chancellor, to give up the seals, which, on the
following day, he delivered into the hands of William
Wickham, bishop of Winchester. The council was next
cleared of the Duke of Gloucester, the Earl of Warwick,
and other opposition lords ; and the great officers of the
household, as well as the judges, were changed for more
pliable instruments.
Being now his own master, Richard notified by procla¬
mation that he had taken the reins of government into his
own hands; and, whether it was owing to the king or his
ministers, it must be owned that for some years his ad¬
ministration was tranquil and happy. During this halcyon
period he made a journey into Ireland, in order to divert^
the melancholy with which he was afflicted on account of
the loss of his wife Anne. Soon afterwards he espoused
Isabella, a princess of France, then in her eighth year,
which contributed to an armistice with that kingdom for
twenty-five years.
This alliance with the royal family of France encouraged
Richard to execute a scheme of vengeance which he
had long nourished in his bosom against Gloucester and
others who had been instrumental in the punishment of
his favourites, dhe duke, with the Earls of Warwick and
Arundel, were appealed for treason; in consequence of
which the former was sent prisoner to Calais, and the two
latter committed to the Tower. Here the head of Arun¬
del was shortly after struck off, and Warwick was banished ;
but the fate of the Duke of Gloucester is involved in some
obscurity. On the 21st of September 1397 a writ was
issued to Thomas Mowbray, earl marshal, governor of
Calais, commanding him to bring the body of his prisoner,
the Duke of Gloucester, to answer before the king in par¬
liament to the appeal of treason against him. 1 he reply
of the governor of Calais was, that the prisoner had died
in his custody. At a subsequent period circumstances
transpired which indicate that the duke perished by the History,
foulest murder, doubtless at the instigation of his own ne-
phew. It remains to be mentioned, that at the meeting 1-5G9.
of parliament, in which these noblemen were impeached,
all the acts in which Gloucester had taken a share were
annulled, the commission of government was cancelled,
the opinions of the judges were declared to be legal, and
the judgment against Michael de la Pole was reversed.
After the destruction of Gloucester and the heads of
his party, a misunderstanding arose amongst the noble¬
men who had joined in the prosecution. The Duke of Here¬
ford, son to John of Gaunt, appeared in parliament, and
accused the Duke of Norfolk of having uttered treason in
a private conversation. Norfolk denied the charge, and
offered to establish his innocence by single combat. The
challenge was accepted; but the king interrupted the
duel, and commanded both the parties to leave the king¬
dom. The Duke of Norfolk was banished for life, but the
Duke of Hereford only for ten years. The former re¬
tired to Venice, where he died shortly afterwards. Here¬
ford displayed so much resignation to the will of his sove¬
reign, that the latter commuted the period of his exile
to four years. The king had obtained the object of his
wishes, namely, the civil destruction of those whose power
he dreaded. Even his uncles, either through affection or
fear, seconded all his measures, which were now deeply
tainted with despotism. On the death of John of Gaunt,
“ time-honoured Lancaster,” the crown claimed his im¬
mense estates, to the exclusion of the banished Earl of
Hereford, who wa» pronounced incapable of inheriting
them after the judgment which had been pronounced
against him in parliament.
By these and other impolitic acts, the king overstrained
the bow, and excitecj. a spirit of discontent, which finally
hurled him from the throne. The resentment of Here¬
ford had been inflamed by the injury which he had re¬
ceived, and he only waited for a favourable opportunity
of retaliation, which soon afterwards occurred^.
The Earl of March, presumptive heir to the crown, hav¬
ing been appointed the king’s lieutenant in Ireland, was
slain in a skirmish with the natives of that country; and
Richard, regardless of his precarious situation at home,
went over to Ireland with a considerable army, in order to
revenge the death of his relative. Hereford, now duke of
Lancaster, took advantage of the king s absence. 8olicited
by the discontented lords, and aware of the alienation of
the people from Richard, he embarked at Nantes, and, with
a retinue of only sixty persons in three small vessels, landed
at Ravenspur in Yorkshire. IheLarlol Northumberland,
who had long been a malcontent, together with Henry
Percy, his son, surnamed Hotspur on account of his im¬
petuous valour, immediately joined him with their forces;
and the people flocked to him in such numbers that in a
few days he found himself at the head of sixty thousand
men.
Richard in the mean time continued in fancied security
in Ireland. Adverse winds for three perilous weeks to¬
gether prevented his receiving any news of the rebellion
which had broken out in his native dominions; but when
the intelligence arrived he was overwhelmed with dismay.
Some advised him to sail immediately and face the dan¬
ger; others recommended that he should first send over
the Earl of Salisbury, for the purpose of collecting all who
were disposed to support his interests, which plan was
adopted. A numerous army joined the eail, but the king
protracted his stay in Ireland so long, that on his arrival
the whole of this force had melted down to less than an
hundred men. To take the field against Henry of Lancas¬
ter was consequently out of the question. He therefore
proceeded in disguise to the fortress of Conway, where
686 ENGL
History. Salisbury bad taken up his quarters. It was the policy
of Henry to show symptoms of negotiation, in order to
1399. anure the king into his own hands. This he effected in a
very deceitful manner. The Earl of Northumberland was
dispatched to Richard with a thousand men, who con¬
cealed themselves at some distance, whilst the earl pro¬
ceeded to the fortress where the king was lodged, and by
fair promises induced him to quit his stronghold and go
along with him to Henry for die purpose of effecting a
reconciliation. But during the journey Richard was made
prisoner, and finally committed to the Tower to await the
judgment of parliament. On Monday the 29th of Sep¬
tember 1399, a deputation of lords and commons waited
upon the king, and having reminded him of a declaration
which he had formerly made at Conway Castle, of his
unfitness to govern, and readiness to resign the crown,
required his resignation of the regal power, lo this he
consented, according to the ancient chroniclers, “ with a
cheerful countenance.” During his whole reign, Richard
held the sceptre with a wavering grasp, and in the para¬
lysis with which he was now stricken, he as it were un¬
consciously relinquished it. He likewise recommended
Henry his nephew as a fitting successor to the throne.
Before proceeding with the reign of Henry IV. we shall
follow the deposed monarch through the few sad weeks of
his unhappy life. By parliament he was adjudged “ to a
perpetual prison, to remain there secretly in safe custody.
Richard was accordingly consigned to close confinement,
and shortly afterwards came to his end, there can be little
doubt in an unnatural manner. His fate seems to have
been accelerated by a conspiracy amongst his friends to
restore him to the throne. The Earls of Kent, Hunting¬
don, and Salisbury, laid a plot for the destruction of King
Henry ; but the secret was betrayed, and the confederated
noblemen were executed. The death of Richard seems
to have immediately followed this unsuccessful enterprise,
but the manner of it is involved in impenetrable mys¬
tery. According to some chroniclers, several ruffians were
sent to the castle of Pomfret, where he had been re¬
moved, for the purpose of dispatching him. They rushed
unexpectedly into his apartment; but he succeeded in
wresting a pole-axe from one of the murderers, with which
he killed several of them, but was at length overpowered
and slain. Others relate that he was starved in prison,
and that he lingered fifteen days before he expired.1 Ac¬
cording to some accounts, he was condemned to suffer
this miserable and protracted death; whilst others state
that it was a voluntary abstinence, to which he was im¬
pelled by despair. He died in the thirty-fourth year of
his age, and twenty-third of his reign. It was during the
life of Richard II. that Wickliff, the celebrated reformer,
promulgated his doctrines in England. See VVickliff.
After the throne had been vacated by its legitimate oc¬
cupant, Henry duke of Lancaster stepped forward and
claimed it in right of his being a descendant of Henry III.
He was descended from this monarch both by father and
mother, but he could not claim by the father s side, be¬
cause the young Earl of March was sprung from the Duke
of Clarence, the elder brother of John of Gaunt, nor by
the mother’s side, because she was sprung from Edmund
of Lancaster, a younger brother of Edward I. It was pre¬
tended that Edmund was the elder brother, but it was never
AND.
proved. By tbe law of succession it belonged to the de- History,
scendants of Lionel, the third son of Edward III. That
prince died without issue male, and his possessions and l40--
pretensions descended to his daughter Philippa, wife of
Roger Mortimer, the male representative of the powerful
baron who was attainted and executed for the murder of
Edward II. the grandfather of the Duke of Clarence. The
son of that powerful delinquent had been restored to his
honours and estates at a late period of the reign of Edward
III. The fourth in descent from the regicide was Roger
Mortimer, lord-lieutenant of Ireland, who was looked upon
as heir to the crown during the early part of Richard’s
reign ; but his son Edmund Mortimer was only ten years
of age when Richard was deposed, so that his claim was
easily set aside. Mortimer died in 1425 without male
issue, and the pretensions which he inherited through the
Duke of Clarence fell to his sister Anne Mortimer, who
espoused Richard of York, earl of Cambridge, the grand¬
son of Edward III. by his fourth son Edmund of Lang¬
ley, duke of York. But from the foregoing pedigree it is
clear that during the life of the Earl of March no right
to the crown had descended to any branch of the house
of-York. Henry, however, notwithstanding the inferiority
of his title, was unanimously acknowledged by both houses,
and was crowned within a fortnight after the deposition
of his predecessor. He was the idol of the populace, the
master of parliament, and the heir of the fame and pos¬
sessions of John of Gaunt.
The reign of Henry IV. was little else than a continued
series of insurrections. In the very first parliament which
he assembled, a great number of challenges were given
and accepted by different barons; and though Henry had
ability and address enough to prevent these duels, it was
not in his power to avoid continual combinations and re¬
volts against himself.
The most formidable of these disorders was that under
the Earl of Northumberland. Various causes are assigned
for this insurrection. One is, that the resentment of the
Percies had been excited by the king denying them the
privilege to liberate or ransom their prisoners ; for at the
battle of Homildon, where the Scotch suffered a defeat, a
number of noblemen had fallen into the hands of Hotspur,
who commanded the English. The insurgents themselves
assigned another cause for the quarrel, and this was pro¬
bably the real one. In the course of a war with the
Welsh, the Lord Grey of Ruthyn and Sir Edmund Mor¬
timer had both fallen into the enemy’s hands. The former
being a friend to the king, was allowed to be ransomed by
his relations; but the latter, who was uncle to the young
Earl of March, the lawful heir to the throne, and of course
an object of jealousy to Henry, was denied the privilege
of being liberated. This fired with resentment the in¬
flammable spirit of Hotspur, who had married the sister of
Sir Edmund ; his father the Earl of Northumberland, and
his uncle the Earl of Worcester, shared his discontent;
and amongst them they projected nothing less than the
dethronement of the king.
With this view they formed an alliance with the Scots
and Welsh, who were to make an irruption into England,
at the same time that the Percies were to raise what forces
they could in order to join them. The Earl of Northum¬
berland, by a sudden fit of illness, having been incapa-
1 It was at first believed that Richard had effected his escape into Scotland, and that he lived there twenty years. This ancient
tradition has been revived by Mr Tytler, in his History of Scotland, and he supports his views with c^er^
evidence upon which he relies consists in charges made by the regent of Scotland for the expenses of the king ot En and Rut S r
James Mackintosh, in a note at the end of the first volume of his History of England, gives several cogent, and we th nk unanswerab e
reasons for differing from Mr Tytler upon this point, and adhering to the common narrative. Ihose who teei an interest in tnis
subject are referred to the work above mentioned, and to the appendix to the third volume of Mr Tytler s History oj Scot and.
ENGLAND.
687
History, citated for active warfare, young Percy took the command,
an(j marched to Shrewsbury for the purpose of joining the
1403. Welsh. But the king had assembled a small army, with
which it was his intention to act against the Scots; and,
knowing the importance of celerity in civil wars, instantly
hurried to meet the rebels. He approached Shrewsbury
before a junction could be effected with the Welsh; and
by his headstrong impatience Percy was impelled to risk
an engagement, which at that time he ought to have de¬
clined. The evening before the battle he sent a manifesto
to Henry, in which he renounced his allegiance, set the
king at defiance, and enumerated all the grievances of
which he imagined the nation might justly complain.
Amongst the charges with which he reproached the king,
were those of perjury, murder, and usurpation of rightful
property. All this vituperation was productive of no other
effect than that of exasperating to the utmost both the
king and his adherents.
The armies were fairly matched, consisting of about
fourteen thousand men each, and both leaders were men
of approved valour. The action, which took place on the
21st of July 1403, was obstinate and bloody. After a chi¬
valrous display of his characteristic valour, Percy was slain
by a random arrow, and with his fall the courage and the
confidence of his followers evaporated. They were com¬
pletely routed, and driven from the field with great loss.
Lord Worcester and two other conspicuous individuals
were beheaded on the field. The Earl of Northumberand,
however, notwithstanding his connection with the rebels,
was mercifully treated by Henry. But this lenity does
not appear to have quieted the country ; for various insur¬
rections, particularly amongst the Welsh under the cele¬
brated Owen Glendower, disturbed the remaining years of
Henry’s reign. Owen, under the title of Prince of Wales,
gained so many remarkable successes over the royal troops,
that the king himself publicly attributed them to necro¬
mancy. The unconquerable spirit of the Welsh leader
actuated all classes of his countrymen, who flocked to his
standard from every part in England where they had taken
up their abode. Owen remained free and unsubmissive
to the English yoke till the close of his career, and the
last glimpse which history affords of his patriotic course
is as bright as the first.
The reign of Henry was much disturbed, and the lan¬
guage which our great dramatist makes him employ, “ un¬
easy lies the head that wears a crown,” is remarkably ap¬
propriate from the lips of such a monarch. The swell
with which the nation heaved when he ascended the
throne never subsided during his lifetime. Ihe position
in which he stood with regard to the succession seems to
have caused him much concern; for the case was a dif¬
ficult one. In his first parliament his eldest son Henry
was created Prince of Wales ; and in 1404 the right of
that prince’s brothers to reign, in the event of his dying
without issue, was recognised by parliament. Ihe most
disgraceful feature of Henry’s reign was his deadly perse¬
cution of those who entertained the new religious doc¬
trines. In his second year was passed that sanguinary
act, the first that stains the English statute-book on the
subject, which orders heretics to be burned ; and many
an unfortunate Lollard suffered for his faith during the
sway of the Bolingbrokes. A remarkable pircpmstance
occurred in 1405, namely, the capital punishment of a
clergyman of the highest rank. Scroop, archbishop of
York, was an enthusiastic defender of the claims of the
Earl of March, and, bping takeyi in arms against his sove-
feign, was beheaded without trial, conviction, or defence.
Notwithstanding the act against the Lollards, the doc¬
trines of Wickliff gained ground ; and the support which
Jlenry gave the hierarchy did not preclude his parliament
from attempting its reformation, and even from despoil- Histoiy.
ing it of part of its possessions.
In 1405 the Commons, who had been required to grant l*113*
supplies, proposed to the king to seize all the temporalities
of the church, and employ them as a perpetual fund to
meet the exigencies of the state. When this address was
presented, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who then attend¬
ed the king, objected that the clergy, though they went
not in person to the wars, sent their vassals and tenants
in all cases of necessity; whilst at the same time they
themselves who staid at home were employed night and
day in offering up their supplications for the success of
the enterprise and the prosperity of the state. The speaker
answered with a sarcastic smile, that he thought the pray¬
ers of the church but a very slender supply. The arch¬
bishop, however, prevailed in the dispute; the king dis¬
couraged the application of the Commons, and the Lords
rejected the bill which the lower house had framed. The
Commons were not discouraged by this repulse ; in 1410
they returned to the charge with renewed zeal and deter¬
mination,
A Lollard had been burnt, and the lower house of par¬
liament, as if in retaliation of this atrocity, presented a
schedule to the king, showing that he might have from
the temporal possessions of the bishops, abbots, and priors,
that were then uselessly wasted, 15 earls, 1500 knights,
and 6200 esquires. But the reply of the king was severe,
and he forbade them to discuss such topics for the future.
They then petitioned that the clergy should be subjected
to the civil tribunals, but this was also refused; and a re¬
quest that the statute against the Lollards might be mi¬
tigated shared the same fate.
The reign of Henry was now drawing towards a termi¬
nation. The last years of his life were darkened by dis¬
ease, and undistinguished by vigour. He had been subject
to eruptions in his face and to attacks of epilepsy. By oim
of these he was carried off, at \Vestrninster, on the 20th of
March 1413, in the forty-seventh year of his age and four¬
teenth of his reign. Henry owed the English sceptre, not,
in the first instance, to his own plotting or ambition, but to
a popular revolution against the authority of his predeces¬
sor. He landed in England for the avowed purpose of only
seizing his own possessions, of which he had been most
unwarrantably deprived; but finding Richard a most un¬
popular sovereign, and his own reputation very high, whilst
his affinity to the blood royal was, though not so near as
that of the Earl of March, sufficiently so to give him a
plausible pretext for standing forward as a candidate for
the crown, he accordingly did so, and proved successful.
He united in a high degree watchfulness and circumspec¬
tion, with a bold and decisive policy, tor his arbitrary mea¬
sures he brought forward the plea of necessity, “ which,
says Sir James Mackintosh, “ prevented them frorn grow¬
ing into precedents subversive of the constitution. As
he owed his throne to popular revolt, so he was in some
measure compelled to adopt popular principles. Under
his reign the House of Commons advanced with a steady
pace towards importance and authority. It assumed a
higher and more decisive tone than had hitherto charac¬
terized its proceedings, and pushed its inquiries into all
the affairs and departments of government,
Henry of Monmouth, eldest son of the preceding mo¬
narch, ascended the throne immediately after the death
of his father. With the early life of Henry V. we usual¬
ly associate acts of frivolity, insubordination, and even
low vice. But to the creative genius of a powerful poet
must in a great measure be attributed this almost univer¬
sal impression. That he was guilty of delinquencies
beneath the dignity of the heir apparent to the English
throne, may be true ; but there is no satisfactory evidence
688 E N G L A N D.
History, either to confirm or refute the traditionary stories which
—are told of him. At an early age he discovered talents
1413. Df n0 common order. He was only sixteen years of age
when the battle of Shrewsbury was fought, and on that
occasion he displayed equal firmness and ability. After¬
wards, when intrusted with the guardianship of the Welsh
marches, he conducted himself in a manner so highly cre¬
ditable, that he more than once received the thanks of
the House of Commons for his conduct. On his accession
to the throne, he made himself popular by several wise
and generous measures. He liberated his cousin the Earl
of March from the constraint under which that prince,
undoubtedly the heir of Edward III., had been held by
the jealousy of Henry IV. The Percies, who were exiles
in Scotland, he restored to their possessions, and even to
a command over their martial vassals. Those ministers
of his father who had recommended themselves by their
uprightness and decision, were retained in the offices
which they held. The chief justice, in particular, who had
formerly imprisoned the king, whilst Prince of Wales, for
his misconduct, was not only pardoned, but received into
high favour. He expressed deep regret for the fate of
Richard II., and performed his funeral obsequies with
becoming pomp and solemnity. That Henry had a mind
which towered above the level of his contemporaries, his
remarkable triumphs in France are evidence; but that in
some respects he was not in advance of his age, the seve¬
rities which he practised against the Lollards afford ample
proof. The head of that party was Sir John Oldcastle,
an individual alike distinguished for his valour and mili¬
tary talents, and who had acquired the esteem both of the
late and present king. His high character pointed him
out as a proper object of ecclesiastical fury, and he was
accordingly denounced to Henry, who, at a private inter¬
view, attempted to make him recant his faith; but in
vain. Oldcastle was therefore condemned to suffer the
death of a heretic; but having effected his escape, he
raised an insurrection, which was soon crushed. He suc¬
ceeded however in eluding pursuit for four years, but he
was at last taken and executed as a traitor. After the
suppression of the revolt, the most severe laws were pass¬
ed against the unfortunate Lollards. It was enacted, that
whoever should be convicted of Lollardy, besides suffer¬
ing capital punishment according to the laws formerly
established, would also forfeit his lands and goods to the
king; and the officers of government were likewise bound
by oath to use their utmost endeavours to extirpate the
heresy.
The restoration of tranquillity afforded Henry an oppor¬
tunity of turning his attention to France, the miserable
condition of which offered a fair prospect of success to his
arms. The claim of his family to the crown of that coun¬
try was revived ; and on the 15th of April 1415 he assem¬
bled a great council at Westminster, to whom he an¬
nounced his determination of making a “ voyage in his
own proper person, by the grace of God, to recover his
inheritance.” He appointed his brother, the Duke of Bed¬
ford, lord lieutenant of the kingdom during his absence.
When about to set sail for Normandy, a rash conspiracy
broke out, which detained him for a little time ; but it was
soon suppressed, and Henry embarked at Southampton
with an army of about thirty thousand men, the greater
proportion of whom were archers. He entered the Seine,
and having reduced Harfleur, he challenged the dauphin
to meet him in single combat, and decide the contest for
the crown of the country which he had invaded. But this
was destined to be competed for on a far wider arena than
that which two combatants could occupy. Henry cross¬
ed the Somme, and was proceeding on his road towards
Calais, when he came up with the enemy at a small vil¬
lage, called by the French Azincourt, and by the English History.
Agincourt. Here was fought a great and decisive battle, s—
which ended in the total defeat of the French army, esti- 1422-
mated at not less than four times the strength of that of
the English. (See Agincourt.) Henry did not imme¬
diately pursue his victory, and returned to England, where
he was received with the utmost enthusiasm ; but he soon
afterwards rejoined his troops in France. The claimants
for the crown of that kingdom were so numerous, that
had he boldly prosecuted bis own schemes, the opposing
factions might have leagued together against him as a
common enemy. It was therefore his policy to remain
inactive, and, by tampering with them separately, to fo¬
ment the discord which prevailed amongst the French lead¬
ers. On the 21st of May 1420, a treaty was at length
concluded at Troyes, which promised to crown the hopes
of the Plantagenets with success, and establish them on
the throne of France. The principal articles stipulated
the marriage of Henry with Catherine, daughter of the
French king; that Henry should be regent of France
whilst Charles remained alive; and that he should suc¬
ceed that monarch after his decease. Henry accordingly
espoused the French princess; but he was not long per¬
mitted to enjoy his connubial happiness or his good for¬
tune. A fatal malady seized him at Paris; and having
been conducted by bis own orders to Vincennes, he ex¬
pired there on the 31st of August 1422, in the thirty-
fourth year of his age, and the tenth of his reign.
The name of Henry V. is adorned with all the splen¬
dour of brilliant conquest and successful ambition. By
a single victory he brought the crown of France within
his reach, if not within his grasp. But he had other qua¬
lities besides those of a warrior; he was a statesman of
consummate skill, as his conduct after the victory of Agin¬
court sufficiently testifies. His mind was altogether of a
superior order, and there seems nothing to prevent his
being ranked with the greatest of English monarchs, ex¬
cept the countenance which he gave to ecclesiastical per¬
secutions.
By Catherine of France Henry had a son who succeeded
him when not yet a year old. The whole of his long reign
is occupied with a war for the French crown, and a disas¬
trous civil war in England between the houses of York
and Lancaster. At the accession of Henry VI. parliament
ordered a new royal title, in which he was recognized as
king of France and England, and lord of Ireland ; appoint¬
ed his father’s eldest brother, the Duke of Bedford, pro¬
tector, defender, and chief counsellor of the kingdom and
of the English church ; and in his absence invested the
Duke of Gloucester, his younger brother, with these ho¬
nours. A council was named, and certain articles enacted,
for the purpose of limiting the power of the protector.
The kingdom of France was now in the most deplorable si¬
tuation. By the solemn investiture of the infant king of
England with the royal prerogative in that country, Charles
VII. succeeded only to a nominal kingdom ; for the greater
portion of it adhered to the interests of Henry. But not¬
withstanding all these advantages, the English daily lost
ground, and in the year 1450 they were finally expelled
from the country. See the article France.
It may be easily conceived that such a train of bad suc¬
cess was likely to be productive of discontent at home.
Continual animosities were kept up amongst the king s
counsellors during the first thirty years of his nominal
rule. This tended to plunge the nation in convulsions,
and prepare it for becoming the theatre of a sanguinary
civil war. Humphrey duke of Gloucester was envied by
many on account of his high station. Amongst these was
Thomas Beaufort, bishop of Winchester, afterwards car¬
dinal, the legitimate son of John of Gaunt, brother to
E \ G L A X D.
689
1424.
History. Richard II. This prelate, to whom the care of the king’s
education had been committed, was a man of some capa¬
city and experience, but of an intriguing and restless dis¬
position. He had frequent disputes with the Duke of
Gloucester, over whom he gained several advantages. The
Duke of Bedford employed both his own authority and
that of parliament to reconcile them, but in vain ; their
mutual animosities served for several years to embarrass
government, and to lay it open to its enemies. The sen¬
timents of the two leaders were particularly divided with
regard to France. The bishop laid hold of every prospect
of accommodation with that country; and the Duke of
Gloucester was for maintaining the honour of the English
arms, and regaining whatever had been lost by defeat or
delay. Both parties, therefore, called in all the auxiliaries
they could command. The bishop resolved to strengthen
himself by procuring a proper match for Henry, at that
time twenty-three years of age, and then by bringing over
the queen to his interests. Accordingly, the Earl of Suf¬
folk, a nobleman whom he knew to be stedfast in attach¬
ment to him, was sent over to France, apparently to settle
the terms of a truce which had then been contemplated,
but in reality to procure a suitable consort for the young
king.
The bishop and his friends had turned their attention
to Margaret of Anjou, daughter of Regnier, titular king
of Sicily, Naples, and Jerusalem, but who was destitute
of either real power or possessions. She was looked upon
as the most accomplished princess of the age, both in
mind and person; and it was thought the abilities which
she possessed would supply the want of them in her hus¬
band, to whom maturity of years had brought no maturity
of understanding. He was a child from the cradle to the
grave. The treaty was therefore hastened on by Suffolk,
and soon afterwards ratified in England. Previously to the
king’s marriage, however, a conspicuous blowT was struck
at the protector’s greatness. In that age a charge of
sorcery was capable of blasting any character, however
spotless or pure ; and even of throwing odium upon all
who were related to the individual accused. It was an
irresistible Mreapon made use of by churchmen for the de¬
struction of their enemies, and it was wielded by the pre¬
late against his political opponent with tremendous force.
He brought forward an accusation of sorcery and treason
against Elinor Cobham, wife or concubine of the Duke of
Gloucester. She was charged with having made an image
of the king in w'ax, which being placed before a gentle
fire, gradually dissolved ; and it was expected that as the
wax wasted away, the strength of the king would also disap¬
pear, and that his death would take place when the whole
of the image had melted. Three other individuals were
implicated in this accusation, which was readily believed.
The prisoners were pronounced guilty ; the duchess was
condemned to do penance and suffer perpetual imprison¬
ment; one priest was hanged, and another died in prison;
whilst, to consummate the affair, Margaret Jourdemayn,
a reputed witch, was burnt at Smithfield.
The Bishop of Winchester was resolved to carry his re¬
sentment against Gloucester to the utmost. He procured
a parliament to be summoned, not at London, which was
too well affected towards the duke, but at St Edmunds-
bury, where the prelate’s adherents greatly preponderated.
As soon as Gloucester appeared, he was accused of treason,
and thrown into prison. On the day appointed for him to
make his defence, he was found dead in his bed, thoug i
without any signs of violence upon his body. This, how¬
ever, is no proof that he came not by a violent end.
The death of the Duke of Gloucester was universally
ascribed to the cardinal of Winchester, who himself uied
six weeks thereafter, without leaving behind him so good
VOJ- VIII.
144a.
a name as his political adversary. The Lancasterian party Historv.
was thus deprived of its chiefs: no male Plantagenet of'  
that lineage remained except the king, who was at best
but an apology for one.
After the demise of the cardinal of Winchester, Suffolk
governed with uncontrolled sway. But his conduct was
obnoxious to the rest of the nobility, who now concerted
measures for his destruction. In the year 1447 he was
impeached of high treason on various charges. He was
accused of exciting the French to invade England, in
order to depose Henry and place on the throne De la
Pole’s son, who was to marry Somerset’s daughter, consi¬
dered by the Lancasterian party as the next in succession
to the crown. He was also charged with the loss of France
by his negotiations in that country, and with revealing
state secrets to the French ministers. Other illegal acts
were ascribed to him in the bill of impeachment; and so
strong did the current of opinion run against him, that,
whether guilty or not, the king was compelled to banish
him from the kingdom. But this did not satisfy his ene¬
mies, who looked upon expatriation as a sheltering from
justice rather than as a punishment. The captain of a ship
was therefore employed to intercept him in his passage to
France ; and, having been seized near Dover, his head
was struck off in a small boat, and his body consigned to
the waves.
The complaints against Henry’s government were
heightened by an insurrection, headed by an individual of
equivocal descent, but who has been transmitted to pos¬
terity by the name or nickname of Jack Cade. He assum¬
ed the honourable name of John Mortimer; and having as¬
sembled a great body of the peasantry of Kent, he marched
to Blackheath. A message was sent to him by the king,
demanding the cause of the insurrection. The audacious
Cade answered in the name of the community, that their
purpose wras to punish evil counsellors, and to obtain a re¬
dress of grievances. Henry assembled a force; but part of it
having been defeated, the remainder refused to fight, and
the king retired from the field. Lord Say, the treasurer,
was committed to the Tower, in order to satisfy the revolt-
ers. In the mean time, the citizens of London opened their
gates to the victorious rebel, who made a triumphant en¬
try into the city arrayed in the shining armour and gilt
spurs of a knight. For some time he maintained great
order and regularity amongst his troops. He always led
them out into the fields in the night-time, and published
several edicts against every kind of plunder and violence.
His followers, however, were not to be thus restrained. Lord
Say, without any trial, was beheaded ; and soon afterwards,
the insurgents, having committed some irregularities, were
shut out of the city by the inhabitants. Cade endeavoured
to force his way back to his quarters, when a bloody scuffle
ensued, which was only terminated by the approach of
night. The Archbishop of Canterbury, and the chancellor,
who had taken refuge in the Tower, hearing how matters
stood, drew up an act of amnesty, which was privately cir¬
culated amongst the rebels. Ibis had an electrical effect
upon them, and in the morning Cade found himself total¬
ly abandoned by his followers. He effected his escape,
but was afterwards captured and slain. A number of cir¬
cumstances now contributed to revive the long dormant
pretensions of the house of York to the thione.. France
had been lost; the arms of England had been disgraced ;
Margaret the queen, by violence and arrogance, was most
unpopular; the king himself was a perfect cipher; whilst,
in strong contrast to him, appeared the Duke of \oik, a
man of popular virtues, and the legitimate heii to regal
power, according to the English laws of real inheritance.
AH the males of the house of Mortimer were now extinct;
but Anne, the sister of the last Earl of March, having
4 s
690
ENGLAND.
History, espoused the Earl of Cambridge, who had been beheaded
for treason in the reign of Henry V. had transmitted her
1449* latent but unforgotten claim to her son Richard. This
prince, descended by his mother from Philippa, only
daughter of the Duke of Clarence, third son of Edward
III. stood plainly in order of succession before the king,
who derived his descent from the Duke of Lancaster,
fourth son of that monarch. The duke was a man of va¬
lour and abilities, as well as of some ambition; and he
thought that the weakness and unpopularity of the present
reign afforded a favourable opportunity for asserting his
title. The ensign of Richard was a white rose, and that
of Henry a red one; circumstances which gave names to
the two factions who were now about to deluge the king¬
dom in blood.
The Duke of York was in Ireland during the proceed¬
ings against Suffolk and the sedition of Cade. In Septem¬
ber 1450 he returned to England, a circumstance which
excited considerable alarm at court. He advanced upon
London; and, proceeding to the palace at Westminster,
knelt before the king, and, deploring the state of the king¬
dom, entreated him to summon a parliament. The queen
appears to have evinced her usual arrogance upon this oc¬
casion ; but York succeeded in extorting a promise from
the king that he would comply with his request, upon
which he retired to his castle at Fotheringay. He was
scarcely gone, however, when the Duke of Somerset re¬
turned from France, and was chosen favourite adviser of
the king. The session of parliament proved unquiet and
stormy. York presented a complaint against the admini¬
stration of Somerset, and in the year following exhibited
several articles of impeachment against him. But the
power and influence of the queen rendered his efforts fruit¬
less. Legal prosecutions became thus inadequate to suit
the feelings of the enraged York, and he accordingly as¬
sembled an army. The king, doubting his ability to tri¬
umph by opposing force to force, affected to acquiesce in
the demands of the duke, and put Somerset under re¬
straint. Upon this York disbanded his troops, and retired
unattended to the royal pavilion, where he was immediate¬
ly made prisoner, and compelled to take an oath of allegi¬
ance to the king. Somerset rose higher in favour than
ever, and completed his ascendency in the government by
obtaining the entire confidence of the king and his consort.
On the 13th of October 1453 Queen Margaret present¬
ed her husband with a son and heir, the ill-fated Edward
prince of Wales. Not long afterwards the king sunk into
a state of mental as well as bodily incapacity, and the
star of York again appeared above the horizon. The
total imbecility of the king having been ascertained, the
Duke of York was chosen protector and defender of the
kingdom. Previously to this event Somerset had been re¬
moved from the palace of the queen to the Tower. 1 he
king’s malady was not permanent, and on his recovery he
put an end to the protectorate, released Somerset from
his confinement, and reinstated him in his honours. 4his
was a mortal blow to the peace of York ; and having con¬
ferred with the powerful Earls of Warwick and Salisbury,
who united themselves to his interests, he took the field
with the declared intention of only expelling Somerset
from the government. But this nobleman’s fate involved
that of the house of Lancaster. It was in vain that the
king attempted a reconciliation of interests ; he was com¬
pelled to have recourse to arms, and meet the \orkists in
open warfare. A battle took place at St Albans, in which
the royalists were totally defeated; Somerset, the imme¬
diate cause of the conflict, having fallen in the action.
The king relapsed into his former state, and the Duke
of York was a second time chosen protector; but the queen,
who could not brook the idea of his continuing at the head
of government, procured his dismissal. She is even charg- History,
ed with having conspired his destruction, and that of his
most conspicuous adherents. A temporary reconciliation 1460-
was effected, but discord was again introduced; and the
parties having irrecoverably lost confidence in each other,
prepared for the deadly struggle of arms.
The forces of the Duke of York under the Earl of Sa¬
lisbury gained an advantage over the royalists at Blore-
heath; but a fatal desertion on the part of York’s troops
at Ludlow turned the balance in favour of the king; and
York fled to Ireland, where he was joyfully received.
But this disaster, though in appearance it suppressed
the party of York, was far from being fatal to its power.
The snake was scotched, not killed, and it only waited a
favourable opportunity for darting on its victim. This
soon presented itself. Warwick, who had retained the
government of Calais, landed in Kent, and, being joined
by a number of barons, advanced upon the capital, which
he entered amidst the acclamations of the people. The
number of his troops had now so much increased that he
found himself in a condition to encounter the royal army.
Early in July 1460 he came up with them at Southamp¬
ton, and a bloody battle ensued, in which the king was
taken prisoner, and his army utterly dispersed. Mean¬
while the Duke of York having returned from Ireland,
openly laid claim to the crown. In the House of Lords
the cause of Henry and the Duke of York was solemnly
debated ; and the latter, though a conqueror, did not ab¬
solutely gain his cause. It was determined that Henry
should possess the throne during his life, and that the
Duke of York should be appointed his successor, to the
utter exclusion of Henry’s offspring.
Though the royal party now seemed destitute of every
resource, the queen still retained her intrepidity, disdain¬
ing every arrangement which implied the dethronement of
her child. Wales seemed the natural place of refuge for
the mother of him who was called its prince, and thither
accordingly she fled. This warlike dame assembled a con¬
siderable army to rescue her pusillanimous husband, and
marched to the northern provinces, where Northumber¬
land and Clifford joined her with their borderers. This
union having alarmed the victorious party, \ork and So¬
merset hastened to anticipate their designs, and, having
assembled a sufficient force, succeeded in reaching the
strong castle of Sandal before Christmas. Actuated by
the pride of prowess and the impatience of inaction, York
engaged the queen’s army with one of inferior force. The
conflict took place at Wakefield on the 30th of December
1460, and terminated in the total defeat of the korkists.
The duke himself was either slain in the action, or put to
death after it; whilst the Earl of Salisbury was taken dur¬
ing the night, and decapitated next day. But no one was
so much lamented as the young Earl of Rutland, the son
of York, a boy in the twelfth year of his age. He was
made prisoner, and coolly stabbed to the heart by Clifford,
in revenge for the death of his father, who had perished
at the battle of St Albans.
After this victory Margaret marched towards London,
in order to set the king at liberty; but the Earl of War¬
wick, who had now put himself at the head of the York¬
ists, led about the captive king in order to give a sanction
to his proceedings. Except by the countenance which his
presence seemed to give to the transactions of the \oik-
ists, he was as inert an instrument in their hands as the
royal standard which waved above their lines. Warwick
engaged the queen’s forces at St Albans; but, through
the treachery of Lord Lovelace, who deserted with a con¬
siderable force during the heat of the action, Warwick
was defeated, and the pageant king fell once more into the
hands of his own party.
ENGLAND.
691
1460.
History. The submission of the city of London seemed now to
be all that was wanting to complete the queen’s success;
but Warwick had secured it in his interests, and the citi¬
zens refused to open their gates to the royal victor. In
the mean time, young Edward, eldest son of the late Duke
of York, put himself at the head of his father’s party. He
Woodville, and relict of Sir John Grey, a Lancasterian, History,
who had fallen at the second battle of St Albans. The
parties were solemnly united in marriage on the 1st of l4*'9'
May 1464, and the bride was acknowledged and in due
time crowned. This transaction highly displeased War¬
wick, who afterwards became still more disgusted at the
was now in the bloom of youtb, remarkable for the beauty favour shown to the queen’s party, his own and his sove-
of his person and for bravery; and he was, moreover, a reign’s natural enemies. A plan of revenge was therefore
very great favourite with the people. He defeated Jasper set on foot, and a most powerful conspiracy was also form
Tudor, earl of Pembroke, at Mortimer’s Cross in Here¬
fordshire ; the earl himself being taken prisoner, and im¬
mediately beheaded by Edward’s orders.
Meanwhile he was joined by the remainder of War¬
wick’s arm)', and the united forces entered the metropolis
amidst the applause of the people of the city and of the
surrounding provinces. Edward laid his claim before a
council of lords, and on the 4th of March 1461 he was
proclaimed king by the style and title of Edward IV.
But notwithstanding all her disasters, the queen re¬
mained inflexibly devoted to her purpose. She retired
to the northern counties, where such numbers flocked to
her standard that her army very soon amounted to sixty
thousand men. Edward IV. was a voluptuary, but he
never allowed his activity and vigilance to slacken. With
Warwick and an army of forty thousand men he com¬
menced his march to the north. The hostile forces met
ed against Edward. To accomplish his aim, Warwick not
only employed his own influence, which was very exten¬
sive, but likewise that of the Duke of Clarence, Edward’s
brother, on whom the earl had conferred the hand of his
daughter without the king’s permission. The effects of
Warwick’s secret combination with Clarence, his own bro¬
ther Montague, and the discontented nobility and gentry,
soon began to appear. Sedition was fomented through¬
out the country, and a popular insurrection at last broke
out in Yorkshire, wdiere llobin of Redesdale, a hero
amongst the moss troopers of the border, appeared at the
head of sixty thousand men. The articles of their mani¬
festo were principally directed against the king’s counsel¬
lors and the church.
Henry earl of Pembroke was sent against them with a
body of seven or eight thousand men. He was joined by
Lord Stafford with five thousand more troops, and the two
at Towton, in the county of York, on the 29th of March commanders prepared to meet the insurgents. They at first
1461, and an obstinate engagement ensued, which conti- received a repulse, but it was of no material importance,
nued during the night, and was renewed with the utmost An unfortunate dispute, however, between Pembroke and
fierceness on the following morning. The queen’s army Stafford, caused the latter to march off the field with his
was totally defeated, and, as quarter was given on neither troops ; and in a battle which immediately afterwards en
side, the slaughter was dreadful. Between thirty and forty
thousand persons perished in these two bloody days. Af¬
ter this disaster the queen with her husband took refuge
in Scotland, whilst Edward returned to the metropolis,
where he was crowned on the 29th of June 1461. bor
th ree years Edward IV. possessed the throne without any
serious insurrection having taken place on the part of the
Lancasterians. But during this period Queen Margaret
was making strenuous exertions both in France and Scot¬
land to raise a force capable of taking the field against Ed¬
ward. Having collected a small army, she made an inroad
into England, but after several indecisive skirmishes she
was totally defeated at Hexham, in Northumberland, on
the 17th of May 1464. The Duke of Somerset, who corn-
sued, the royalists were cut to pieces, and their comman¬
der taken prisoner and beheaded.
The king, enraged at this, caused Stafford to be execut¬
ed in a like summary manner. This event completed the
disaffection of the king’s followers, who now deserted him
in thousands; and he himself was at last taken prisoner by
Warwick and his friends ; but this conquest embarrassed
the confederated nobles. The detention of the king was
not popular; and the military refused to act until he was
released, which took place accordingly, and a reconcilia¬
tion was effected. The truce was, however, of short du¬
ration. A new insurrection broke out in Lincolnshire, in
which Warwick and Clarence were deeply involved. The
commanded by Sir Robert Welles, son to a
man
men wer
rebels were
ded* for her, Vas'beheadedT'and a number of gentle- nobleman of the same name. Under an alleged charge
re also executed at York, with little form of law of treason, the la ter was beheaded by the k.ng, who
. marched against the insurgents with his usual celerity,
°Tv these repeated misfortunes the house of Lancaster and gave them a total overthrow at Erpingham, in Rut-
ame so effeetually reduced that Margaret was obliged landshire, on the 12th of March 1409. Warw.ck and Cla-
senarate from her husband, and both were compelled to rence again attempted to entrap Edward, but having fai -
l/their safety in individual flight. The king was still “-s^ „f the malcontent
barons, and effected a reconciliation between them and
became so effectually reduced that Margaret was obliged
to
seek their safety w
protected by some of his friends, who conveyed him to
Lancashire, where he was at last discovered, and consign¬
ed to the Tower as a prisoner. The queen made her escape
through Scotland into France, along with her son, and his
famous preceptor Sir John Fortescue.
In the mean time King Edward vigorously applied him¬
self to the affairs of government. Feeling secure on the
throne, he now also began to give way to the gratification
of his amatory passions, to which he was exceedingly
prone. In order to divert his mind from such debasing
indulgences, the Earl of Warwick, hitherto his
friend, advised him to marry. Edward consented, and
the earl was appointed to negotiate a match with the Prin¬
cess Bonne of Savoy. He was successful in his mission,
but before the conclusion of the marriage treaty the king
privately espoused a lady of whom he had become ena¬
moured; and who resisted all his efforts to form an illicit
connexion. This lady was Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Philip
the fugitive Queen Margaret. Their mortal enmities were
reconciled in common hatred of the king of England. A
treaty was concluded, which stipulated that Ldwaid should
espouse Anne Neville, Warwick’s daughter, and that they
should combine their efforts to restore Henry to the
throne of which he had been deprived. It was likewise
agreed upon, that in case of failure of issue by the prince,
uci.o»ii - the crown should descend to Clarence. After these pre¬
stead v liminary arrangements, Warwick assembled a small force,
' and set sail for England, where he landed whilst Edward
was in the north suppressing an insurrection which had
there broken out. This seems to have been an artifice
practised by a brother-in-law of Warwick’s, who thus drew
the incautious monarch to a distant part of the kingdom,
and left the southern counties open to the invader. War¬
wick was a great favourite with the people, the subject of
692 E N G L A N D.
History, popular ballads, which resounded his praise throughout
every town in the kingdom. Thousands having flocked
to his standard, he advanced upon London, and there pro¬
claimed Henry VI. The usual activity of Edward seems
to have forsaken him, or else his pernicious frivolities had
alienated the affections of his troops, whose fidelity to¬
wards him likewise decreased as Warwick drew near to
them. Edward was compelled to fly to Holland, Clarence
and Warwick made their triumphal entry into the capital,
and Henry was formally restored to regal authority. But
those who had reinstated him had placed only a barren
sceptre in his grasp, for the real power resided with them.
Edward was pronounced an usurper, and all acts passed
under his sanction were repealed. The crown was settled
on the male issue of Henry VI., and in default of such is¬
sue, on the Duke of Clarence and the heirs of his body.
But Edward’s party was not yet destroyed. After an
absence of nine months, he, seconded by a small body of
troops granted him by the Duke of Burgundy, made a
descent at llavenspur in Yorkshire. At first he met with
little success; but his army increasing on his march, he
was soon in a condition to appear before the capital, which
instantly opened its gates to receive him.
The unfortunate Henry was thus again plucked from
the throne; and the hopes of Warwick were almost to¬
tally blasted by the defection of Clarence, Edward’s bro¬
ther. He however advanced to within about ten miles
of London, resolving to wait the approach of Edward,
and took a position at Barnet, where, on the 14th of April
1471, a battle was fought, more remarkable for its conse¬
quences than for the number of the slain or the obstinacy
of the combatants. Considering the animosity existing
between the parties, the general slaughter was unusually
small; but amongst the fallen were Warwick and his bro¬
ther Montague; and the death of the first of these indi¬
viduals was of far more importance to Edward than the
victory which he had gained. It broke the charm which
associated with his name the certainty of victory and suc¬
cess to the cause which he espoused. On account of the
remarkable transactions in which he had been engaged,
he received the appellation of “ the king-maker.” His
death also destroyed the greatness of the house of Neville.
At this time the queen had just returned with her son
from France, where she had been soliciting supplies. She
had scarcely time to refresh herself from the fatigues of the
voyage, when she received the fatal news of the death of
Warwick, and the total destruction of his forces. All her
resolution was unable to support her under this calamity,
and she sunk to the ground in despair. Upon recovering
herself, she took sanctuary in the Abbey of Beaulieu in
Hampshire, where she still found friends ready to assist
her. Tudor earl of Pembroke, Courtenay earl of Devon¬
shire, the Lords Wenlock and St John, with some other
men of rank, encouraged her yet to hope for success, and
promised to stand by her to the last. On this assurance
she resumed the undaunted bearing which was natural to
her, and, advancing through the counties of Devon, Somer¬
set, and Gloucester, collected a considerable army. The
hostile forces came in sight of each other at Tewkesbury
on the 14th of May 1471, where a battle was fought, which
decided this sanguinary war. The queen’s army was to¬
tally defeated ; the Earl of Devonshire and Lord Wenlock
were slain in the conflict; the Duke of Somerset, and
about twenty other persons of distinction, who had taken
shelter in a church, were surrounded, dragged forth, and Hisior>.
immediately beheaded; about three thousand of their sol- s ^ '
diers fell in battle, and the rest were entirely dispersed. 1433.
Queen Margaret and her son w’ere taken prisoners, and
brought to the king, who asked the prince how he dared
to invade his dominions. The youth replied that he came
hither to claim his just inheritance; upon which Edward
struck him on the face with his gauntlet. The Dukes of
Clarence and Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and Sir Thomas
Gray, taking this blow as a signal for further violence,
hurried the prince into the next apartment, and there, it is
said, dispatched him.1 Margaret was thrown into the
Tower along with her husband Henry, who there closed
his unhappy career a few days afterwards. The Duke of
Gloucester has been charged with his murder, but there
is no proof of the fact.2 Margaret was ransomed by the
king of France in 1475, for fifty thousand crowns. She
survived her deliverance about seven years, during which
time she lived in France, withdrawn from the tumults of
state.
Edward being now freed from all his enemies, began to
inflict punishment on those who had formerly appeared
against him. Amongst the cruelties which he committed,
that on his brother the Duke of Clarence was the most
remarkable. They had been formally reconciled to each
other ; but this hollow truce to fraternal animosity was bro¬
ken by a singular incident. Whilst the king was one day
hunting in the park of one Burdett, a servant of the duke,
he killed a white buck which was a great favourite of the
owner. Burdett, concerned at the loss, broke into a trans¬
port of rage, and declared that he wished the horns of the
deer were in the belly of the person who advised the king
to that insult. For this exclamation Burdett was tried for
his life, and executed at Tyburn. Clarence exclaimed
against this sentence as iniquitous, for which he was at¬
tainted of treason, and charged with sorcery, in order to
give to Burdett’s expressions the dignity of necromantic
imprecation. Sentence of death was pronounced against
him ; but the king having some repugnance to order the
public execution of a brother, he was dispatched in pri¬
vate. There was a rumour prevalent at the time that he
was drowned in a butt of malmsey wine, to which he is
said to have been very partial; but there is no proof that
his murder was effected in this manner.
The remainder of Edward IV.’s reign is unimportant.
A war with France, which followed the civil wars in Eng¬
land, terminated in 1475 without being characterized by
any memorable events. But the foolish idea of aggran¬
disement in France was still popular with the people, and
Edward employed a considerable portion of the latter
years of his reign in making apparent preparations for re¬
viving the pretensions of his predecessors to the crown
of that country. It does not appear, however, that he
ever had any intention of carrying his threats into execu¬
tion. Edward died on the 9th of April 1483, in the forty-
second year of his age and twenty-first of his reign, cal¬
culating from the period of his first assuming the crown.
In the character of Edward IV. we see a combination by
no means singular of great and vicious qualities. As a
commander he possessed decision, promptitude, daring, and
valour, in a remarkable degree ; in these respects indeed
he surpassed all his competitors. But the laurels which he
won in the field were stained by many cool-blooded atro¬
cities, which altogether deprive the individual who perpe-
Such is the account commonly given of the death of this scion of the house of Lancaster. Jt is worthy of remark, however, that
the Harleian manuscript not only gives no sanction to this popular tale, but expressly declares that the prince was slain in the field.
’ A reader of the present day who can calmly dispossess his mind of the poetical associations with which the subject is invested,
\uil probably agree with a historian who has minutely investigated the subject, that Gloucester is to be exculpated from the charge
et murder in this case. (See Turner’s History of England, vol. ii. p. b 7b.)
E N G L A N D.
693
1483.
History, trated them of any claim to real greatness. He was cruel
1 and faithless, and no barrier was capable of restraining him
from indulging in sensual gratifications. Besides five
daughters, he left two sons; Edward prince of Wales, his
successor, then in his twelfth year; and Richard duke of
York, then in his eleventh year.
On the death of Edward IV. the kingdom was divided
into new factions; and those of the queen’s family, who,
during the last reign, had come into power, were ob¬
noxious to the old nobility, who looked upon them as up¬
starts and inferiors. The king had endeavoured to pre¬
vent these animosities proceeding to any extent, by de¬
siring on his death-bed that Ids brother Richard duke of
Gloucester should be entrusted with the regency; and he
recommended peace and unanimity during the minority
of his son. But the monarch was no sooner dead than
the former resentment between the two parties burst forth
with violence; and the Duke of Gloucester, to whom it is
customary to attribute every bad quality, resolved to pro¬
fit by their contentions. As soon as he learned the tid¬
ings of his brother’s death, he proceeded to Ludlow Castle,
where Prince Edward then was under the charge of Lord
Rivers, his uncle by the mother’s side. This nobleman
w'as charged by Gloucester with having instilled into the
mind of his young ward unfavourable opinions of the pro¬
tector, and under this groundless accusation he was put
into confinement, along with others of the Woodville fa¬
mily. Gloucester, with Buckingham, his noted accom¬
plice, marched to London with Prince Edward, and the
other young prince’s person having also been secured,
both of them were consigned to the Tower, under the
specious pretext that they would there be safe from the
machinations of their enemies. The coronation was post¬
poned from the 4th of May till the 22d of June, so that
the secret purposes of the protector began to be unveil¬
ed ; and it would seem probable that Hastings and Stan¬
ley, the friends of the late king, began to show some mis¬
givings as to the designs of Richard. At a council held
in the Tower on the 13th of June 1483, Hastings was
seized, and soon afterwards executed upon a log of tim¬
ber, without any form of trial. Stanley and other ob¬
noxious lords were thrown into various dungeons; and
on the same day Earl Rivers and some others were exe¬
cuted at Pomfret Castle, on the most unjust pretences of
treason.
The protector now considered himself as in a situation
to lay claim to the throne. He used his utmost endea¬
vours to inspire the people with a notion of the illegiti¬
mate birth of the late king, and that his children were
not only illegitimate on this account, but also because their
father had been secretly wedded to Elinor Butler pre¬
viously to the solemnization of marriage between him and
Elizabeth Woodville. Shaw, a popular preacher, was
hired to harangue the people to this effect from St Paul’s
cross. The number of Edward’s amours gave some plau¬
sibility to these rumours, and prepared the minds of the
people for the usurpation of the crown by Richard. Two
days afterwards Buckingham harangued the populace in
much the same manner as Shaw ; and on the 25th of June
1483, that nobleman presented Richard with a parchment
purporting to be a declaration of the estates of parliament
in favour of the protector, as the only legitimate prince
of the house of York. Richard, with his usual dissimula¬
tion, evinced some hesitation upon the point; but on the
following day he took possession of the crown, and from
the 26th of June 1483 is accordingly dated the com¬
mencement of his reign.
'1 he only obstacles which now interposed between Rich¬
ard and the peaceful possession of the crown were his two
nephews, whom he still kept in the Tower, for the sake of
1484.
safety, as he miscalled their imprisonment. During a pro- History,
gress through the kingdom a confederacy was formed ^
against him, and meetings were held, which had for their
object the liberation of the princes. But this was unne¬
cessary, as they had been privately dispatched by the
king’s orders. The manner of their death was kept a
profound secret, and it is very doubtful if even yet we
are acquainted with the real facts. The most probable
account, however, is, that Richard having tampered in
vain with Brackenbury, the governor of the Tower, to put
them to death, found a ready instrument for the execu¬
tion of his diabolical purpose in Sir James Tyrrel, his mas¬
ter of the horse. This individual, with two other ruffian¬
ly associates, having obtained access during the night to
the apartment of the princes, smothered them as they lay
asleep, and buried their bodies at the foot of the staircase.
Richard having thus secured himself on the throne,
attempted to strengthen his interest by means of foreign
alliances, and also by procuring the favour of the clergy
at home ; but he found his power threatened from a quar¬
ter where he least expected an attack. The Duke of
Buckingham, who had been so instrumental in raising him
to the throne, either thinking his services inadequately
rewarded, or for some other causes which cannot now be
ascertained, instigated a revolt against Richard. The
horror with which the intelligence of the midnight mur¬
der in the Tower was received prepared the public mind
for seconding the designs of Buckingham, who, with seve¬
ral other leading individuals in the kingdom, now declar¬
ed for Henry, the young Earl of Richmond, in opposition
to Richard. The earl, at this period an exile in Brittany,
was considered as the chief of the Lancasterian party.
His right to the crown by succession was, however, very
equivocal; but the cruel behaviour of Richard inclined
the people generally to favour his pretensions; and, in
order to give an additional strength to his title, a match
was projected between him and the Princess Elizabeth,
the eldest daughter of Edward IV., which, by uniting
the two rival families, would put an end to those dissen¬
sions which had so long distracted the kingdom and de¬
luged it with kindred blood. Messengers were accord¬
ingly dispatched to give him information of the conspi¬
racy, which fortunately escaped the usual vigilance of
Richard ; and, in about a fortnight afterwards, Richmond
returned an answer, which was no sooner communicated
to his friends than it reached the ears of the king. T he
latter immediately summoned his adherents to join him
with their retainers at Leicester; and after proclaiming
Buckingham a traitor, he marched against him at the head
of his army. In the mean time storms interrupted the
voyage of Henry ; and the army of Buckingham, dispirited
by broken bridges and impassable currents, broke up and
dispersed. A price was set upon the head of Buckingham,
who fled, but was betrayed into the hands of Richard, and
immediately put to death.
Richard, now emboldened by his success, employed
every means of confirming his title to the throne, and
destroying the plans of the exiles and malcontents. He
summoned a parliament, the first which he had ventured
to call together; and an act was passed declaring him
undoubted king of the realm, and settling it upon his son
Edward, prince of Wales. The marriage of Edward IV.
with Elizabeth Woodville was declared null, and his son
pronounced a bastard : then followed a severe bill of at¬
tainder, in which several noblemen, bishops, knights, and
gentlemen, were deprived of their estates, honours, and
rights.
But notwithstanding all the measures of severity adopt¬
ed by Richard, he was seriously alarmed at the project¬
ed marriage between Henry of Richmond and the eldest
694 ENGL
History, daughter of the late king. To_ defeat this project, there-
fore^ now became the chief policy of the king. The prin-
USH. cess was induced to quit her sanctuary and come under
the protection of Richard, who probably had destined her
tor his son ; but the death of that prince forced him to al¬
ter his plans, and secure her for himself. Lady Anne Ne¬
ville, Richard’s queen, was in infirm health, and this in¬
duced him secretly to make an offer of his hand to the
young princess, which she agreed to accept. During the
illness of Anne, Elizabeth discovered, it is said, an unna¬
tural degree of impatience, and hinted her surprise at its
duration ; a most suspicious circumstance. Her appre¬
hensions, however, were soon allayed. In less than a
month the queen died; but her hopes of sharing the
throne with Richard were not realized. The match was
so very unpopular that the royal wooer was dissuaded
from his purpose, and his attention was soon directed to
another quarter.
The crimes of Richard had alienated the greater por¬
tion of the York party from his interests ; and a union be¬
tween Elizabeth and Henry, for the purpose of reconciling
conflicting factions, became a topic of serious considera¬
tion. The latter prince again conceived the hopes of
seizing the crown by another invasion of England; and
having collected an army of three thousand men, he set
sail from Harfleur early in August 1485, and landed at
Milford Haven on the 6th of that month. Richard af¬
fected to hear the intelligence with joy ; and displaying the
vigilance and activity of his brother Edward, he matched
from London on the 16th. His competitor had directed
his march through the northern districts of Wales, a tract
of country in the interest of the Stanleys. Both armies
met at Bosworth in Leicestershire, on the 22d of August
1485, where a battle was fought, memorable for having
restored tranquillity to the kingdom, which had so long
been the theatre of sanguinary civil wars.
The army of Richmond amounted to about six thou¬
sand men, that of the king to nearly twice the number,
and both prepared for the contest, equally confident of
victory. For, notwithstanding the inferiority of Richmond’s
troops, he was secretly encouraged by the promises of Lord
Stanley, who was hastening, with seven thousand men
under his command, apparently to join the royalists, but
really with the intention of siding with Henry. Stanley
continued his march slowly; and on the morning of the
battle he took up a neutral station on the wing of either
host. The king entrusted his vanguard to the Duke of Nor¬
folk, whilst that of Henry was assigned to the Earl of Ox¬
ford ; and the two competitors for the crown placed them¬
selves at the head of the main bodies of their respective
armies. Richard, taking advantage of a marsh which co¬
vered his right flank, ordered a shower of arrows to be dis¬
charged into the adverse ranks, which for a moment threw
them into confusion. He sent orders to Stanley to join him
immediately; but the refusal of that nobleman to comply
with his request shook his confidence and also that of his
army, which now began to waver. To complete his dis¬
may, he saw Stanley join the ranks of Henry, a circum¬
stance which determined the fortune of the day. But,
in order to retrieve it, Richard made a vigorous effort
worthy of a better cause. Chancing to observe Henry
in the midst of the conflict, he made a dash at him,
determined to cut him down or perish in the attempt.
He slew with his own hand Sir W illiam Brandon, the
bearer of the hostile standard, unhorsed Sir John Cheney,
and was within a blow of his rival, when he was overpow¬
ered by numbers, struck to the ground, and immediately
slain. After his fall resistance was hopeless, and his army
broke up and dispersed. The crown which he wore on
that day was taken up by Lord Stanley and placed on
A N D.
Henry’s head, who was instantly greeted with shouts of History.
“ Long live King Henry.” Of Richard’s army a consi- ' 
derable number were killed in the battle and pursuit, and
amongst these were the Duke of Norfolk, and Lords Fer¬
rers, Radcliff, and Brackenbury. The victors lost but few,
and none of any note except their standard-bearer. To
enhance their triumph, Lord Strange, the son of Stanley,
whom Richard had ordered for execution before or dur¬
ing the conflict, escaped in the confusion and rejoined his
father. The body of the tyrant was thrown carelessly
across a horse and conducted to Leicester, where it was
interred with small ceremony.
Of Richard’s character little remains to be said, dhe
crimes of which he was undoubtedly guilty almost re¬
move him from the ranks of mankind, and class him with
the most ferocious animals. The arguments which have
been brought forward in modern times to prove his inno¬
cence are inconclusive, and scarcely to be named, when
confronted with the mass of evidence which may be ar¬
rayed against him. His fall excited no regret, except
amongst a few of his partizans, the slaves of his despotic
will. How could it? The death of his unoffending ne¬
phews must have still been fresh in the memory of his
subjects.
The quarrel between the houses of York and Lancaster
was now brought to a conclusion. In order to secure the
blessings of peace and an undisputed succession, it was
necessary for Henry at once to espouse Elizabeth, and, by
so doing, to blend the white and the red roses together.
There is no concealing the fact that his title to the crown
was of a very ambiguous description. It rested on three
grounds, first, his marriage with Elizabeth; secondly, his
descent from the house of Lancaster ; and thirdly, the right
of conquest. According to the sagacious Bacon, “ he rest¬
ed on the title of Lancaster in the main, using the marriage
and the victory as supporters.” But this main support was
not a valid one; for even allowing his descent from John
of Gaunt to have been legitimate, he was not the nearest
descendant of that prince’s children. There were several
who had claims superior to his; but the individual whom
Henry looked upon with peculiar jealousy was Edward
Plantagenet, son of the late Duke of Clarence. After the
death of this prince’s father, Richard sent for him to court,
and created him Earl of Warwick, the title borne by his
grandfather; but fearing that he might afterwards become
a dangerous competitor, Richard had him conveyed to a
distant fortress; and one of the first acts of Henry was to
change his place of confinement, and put him in the Tower,
as a prison of greater security. Elizabeth, who had been
his fellow-captive, wTas ordered to be conducted to the
house of her mother in London, whilst Flenry himself lei¬
surely followed her to the capital. He was received there
with every demonstration of joy, and greeted by the inha¬
bitants as the deliverer of his country. His coronation
was delayed for a time, by the breaking out of a dreadful
disease, called from its predominant symptom the sweat¬
ing sickness. But at the end of a month its virulence began
to abate, and Henry was crowned on the 30th of October
1485. To heighten the splendour of the ceremony, he
bestowed the rank of knights-banneret on twelve persons,
and conferred peerages on three. Jasper earl of Pem¬
broke, his uncle, he created Duke of Bedford; Ihomas,
Lord Stanley, his father-in-law, Earl of Derby; and Ed¬
ward Courtenay, Earl of Devonshire. At the coronation
likewise appeared a new institution, which the king had
established for personal security as well as pomp; a banu
of fifty archers, who were denominated yeomen of the
guard. But lest the people should take umbrage at this
step, as if it implied a diffidence in their loyalty, he declar¬
ed the institution to te perpetual. Ihe ceremony of the
ENGLAND.
695
I486.
Histurj. coronation was performed by Cardinal Bourchier, arch-
J bishop of Canterbury. On the 18 th of January 1486, Henry
was united to the Princess Elizabeth; and his marriage
was celebrated at London with even a greater appearance
of joy than either his first entry or his coronation.
The reign of Henry VII. was for several years disturb¬
ed by plots and insurrections. The people, by a long
course of civil war, had become so turbulent and factious,
that no governor could rule, nor was any king likely to
please them. The violent animosity expressed by this
monarch, however, against the house of York, may justly
be considered as one of the causes of the extreme prone¬
ness to rebellion which was manifested amongst his sub¬
jects. Instead of endeavouring to conciliate the affection
of the opposite party, he invariably strove to quell them
by force and violence. For this purpose, soon after his ac¬
cession he took a journey to the north of England, where
the Yorkists were very numerous, trusting that his pre¬
sence might overawe them. On his way thither he re¬
ceived intelligence of an insurrection against him, headed
by Viscount Lovel, with Sir Henry Stafford and his bro¬
ther Thomas. The two latter had raised an army, and were
marching to besiege the city of Worcester; whilst Lovel
was hastening to their assistance with a body of several
thousand men. But they were induced to disperse by the
offer of a general pardon. Lovel withdrew from his troops,
who immediately gave in their submission to the king.
The Staffords took refuge in the church of Colnham, near
Abingdon ; but they were dragged from this sanctuary, as
it was found not to possess the privilege of sheltering re¬
bels. The elder brother was executed at Tyburn, but the
younger one received a pardon.
Henry returned from bis northern tour, and soon after¬
wards his queen presented him with a son, whom he named
Arthur, in honour of the supposed progenitor of the house
of Tudor, the renowned King Arthur; but Henry was
not permitted to enjoy undisturbed security. He never
was at any time popular except amongst his own party;
and in the northern counties, particularly, the late King
Richard was remembered and spoken of with regret. Henry
was hated for his success, and even charged with having
put to death the young Earl of Warwick, whom he had im¬
prisoned, as has already been mentioned. It was necessary
for the king to exercise extreme caution, on account of
the dangers which surrounded him; and hence he is de¬
scribed as having been mysterious and impenetrable. Sir
Thomas More remarks that one thing was frequently pre¬
tended whilst another was meant; and Bacon says that the
king had a fashion rather to create doubts than assurance.
The birth of his son seems to have roused his enemies
to make some exertions against him; and being destitute
of any chief of suflicient ability round whom insurgents
might rally with any hope of success, they were urged to
make one of the most extraordinary attempts recorded in
history. One Richard Simons, a subtle priest of Oxford,
took under his charge Lambert Symnel, the son of a trades¬
man belonging to the same town. The boy was about
eleven years of age, comely, and not without dignity and
grace in his person. With this individual, who was well
tutored to perform the extraordinary part which was to
be assigned him, the churchman landed in Ireland, and
presented him to the lord-deputy of the county as Edward
Plantagenet, earl of Warwick, who had made his escape
from the Tower. It seems to have been at first the de¬
sign of the fabricators of this singular deception to have
presented him to the public as the younger of the princes
who had been put to death by Richard in the r™er- J
order to further this scheme, a report was circulated that
one.of these princes had made his escape from his assassins.
Why this plan should have been changed, and the youthf
1486.
impostor seduced to personate an individual still living, it History,
is difficult to conjecture; but such is the fact. The Earl 1
of Kildare, to whom he was presented in Ireland, swal¬
lowed the bait, and allowed the claims of Symnel without
discussion. This nobleman was a zealous adherent of the
house of York; and the little colony called the English
Pale, long ruled by that party, retained all its ancient
attachments. A belief in the identity of Symnel with
the Earl of Warwick became universal, both amongst the
nobility and the people. He was lodged in the castle of
Dublin ; the inhabitants universally took an oath of alle¬
giance to him, as the true descendant of the Plantagenets ;
he was crowned with a diadem taken from the statue of
the blessed virgin, and proclaimed king by the title of
Edward VI.
Such an unexpected event so alarmed Henry that he
would have gone over to Ireland in person to quell the
rebellion, had he not dreaded the machinations of the
queen dowager in his absence. To prevent any thing of
this kind from occurring, it was resolved to confine her
for life in a monastery, under pretence, however, that it
was done on account of her having formerly delivered up
the princess her daughter to King Richard. The royal
dame murmured at the severity of her sentence; but the
king persisted in his resolution, and she remained in con¬
finement till her death, which did not take place till some
years afterwards.
The next measure was to exhibit the person of War¬
wick to the people. That prince was accordingly taken
from the Tower, and conducted through the principal
streets of London ; after which the procession moved to
St Paul’s, where great numbers were assembled to see
him. Still, however, the fictitious Warwick prospered in
Ireland, and being furnished by the Duchess of Burgundy
with a body of two thousand veteran Germans, under the
command of Martin Swart, a brave and experienced officer,
the invasion of England was determined upon. He land¬
ed in Lancashire, whence he marched towards \ork, ex¬
pecting that the country people vvould rally round his
standard during his march. But in this he was disap¬
pointed ; the people were unwilling to join a body of fo¬
reigners, and were besides kept in awe by the reputation
of Henry. Lord Lincoln, therefore, who commanded the
rebel army, determined to bring the matter to a speedy
issue. Accordingly he met the royalists at Stoke, in the
county of Nottingham, and an obstinate engagement
took place, which terminated in Henry obtaining a com¬
plete victory. Lord Lincoln, with four thousand soldiers,
perished in the action ; and Symnel with his tutor Si¬
mons were taken prisoners. Simons being a priest, could
not be tried by the civil power, and was only committed
to close confinement. Symnel was pardoned, and made a
scullion in the king’s kitchen, whence he was afterwards
advanced to the rank of falconer, in which capacity he
died Thus ended this most absurdly planned and inju¬
diciously executed revolt; but it w'as not destitute of good
results. It taught the king that the house of York was
not to be trampled upon with impunity; for to such an
extent had his antipathy to the branches of that family
and its adherents been carried, that it was said his own
queen was not exempt from the common odium which
was thrown upon them. It was asked by the people,
why was she, the rightful heir to the throne, not crowned,
and invested with the usual insignia of royalty ?_ Henry
silenced these rumours by ordering her coronation ; and
from that period she shared with him the usual honours of
^Having thus to a great extent established his authority
at home, he thought of diverting the minds of his subjects
from domestic insurrection to foreign enterprise. He
696 E N G L A N D.
hstory. Jogg not appear, however, to have had any intention of
prosecuting a serious war in a distant country, but he
1487. used the pretext as a means of aggrandising himself. A
parliament was summoned, which granted the king a con¬
siderable sum for prosecuting the war in Bretagne, the
only great fief of the French crown which still retained
its own prince and its ancient constitution ; by force, by
policy, or by good fortune, the French monarchs had ob¬
tained possession of all the others. But of the supply grant¬
ed by parliament, only a small part could be raised. The
northern counties not only refused payment of their propor¬
tion, but rose in revolt, and murdered the Earl of North¬
umberland, the king’s lieutenant. The insurrection, how¬
ever, was quickly suppressed by the Earl of Surrey. John
a Chambre, one of the ringleaders, suffered at York; and
Sir John Egremont, the other, escaped to the Duchess of
Burgundy, where he had leisure to hatch new schemes of
rebellion. The money which Henry by this means obtain¬
ed, and also in consequence of another grant from parlia¬
ment, was quietly deposited in his coffers. For although
he collected a considerable army, with which he pro¬
ceeded to Calais, the king had other objects than victory
and conquest in view. Some months previously to his
landing on the Continent, he had commissioned the go¬
vernor of Calais to negotiate a peace and alliance with
Charles of France, which was formally concluded. To
the French monarch the possession of Bretagne was an
important object; and Henry, naturally avaricious, agreed
to accept about L.200,000 as a reimbursement for the
expenses of the expedition. It was also stipulated that
the king of France should pay to him and his heirs an
annual pension of 25,000 crowns.
But Henry’s hopes of a tranquil possession of the crown
of England were doomed to perpetual disappointment.
His reign was now to be disturbed by one of the most
mysterious personages to be met with in English history.
About the time when war was declared against France, a
pretender to the regal dignit)^ appeared in Ireland, which
seems to have been the natural soil for these spurious
shoots of royalty. This impostor passed under the name
of Perkin Warbeck, but asserted himself to be Richard
duke of York, the second son of Edward IV. who, it was
alleged, had escaped from the Tower when his brother
was murdered. Previously to his appearance in Ireland, he
had been heard of at the court of Margaret, his suppos¬
ed aunt, who interested herself to the utmost in his fa¬
vour, and fondly styled him the White Rose of England.
But he was compelled to quit Burgundy ; for Henry had
dispatched some ambassadors to the sovereign of that
country, with secret instructions to demand either the
person of the impostor, or his expulsion from the territo¬
ries of the duke. Warbeck was received with open arms
in Ireland, for the Irish were fanatically attached to the
house of York. Several noblemen who had credulously
believed in the fraud of Symnel, from which they had
just escaped, gave countenance to his pretensions. A de¬
putation was sent to Flanders to ascertain his history;
but they had been corrupted by Henry before their land¬
ing in Burgundy, and they returned fraught with charges
of treason against the disaffected nobility. Some of the
most eminent malcontent Yorkists were put to death, and
amongst the rest Sir William Stanley, lord-chamberlain,
to whom the king had owed his life on Bosworth field.
His fate was most mysterious, and the conduct of Henry
upon this occasion is open to the most odious suspicions.
Sir Robert Clifford, the individual whose information led
to these executions, was a confidential Yorkist; and his
behaviour towards his own part}7, so different from what
might have been expected, tended to dissolve the ties
which subsisted between it and the malcontent exiles.
Three years had now elapsed since the pretender had History,
set forth his claim, and during that period he had never
attempted to establish it by legal proof. He began to 15°1-
feel that he stood upon delicate ground, and resolved at
once to enforce his pretended right by an appeal to the
sword. With a small force collected in Flanders (for he
had been for some time absent from Ireland) he made a
descent in the neighbourhood of Deal; but the adventurers
w ere attacked by the inhabitants, and all of them driven
back to their vessels, or taken prisoners. Warbeck him¬
self made his escape, and returned in despair to Flanders.
From this country he was ejected at the instigation of
Henry ; and after vainly attempting to gain a footing in
Ireland, he set sail for Scotland, where he w'as well re¬
ceived by the young king, who professed a conviction in
the justice of his title. King James conferred upon him
the hand of Lady Catherine Gordon, a near kinswoman of
his own. The adventurer’s fortunes being thus suddenly
elevated, he, along with the king of Scotland, advanced
into England; but not a native sword was unsheathed
in favour of the White Rose. The enthusiasm which
had been excited amongst the Scots by his first appear¬
ance in their country had begun to decline, and during a
long truce, which served all the purposes of a treaty of
peace between James and Henry, it was agreed to by
the former that he should induce Warbeck to quit Scot¬
land. The adventurer, with a few adherents, accordingly
departed, and, after touching once more at Cork, and in
vain soliciting the aid of Earl Desmond, steered for Corn-
w7all, where he landed on the 7th of September 1497.
His arrival in this part of the country was a politic
step, for an attempt to raise a tax there some time be¬
fore gave rise to an insurrection, which, although quelled,
left behind heartburnings and discontent. A considerable
body of Cornish men joined his standard, and before he
reached Exeter his army amounted to six thousand men.
But the king arrived, and preparations were made for a
battle ; the heart of the pretender, however, failed him at
the sight of the royal standard, and instead of risking an
engagement for the crown, he withdrew during the night,
and entered his name in the sanctuary of Beaulieu in
Hampshire. His followers laid down their arms to the
king, and his wife also submitted to his authority, and was
placed near the person of the queen. From his sanctuary
the fugitive was removed by the king to London, where
he was ordered to keep within the precincts of the pa¬
lace. He contrived, however, to make his escape, but,
despairing of getting out of the country, surrendered him¬
self to the prior of the monastery of Shene. The monk
contrived to prevail with the king to spare his life; but
he wras condemned to stand in the stocks and make a
public confession of his imposture, after which he was
committed to the Tower. In this fortress he met with a
singular companion, the real Earl of Warwick, who had
now been a prisoner for the period of fourteen years. His
life had thus been passed in cheerless captivity, for no
other offence than that of being the sole survivor of the
male descendants of Edward III. The two contrived a
means of escape, but they were discovered. Warbeck
was executed at Tyburn ; and the son of Clarence having
been arraigned for high treason, was condemned to death
and beheaded on the 28th of November 1499. This deed
was worthy of Richard III. It was a cool-blooded mur¬
der, aggravated by circumstances ; for the harmless and
joyless victim was, from his long confinement, reduced to
a state of idiocy. The human soul shudders to think of
such atrocities, perpetrated in defiance alike of justice
and humanity. From the guilt of shedding innocent
blood it is impossible to purify the name of Henry VII.
In 1501, the king’s eldest son Arthur was married to
History.
1501.
ENGLAND.
the Infanta Catherine of Spain ; but he survived the mar¬
riage only a few months, having died on the 2d of April
following. It was agreed upon a short while afterwards,
by the parents of the parties, that the widow of the late
prince should be espoused by Henry’s next son, now
Prince of Wales, and afterwards Henry VIII. The union
was sanctioned by the pope, who granted a bull, dispens¬
ing with any impediment which their affinity might other¬
wise cause. The eldest daughter of King Henry was
conferred upon James IV. of Scotland; an important union,
as from this stock sprung all the sovereigns who have
since reigned in Great Britain. King Henry, in his own
time, wras called the Solomon of England; and, without
allowing him to possess undisputed claims to so high-
sounding a title, the saying recorded of him regarding
the Scottish marriage displays no common foresight and
sagacity. When some of his counsellors objected to it,
on the ground that the kingdom might thereby fall to the
king of Scotland, he answered, “ Scotland would then
become an accession to England, not England to Scot¬
land ; the greater would draw the less ; it is a safer
union for England than one with France.”1
In the latter part of this king’s reign, his economy, which
had always been very exact, degenerated into avarice, and
his oppressions at last became severe. In Empson and
Dudley he possessed two ministers, who did all that in¬
ventive minds could suggest, and hearts of stone perform,
to gratify a rapacity, which fed with equal appetite on
friend and foe. We are informed by one of the wisest
of historians and of men, that these individuals had no
reputation, otherwise than by servilely following his bent,
and that they “ shaped his way to those extremities for
which himself was touched with remorse at his death.”2
The hoard which the king had amassed by their unjust
extortions, and which was mostly kept in “ secret places
at Richmond,” is said to have amounted to nearly
L.16,000,000 of our present money. This amount of
specie is so enormous as to warrant a conviction that it
has been greatly exaggerated. It may be doubted whe¬
ther the wdiole circulating medium of the country at that
period amounted to the sum which the avaricious mo¬
narch is said to have accumulated.
Henry, who had enjoyed an uncommon share of health
during his life, was at fifty-two years of age attacked by
severe indisposition. He died on the 21st of April 1509,
in the twenty-fourth year of his reign, which, although
perpetually disturbed by domestic insurrections, was upon
the whole prosperous. He was interred in the chapel at
Westminster, which still bears his name; one of the no¬
blest trophies of architectural genius produced in any age,
and which confers peculiar distinction upon that in which
it was erected. There are many acts of Henry s admini¬
stration, and some of these have already been particular¬
ised, which cannot be related but to his discredit. He was
mean, sordid, and unamiable in his nature. No tenderness
softened his rigid nature, if we except that which he evin¬
ced towards his mother; a virtue, however, too common to
be praised even in a king. We see no qualities about the
man which inspires us with regard for him ; but there are
many virtues to admire in the ruler. He favoured every
national improvement; and, though penurious to excess in
ordinary or essentially private matters, he was munificent
in public works. He greatly improved the laws of the
realm. With respect to these, Lord Bacon remarks, with
his usual clearness and sagacity, “ his laws are deep, not
vulgar ; not made upon the spur of a particular occasion,
for the present, but acts of prudence for the future, to
697
make the estate of his people still more happy, after the History,
manner of the legislators in ancient and heroical times.”
He manifested great regard for trade, as is evinced by his 1512.
excellent laws for promoting it, and by the extended com¬
mercial intercourse of the country, tie accepted the offer
of Columbus to make that most memorable of voyages,
in which he lifted the veil that covered a grand division of
the globe, and would have patronized it if he had not been
forestalled by Isabella. He gave his sanction to Cabot’s
celebrated voyage (see Cabot), and fitted out a ship to
join the expedition. In fine, the country improved under
his government, and became steadily attached to his family.
Henry VIII. son of the preceding monarch, ascended
the throne on the 22d of April 1509, being then in the
eighteenth year of his age. He assumed the reins of go¬
vernment under most auspicious circumstances. His title
was undisputed ; his treasury was well stocked; commerce
was in a flourishing condition ; and the kingdom, which
now may be supposed to have looked to the youthful mo¬
narch with hope and indulgence, was at peace with every
foreign power, and quiet in itself. He was prepossessing
in person, accomplished in mind, and adroit in every
martial and fashionable exercise. But these advantages
belonged to an individual whose heart was usurped by
debasing passions, and whose mind was cast in the true
mould of despotism.
On the 6th of June 1509, Henry and Catherine were
finally united in wedlock, and on the 24th of the same
month they were crowned with great splendour. One of
Henry’s first acts was to bring Empson and Dudley, the
obnoxious ministers of his father, to trial. As a capital ac¬
cusation could not be brought against them for merely exe¬
cuting the will of the late king, it was found necessary to
indite them for a conspiracy to seize upon London with
an armed force during the last illness of Henry. Of this
charge, absurd and incredible as it appears to be, these in¬
dividuals were convicted; and though it seems probable
that the king would have been satisfied with imprisonment
for life, yet so clamorous were the people for the blood of
the culprits, that he was compelled to sign a warrant for
their execution, which took place on Tower Hill.
In 1511, Henry entered into a league with Pope Julius
II., Ferdinand king of Spain, and other continental powers,
against Louis XII. of France. In this alliance the king of
England was not a deeply interested individual; but his
vanity was flattered with the idea of receiving the title
of Most Christian Majesty, which was promised to him
by tbe pope. The object which the confederates had in
view was to wrest from Louis some valuable provinces
which he had obtained in Italy ; and although Henry had
no hope of sharing the spoil with them in this quarter,
yet the occupation of the French monarch in schemes of
aggrandisement beyond the Alps afforded an opportunity
to the English of invading France, and reviving the old
chimera of conquering that country. The point, whether
England should aim at continental dominions, was debated
in parliament; and the arguments against it greatly pre¬
ponderated. But the vanity of Henry was too much flat¬
tered to relinquish the scheme. He sent an ambassador
to demand of Louis the ancient patrimony of the English
crown in France, and this being refused, war was denoun¬
ced. Parliament granted a supply, and an army was
equipped and sent into Spain. But this expedition was
attended with no success, and the troops, dispirited and
mutinous, returned to England towards the close of 1512.
On the north-western frontier of France, however, the
arms of Henry were triumphant, and also in Scotland,
a Ibid. iii. 379.
4 T
VOL. VIII.
1 Bacon, in- 409.
CO ^
98
ENGLAND.
listory. which had been tempted by French councils to invade
—v-W England. James IV. with a considerable army under his
1513. command, was met by the Earl of Surrey at Flodden,
where a bloody battle was fought, in which the Scots were
totally routed, and their king, with the greater portion of
his nobility, perished. (See Scotland.) Henry receiv¬
ed the news of this victory at Tournay, which he had in¬
vested, after having demolished Terouanne. The latter
city opened its gates to him in eight days; but all parties
being now disposed for peace, a general treaty was con¬
cluded in August 1514.
With regard to the administration of government in Eng¬
land, when Henry mounted the throne, the leading mini¬
sters in the cabinet were, Howard, earl of Surrey, lord
treasurer; and Fox, bishop of Winchester, lord privy seal.
Amongst the inferior dependents of the court there now
appeared an individual, whose ambition and talent ena¬
bled him speedily to supplant every competitor. This was
Thomas, afterwards Cardinal Wolsey, who, although only
the son of a burgess of Ipswich, gradually raised himself
to the first offices of state. (See Wolsey.) His prefer¬
ment had been rapid beyond all precedent, and this was
not likely to be forgiven by an envious world. From the
year 1513 to 1515, he had passed through the various gra¬
dations, from being bishop of Tournay, to the honours of
the cardinalate, and he succeeded Archbishop Worham in
the office of chancellor. With respect to the manner in
which he executed his duty as a high public functionary,
Sir James Mackintosh remarks, that “ his administration
of justice as chancellor has been celebrated by those who
forget how simple the functions of that office then were;
and his rigid enforcement of criminal justice appears only
to have been a part of that harsh but perhaps needful
process by which the Tudor princes rather extirpated than
punished'criminals, in order to reclaim the people from
the long license of civil wars. As he was chiefly occupied
in enriching and aggrandizing himself, or in displaying
his power and wealth, objects which are to be promoted
either by foreign connections, or by favour at court, it is
impossible to determine what share of the merit or de¬
merit of internal legislation ought to be allotted to him.
His part in the death of the Duke of Buckingham was
his most conspicuous crime; yet, after all, it is probable
that he was no worse than his contemporary statesmen.
The circumstance most favourable to him is the attach¬
ment of dependents.”1
On the death of Maximilian, which happened towards
the end of the year 1519, Henry, along with the kings of
France and Spain, became a candidate for the imperial
throne. The Spanish monarch was the successful compe¬
titor, and, to soothe the wounded pride of Henry, he paid
him a visit of ceremony at Dover. His principal design
in this was to persuade Henry to abandon a projected
meeting which was to take place between him and the
king of France, the wily emperor dreading that such an
interview might be fraught with danger to himself. He
was unsuccessful, however, and the two monarchs met be¬
tween Ardres and Guines in 1520. Ihe place where this
meeting was held has been long celebrated under the name
of the Field of the Cloth of Gold. The pomp and parade,
the tournaments and other sports of the age, exhibited
upon the occasion, were on the grandest scale, and pecu¬
liarly calculated to delight the young king of England, a
creature of impulse, and one who sacrificed policy to tem¬
per, and interest to passion. It was thus that the con¬
tinental monarchs flattered his foibles, and ingratiated
themselves into his favour.
1527.
About the same time a crime was perpetrated, in the History,
guilt of which both Henry and his minister Wolsey have
been implicated; we mean the execution of Edward Staf¬
ford, duke of Buckingham. This nobleman was descend¬
ed from the youngest son of Edward III.; and the principal
accusation brought against him was, that he had tampered
with a priest who laid claim to the gift of prophecy, and
who had foretold that he would yet ascend the throne in
virtue of his descent. Several other charges equally ab¬
surd, and not amounting to an overt act of high treason,
were brought against him ; he was tried by a jury of peers,
condemned to death, and beheaded on the 17th of May
1521. Upon this occasion the populace vented their in¬
dignation against Wolsey, whose subtle policy had brought
the sufferer to the scaffold, by loud cries of “ the butch¬
er’s son.”
Wolsey, however, continued to rule with unabated sway
from 1521 till 1527. This period is not distinguished by
any events of importance, if we except the opposition
which the House of Commons offered to the minister in
his attempts to raise supplies. That body obstinately dis¬
puted these grants, and attempts were made to raise mo¬
ney by the expedients of forced loans and pretended bene¬
volences, which the legislature had already condemned.
But these attempts produced a small supply and a great
deal of discontent. Wolsey, notwithstanding his unwearied
exertions in behalf of his master, never felt himself per¬
fectly secure in his elevated situation. The capricious
and tyrannical temper of Henry forbade his ministers to
be at ease in any place of trust near his person. The fall
of Wolsey seems always to have appeared to himself as an
event of very likely occurrence, and these gloomy fore¬
bodings were at last realized. -The cause of the rupture
between the king and him was the divorce of Queen Ca¬
therine, which the former had begun to project. But the
fall of Wolsey was not the only event connected with
Henry’s divorce; it ultimately led to one of the most
memorable transactions in the history of England, name¬
ly, the separation of that country from the communion of
the church of Rome.
The doctrines of the reformation, propagated by Luther
in 1517, had gained considerable ground in England, and
many professed a belief in them, notwithstanding the se¬
vere persecution which had been carried on against here¬
tics during some of the preceding reigns. The papal au¬
thority, though still very great, had in the space of ten
years declined considerably; but a detail of the circum¬
stances connected with this subject is not required in this
place. It may be noticed in general, that the reforma¬
tion in England was facilitated by the undeniable corrup¬
tion of the clergy, and the experience which many indi¬
viduals had of, and the partiality which they entertained
for, the doctrines of Wickliff. The seed sown by that di¬
vine had never been destroyed; and if it did not show it¬
self above ground, it was extending itself underneath, per¬
petuating a sort of dormant existence, and ready to spring
up on the first propitious occasion. Besides, the marriage
of King Henry was looked upon by many as in itself ille¬
gal, and only sanctified by a dispensation from the pope;
Whether Henry himself, during the early years of his
reign, felt any scruples about the validity of his marriage,
may reasonably be doubted; for no trace of any thing of the
kind can be discovered in his public conduct till the year
imn qq)e queen was some years older than himself,
1527.   , . tt .
and was now past the meridian of life, tier personal
charms had decayed, and the heart of the royal sensualist
could not be attracted by beauty that belonged purely
1 History of England, vol« ii. p. 121.
ENGLAND.
History, to the mind. She had born him several children, all of
whom died in infancy except the Princess Mary, who sur-
1527. vived both her parents, and afterwards ascended the throne.
It is reported of the inconstant monarch, that he attri¬
buted the mortality in his family to the curse of heaven,
which blighted his unnatural alliance with Catherine, his
brother’s widow. But there was another and more power¬
ful circumstance which led him to contemplate a divorce
from his queen ; this was the love which he had contracted
for Anne Boleyn. The charms of this lady had touched
his fiery but not unsusceptible heart; and as his passion
could not be gratified except by means of an alliance sanc¬
tioned by law, he set seriously to work for the purpose of
removing the amiable partner of his throne and bed, and
placing the youthful beauty in her stead. The secret in¬
tentions of the king having become to some extent public,
he ventured to ask the opinions of the most eminent eccle¬
siastics upon the point. The dangers of a disputed suc¬
cession, if the king should die without male issue, were
brought forward as an urgent plea for taking the step
which he had in view. He had also recourse to his theo¬
logical lore, and certain religious scruples connected with
his first marriage helped to give a colour of principle to
bis real desires, and at the same time to impart to them
life and warmth. Some of the divines whose counsel was
asked declared that no dispensation could authorize a
marriage with the widow of a brother; which they proved
from a passage in the Pentateuch. Others, who also
founded their arguments upon a portion of Scripture, con¬
tended that the prohibition referred to by the opposite
party was not universal, and might be dispensed with in
the king’s case, where the first marriage had been unpro¬
ductive of issue. Cardinal Wolsey, who had a hazardous
game to play, coincided with the former, and gave Henry
hopes that his petition to the court of Rome would be
successful. But Anne was not the individual whom the
prelate had in his eye as a wife for the king. He was
desirous of wedding his master to a French princess, and,
we are informed, threw himself on his knees before Henry,
and entreated him to desist from a project so unworthy of
his birth as an alliance with the Boleyn family. But the
pliant mind of the cardinal yielded to the impetuosity of
his master and to the force of circumstances; and he found
it necessary to atone for his indiscreet zeal by displaying
redoubled activity to promote the marriage with the lady
upon whom the king had fixed his affections. I he illus¬
trious Sir Thomas More declined to support the divorce,
and Fisher bishop of Rochester acted with the same in¬
tegrity.
A deputation was sent to Rome by Henry for the pur¬
pose of sounding Pope Clement upon the subject of the
divorce. The pontift' was in a situation unfavourable to
the success of the application ; and although he was bound
to the English monarch by the ties of gratitude, he de¬
clined giving an immediate assent to the proposition, but
appointed two legates to hear and determine the validity
of the first marriage of Henry. He also gave a solemn
promise not to recall the commission, nor to do any act
which should annul the judgment or prevent the progress
of the trial. The pontiff was at this period engaged m
a contest with the imperialists; but he at last concluded
a treaty of alliance with the emperor, who appeared the
only potentate capable of shielding him from his other
enemies. The forensic disputes respecting the divorce still
remained unsettled, and, from the date above mentioned,
Clement took his final part against the degradation of the
queen of England, who was an Austrian princess. But
still, by ingenious delays and plausible formalities, he con¬
trived to amuse Henry, whose power it was not his interest
to treat with direct contempt. 1 he patience of the Eng-
699
lish monarch, however, was now completely worn out by History,
these fruitless attempts at negotiation, and he redoubled
his entreaties to the pope to comply with his demands, 1528.
Clement, in order to show a willingness to acquiesce in
the wishes of Henry, sent over Cardinal Campeggio, who,
either separately or in conjunction with Wolsey, was em¬
powered to hear and determine the matrimonial suit. The
legate at first attempted to dissuade Henry, from pursuing
the divorce ; but being unsuccessful with the monarch, he
next tried to persuade Catherine to embrace a religious
life, in which he also failed. The popular feeling was
against Henry, and he felt himself compelled to remove
Anne Boleyn from court, where she had for some time re¬
sided. At a great council which he convoked, he declar¬
ed that in prosecuting this matter he was solely actuated
by a desire to know whether or not his only remaining child
Mary was the rightful heir of the crown. On this occa¬
sion he made an appeal to the feelings and consciences of
his hearers which affected them much; and the perplexi¬
ties consequent upon the late proceedings afforded Cam¬
peggio an opportunity for putting off the decision of the
question until he had obtained further instructions from
Rome. Meanwhile Clement was seized with a dangerous
illness, which retarded his answer, and is said to have re¬
vived in the ambitious mind of Wolsey a hope which he
had before indulged in, of obtaining possession of the tiara.
This occurred in the spring of 1529; and although the
pope recovered from his sickness, his legate contrived
from time to time to postpone the trial. On the 31st of
May, however, the court of parliament met, and sum¬
moned the king and queen to meet on the 18th of June.
The latter obeyed, but protested against the judges, and
appealed to the pope. At the next session, on the refu¬
sal of the cardinals to admit the appeal, she rose, and in a
calm and dignified manner threw herself at Henry s feet,
imploring him in a truly eloquent address to desist from
his intended purpose of repudiating her. It made a profound
impression upon the audience, and even touched the cold
heart of her husband. The legates carefully prolonged the
trial until July, when a vacation from July to October took
place, during which time all courts were bound to suspend
their sittings; and, notwithstanding the importunities of
the king, Campeggio contrived to get the suit removed to
Rome. Agreeably to the instructions of Clement, Cam¬
peggio quitted England, and the pope summoned Henry
to appear before him in forty days.
In these transactions Wolsey took no inconsiderable
share, and the compliant manner in which he gave his con¬
sent to the suggestions of Campeggio excited the suspi¬
cions of the king, that his minister was playing a double
game with him. The symptoms of approaching disgrace
now became too palpable to escape the notice of the cai-
dinal; for all parties joined either openly or privately to
destroy him who had so long enjoyed the favour of the
kin". It was a singular coincidence that the friends both
of Queen Catherine and Anne Boleyn were employed as
instruments of his overthrow. On the 9th of October 1529
a prosecution was commenced against him for procuring
bulls from Rome without the king’s license. On the 17th
of the same month the great seal was taken from him and
"iven to Sir Thomas More. On the 1st of December the
fords presented an address to the king, in which were em¬
bodied various articles of accusation against the cardinal;
and notwithstanding that the more serious parts of the
charge were refuted by his servant Thomas Cromwell,
the court at last pronounced him to be beyond the pro¬
tection of the law, and “ that his lands, goods, and chattels
were forfeited, and that his person was at the mercy of
the king.” Wolsey had confessed his offence against the
statute of prcemunire, of w'hich he was technically guilty,
TOO ENGL
History, inasmuch as he had received the bulls without a formal
license. It is scarcely necessary to observe that the sen-
1529. tence pronounced was most unjust; for the bulls had been
obtained with the consent and for the service of his un¬
grateful master, under whose eye they had been execut¬
ed for years without a word being uttered as to the man¬
ner in which they had been obtained. But nothing could
now save the cardinal. He was at once hurled from his
place of pride and power, and fell, with his vast posses¬
sions, a helpless victim, into the hands of the king. But
it would appear that, from habit perhaps, Henry still che¬
rished a feeling of partiality for his old favourite, and
sent him from time to time tokens of his esteem and re¬
gard. In February 1530 Wolsey was actually pardoned,
and restored to his see of Winchester, and to some other
emoluments. Even the great diocese of York was shortly
afterwards restored; but at the moment when he was
making magnificent preparations for his installation on the
archiepiscopal throne, he was arrested at Cawood on a
charge of high treason. His health was infirm, and during
his journey from York he wras seized with a dysentery,
which confined him for some time at the seat of Lord
Shrewsbury. As soon as he was able he mounted his
mule and resumed the journey. But his strength rapidly
declined, and he was compelled to take refuge in the
abbey of Leicester, where he expired on the 30th of No¬
vember 1530, in the sixtieth year of his age.
After the death of Wolsey, the king, by the advice of
his ministers, had the legality of his marriage debated in
all the universities of Europe. (See the article Cranmer.)
By dint of money he succeeded in obtaining their votes in
his favour, but not without a stubborn opposition. Backed
by these judgments, Henry appealed to the pope ; but Cle¬
ment remained inflexible, and the king prepared to resist
the papacy, though not yet to separate himself entirely from
the church of Rome. In 1532 Cranmer was elevated to
the archbishopric of Canterbury; and early in the following
year Henry privately married Anne, and thus himself de¬
termined the long debated topic. A few months after¬
wards he openly solemnized his marriage with Anne, who
w^ent in state with him as queen. On the 23d of May
Cranmer pronounced, not a divorce, but a sentence that
the king’s marriage with Catherine had been and was a
nullity, because it had been contracted and consummated
against the divine law; and not long afterwards he con¬
firmed the marriage of the king with the Lady Anne,
whose coronation was performed in the most gorgeous
manner on the first of June 1533. (See Boleyn.) The
unfortunate Catherine, perceiving all further opposition to
be vain, retired to Ampthill, near Dunstable, where she
remained for the rest of her days in privacy and peace.
The pope was no sooner informed of these proceedings,
than he passed a sentence declaring Catherine to be the
king’s only lawful wife ; requiring him to take her again,
and denouncing censures against him in the event of re¬
fusal. Henry, on the other hand, knowing that his sub¬
jects were entirely at his command, resolved to separate
altogether from the church of Rome. In the year 1534 he
was declared head of the church by parliament; the au¬
thority of the pope was completely abolished in England ;
all tributes formerly payable to the holy see were declared
illegal; and the king was intrusted with the collation to
all ecclesiastical benefices. The nation readily entered
into the king’s measures, and took an oath called the oath
oj supremacy ; all the authority which the popes had main¬
tained over England for ages was overthrown at a blow;
and none seemed to repine at the change except those who,
A N D.
from their dependence upon Rome, were immediately in¬
terested.
But though the king thus separated from the church of
Rome, he by no means adhered to the doctrines of Lu¬
ther which had been lately promulgated. He had him¬
self written a book against this celebrated reformer, which
the pope pretended greatly to admire, and honoured King
Henry, on this account, with the title of Defender of the
Faith. This character he seemed to be determined to
maintain, and therefore persecuted the reformers most vio¬
lently. Many were burnt for denying the Catholic doc¬
trines, and some also were executed for maintaining the
supremacy of the pope. The courtiers knew not which
side to take, both the new and old religions being equal¬
ly persecuted; and as both parties equally courted the
favour of the king, he was by that means enabled to as¬
sume an absolute authority over the nation.
The established clergy co-operated actively in the re¬
volution which was in progress. Six bishops sanctioned
by their vote every blow which was struck at the power of
Rome ; and fourteen abbots were usually present when
the number of temporal peers who attended were some¬
what more than forty. “ They did not shrink,” says Sir
James Mackintosh, “ from the deposition of Catherine, by
reducing her title to that of Princess Dowager of Wales.
By ratifying the marriage of Anne Boleyn they adopted
those parts of the king’s conduct which most disgusted
the people. The bill for subjecting the clergy to the king,
as their sole head, was so favourably treated as in one day
to be read three times and passed: no division appears
to have taken place on these measures.”1
The attention of the king was now turned to Elizabeth
Boston, a nun in the priory of St Sepulchre at Canterbury,
who believed herself endowed with the power of working
miracles, and foretelling future events. Several clergymen
and other gentlemen of Kent believed in her mission ; and
some individuals of the highest order, both of intellect
and piety, gave credit to her pretensions. She was sub¬
ject to convulsions; and in the trances into which she
frequently fell, visions of a marvellous nature were vouch¬
safed to her, which turned of course upon the extraordi¬
nary events taking place around her. She was tried and
executed for high treason, and her abettors were arraign¬
ed on the same charge. Fisher, bishop of Rochester, was
attainted by the act against this modern Pythia ; but by
a separate statute he was afterwards attainted of mispri¬
sion of treason, for not having taken the oath to the suc¬
cession. He was eminent for his learning and virtue, and
probably his life would have been saved had not the pope
sent him a cardinal’s hat while in prison, which roused the
jealousy of Henry. The remorseless tyrant ordered him
to be executed, at the same time remarking, with his
usual heartlessness, that the pope might send him a hat,
but that Fisher should have no head to wear it. Another
deed of blood was perpetrated a short time afterwards,
which alone is calculated to consign the name of Henry
VIII. to the execration of all future times. Sir Thomas
More, the first Englishman of his day, one who had ex¬
alted the nation in the eyes of Europe, and whose fame
was universal, was tried and executed for misprision ot
treason, in not taking the oath to maintain the succes¬
sion. The legal pretext, if there was any, for the accusa¬
tion, was grounded on the obnoxious clause of a recent act,
which made it treason “ to do any thing by writing or
act which was to the slander, disturbance, or prejudice ot
the marriage with the Lady Anne, or to the disherison or
disturbance of the king’s heirs by her.” Both More and
History.
1535.
History of England, vol. ii. p. 175.
E N G L A N D.
701
History. Fisher had abstained from either affirming or denying,
first, that Henry’s marriage with Catherine was invalid ;
1535 secondly, that his marriage with Anne was valid ; and,
thirdly, they refused to disclaim all foreign authority in
the kingdom, spiritual authority included. " After his con¬
demnation Sir Thomas avowed that he had studied the
question for seven years, and could not escape from the
conclusion that the king’s marriage with Catherine was
valid. For this scrupulous conscientiousness he expired
upon the scaffold on the 7th of July 1535.
This wanton shedding of righteous blood excited the
utmost indignation in foreign countries, particularly in
Italy. Here Giovio, an historian, compared the tyranny
of Henry to that almost preternatural wickedness which
the Grecian legends had embodied under the appellation
of Phalaris. Other individuals lashed the tyranny of the
English monarch with the utmost rigour, and lamented,
in strains of affecting eloquence, the fate of More, whom
they designated the martyr of unshaken probity. Amongst
the most eminent of these writers was Cardinal Pole, an
Englishman, allied to the royal family.
Catherine, the former consort of Henry, expired at
Kimbolton in the beginning of January 1536, having died
as she had lived, mild, forgiving, and resigned. On her
deathbed she wrote a most affectionate letter to her.hus¬
band, whose iron nerves were touched by the perusal of
it. His less prudent queen had the levity to express her
satisfaction at the event. But if she expected that it
would in any way be conducive to her further happiness,
and a more devoted attachment on the part of her hus¬
band, she was most miserably disappointed. She soon
after gave birth to a still-born child, and her brutal lord
is said to have reproached her upon the occasion for the
loss of his boy. His desire for male issue, and his repeat¬
ed disappointments, seem to have at last weaned the af¬
fections of the fickle monarch from the idol whom he had
worshipped with so much devotedness and ardour. A
new passion had kindled in his breast, the object of which
was Jane Seymour, a young lady of the queen’s bed-cham¬
ber, which office Anne herself had held in that of Catherine.
The circumstances connected with the queen’s arrest may
be briefly stated. On May-day 1536 a tilting match was
held at Greenwich, in which her brother was the chief
challenger, and Norris, groom of the stole, the opposing
defendant. The queen having dropped her handkerchief,
had it gallantly handed up to her by Norris, who was sup¬
posed to be her lover. The jealousy of the king burst
out; he left the joust precipitately; and ere night his
queen had passed through an examination, and was com¬
mitted a prisoner. Such was the trifle “ light as air,” which
to the jealous mind of Henry seemed a “ confirmation
strong as proofs of holy writ.” By the researches ol Mr
Turner it has been discovered, that some days before the
tournament certain individuals were appointed to inquire
into the alleged misdeeds of Anne. The commission put
their authority into execution upon the 10th of May,
when a grand jury of Westminster was assembled. The
charge against her was adultery, and its consequence in
such a case, treason. Whether innocent or not, the un¬
happy Anne was deserted in her utmost need, and had
not a friend to counsel her in this alarming emergency.
On the day after the queen was committed to the Tower,
Cranmer had written to the king imploring the king’s mer¬
cy towards her, “ his life so late, and sole delight; but in
vain. The archbishop had been forbidden to approach
the court until desired by the king. 1 he subsequent pio-
ceedings were as rapid as they were terrible. On the 12th
1 Thus far historians are
voted, and its publication
of May, Norris, Weston, Brereton, and Smeaton, were History,
tried in Westminster Hall for the crime of high treason,
Smeaton pleaded guilty to the charge ; the others re- 1536.
sisted, but were convicted. Three days afterwards the
House of Lords assembled for the trial of the queen.
She was without counsel, and attended only by her ladies.
Anne defended herself with modesty and firmness, but,
upon evidence of which no traces now remain, she was con¬
demned to suffer death. On hearing the sentence of her
judges, she raised up her hands and exclaimed, “ O Fa¬
ther and Creator! O thou who art the way, the truth,
and the life! thou knowest that I have not deserved this
death.” It is difficult to reconcile such an ejaculation with
a consciousness of guilt. She afterwards turned to her
judges, and made a serious protestation of her innocence.
On the 17th of May the other individuals who had been
convicted were carried forth to execution. Smeaton, who
had confessed to the guilt, probably from an erroneous im¬
pression that he would by this means save his life, was the
last to suffer. Anne’s brother Rochford was also tried and
condemned on the same day with herself, and was exe¬
cuted with the others. The curtain dropped upon this
horrible tragedy with the death of the queen, who was
beheaded on the day after her supposed accomplices had
suffered. For further particulars "especting this unhappy
personage, see Boleyn.
That Henry sacrificed his queen in a fit of vindictive
resentment against her, who, he too rashly believed, had
dishonoured him, is all that can be urged in his favour.
That he really believed her guilty, must also in common
fairness be allowed. To think otherwise would be to
attaint his name with one of the most horrid enormities
that ever disgraced the annals of crime. It seems very
improbable that the violent attachment which he had all
along entertained for her should have cooled so suddenly,
and been supplanted by such deadly hate, without sup¬
posing that some levities in the conduct of Queen Anne
had fired his jealous soul, and roused him to demand her
blood as an expiation for the guilt imputed to her. But
he was not content with taking away her life under the
charge of adultery and incest; he deprived her of the name
and the right of wife and queen, and bastardized the
daughter which she had born him, even when he acknow¬
ledged that daughter to be his own. Flis contempt for
her memory was displayed in a manner which could be
believed of few other individuals. He dressed himself in
white on the day of her execution, and actually married
Jane Seymour next morning.
In bringing this tale of blood to a termination, we have
unavoidably outrun several important events. When the^
news of Sir Thomas More’s execution reached the court of
Rome, a bull was prepared against Henry. In this extra¬
ordinary instrument were embodied all the offences of the
English monarch against the papal see, and he was allow¬
ed ninety days, and his fautors and abettors sixty, to re¬
pent, and to appear at Rome either in person or by attor¬
ney. In case of default, he was to be excommunicated,
and deprived of his crown ; his children by Anne were to
be rendered incapable of inheriting for several genera¬
tions; his subjects were to be absolved from their allegiance
to him ; and all treaties and alliances between him and
other powers were to be null and void. Ibis thunderbolt,
however, though forged for the purpose of punishing the
king’s apostacy, it was resolved should be suppressed for
a time, and lodged in the papal armoury until a more
favourable opportunity should occur for launching it at
the royal culprit.1 The election of Henry as supreme
perfectly agreed with regard to this bull. It is also certain, that in 1538 the suspension of the bull was re¬
ordered bv the pope. But whether or not this really took place is a matter of doubt. Dr Lmgard ob.
702
ENGLAND.
History, head of the church we have already noticed, and also
v—some of the events which followed his assumption of that
1536. presumptuous title. Henry, however, at first assumed it
with wariness, and the language in which the statute is
couched shows that his supremacy might be reconciled
with the papal authority, if the jurisdiction of that power
were only of a spiritual nature. But by the statutes of
later years, the revolution in church government had been
consummated in England. The ancient doctrine of the
Roman Catholic faith was acknowledged ; but the king was
placed as a sort of lay patriarch at the head of the eccle-
syfastical establishment. Thomas Cromwell, who had now
become Henry’s chief minister (see Cromwell, Tho¬
mas), was at this time raised to the new office of the king’s
vicegerent, and empowered to send commissioners into
the several counties of England to inspect the monaste¬
ries, and to report, with rigorous exactness, the conduct
and deportment of such as were found there This ap¬
pointment, which had been made between the parliaments
of 1536 and 1539, was confirmed by the recognition of
the latter ; and it was provided that the vicegerent should
take his seat in the House of Peers before the Archbishop
of Canterbury, and be ranked above all temporal lords,
except some branches of the royal family. The first ex¬
periment which Cromwell made of his unlimited power
was the gradual suppression of the various classes of reli¬
gious houses, and the seizure of their possessions, at that
time amounting to a large proportion of the landed pro¬
perty of the kingdom. This seizure of vested territorial
possessions was, in a legal point of view, direct spolia¬
tion. $ But it was urged, on the other hand, that from the
immorality, ignorance, and indolence in which those who
enjoyed them indulged, they had forfeited their right, and
might lawfully be deprived of these. By the inspectors
of the religious houses, the public were informed of the
existence of monstrous disorders in these communities^ In
1536 the lesser monasteries were suppressed, amounting
to nearly four hundred. Their revenues, computed at
L.30,000 per annum, were confiscated to the king’s use,
besides their plate and other goods, estimated at L. 100,000
more. The confiscation, however, was most unpopular,
especially in those places where the ancient faith retained
most sway, and occasional revolts broke out. Such a
sweeping calamity must have brought ruin upon many
innocent and even worthy and deserving persons. The
spectacle of individuals, invested with the most sacred of
all functions, expelled from their only habitations, where
they had probably grown old, and were now unfit for bodily
toil, was calculated to awaken feelings of sympathy for
the sufferers, and probably of detestation for those who
had driven them forth to perish in the wilderness. A
disturbance broke out in Lincolnshire, where the first
visitation of religious houses took place. But in the
north a more serious affair, amounting to an insurrection,
occurred. Between the Humber and the Tweed the peo¬
ple had rushed to arms, and they were joined by the inha¬
bitants of Cumberland, Westmoreland, and a portion of
Lancashire. This formidable body was led into the field
by Robert Ask, a man of Yorkshire, and was preceded by
priests bearing banners emblazoned with paintings of the
sufferings of Christ. Several important towns fell into
their hands ; but the king met them with a superior force,
which arrested their progress. They, however, succeed¬
ed in obtaining a general pardon, and then dispersed.
A second visitation of the monasteries took place short- History,
ly afterwards. Various circumstances had occurred to
exasperate Henry against the Catholic clergy; and the 1537.
alarming revolts, at which priests had presided, and princi¬
pally instigated the people by their inflammatory address¬
es, were of a nature to inflame such a combustible temper
as his. In this second spoliation, the richest and most re¬
vered shrines were pillaged and destroyed, and the sacred
relics, objects of so much superstitious veneration, were held
up to the derision of the public. Various historians have
enumerated a great number of these, and some of them
are certainly calculated to excite surprise at the depth
of that superstitious feeling which could induce a people
to believe that the parings of St Edmund’s toes, or the
felt of St Thomas of Lancaster, or the shirt of St Tho¬
mas of Canterbury, were infallible recipes for certain dis¬
orders. On this occasion the shrine of the latter saint was
demolished, and the wealth which it yielded was enor¬
mous. These shrines were pillaged, on the allegation, too
often true, that they were the scenes of imposture, where
miracles were pretended to be wrought. The king, on
the whole, suppressed upwards of six hundred monaste¬
ries, above two thousand chantries and free chapels, and
about two hundred colleges and hospitals. The confisca¬
tion was closed by a statute passed in 1539, which provid¬
ed that “ all monasteries, and other religious houses, dis¬
solved, suppressed, surrendered, renounced, relinquished,
forfeited, or by any means come to his highness, shall be
vested in him, his heirs and successors, for ever.” It must
be owned, that although great abuses may have been de¬
tected, revenue not reformation, plunder not punishment,
were the objects which the visitors had in view. With
respect to the important question regarding property, in¬
volved in this measure, we shall avail ourselves of the re¬
marks of Sir James Mackintosh on the subject.
“ Thus was completed the confiscation of a fifth or a
fourth part of the landed property of England and Wales
within the space of five years. It may be a fit moment
therefore to pause here, in order calmly and shortly to
review some of the weighty questions which were involved
in this measure. There is no need of animadverting upon
the means by which it was effected, though we must as¬
sent to the affirmation of a great man, ‘ that an end which
has no means but such as are bad, is a bad end.’ But the
general question may be best considered, keeping out of
view any of those attendant misdeeds which excite a very
honest indignation, but which disturb the operation of the
judgment. Property is legal possession. Whoever exer¬
cises a certain portion of power over any outward thing
in a manner which, by the laws of the country, entitles
him to an exclusive enjoyment of it, is deemed a proprie¬
tor. But property, which is generally deemed to be the
incentive to industry, the guardian of order, the preserver
of internal quiet, the channel of friendly intercourse be¬
tween men and nations, and, in a higher point of view, as
affording leisure for the pursuit of knowledge, means for
the exercise of generosity, occasions for the returns of
gratitude; as being one of the ties which join succeeding
generations, strengthening domestic discipline, and keep¬
ing up the affections of the kindred; above all, because it
is the principle to which all men adapt their plans of life,
and on the faith of whose permanency every human ac¬
tion is performed ; is an institution of so high and trans¬
cendent a nature, that every government which does not
serves, “ I cannot find any proof that it was ever published at all.” Sir James Mackintosh is silent upon the point. Mr Turner, in
his History of the Reign of Henry VIII. says, that in 1538 “ it was given unblushingly to the world, ibis last order recites, that it
had been suspended for three years on the persuasion of some princes. Cherubini, 623.” In order to reconcile these conflicting
statements, it may perhaps be supposed that it never was “ published at all” in England, although it may have been “ given un*
blushingly to the world” in other countries.
E N G L A N E.
703
History, protect it, nay, that does not rigorously punish its infrac-
tion, must be guilty of a violation of the first duties of
1537* just rulers. The common feelings of human nature have
applied to it the epithets of sacred and inviolable. Pro¬
perty varies in the extent of the powers which it confers,
according to the various laws of different states. Its du¬
ration, its descent, its acquisition, its alienation, depend
solely upon these laws. But all laws consider what is
held or transmitted agreeably to their rules as alike pos¬
sessing the character of inviolable sacredness. There may
be, and there is, property for a term of years, for life, or
for ever. It may be absolute as to the exercise of the
proprietor’s rights, or it may be conditional, or, in other
words, held only as long as certain conditions are per¬
formed. There are specimens of all these sorts of pro¬
perty in the codes of most civilized nations. But in all
these cases the essence of property is preserved, which
consists in such a share or kind of power as the laws con¬
fer. The advantages may be extremely unequal. The
inviolable right must, by the force of the terms, continue
perfectly equal.
“ The legal limits of the authority of the supreme le¬
gislature are not a reasonable object of inquiry, nor in¬
deed an intelligible form of expression. But to conclude
that, because the law may in some cases be said to create
property, the law is to be deemed on that account as en¬
titled rightfully to take it away, is a proposition founded
on a gross confusion of two very distinguishable concep¬
tions. It uses the word property in the premises for a
system of rules, and in the conclusion for a portion of
external nature, of which the dominion is acquired by the
observance of these rules. It is only in the first of these
senses that property can be truly called the creature of
law. In the second sense it is acquired or transmitted,
not by law, but by the acts of a man, when the acts are
conformable to legal rules. It is impossible within our
present limits to canvass the small or apparent objections
which may occur to this scheme of reasoning. It is suf¬
ficient, perhaps, here to remark, that these are the gene¬
rally acknowledged principles, and that deviations from
them in practice are no more than partial irregularities,
to which the disturbing forces of passion and interest ex¬
pose human society.
“ The clergy, though for brevity sometimes called a cor¬
poration, were rather an order in the state composed of
many corporations. ri heir share of the national wealth
was immense, consisting of land devised by pious men,
and of a tenth part of the produce of the soil set apart by
the customary law of Europe, for the support of the pa¬
rochial clergy. Each clergyman had only in this case an
estate for life, to which, during its continuance, the es¬
sential attribute of inviolable possession was as firmly an¬
nexed by law as if it had been perpetual. The corporate
body was supposed to endure till it was abolished in some
of the forms previously and specially provided for by law.
“ For one case, however, of considerable perplexity there
was neither law nor precedent to light the way. When¬
ever the supreme power deemed itself bound to change
the established church, or even materially to alter the
distribution of its revenues, a question necessarily arose
concerning the moral boundaries of legislative authority
in such cases. It was not, indeed, about a legal boun¬
dary ; for no specific limit can be assigned to its right of
exacting obedience within the national territory. The
question was, what governments could do morally and
righteously, what it is right for them to do, and what
they would be enjoined to do by a just superior, if such a
personage could be found among their fellow-men. At
first it may seem that the lands should be restored to the
heirs of the original grantor. But no provision for such a
1537.
reversion was made in the grant; no expectation of its History,
occurrence was entertained by their descendants ; no ha- s
bit or plan of life had been formed on the probability of
it. The grantors or founders had left their property to
certain bodies under the guardian power of the common¬
wealth, without the reserve of any remainder to those
who, after the lapse of centuries, might prove themselves
to be their representatives. It is a case not very dissimi¬
lar to that of an individual who died without discoverable
heirs, and whose property for that reason falls to the state.
It appeared, therefore, meet and righteous that in this
new case, after the expiration of the estates for life, the
property granted for a purpose no longer deemed good or
the best, should be applied by the legislature to other
purposes which they considered as better. But the sa¬
credness of the life estates is an essential condition of the
justice of such measures. No man thinks an annuity for
life less inviolable during his life, than a portion of land
granted to him and to his heirs for ever. That estate
might, indeed, be forfeited by a misperformance of duty ;
but perfect good faith is in such a case more indispen¬
sable than in most others. Fraud can convey no title;
false pretences justify no acts. There were gross abuses
in the monasteries; but it was not for their offences that
the monastic communities fell. The most commendable
application of their revenues would have been to purposes
as like those for which they were granted as the changes
in religious opinion would allow. Ihese were religious
instruction and learned education. Some faint efforts
were made to apply part to the foundation of new bishop¬
rics ; but this was only to cover the profusion with which
the produce of rapine was lavished on courtiers and noble¬
men, to purchase their support of the confiscations, and
to ensure their zeal and that of their descendants against
the restoration of popery.
“It is a melancholy truth, and may be considered by
some as a considerable objection to the principles which
have been thus shortly expounded, that if in ‘ the seizure
of abbey lands’ the life estates had been spared, the monks,
who were the main stay of papal despotism, and the most
deadly foes of all reform, would have had arms in their
hands which might have rendered them irresistible. It
must perhaps be acknowledged, that it was more neces¬
sary to the security of Henry’s partial reformation to strip
the monasteries at that moment, than to dissolve commu¬
nities which a better regulation might in future reconcile
to the new system.
« we are assured by Sir Thomas More, s that in all
the time while he was conversant with the court, of all
the nobility of this land he found no more than seven
that thought it right or reasonable to take away their pos¬
sessions from the clergy.’ So inconsiderable was the ori¬
ginal number of those who, not many years after, accom¬
plished an immense revolution in property.
t< Jo which it must be answered, that the observance
of justice is more necessary than security for any institu¬
tion • that many regulations might have stood instead of
one ’deed of rapine; that the milder expedients would
have provoked fewer and more reconcilable enemies ; that
if, on the whole, they afford less security, the legislature
were at least bound to try all means before they who were
ppointed to be the guardians of right set the example of
so great a wrong. . . -
service to a people as by the example, in a time of dan¬
ger, of justice to formidable enemies, and of mercy to ob¬
noxious delinquents. These are glorious examples, for
which much is to be hazarded.”
Henry had now so far separated himself from the
communion of Rome, that it became in some measure
necessary for him to concoct a creed of his own. I he
Rulers can never render so lasting a
704
E N G L A N D.
1539.
History, clergy were divided into two factions, denominated the
v—men of the old and the new learning. The chief of the
former was Gardiner bishop of Winchester, who was
supported by Lee archbishop of York; Stokesly bishop
of London, Tunstall of Durham, and Clarke of Bath and
Wells. The latter acknowledged as leaders, Cranmer
archbishop of Canterbury, Haxton of Sarum, Latimer of
Worcester, and Fox of Hereford. These could depend
on the powerful interest of Cromwell the vicar-general,
and of Audley the lord chancellor; those on that of the
duke of Norfolk, and of Wriothesley the premier-secre¬
tary. Various long debates took place upon the new
creed, but it was neither completed nor sufficiently fenced
round with suitable penalties, till an act was passed by the
parliament, which sat in April 1539, entitled “ an act for
abolishing diversity of opinions.” This convocation was
opened by the chancellor informing the House of Lords
that it was his majesty’s earnest desire to extirpate from
his kingdom all diversity of opinions with regard to reli¬
gion ; and as this enterprise was, he owned, difficult and
important, he desired them to choose a committee from
amongst themselves, who might frame certain articles, and
communicate these afterwards to parliament. The lords
named the vicar-general Cromwell, now created a peer;
the Archbishops of Canterbury and York ; and the Bishops
of Durham, Carlisle, Worcester, Bath and Wells, Bangor,
and Ely. But this small committee itself was agitated
with such diversity of opinions that it could come to no
conclusion. The Duke of Norfolk then moved, that since
there was no hope of having a report from the committee,
the articles cf faith proposed to be established should be
reduced to six, and a new committee be appointed to
frame an act respecting them. As this peer was under¬
stood to speak the king’s mind, his motion was imme¬
diately complied with ; and, after a short prorogation, the
bill of the six articles was introduced, and, having passed
the two houses, received the king’s assent. By this law
the doctrine of the real presence was established, the
communion in one kind, the perpetual obligation of vows
of chastity, the utility of private masses, the celibacy of
the clergy, and. lastly, the necessity of auricular confession.
The denial of the real presence was punishable with death
by fire, and the same forfeiture as in cases of treason, and
admitted not the privilege of abjuring; an unheard of cruel¬
ty, unknown even to the inquisition itself. The denial of
any of the other articles, even though afterwards recanted,
was punishable by the forfeiture of goods and chattels,
and imprisonment during the king’s pleasure. An obsti¬
nate adherence to error, or a relapse, was adjudged to be
felony, and subjected the delinquent to death. The mar¬
riage of priests was punished in the same manner. Their
commerce with women was, for the first offence, forfeiture
and imprisonment; and for the second, death. Abstain¬
ing from confession, and from receiving the eucharist at
the accustomed times, subjected the person to fine, and
to imprisonment during the king’s pleasure; and if the
criminal persevered after conviction, he was to suffer death
and forfeiture, as in cases of felony. Commissioners were
to be appointed by the king for inquiring into these he¬
resies and irregular practices, and the criminals were to
be tried by a jury.
Henry had now been a widower for above two years. In
1537 Jane Seymour, his third queen, had born him a son,
afterwards Edward VI.; but she herself expired in less
than a fortnight afterwards. The king afterwards made
proposals of marriage to several foreign princesses, and
others, without success. Under these repeated disappoint¬
ments, he readily listened to the suggestions of Cromwell,
who proposed to him Anne, sister of the Duke of Cleves,
a considerable prince on the Lower Rhine, who had lately
1540.
established Lutheranism in his principality. This choice Historv
showed the leaning of his secretary’s mind, and the pro¬
gress of men in general towards reformation. Henry had
seen a painting by Holbein of this lady. The artist
had invested her with fictitious charms, which captivated
the sensual monarch, and inspired him with such eager¬
ness to behold her, that he proceeded to Dover, where
she was to disembark, his mind no doubt swelling with
pleasing anticipations. But he was miserably disappoint¬
ed, and could not conceal his chagrin. She was indeed
of the standard dimensions, being large and tall as his
heart could desire; for stature had now become an in¬
dispensable qualification in the individual who should as¬
pire to gain the affections of the king of England. With¬
out entering into the disgusting particulars connected with
his marriage with Anne of Cleves, it is sufficient to state
that the nuptials were solemnized, and that the lady was
treated, not as a wife, but as a friend. The distress of
Henry was great, and at last drew the attention of the
House of Lords to the subject on the 6th of July 154'0.
These obsequious peers entreated him to make inquiry
into the validity of his marriage with the Lady Anne of
Cleves; and the Commons having concurred with them,
the king granted their prayer. Ot course this drama was
all arranged, and the characters cast, some days before
the meeting of parliament. The convocation appointed to
examine into the matter declared the marriage to be null
by the consent of Lady Anne herself, which was insured
by the grant of an income of L.3000 annually; and the
lady, it would appear, lived comfortably on her annuity for
sixteen years in England. The bill for the nullity was
passed by both houses, and received the royal assent on
the 24th of July 1540. About a fortnight afterwards
the king married his fourth wife, Catherine Howard, niece
to the Duke of Norfolk. But let us look back upon the
fate of Cromwell, who was instrumental in procuring the
former union. It was indispensably necessary that the
revolutions which took place in Henry \ lil.’s palace and
bed should in some way or another be marked w’ith blood.
The arrest, condemnation, and execution of Cromwell, is
another of those cruel and tyrannical measures which have
entailed accumulated odium upon the name of Henry VIII.
A bill to attaint the vicar-general of high treason was
brought into parliament in June 1540 ; and before the end
of the month it had passed through both houses. He
was charged with heresy because he had favoured the
new doctrines, and with treason because he had perform¬
ed several acts of royal authority without the warrant of
the king. Cromwell was condemned unheard, and exe¬
cuted in about a month afterwards. I Ids was an act of
gross injustice, but it was far from being unpopular, ihe
nobility were glad to be rid of an individual who had
raised himself from the shop of a fuller to the highest
offices of state ; and the Roman Catholic party, who were
the most numerous, and had regained much of their as¬
cendency, rejoiced at the fall of one who was the active
conductor of that system of confiscation which stiuck
such a blow at their power in England. In that busi¬
ness he certainly must have connived at much rapine and
robbery, which it was out of his power to prevent. He
has also been charged with Machiavelian policy ; but
there is no satisfactory evidence that he was unfaithful
to his sovereign. Like ’Wolsey, he seems to have served
his king more faithfully than his God ; and it is leinaik-
able that he fell into his own snare, having repeatedly
shown the example of attainder without trial.
At this period the act of the six articles was in the fullest
vigour of its cruelty ; and many iniquitous executions took
place. One of the most horrid of these was that of Court-
nev marquis of Exeter, with Lord Montague and Sii Ed-
ENGLAND.
History, ward Nevil. They were descended from Edward IV., and
this seems to have constituted their only crime. Towards
I540- the close of 1538 they were first arrested and committed
to the Tower; and shortly afterwards the Countess Mar¬
garet, the mother of the Poles, was also taken into custody.
Exeter was charged with the offence of having conspired
to raise Reginald Pole to the throne. This individual,
best known as a cardinal, was the son of the above-named
lady, who was daughter of the Duke of Clarence. Her
son’s life was principally passed in Italy, where he was
much celebrated for his talents; and Henry appears to
have been proud of him, for he munificently discharged
his expenses. Their friendship, however, terminated with
the king’s divorce from Catherine, which the English mo¬
narch vainly besought Pole to sanction. The revenge of
Henry, who seems now to have thought that without the
shedding of blood there could be no remission of offences,
fell upon the mother of the cardinal, and the last of the
Plantagenets. She was attainted of high treason, and
sent to prison, as above noticed. The noblemen commit¬
ted about the same time were soon afterwards executed;
but the lady lingered two years in confinement, and was
at last conducted to the scaffold on the 27th of May 1541,
where, to complete the horror of the transaction, from mis¬
management on the part of the executioner, her neck
was horribly mangled, and her grey hairs, clotted with
blood, fell dishevelled over her face ere the bloody act
was consummated.
To return to the domestic affairs of Henry, he had not
been many months married to Catherine Howard before
he received such information of her dissolute life before
marriage as induced him to suspect that she might still
continue it, and to cause a rigid inquiry to be made into
her conduct. There was no doubt as to her vices previ¬
ously to her union with the king ; and some-acts of infide¬
lity after it were also brought home to her, but the details
are too disgusting for human feelings. Cranmer was one
of the individuals employed to communicate information
to the king; and although there is no evidence that he
was ever guilty of a malicious or vindictive act, yet he
sometimes wanted the courage to resist crimes; and the
slavish manner in which he, along with the rest of the mi¬
nisters and parliament in general, bowed to the despotic
will of the king, cannot be extenuated.
Two of Catherine’s paramours were arrested, and con¬
fessed their crimes ; and the queen herself acknowledged
her guilt previously to the marriage, but denied having
committed anyact of infidelity subsequently thereto. This,
however, was not believed; and on the 14th of February
1542 she was executed in the Tower, along with Lady
Rochford, who in some way or another was implicated as
an accomplice in the guilt of the queen.
To attaint without trial had now become fashionable;
but to punish with death that which was not made crimi¬
nal by any former statute, was altogether new. To coun¬
tenance such severities as those which had lately taken
place, it was enacted in the very bill of attainder, that
every woman about to be married to the king or his suc¬
cessors, not being a maid, should disclose her unchastity
to him, under the penalty of treason; that any person know¬
ing the fact and not disclosing it, should be subject to the
lesser penalty of misprision of treason ; and that the com¬
mission of adultery by the queen or wife of the prince
should be punishable with death.
These laws afforded some amusement to the people, who
now'said that the king must look out for a widow, as no
reputed maid would be disposed to offer herself whilst
such a dreadful statute was suspended over her head.
This in reality took place, for on the 10th of July 1543
Hem-y espoused Catherine Parr, the widow of Lord Lati-
YOL. VIII.
705
mer, and a lady of mature age. She had read Lutheran History,
books, and was inclined to support the doctrines of the
reformers. She even went so far as to enter into contro- 1543.
versy with her imperious lord, who valued himself not a
little on his theological knowledge. He ordered Wriothes-
ley and Gardiner to give orders for her imprisonment,
and to prepare articles of impeachment against her. The
third Catherine had very nearly been honoured with a
place upon the list of victims which were sacrificed by
this Blue Beard of the west, but she evaded the blow by
her ingenuity and tact. During the remainder of her life,
however, she never again ventured to provoke the ven¬
geance of the royal polemic.
As head of the church, the attention of the king was
now principally turned to the management of its affairs.
He enforced an observance of the six articles both by
Protestants and Catholics, and any deviation from them
was punished with tyrannical severity. He was very im¬
partial in his distribution of what he called justice; and
it was not uncommon for individuals professing opposite
faiths to perish at the same stake. The Christian of
those days had a difficult part to perform; for whilst the
king renounced in one respeect the authority of the pope,
he acknowledged it in another by his adherence to the
doctrines of the church of Rome; so that it frequently
happened that those who were against the head of it
were burned, and those who were for him were hanged.
In connection with church affairs, Henry effected a further
dissolution of colleges, hospitals, and other foundations of
that nature, with the spoils of which he enriched his trea¬
sury. He also extorted from many bishops a surrender
of their chapter lands, and in this manner he succeeded in
pillaging the sees of Canterbury, of York, and of London.
Amongst the religious orders suppressed was that of the
Knights of Malta, or, more properly, St John of Jerusa¬
lem. They obstinately refused to surrender along with
the other monasteries who laid their rights at the feet of
the king, and he was compelled to have recourse to par¬
liament for the purpose of obtaining its authority for dis¬
solving the order, which was very rich, and whose spoil
was therefore precious in his sight.
For the purpose of maintaining a rigid purity in specu¬
lative principles, he nominated a commission of divines to
make out a creed for the benefit of his subjects. In con¬
nection with this appointment a circumstance occurred
which strongly marks the character of this reign, as well
as of those who composed the council of the nation. Be¬
fore the reverend conclave had made any progress in its
arduous undertaking, the parliament passed a law which
went to ratify all the tenets which the divines might esta¬
blish in accordance with the king’s consent. This clearly
show's that the individuals composing that body, as well
as the parliament, were merely ciphers, and that Henry
was the initial unit which gave them value. A small vo¬
lume was published under the title of The Institution of a
Christian Man, which was made the infallible standard of
orthodoxy. But the king’s inconsistency was as strikingly
exemplified in his religion as in his morals. A new book
was ordered to be composed, and three years were spent
before it could be brought to that desirable state of per¬
fection which the king wished. At length, however, it
came forth under the title of A necessary Doctrine and
Erudition for any Christened Man; and in order to distin¬
guish it from the former work upon the same subject, it
Was called emphatically the king’s book. It taught the
same doctrines as the preceding compilation, with the ad¬
dition of transubstantiation and the sufficiency of commu¬
nion under one kind. The new creed was generally ap¬
proved of, and all waitings in opposition to it wrere prohi¬
bited. From the period of the publication of the “ king’s
, 4 u
706
ENGLAND.
1543.
History, book” until the accession of the next sovereign, it conti-
—~ -— nued to be the only authorized standard of English ortho¬
doxy. Henry had formerly sanctioned the publication of
the Bible in English, and permission was granted to all his
subjects to peruse it. But he afterwards retracted the
liberty which he had vouchsafed them, and prohibited the
reading of the Scriptures by the lower orders of the peo¬
ple under the penalty of imprisonment. The mass book
was also examined, and some alterations were made upon it.
But to return to the political affairs of the nation ; in
the beginning of the year 1543 Henry renewed his friend¬
ship with the emperor, which had been suspended by
the divorce question. They concluded an alliance against
Francis; and on the 14th of July 1544 Henry crossed
the seas in a ship furnished with sails of cloth of gold.
The principal event of this war was the surrender of Bou¬
logne, into which the English monarch made a triumph¬
ant entry on the 18th of September. But he shortly af¬
terwards returned to England. On the 7th of June 1546
hostilities were concluded by a treaty, of which the prin¬
cipal stipulation was, that within eight years Henry should
receive two millions of crowns, with arrears and costs,
which are enumerated; and, on payment of these sums,
Boulogne and its dependencies were to be restored to Fran¬
cis. Henry’s warlike propensities w'ere also exercised in
reference to Scotland and Ireland ; but peace was finally
restored after both countries had suffered considerably,
especially the former. These wars, however, exhausted
the treasury of the English monarch. He was compelled
to extort money from parliament in his usual manner, and
also to depreciate the coinage of the realm, which he had
not scrupled to do before.
The cruelty of Henry continued conspicuous to the very
close of his life. Disease made dreadful ravages upon his
worn-out and unwieldy frame, so that he had to be moved
from place to place by machines contrived for the pur¬
pose ; yet even these unequivocal tokens of approaching
dissolution had no effect in subduing the vindictive, spirit
or humanising the mind of the sufferer. It was in this piti¬
able state that he perpetrated an act which has become
memorable from the fame of the illustrious victim. This
was the execution of Henry Howard, earl of Surrey, so
justly renowned for his poetical genius. There had for
some time existed a spirit of rivalry between the Sey¬
mours and the house of Howard. The Duke of Norfolk
was indignant at the ascendency of the former in the
royal favour ; and his son, the Earl of Surrey, could not
forgive the Earl of Hertford, a member of the other fa¬
mily, for having superseded him in the command of the
garrison of Boulogne; he had also been heard to predi¬
cate that the time of revenge was not far distant. Ihe
house of Howard alone stood in the way of the Seymours
in the pursuit of their aggrandisement under the approach¬
ing minority ; and they accordingly employed every means
of drawing down the vengeance of the king upon theii
heads. Norfolk and Surrey were accordingly committed
to the Tower on the 12th of December 1546. Surrey was
tried on the 13th of January following, on a charge of
having quartered on his shield the arms of Edward the
Confessor. He vainly defended himself with his usual elo¬
quence and spirit, and showed that he had worn the arms
fourteen years without giving offence, and that they had
been assigned to him by a decision of the heralds. But
the fact being admitted, it was taken as sufficient evidence
that he aspired to the throne, and the jury condemned
him to suffer death. About a week after the sentence was
pronounced, this gallant and accomplished nobleman ex¬
pired upon the scaffold. His father was also tried and
condemned to perish in the same manner on the 29th of
January. But on the morning of the 28th the spirit ol
1547-
Flenry VIII. followed that of Surrey to the judgment- History,
seat; and Norfolk, after remaining in prison for several 1—
years, was at length set at liberty.
Henry VIII. is one of the most repulsive sovereigns to
be met with in the list of English kings. There is a gross
brutality about the man, and a remorseless tyranny and
blood-thirstiness about the king, which totally obscure
any human features which his character may have pos¬
sessed, Some of his crimes are of so dark a dye, and
so peculiarly diabolical, as to make the mind shudder at
the very mention of his name- It is difficult to extend
charity to, or rank with ordinary humanity, one who could
repeatedly hurry from his arms to the scaffold those whom,
he had loved and embraced with passionate tenderness, if
such language may be used in reference to. any feeling
which animated the breast of such a barbarian. It was.
after the fall of Wolsey that the prominent features of
Henry’s moral deformity fully developed themselves; and
they are such as have attached to his name a degradation
which can neither be removed nor palliated. For the good
which he was the means of doing, in sanctioning a refor¬
mation in the affairs of the church, he deserves no credit;
for it originated in a spirit of vindictive revenge, and was
perpetuated by plunder and cruelty. Henry was not des¬
titute of ability; and the esteem which we may infer he
entertained for literature, since he patronised learning, is
one of the few traits of his character which are not re¬
pulsive and odious.
Henry was succeeded by his only son Edward^ a boy
of nine years of age. He was proclaimed king of England
on the 31st of January 1547, and crowned in the month
following. The most remarkable transactions of his reign
are those connected with religion. Ihe restraint which
Henry VIII. had laid upon the Protestants was now taken
off; and they not only maintained their doctrines openly,
but soon became the prevailing party. Henry had fixed
the majority of his son at eighteen years of age; and, in
the mean time, appointed sixteen executors of his will, to
whom, during the minority, he entrusted the government
of the king and kingdom. But the first act of the execu¬
tors was to choose the Earl of Hertford, afterwards Duke
of Somerset, protector of the realm ; and in him was lodg¬
ed all the regal power, together with a privilege of nam¬
ing his own privy council.
The Duke of Somerset had long been numbered amongst
the secret partisans of the reformers; and, immediately
on his elevation to his high dignity, he began to express
his intention of reforming the abuses of the ancient reli¬
gion. Under his direction and that of Cranmer, therefore,
the reformation was vigorously carried forward ; persecu¬
tions under the act of the six articles ceased, prisoners
were released, and exiles were recalled. Homilies were
composed by Cranmer, and ordered to be read by parish
priests to their congregations. Visitors were appointed
to inspect ecclesiastical establishments, and see that four
sermons were yearly preached against the papal authority;
that the worship of images should be denounced, and those
who were the objects of pilgrimages and offerings should
be destroyed; that the English Bible, with Erasmuss
commentary on the gospels, should be placed in every
church for the use of the people; together with many
other points, which, without being very important in them¬
selves, were calculated to assure the people that the govern¬
ment was no longer neutral in matters of religion. lhe
principal person who opposed these innovations was Gar¬
diner bishop of Winchester; a man of great learning, abili¬
ties, and resolution, but one of Henry’s devoted agents in
the suit for a divorce from Catherine, his first queen. He
made a manly and becoming resistance to these injunc¬
tions, from principles of civil liberty, as much as of ecclesi-
ENGLAND.
707
History, astical discipline. To the disgrace of their own principles,
the reformers now displayed as virulent a spirit of perse-
1547. cution as the Catholics had formerly done. Gardiner was
committed to the Fleet prison, where he was treated with
great severity. He was afterwards sent to the Tower;
and having continued there two years, he was command¬
ed to subscribe several articles, amongst which was one
confessing the justice of his own imprisonment. To all the
articles but this he agreed to subscribe; but that did not
give satisfaction. He was then committed to close cus¬
tody ; his books and papers were seized; all company was
denied him; and he was not even permitted the use of
writing materials. Bonner of London, more violent and
more subservient, escaped protracted imprisonment by
obsequious submission. Several bishops also screened
themselves by sacrificing a considerable share of their re¬
venues ; others were deprived of their offices ; and Tunstal
bishop of Durham, an eminent prelate, was ejected from
the privy council, in order to impress on the people by a
strong example the disinclination of the protector to the
ancient faith. In November 1547 a parliament was as¬
sembled, in which several bills were passed to promote
and enlarge the reformation. The communion was ap¬
pointed to be received in both kinds by the laity as well
as by the clergy, without condemning the usages of other
churches. Bishops were to be nominated by tbe king,
and process was to run in the king’s name in ecclesiasti¬
cal courts. The statutes against the Lollards were re¬
pealed, as well as all the acts of Henry VIII. upon reli¬
gious matters, excepting those directed against the supre¬
macy of the pope; and other acts relating to civil affairs
were also abrogated. In the next session uniformity in
public worship was established, in which the use of the
book of common prayer, as prepared by the primate and
his brethren, w^as enjoined. This composition is the foun¬
dation of that which, having undergone various alterations
in subsequent reigns, continues in use at the present day.
By one law the observance of fast days and of Lent was
enjoined under penalties; and by another the English
clergy were emancipated from compulsory celibacy.
The rest of this reign presents little but the history of
the intrigues and cabals of courtiers. There was a war
with Scotland, which began with injustice and was con¬
ducted with inhumanity. Insurrections also took place in
Ireland, where the reformation made no progress. The
details of these transactions will be given in the articles
Scotland and Ireland. The protector was first op¬
posed by his own brother Admiral Sir Thomas Seymour,
who had married Catherine Parr, the late king’s widow.
She died soon after the marriage; and the widower is
said to have then paid his addresses to the Princess Eli¬
zabeth. His brother the duke, who was at that time in
the north, being informed of his ambitious projects, speed¬
ily returned, had him attainted of high treason, and at
last condemned and executed. The Duke of Somerset
himself, however, became unpopular, and a powerful con¬
federacy was formed against him, at the head of which
was Dudley earl of Warwick. This nobleman succeeded
in overthrowing the power of the protector, and getting
him committed to prison on the 13th of October 1549,
whilst he himself was installed in the office of lord high
admiral. In the month of February following Somer¬
set was released upon payment of a fine and ransom ;
but towards the end of 1551 he was again sent to the
Tower, tried for high treason and felony, and condemned.
He was acquitted of the first charge, but not of the se¬
cond, as he ought to have been. He suffered upon the
scaffold on the 22d of January 1552. Warwick, now duke
of Northumberland, had thus the reins of government en-
tirely at his own disposal. Not satisfied with the office of
protector, he aimed at altering the succession, and placing Historv.
the crown upon the head of his son. He represented to
Edward, who was now in a declining state of health, that 1553.
his sisters Mary and Elizabeth, who were appointed by
Henry’s will to succeed to the crown, in failure of direct
heirs, had both been declared illegitimate by parliament;
that the queen of Scots, his aunt, stood excluded by the
king’s will; and being also an alien, lost all right of suc¬
ceeding. The three princesses being thus excluded, the
succession naturally devolved upon the Marchioness of
Dorset, eldest daughter of the French queen, Henry’s
sister, who had married the Earl of Suffolk after her first
husband’s death. The next heir to the marchioness was
Lady Jane Grey, the wife of Northumberland’s fourth
son, Lord Guildford Dudley. The king, who was ac¬
customed to submit to the politic views of this minister,
agreed to have the succession altered, and sketched with
his own hand a draft of the new destination of the crown,
which was submitted to a council. The judges, however,
were far from acquiescing in the proposal contained in
this instrument; and they hesitated to sign it, because it
would subject those who had drawn and those who had
advised it to the penalties of treason. Their hesitation
excited the rage of Northumberland, who threatened them
with his authority, and, pronouncing them traitors, de¬
clared that he would fight in his shirt with any man in so
just a cause as that of Lady Jane’s succession. A new
paper was drawn up, by which the judges were screened
from any consequences which might have resulted from
their signing of it. By the new patent for changing the
succession, the princesses Mary and Elizabeth were set
aside, and the crown settled upon the heirs of the Duchess
of Suffolk, who was contented to forego her own claim.
For some time the king had languished under a pul¬
monary complaint, and symptoms of an advanced stage
of consumption began to make their appearance. After
the settlement of the crown, his health visibly declined
every day, and little hopes were entertained of his reco¬
very. The deathbed devotions of Edward bear testimony
to his love for his subjects, and his zeal for what he be¬
lieved to be the purest form of Christianity. “ O Lord,
save thy chosen people of England, defend this realm from
papistry, and maintain thy true religion.” Such is a spe¬
cimen of the supplications which this pious and short-lived
prince breathed forth. On the 6th ot July 1553, Edward,
being then in the sixteenth year of his age and seventh of
his reign, breathed his last. Whilst he filled the throne
of England, no Homan Catholic had suffered death on ac¬
count of his religion. By his gentleness and docility he
was indisposed to shed blood, and, on the whole, his reign
was more free from religious persecution than any admi¬
nistration of the same length, in any great country of Eu¬
rope, since the rise of protestantism. In abilities he was
equal, probably superior, to most boys ot his years; but
the flattering praises lavished upon him by his panegy¬
rists are to be received with abatements. It was his
dying wish that Lady Jane Grey, the companion of his in¬
fancy, should be his successor.
The death of Edward was carefully concealed for two
days ; but on the 8th of July the event was communicated
to the ambassadors, and the civic functionaries of London
were ordered to make preparations for the coronation of
Lady Jane Grey. The intelligence was transmitted to
Mary by her friends at court, and on the 9th she wrote a
letter to the privy council, expostulating with them upon
their conduct; and, solemnly affirming her right, she ten¬
dered a pardon to them if they would order her immediate
proclamation. The council, however, adhered to the in¬
terests of Jane, and both parties prepared to decide tbe
contest by an appeal to arms.
708
History.
ENGLAND.
When Edward’s death, and her own elevation to the
throne, were announced to Lady Jane, she was thrown into
a state of great agitation. The manner in which she was
affected will be best understood from a passage in a letter
of hers which she afterwards transmitted to Mary. “ As
soon as I had, with infinite pain to my mind, understood
these things, how much I remained beside myself, stunned
and agitated, I leave to those lords to testify who saw me
fall to the ground, and who knew how grievously I wept.”
She urged the preferable claim of the princesses to inhe¬
rit; but being pressed by the authority of the judges, she
at length consented to accept of the royal dignity. She
suffered herself to be conveyed to the Tower, and on the
same day the heralds proclaimed the death of Edward
and the succession of Jane. Mary was also proclaimed at
Norwich, and it is somewhat singular that the populace
took no interest in either of the proclamations. No shouts
of applause or outward demonstrations of joy followed the
announcement of the choice of a new sovereign. Northum¬
berland was unpopular, a great part of the Protestants co¬
operated with the Catholic partisans of Mary, who were
numerous and powerful; and the protector, by his supine¬
ness, allowed them to assemble in great force at Framling-
ham Castle, in Suffolk, where the princess had fixed her
residence. Northumberland became alarmed, and although
he had assembled a considerable army, his heart failed him
when he saw the demonstrations which were made by
the people in favour of Mary. He had taken the field in
person, which was a fatal step ; for his absence afforded an
opportunity to the adherents of Mary who were in the
council to make arrangements for exalting her to the royal
dignity. It is sufficient to observe that they effected their
purpose. Mary was proclaimed, and Jane, after a ten days
reign, resigned the crown with a great deal more satisfac¬
tion than she had accepted of it. Northumberland had
been compelled to proclaim Mary at Cambridge ; but this
did not prevent him from being led a prisoner to the Tower,
which had lately been his palace.
Mary, accompanied by her sister Elizabeth, made her
triumphal entry into London on the 3d of August 1553.
Her attentions were first turned towards those who had
suffered in her cause. She released several prisoners from
the Tower, amongst whom were the aged Duke of Nor¬
folk, and her kinsman Edward Courtenay, whom she soon
afterwards created Earl of Devonshire. On the 18th of Au¬
gust the Duke of Northumberland, the Marquis of North¬
ampton, and the Earl of Warwick, were tried for high
treason; and on the following day Sir John Gates, Sir
Henry Gates, Sir Andrew Dudley, and Sir Thomas Pal¬
mer, were tried for the same offence. Of the culprits who
were condemned, three were selected for execution, North¬
umberland, Sir John Gates, and Sir Thomas Palmer, who
suffered upon the scaffold on the 22d of August.
The mind of Mary now became solicitous about the af¬
fairs of religion. All the deprived Catholic bishops were
restored. The acknowledged abilities of Gardiner soon
raised him to the post of prime minister. He early re¬
ceived the custody of the seals, and not long afterwards
he was appointed chancellor. The Protestant bishops, in
the eyes of their Roman Catholic brethren, had incurred
deprivation by marriage, or still more severe penalties by
preaching heres}\ On the 2d of September Cranmer was
committed to the Tower, and on the 13th Latimer fol¬
lowed him into the same captivity. The latter, in point
of moral heroism, was the antipodes of Cranmer, who was
gentle and kind, timid and pliant. Latimer was brave,
sincere, and inflexible. As he passed through Smithfield
on his way to the Tower, he remarked, “ Smithfield has
long groaned for me.” By an early proclamation Mary
had declared that “ she could not hide her religion, but
that she mindeth not to compel any of her said subjects History,
thereunto, until such time as a farther order by common
consent shall be taken therein.” The “ farther order”
did take place, although not in accordance with “ com¬
mon consent.” On the 5th of October 1553, parliament
assembled, and, in a session of nineteen days, passed only
three acts ; one for the abolition of all the treasons and
felonies of Henry VIII.; another for the restoration in blood
of Gertrude marchioness of Exeter; and a third for the
like restitution of that lady’s son, Edward Courtenay, now
Earl of Devonshire. But on the 24th of the same month,
several important acts were passed, by which the road
was paved for the re-introduction of the Roman Catholic
faith as the creed sanctioned by royalty. By these acts
Henry’s divorce was declared void, and his first marriage
pronounced valid; so that the claim of Elizabeth, on
whom the Protestants had fixed their eyes with anxious
hope, was virtually set aside. But the progress of the
revolution in religious matters was slow; and before the
perfect re-union with the Church of Rome was consum¬
mated, several events of considerable importance took
place. Mary having been crowned at Westminster with
the usual solemnity on the last day of September 1553, it
now became the interest of the Catholic party to obtain a
suitable marriage for her. Of natives only two were pro¬
posed to her choice, both descended from the house of
York; these were Cardinal Pole, and Edward Courtenay,
the individual whom she had released from confinement.
But the Emperor Charles having heard of Mary’s intention
to choose a husband, proposed his son Don Philip. This
Spanish match was so broad and decisive a step towards
Rome, that the House of Commons took the alarm, and
presented an address to the queen, in order to dissuade
her from her purpose. She returned a haughty answer ;
and on the 30th of October, having conducted the impe¬
rial minister into her private oratory, she there solemnly
called God to witness that she plighted her troth to Phi¬
lip prince of Castille. To obviate all clamour, the articles
of marriage were drawn up as favourably as possible for
the interests of England. It was agreed that though
Philip should have the title of king, the administration
should be entirely in the queen ; that no foreigner should
be capable of holding any office in the kingdom, nor should
any innovation be made in the laws, the customs, and the
privileges of the people ; and that Philip should not carry
the queen abroad without her consent, or any of her chil¬
dren without the consent of the nobility. Sixty thousand
pounds a year were to be settled upon her as a jointure,
and the male issue of this marriage were to inherit Bur¬
gundy and the Low Countries as well as the crown of
England; and in the event of the death of Don Carlos,
Philip’s son by his former marriage, without any heir, the
queen’s issue were also to inherit the rest of the Spanish
dominions.
All these concessions, however, were not sufficient to
quiet the apprehensions of the people. They were con¬
sidered merely as words of course, which might be re¬
tracted at pleasure ; and the nation murmured loudly
against a transaction so dangerous to its ancient liberty
and independence. The Duke of Suffolk, a zealous Pro¬
testant, attempted to excite his tenants in Warwickshire
to revolt; but with little success. His followers were
routed by Lord Huntingdon, and he himself was betrayed
into the hands of his enemies. An insurrection was also
raised by Sir Thomas Wyatt, a Roman Catholic, at the
head of four thousand men, who set out from Kent to
London, publishing a declaration against the Spanish
match and the queen’s evil counsellors. Having advanced
as far as Southwark, he required that the queen should
put the Tower of London into his hands ; that she should
ENGLAND.
History, deliver four counsellors as hostages; and that, in order to
ensure the liberty of the nation, she should marry an Eng-
lo53- lishman. But his force was still by far too inconsiderable
to support such magnificent pretensions, although it was
afterwards augmented to fifteen thousand men; and he
unluckily wasted so much time without attempting any
thing of importance, that the popular ferment entirely
subsided, his followers gradually abandoned him, and he
was at last obliged to surrender himself near Temple-Bar
to Sir Maurice Berkeley, who committed him to the Tower,
where, in a short time, he was joined by the chief of the
surviving conspirators. The nobility and gentry imme¬
diately repaired to St James’s to congratulate the queen
on the suppression of the rebellion. But two were ex¬
cepted ; Courtenay duke of Devonshire, and the young
Earl of Worcester, who, on the first approach of the ene¬
my, had turned their horses’ heads and fled. On the 3d
of November 1553, Lord Guildford Dudley and Lady
Jane Grey had been convicted of high treason. Lady
Jane and her husband were both only in their seven¬
teenth year, and no time was fixed upon for their execu¬
tion ; but the revolt of Suffolk, Lady Jane’s father, proved
an incentive sufficiently strong to prevail over the slender
pity of bigots and politicians, and the sacrifice was con¬
summated.
On the 8th of February Mary signed a warrant for
their execution, and on the 12th of the same month it
was put in force. Lord Guildford Dudley had requested
an interview with his beloved wife, who, however, declin¬
ed the meeting, justly fearing that it might unfit them
for the dreadful scene through which they were about to
pass. She saw him issue through the gate of the Tower
to the scaffold ; and soon afterwards, in chancing to look
from the same window, she saw the bloody carcass, half
covered in the vehicle which bore it back from the place
where vengeance and injustice, disguised under the name
of law, had done their worst. Lord Dudley was beheaded
on Tower-Hill; but his wife, on account of her royal de¬
scent, was spared the ignominy of a public execution.
Lady Jane Grey is celebrated as exhibiting a matchless
union of beauty with genius, and learning with virtue and
piety. She astonished the learned of Europe by her ta¬
lents and accomplishments, and will be recognised by all
posterity as one of the purest and most amiable of histo¬
rical characters. Were Mary chargeable with no other
atrocity than that of putting Lady Jane to death for the
crime of a father (for it was on his account that the
daughter suffered), it were quite sufficient to cover her
memory with irremoveable degradation. “ It was a death,”
says Sir James Mackintosh, “ sufficient to honour and
dishonour an age.” Suffolk, her father, perished in the
same manner a few days afterwards. Sir Nicholas Throg¬
morton was tried, but the defence which he made was
found so good in law, that the jury acquitted him. Above
sixty others of the conspirators were condemned to the
block, amongst whom were Lord Thomas Grey the bro¬
ther of Suffolk, and Wyatt the principal mover of the re¬
bellion.
This revolt had very nearly proved fatal to the Princess
Elizabeth, who for some time had experienced harsh treat¬
ment at the hands of her sister. Mary, upon whom the
mantle of Henry VIII. had descended, felt antipathy to
her on account of the quarrel between their mothers.
This circumstance, in the mind of one whose tender mer¬
cies were cruel, was sufficient to change the milk of sis¬
terly affection into mortal venom ; and a favourable oppor¬
tunity was only necessary to make her feel its deadly ef¬
fects. Nearly a month was spent in labouring to extract
information against Elizabeth from Wyatt whilst he lay
in prison. But the unfortunate gentleman honourably
709
acquitted her, although he might, in all probability, have History,
saved his own life by implicating her in the late rebellion.
At Ashridge, whither she had retired to escape the con- l00-*-
strained participation in a worship which she disapproved,
overtures had been made to her by the chiefs of the re-
volters ; but her acceptance or consent was neither shown
nor seriously alleged. Immediately after Wyatt’s discom¬
fiture, she was conducted to London in a very infirm state
of health. It was doubted whether she would reach her
destination alive; but youth and strength triumphed over
the malady with which she was affected. Courtenay earl
of Devonshire was also arrested, and committed to the
Tower. Two councils were held on the fate of Elizabeth,
and the judges were divided in their opinions as to her
guilt. Gardiner, although he professed to think Eliza¬
beth deserving of death, yet considered her confinement
at Ashridge, and Courtenay’s residence at St James’s, as
irreconcilable with a just conviction of treason. The head
and front of her offending seems to have been misprision, or
concealment of projects of revolt, which was now not a ca¬
pital crime. It was fortunate for Elizabeth that one of the
first measures of her sister, when she ascended the throne,
was to sweep away the odious heap of treasons raised up
by her father, and the punishment of misprision with death
was one of them. But Elizabeth, although absolved from
a capital charge, was nevertheless committed to the Tower;
and shortly afterwards she was put under the charge of Sir
Henry Bedingfield, keeper of Woodstock. During her stay
in the Tower, the princess had no other expectation than
that of mounting the scaffold which had been trodden long
before by her unhappy mother, at her father’s stern behest,
and on which the blood of Lady Jane Grey, the purest of
the pure, was scarcely dry. When Bedingfield came with
his soldiers to conduct her to Woodstock, she asked, with
her usual quickness and poignancy, “ Is the scaffold of
Lady Janet taken away ?” A few days later, Courtenay
was transferred from the Tower to Fotheringay Castle.
The rebellion had suspended for some weeks the pro¬
ceedings relative to the queen’s marriage. But in the be¬
ginning of March the English ambassador returned from
the Continent with the ratification of the treaty ; and
Philip landed at Southampton on the 19th of July 1554,
attended by a magnificent train of Spanish grandees and
Burgundian lords. The marriage between him and Mary
was solemnized by Gardiner in his cathedral at Winches¬
ter, before crowds of noblemen from all parts of Chris¬
tendom, and with a pomp and splendour seldom surpassed.
Philip was then in the twenty-ninth year of his age, and
Mary in her thirty-eighth year. The countenance and
form of the prince were far from being disagreeable; but
the stately reserve of his Spanish manners was not calcu¬
lated to lessen the repugnance of the English people to
the union.
Soon after her marriage, Mary resolved to restore the
religious polity of the kingdom to that state in which it had
existed at the time of her birth. Accordingly, on the 12th
of November a parliament was holden for this purpose, and
a bill passed both houses “ for the restitution in blood of
the Lord Cardinal Pole.” But a difficulty arose regarding the
abbey lands; for it was feared that those who possessed
them in spite of the indelible claims of the church might
be called before the tribunal of the pious cardinal. How¬
ever, on the 20th of November, Pole arrived at Dover,
armed apparently with ample powers to do every thing ne¬
cessary for the reconciliation of England with the church
of Rome ; and amongst these was full authority to do with
the abbey lands as he thought fit. Nine days after his
arrival, he made an oration to the two houses, exhorting
them to return to the bosom of tbe universal church, at
the same time absolving the kingdom from the papal in-
710
ENGLAND.
H'story.
1054.
terdict. The request was formally acceded to, and Pole
was enabled to announce to the pontiff the success of his
mission. In order to quiet the possessors of church pro¬
perty, the legate issued his dispensation, declaring that
they should not be molested; and a statute passed con¬
firming his sentence. By another, the acts which had
abolished the papal supremacy were repealed. This new
restoration of power to the papacy formed a sad and dark
augury for the devoted Protestants. It was the first in¬
dication that the time approached when the fires of per¬
secution were to blaze forth in every county of England,
and when heaven was to be insulted by the profanation
of its sacred name as sanctioning the foulest deeds of
blood.
An act was passed by the parliament of 1554 for the
revival of the statutes of former sovereigns against here¬
tics, and especially against Lollards ; which revival was to
take effect from the 20th of January 1555. During the
last reign, no Roman Catholic had suffered capital punish¬
ment on account of his faith, nor does there appear to
have been any kind of jurisdiction or mode of procedure for
the trial of heresy, although the law remained in full force
against anabaptists and anti-trinitarians, whose doctrines
were looked upon both by Catholics and Protestants as
sapping the very foundations of Christianity. It has been
alleged by the opponents of Protestantism, that in The
Reformation of Laws, composed in the latter part of Ed¬
ward’s reign, there are indications of a preparation for
lighting the faggot against the adherents of the ancient
religion ; and as the point is of some importance, we shall
avail ourselves of the following observations by Sir James
Mackintosh, which seem to put the matter in its true light.
Referring to the allegation that severity against the ad¬
herents to Catholicism was about to be put in execution,
he says,
“ This statement is chiefly grounded on a text of that
projected code, which directs that contumacious and in¬
corrigible heretics, after all other means have been ex¬
hausted, shall be at length delivered to the civil magistrate
to be punished. It is assumed that the punishment must
be death. Yet in the very first article of the code, which
relates to atheists and unbelievers in Christianity, death
is denounced against them in express words.
“ The admission of it into another article by mere im¬
plication is therefore unreasonable. It is too terrible an
enactment to be admitted without express words. If pu¬
nishment is held to be synonymous with capital punish¬
ment, by force of this clause death must be applied to all
heresies. If it was intended to confer on the civil magis¬
trate a large discretion in the infliction of inferior punish¬
ments for the enumerated heresies, the article is perfect¬
ly agreeable to the practice of the framers and the opi¬
nions of the times. It is incredible that capital punishment
could be denounced against the whole of a long series of
heresies, of which the catalogue nearly occupies twenty
quarto pages, besides what is called a monstrous heap of
other errors, less necessary to be specified, as being less
prevalent in that age. Even admitting this unreasonable
construction of the plan for a reformed code, it affects
only the reputation of the projectors. It never was adopt¬
ed by public authority. It was not laid before parliament.
There is no reason to doubt that the Protestant parliament
would have altered the very articles in question, if, when
they were communicated to that assembly, they could be
supposed to establish or countenance a practice perfectly
at variance with that of the king and parliament of Eng¬
land in the reign of Edward VI. To hold that a few words
in a Latin manuscript, of projected but not adopted laws,
not printed till many years afterwards, could have been
the incentive of those who kindled the fires of Smithfield
under Mary, is one of the most untenable of all positions.
Truth and justice require it to be positively pronounced,
that Gardiner and Bonner cannot plead the example of
Cranmer and Latimer for the bloody persecution which
involved in its course the destruction of the Protestant
prelates. The anti-trinitarian and the anabaptist, if they
had regained power, might indeed have urged such a mi¬
tigation, but the Roman Catholic had not even the odious
excuse of retaliation.”
The year 1555 opened with gloomy forebodings for the
reformed clergy; and ere a month had expired, the lower¬
ing tempest burst upon them with unexampled fury.
On the 28th of January a commission, with Gardiner at
its head as lord chancellor, assembled in the church of St
Mary Overies, in Southwark, for the trial of Protestants.
From the station which this individual held, and from his
commanding talents, there appears to be little doubt that
he was instrumental in pushing forward this bloody work,
although some writers have attempted to remove this
reproach from his character. Whether he was the main
author or not, is a matter of comparatively little impor¬
tance. As lord chancellor, and as head of the commis¬
sion, he sanctioned the whole proceedings. He must there¬
fore be held responsible for the deeds of those who acted
under his authority, and suffer the lash of posterity, in
the same way as Cromwell, on whom Catholic writers
have poured out the vials of their wrath, from his having
acted as captain of the banditti who plundered the holy
places in the reign of the eighth Henry.
The first martyrs in this persecution were Hooper bishop
of Gloucester, and Rogers, a clergyman of Essex, both
eminent divines of the reformed cause. They died with
feelings of triumphant piety in the midst of suffocating
flames ; and other victims were rapidly hurried to the stake.
The principal were, Archbishop Cranmer, Ridley bishop of
London, and Latimer bishop of Worcester. (See Cran¬
mer.) These persecutions soon became odious to the
whole nation, and the perpetrators of them were all willing
to shift the blame from themselves upon others. Many
of the Catholic prelates, to their honour, exercised occa¬
sionally an effectual and perhaps hazardous humanity in
their favour. Gardiner himself withdrew from this un¬
availing slaughter, and his place was supplied by Bonner
bishop of London, a less scrupulous dealer in blood. Even
Philip himself was moved to pity, and discountenanced
these diabolical proceedings. To describe the sufferings
of those persons of eminence and distinction who perished,
would fatigue the patience and harrow the feelings of the
reader. For four years the persecution was carried on
with unsatiated cruelty; and, keeping out of view those
who perished in dungeons under every form of misery, and
also those who expatriated themselves, nearly three hun¬
dred individuals are calculated to have expired at the
stake. We are positively informed by Lord Burghley,
that in this number of victims are comprised no less than
one hundred women and children. The perpetrators of
these “ more than heathen cruelties” deserve no quarter
from posterity; such deeds as those laid to their charge
stamp infamy deep on their names, and hold them up to
execration now and for ever.
The other events of this reign unconnected with reli¬
gion are, with the exception of the loss of Calais, unim¬
portant. The reduction of this town had cost Edward III.
a siege of eleven months, and the English standard had
waved over its battlements for above two centuries. It
surrendered to the arms of France after a siege of only
eight days, and its loss so affected the queen, that when
lying on her deathbed she said, “ If you open me you will
find Calais written on my heart.” Philip, her husband,
appears to have treated her with formal but cold respect.
History
ENGLAND. 711
History. He had succeeded to the greatest monarchy then in the
world, and had been some time absent from England in
1553. superintending its affairs. He returned again, but his de¬
parture a second time left Mary to brood over her fruit¬
less barbarity alone. She had more than once enter¬
tained the nation with rumours of her pregnancy, and was
herself cheated with the illusive hopes of offspring. But
this Shiloh of the ancient faith, like that of a celebrated
dreamer of after times, was the manifestation of a deadly
disorder. She died of dropsy on the 17th of November
1558, to the unspeakable relief of the greater portion of
her subjects.
History has loaded the memory of Mary with merited
opprobrium. Some Roman Catholic writers have endea¬
voured to palliate her conduct on the plea that she acted
under the influence of religious principle, and from a con¬
scientious desire to suppress opinions which she considered
very dangerous to her subjects, and not from a cruel and
bloodthirsty disposition; but, in mitigating her atrocities
upon this ground, what a fearful charge do they bring against
the system of religion which could so deaden the feelings of
humanity and mercy in the heart of a woman, and could in¬
cite to such deeds of cruelty as earned for her among the
common people the title of the “Bloody Mary,” and which,
even in the most accurate and sober narrative, excite just
detestation.
There was nothing attractive in the private life of Mary,
for her nature was sour and unamiable, and almost destitute
of that tenderness which peculiarly distinguishes the female
character. Whether or not she was a tyrant like her father,
she was at all events pre-eminently fitted for becoming the
tool of tyrants. It has been said that she was not altogether
remorseless, for she is reported to have suffered some
compunction on account of her conduct towards the Pro¬
testants.
After the death of Mary, the Princess Elizabeth suc¬
ceeded to the throne without opposition. She was at Hat¬
field when the news of her sister’s death were brought to
her, and hastening to London immediately, she was receiv¬
ed there with great joy. For the preservation of her life
this princess was indebted to Philip, the husband of Mary.
The Spaniard was aware that her death would remove
the only obstacle which stood between Mary of Scotland
and the throne of England. That sovereign had been mar¬
ried to the heir-apparent of France, his great political ene¬
my ; and the balance of powrer which might thus be thrown
into the hands of the latter would have endangered the sta¬
bility of Philip’s throne ; a circumstance which induced him
to this unusual act of liberal humanity. The first mea¬
sure of Elizabeth was to assemble around her throne a
body of counsellors who had recommended themselves to
public notice by the power of their talents or the steadi¬
ness of their principles. Her state council was composed
of both Catholics and Protestants, although her more con¬
fidential advisers w^ere confined to a select portion of the
latter, and amongst these was Sir William Cecil, whom she
appointed her first secretary. Precautionary measures
w ere taken to meet any invasion on the part of France in
order to raise Mary Queen of Scots to the throne; for
the government of that country had made demonstrations
to this effect, by instigating Rome to hostilities against
Elizabeth. Mary had left a vacant treasury, and one of
the first cares of the new administration was to obtain pe¬
cuniary supplies ; and, from the high character and popu¬
larity of the queen, these were immediately granted by
the people. Her coronation was then celebrated with all
possible splendour and festivity.
To establish the Protestant religion was Elizabeth’s
most ardent desire. With this view the statutes passed
in the late reign for the support of the ancient faith were
repealed; and the acts of Henry VIII. in derogation of History,
the papal authority, and of his successor in favour of the
reformed church, were for the most part revived. There
were some deviations in the new book of common prayer
from the liturgy of Edward VI., but of these only two are
important. The first consists in the omission of a prayer
to be freed from the “ tyranny of the bishop of Rome
and all his detestable enormities;” which certainly display¬
ed a conciliatory spirit towards the Catholic church. The
second was an alteration of the language which spoke of
the sacrament as being only a remembrance of the death
of Christ, and the substitution of words which indicate
the real but not corporeal presence. Towards the middle
of 1559 the Protestant liturgy was introduced, and the
oath of supremacy administered. Strong opposition to it
was evinced on the part of the clergy, especially amongst
those of a dignified station; and out of sixteen bishops
only one took the oath tendered to them. But the lower
orders were less scrupulous ; and it is probable that in many
instances necessity induced them to make a compromise
with their consciences. Those of the clergy who refused
compliance with the new code of religious doctrines were
deposed, and their places supplied by professors of the
reformed religion. According to the standard of punish¬
ments which followed contumacy in these ages, the treat¬
ment of the bishops was mild. Bonner was imprisoned;
but he was a man so empurpled with blood as to be odious
to all parties. This was the highest degree of suffering
to which any of the nonconformists were subjected.
During the time that the queen and her counsellors
were thus settling the religious affairs of the nation, nego¬
tiations were carried on between England and France for
a peace, which was at last concluded on the following
terms, viz. that the French king should restore Calais at
the expiration of eight years ; that in case of failure, he
should pay five hundred thousand crowns, and Elizabeth’s
title to Calais should still remain ; that for the payment
of this sum he should find the security of eight foreign
merchants, not natives of France ; and that until such se¬
curity was provided he should deliver five hostages. If
during this interval Elizabeth should break the peace
with France or Scotland, she was to forfeit all title to
Calais ; but if the French king was to make war on Eliza¬
beth, he was to be obliged to restore the fortress imme¬
diately.
The reign of Elizabeth for the first eleven years, that
is, from the twenty-fifth to the six and thirtieth year of
her life, was distinguished for the internal quiet and
happiness of the country. During this interval she dis¬
played the very best qualities of a sovereign; firmness,
prudence, vigilance, activity, and foresight. These qua¬
lities were tempered with habitual amenity, and a ration¬
al piety. By her subjects she was admired, applauded,
and imitated; and during this halcyon period her throne
received an accession of strength which enabled it to
stand unshaken amid the tumultuous storms with which
it was afterwards assailed. She was repeatedly advised
to engage in a matrimonial alliance, but uniformly declin¬
ed to do so, declaring her resolution of remaining single for
life. Amongst her suitors were various foreign princes,
Catholic as well as Protestant; and some of her own
subjects even presumed to intrude their offers upon her
“ maiden meditation,” but without success. During the
religious war which raged in France, Elizabeth, ever ar¬
dent in the cause of the reformation, assisted the Hugue¬
nots with arms and money
In the mean time the pretensions of Mary, queen of
Scotland, to the crown of England, involved Elizabeth in
transactions which have left a stain upon her name. Mary,
who was espoused to the dauphin of France, had quartered
712 ENGLAND.
History, the arms of England with those of France and Scotland
uron her escutcheon ; and to this she was advised by the
1569. Catholics, who looked upon Elizabeth as a usurper, having
been illegitimised in her youth by the cruel mandate of her
father at the time when he consigned her mother to the
block. The result of this appropriation of the armorial
bearings of the English sovereign was a quarrel between
the two princes, which only terminated with the execu¬
tion of the unfortunate queen of Scotland. See the ar¬
ticle Scotland.
In 1569 Elizabeth was excommunicated by Pope Pius
V. These anathemas, by absolving subjects from the
oath and the duty of allegiance, and suspending the of¬
fices of religion, and even those of humanity, were some¬
times most disastrous to a country, upon which they de¬
scended like a deadly epidemic. But the majority of the
queen's subjects were of the same religion with herself,
and had thrown off the papal yoke; so that it was in the
present instance productive of no other effect than the
publication of a severe act against all who held any com¬
munication with the bishop of Rome. Severe measures
were also taken with the puritans and other dissenters.
At this time the English nation was divided into three
theological and political parties ; the Churchmen, who con¬
sidered the ecclesiastical revolution as already perfect;
the Puritans, who sought further reformation by agitating
the minds of the people ; and the Catholics, who, support¬
ed by the great continental powers, did not yet despair of
seating their religion upon the throne. But men of all
these persuasions united in their abhorrence of anabap¬
tists ; and, in order to extirpate them, the fires of Smith-
field were, after an interval of seventeen years, re-kindled.
Fox the celebrated martyrologist dared to interfere in
behalf of this hated sect; but his courageous humanity
obtained for them only a temporary respite. Two men
were burned, and numbers were imprisoned or otherwise
corporally punished. These events took place about the
middle of the year 1575, and this was the first blood spilt
by Elizabeth on account of religion ; it, however, forms a
dark stain upon her government, which may be pronoun¬
ced mild when compared with others of the same period.
The blood of Henry VIII. was not yet sufficiently purified
in this its first descent from the fountain-head.
Amongst the other domestic events connected with the
history of England, was that of the rebellion of Percy
earl of Northumberland, and Neville earl of Westmore¬
land. This revolt partook both of a civil and of a reli¬
gious character, for the noblemen at its head were ad¬
herents of the ancient faith, and were encouraged to em¬
bark in their lawless enterprise by the Catholic states. But
on the approach of the royal troops under Sussex, the in¬
surgents broke up and fled. Northumberland was made
prisoner in Scotland, and executed at York; and West¬
moreland died in Flanders, in the humble capacity of com¬
mandant of a Spanish regiment. Other treasonable trans¬
actions originated with the Duke of Norfolk, whose vault¬
ing ambition aspired to the hand of Mary queen of Scots.
Indeed he and the two insurgents just named, together
with several other nobles, united in a conspiracy against
Elizabeth. The timely arrest of Norfolk, however, dis¬
concerted the confederacy, of which the northern rising
was merely a premature explosion. Mary of Scotland is
positively asserted to have been a participator in the plot.
Norfolk was brought to trial; and there seems little doubt
that he had incurred the penalties of treason, by having
had intercourse with Catholic princes who had undertaken
to land in England with a hostile army, and by his clan¬
destine renewal of negotiations for the delivery and espou- History,
sal of Mary, at that time a prisoner in the hands of Eliza- '
beth. He was condemned to death, and executed, after 1588.
a great deal of hesitation on the part of the queen.
England now began to distinguish herself in her na¬
tural career of maritime enterprise. Amongst the most
distinguished of the nautical adventurers of this age was
Sir Francis Drake, whose exploits will be found related
under the article Drake. A vague rumour had for some
time pervaded Europe, of vast naval preparations by the
king of Spain, for the invasion and conquest of England.
In 1587 Sir Francis Drake having been dispatched with a
fleet to attack the Spanish ships which lay in the bay of
Cadiz, was completely successful in his enterprise, burn¬
ing and destroying above one hundred vessels laden with
ammunition and naval stores. The fruits of his expedi¬
tion were of vast importance. Philip’s preparations were
disturbed, and his project of invasion put off for twelve
months, during which period Elizabeth had time to make
head against the storm which was gathering in that quar¬
ter. These were the obvious results of Drake’s bravery;
but who can estimate the moral effect which it had pro¬
duced? It gave a heroic impulse to the nation, and in¬
spired it with confidence in its own strength and resour¬
ces. It taught English seamen to look without terror
upon the towering bulk of the Spanish vessels ; whilst the
Spaniards themselves must have in a proportional degree
lost the confidence of having an advantage over the enemy
by means of their floating castles.
The king of Spain having once more completed his com¬
plement of vessels, manned them with the ablest seamen
and soldiers, under the command of the most renowned
leaders. This Armada was truly imposing and magnifi¬
cent ; it was baptized The Invincible, but not with English
blood. Never before had the ocean borne a more splen¬
did fleet than that which sailed from the Tagus on the
25th of May 1588. The ships and their equipments had
been fitted out in every port of its king’s dominions. In
Flanders, the forest of Waes had been felled; the dock¬
yards of Antwerp, Dunkirk, Newport, and Gravelines
swarmed with artificers; and the rivers and canals were
covered with boats adapted for the transport of soldiers
destined to serve in the expedition. On the 20th of May
the following enumeration of the vessels was made : “ The
general sum was 130 ships, of 57,868 tons; 19,295 sol¬
diers and 8450 mariners, with 2088 slaves, and 2630
great pieces of cannon of all sorts; also twenty caravals
for the service of the others, with ten salvers of six oars a
piece.” Towards the end of June another armament of
eighty sail left Lisbon to join them.1 To meet this over¬
whelming armament the royal navy of England mustered
181 ships, containing between seventeen and eighteen
thousand seamen. There were only eight ships above
five hundred tons burden, and the largest wras only eleven
hundred. The aggregate burden of the wThole English
fleet amounted to 31,985 tons, being little more than one
half of that of the Spaniards. The preparations made
on land displayed equal spirit and enthusiasm. A loyal
patriotism and active magnanimity pervaded the whole
kingdom. The city of London set a noble example. The
lord-mayor, in the name of the metropolis, put at the
disposal of his sovereign ten thousand soldiers and thirty
vessels. The whole nation emulated this wise liberality;
and every city, town, and hamlet poured forth its ardent
patriots to take their stand upon the coast and repel the
insulting invader. About fifty thousand men under the
command of Earl Hunsdon, a brave and able general,
Strype, p. 538-9, from the Spanish book, which rather styled the whole “ Felicissima Armada.'
ENGL
History, guarded the queen’s person. The Thames at Tilbury was
watched by Leicester with a considerable force. Sir Wal-
loa8* ter Raleigh was stationed at Portland Castle, in Dorset¬
shire, and the Earl of Sussex at Portsmouth. In the other
parts of the country the wisest measures of defensive war¬
fare were adopted. At sea one division of the fleet under
Lord Henry Seymour guarded the narrow seas ; whilst the
main body under Lord Charles Howard, the high admiral,
was stationed in the Western Ocean. The gallant Sir
Francis Drake and the able navigators Hawkins and Fro¬
bisher were in this division.
Under the Duke of Medina Sidonia, the Spanish Armada
set sail for the invasion of England. It was for some time
retarded by a tempest, which also harassed the English
fleet; and news were brought to the queen of England
that Medina’s Armada had been so injured and scattered
that the expedition was for the present abandoned. The
English ships withdrew to various ports, where they
might have been surprised and burned, had not intelli¬
gence accidentally arrived that the Spanish fleet was bear¬
ing down full sail upon the coast. On the 20th of July
the English admirals came in sight of the enemy, and next
day the first engagement took place. The plan of Lord
Howard was to evade a direct attack ; for his vessels being
so much inferior in bulk and weight of metal to the enemy’s
ships, were incapable of grappling in close action with
them ; but being superior in mobility and expedition, he
resolved to annoy their rear, and to cut off the sluggish
sailers. In the first attack neither fleet suffered much.
Early in the morning of the 23d the second conflict began,
and both fleets fought with valour; but the advantage was
at last on the side of the English, over whose smaller ves¬
sels the iron shower from the higher sides of the Spanish
ships flew harmless, whilst their own took full effect. On
the 24th a pause took place in the battle, which was, how¬
ever, renewed next day ; but the mighty armament forced
its way unbroken to the vicinity of Calais. They were now
prepared to act in concert with the Duke of Parma, who
had completed his preparations. He possessed in the
harbours of Newport and Dunkirk transports which car¬
ried about twenty-eight thousand men, and which wait¬
ed the general’s command to make the grand attempt.
The concentration of the Spanish Armada off Calais sug¬
gested to the English admiral the idea of employing fire¬
ships to destroy it. Eight vessels were thereupon hastily
prepared for this purpose, and during the night of the 29th,
which was cloudy and boisterous, they were sent down
blazing with combustible materials into the heart of the
Spanish fleet. A cry of horror burst from the Spaniards,
and, seized with an irresistible panic, they cut their cables
with the intention of standing out to sea. But in their
terror and confusion they inflicted severe injury upon one
another; and, to augment their distress, a fierce gale sprung
up, which scattered the Armada along the coast from Os-
tend to Calais. Some struck on the shallows at Flanders,
whilst others beat out to sea ; the remainder, amounting to
about forty sail, were assailed by Drake and the rest of the
English fleet. This was the most severe engagement which
had yet taken place, and was maintained with great bra¬
very for a whole day. The Spaniards lost several of their
best ships; and after vainly endeavouring to regain their
position in the narrow strait, where Parma could alone
join them, they resolved to return to Spain by making a
circuit round Great Britain. The want of ammunition
compelled the English to refrain from pursuing the in¬
vaders at a time when they might have annihilated them.
But this was reserved for an enemy even more formidable
than that before which they fled. A storm overtook them
on their unfortunate voyage, and the coasts of Scotland and
Ireland were strewed with the wrecks of the Invincible
AND. 713
Armada, so that only a feeble remnant of that splendid History,
fleet reached the shore from whence it had sailed, in all
the pomp and circumstance of war, as if to an assured tri-
umph.
Ihe events of Elizabeth’s reign which followed the dis¬
comfiture of the Spanish attempt to invade England may
be briefly related. The Earl of Leicester, who had for a
long time maintained an enviable place in the queen’s fa¬
vour, was invested with fresh honours. A new and un¬
precedented office was created for him, that of lord lieu¬
tenant of England and Ireland, which exalted him to an
authority only a little lower than that of sovereignty. But
the ink was scarcely dry upon the warrant which wanted
but the royal signature to complete the triumph of the fa¬
vourite, when he was cut off by a violent disease, which,
whether it arose from natural causes, or from poison being
administered, at all events speedily terminated his career.
Of this nobleman little need be said. He is one of a nu¬
merous class of historical characters who possess a degree
of notoriety, not on account of any brilliant endowments
which they themselves possessed, but from their proximi¬
ty to or connection with distinguished personages. He
possessed no intellectual or moral qualities which, de¬
prived of adventitious aid, would have thrown him into
the foreground of his country’s history ; whilst, if we listen
to the opinion of his contemporaries, he must be looked
upon as dissolute and unprincipled, notwithstanding his
affectation of piety. He is a satellite only conspicuous from
the light which is reflected upon him by his sovereign.
The English navy, emboldened by its late triumph, now
made several very successful descents upon the Spanish
coast, not so much for the purpose of obtaining perma¬
nent conquest, as of harassing the enemy. These expe¬
ditions were conducted by the most able commanders,
amongst whom were some of the brightest names in the
history of maritime discovery and enterprise, such as those
of Raleigh, Drake, Cavendish, Hawkins, and Howard. It
was then that the English navy assumed the empire of
the sea, which it has ever since maintained with triumph¬
ant heroism.
On the death of Leicester, the young Earl of Essex
succeeded him as prime favourite of the queen. But
the desire of glory or the hope of plunder induced this
volatile young nobleman to join the armament preparing
to sail for Spain. The expedition was unfortunate, and
when Essex returned to England, he found two rival can¬
didates for royal favour, Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir
Charles Blount. By the superior influence of these no¬
blemen, the former was driven to cultivate a portion of
land which had been granted to him in Ireland; and with
the latter Essex fought a duel, in which he was wounded.
But by the queen’s command they were reconciled to
each other, and in process of time they became sincere
and attached friends.
In the year 1596, a new expedition was fitted out for
Spain, which was completely successful. The Spanish
fleet was defeated, and lost thirteen men-of-war. Cadiz
was taken, and its defences, which rendered the town the
strongest fortress in the country, were razed to the ground.
This was the severest blow wliich the king of Spain re¬
ceived from his daring enemy subsequent to the repulse of
the Armada. Matters might have been still worse with him
had not dissension sprung up amongst the English com¬
manders, the majority of whom, against the suggestion of
Essex, who was one of the leaders, declared for an imme¬
diate return to England. The town, with the exception
of the churches, was reduced to ashes; and the troops,
taking with them the most valuable portion of the plun¬
der, re-embarked, and the fleet returned to Plymouth in less
than ten weeks after it had set sail. Essex, on his arri-
4 x
VOL. vm.,
714
Statistics.
'  
1603.
ENGLAND.
val in England, was compelled to appear before the queen
in council, and answer to several charges connected with
the late enterprise. These charges merely related to
pecuniary matters, and the favourite was acquitted; but
this was the commencement of numerous subsequent
quarrels which he had with his sovereign, none of which
are important to history except the last. Having been
appointed lord deputy of Ireland, he suddenly left his
command in that country and returned to England. He
was committed a prisoner, and called upon to account for
his extraordinary conduct. The queen, however, was un¬
willing to carry matters too far against her favourite. He
was allowed to go about as a prisoner on parole; but this
high-spirited and aspiring nobleman could not remain con¬
tent with the humiliating circumstances to which he was
now reduced. He attempted to excite the city of London
to revolt against the queen’s authority; but the rebel was
taken prisoner, tried for high treason, condemned, and exe¬
cuted. This proved a severe blow to Elizabeth, who was
now tottering upon the brink of the grave. She had been
all her life subject to fits of indisposition, which were
occasionally violent; but it was not till the beginning of
March 1603 that her mortal illness came on. Her mind
became depressed with gloomy recollections, especially
those connected with the shedding of Essex’s blood ; and
her nervous melancholy and general decline increased,
accompanied by symptoms which indicated a disease of
the heart, and by a laboured and convulsive respiration.
She was questioned by her confidential advisers as to her
successor, and signified her desire that the king of Scot¬
land should succeed to the throne. Her speech soon
afterwards failed entirely, and all hope of her recovery
vanished. She tranquilly breathed her last, about three
hours after midnight, on the 24-th of March 1603, in the
sixty-seventh year of her age and the forty-fifth of her
reiSn- , ,
In the opinion of her contemporaries, whose judgment
has been ratified by posterity, Elizabeth ranks amongst
the greatest and the most fortunate of English sove¬
reigns. The domestic tranquillity which signalized her Statistics,
rule during nearly half a century ; her triumphant re-
pulse of the Spanish monarch, and the severe retaliation
which she inflicted upon that lord of empires ; the spirit
displayed by her navy in its numerous warlike expedi¬
tions by sea, and also by her army on land, are indica¬
tions of uncommon vigour on the part of the sovereign,
and of sagacity on that of her counsellors. She found
England comparatively inferior to other nations of Europe,
but she left it amongst the proudest and the most powerful.
It was during her reign and that of her successor, that
the human intellect sprung up at once to full maturity,
and produced those works which are the peculiar glory of
English literature. Hers was the Augustan age of poetry,
the age of Spenser, Shakspeare, and others; and during
her reign Bacon began to put forth those gigantic ener¬
gies of mind which were destined to change the whole as¬
pect of science, and even the condition of man as a civi¬
lized being. The human failings ascribed to Elizabeth
are, excessive vanity, love of popularity which is part of
it, parsimony, and a leaning towards despotism. But those
whose interest it has been to vaunt the glory of her sis¬
ter’s reign, and the purity of her life, have not failed to
charge Elizabeth with great personal depravity ; yet if we
discredit every defamatory story which can be clearly
traced to her enemies, the imputations will not have much
weight, or attach any grave stigma to her name.1 She is
not, however, free from the stain of blood, the shedding
of which cannot be justified, however it may be palliated
by taking into account the circumstances of the times, and
the critical situation in which she stood; but in this re¬
spect her conduct is almost purity itself compared either
with that of her sister or of her father. For an account
of the private life and literary character of this great queen,
see the article Elizabeth ; and Turner’s Elizabeth, vol. iv.,
p. 564.
She was succeeded by James the Sixth of Scotland and
First of England. From that period, the history of the
countries is given under the article Britain. (j. f. s.)
Chronological Table of the Monarchs of England from the time of the Heptarchy to the
death of Elizabeth.
Monarchs before the Conquest.
Monarchs.
Began to Reign. Reigned Years
Anglo-Saxons.
Danes.
Saxons.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
Egbert 
Ethelwolf 
Ethelbald 
Ethebert 
Ethelred I 
Alfred 
Edward the Elder....
Athelstane..... 
Edmund I 
Edred 
Edwy.... 
Edgar 
Edward II 
Ethelred II 
Edmund Ironside II.
Sweyn 
Canute 
Harold I 
Hardicanute.
Edward III., or the Confessor 
Harold II., son of Godwin, Earl of Kent.
A.D.
827
838
857
860
866
872
901
925
940
946
955
959
975
978
1016
1014
1017
1036
1039
1041
1066
10
20
3
6
5
29
24
15
6
9
4
16
3
37
1
3
19
3
2
25
1
Statistics.
ENGLAND.
Monarchs since the Conquest.
No.
Normans.
House of
Blois.
Plantagenet
Race.
House of
Lancaster.
House of
York.
House of
Tudor.
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
Monarchs.
William I...
William II.
Henry I 
Stephen.
Henry II.,
Richard L,
John 
Henry III.
Edward I..
Edward II...
Edward III.
Richard II..
Henry IY.
Henry V..
Henry VI.
Edward IV..
Edward V...
Richard III.
Henry VII..
Henry VIII.
Edward VI.
Mary I  
Elizabeth....
Began to Reign.
1066
1087
1100
1135
1155
1189
1199
1216
1272
1307
1327
1377
1399
1413
1422
1461
1483
1483
1485
1509
1546
1553
1558
To whom Married.
Matilda of Flanders.
Never married 
Matilda of Scotland..
Matilda of Boulogne.
Eleanor of Guienne 
Berenguella of Navarre.,
Earl Montague’s daughter..
Avisa of Gloucester 
Isabella of Angouleme...
Eleanor of Provence 
Eleanor of Castile 
Mary of France 
Isabella of France 
Phillippa of Hainault...,
Ann of Luxembourg 
Isabella of France 
Mary Bohun 
Joanna of Navarre...
Catherine of Franee.
Margaret of Anjou...
Elizabeth Woodville.
Never married 
Ann Neville 
When Married.
Reigned Years.
Elizabeth of York 
Catherine of Arragon 
A. Boleyn, 31, J. Seymour
Ann of Cleves, C. Howard
Catherine Parr 
Died young 
Philip King of Spain 
Never married 
1053
1100
1135
1151
1191
1185
1189
1200
1236
1253
1299
1308
1328
1382
1396
1317
1403
1420
1444
1465
1471
1486
1509
1536
1540
1543
1554
21
13
35
19
34
10
17
56
35
19
50
22
13
10
38
22
2
23
37
6
5
44
PART II.
STATISTICS.
I.—Situation, Extent, Face of the Country, Soil and
' Climate.
Situation England, the southern, and by far the most fertile division
and ex- of Britain, corresponds in latitude with Holland and the
tent. north of Germany, extending from 50. to 55. 45. N. Its
figure is nearly triangular, and its extent of coast is very
great, both from being much indented, and from the sea
bounding it on all sides except along a width of 70 miles
on the Scottish border. The adjacent seas are the German
Ocean on the east, St George’s Channel on the west, and
the English Channel on the south. No country can be
more fortunately situated ; its climate is temperate ; its ex¬
tent is sufficient for its political security; whilst its insular
position not only presents the greatest capabilities of aggran¬
disement in a commercial sense, but has, by rendering a
great military force unnecessary, in all probability been the
chief cause of preventing the executive branch from usurp¬
ing absolute power, as in the countries of the Continent.
Its superficial extent had long been a question of consi¬
derable doubt, and the different estimates varied no less
than 10,000,000 of acres. Mr Pitt, on the authority of
Arthur Young, assumed, in 1798, the superficial extent of
England and Wales to be nearly 47,000,000 of acres; a
later calculation by Dr Beeke, approaching more to accu¬
racy than any preceding one, fixed it at 38,500,000 acres.
But, according to the census of 1851, the area of the great
territorial subdivisions of Great Britain is as follows, viz.:
England, 50,922 sq. miles ; Scotland, 31,324; Wales, 7398;
and the Islands in the British Seas 394 sq. miles; making the
area of England and Wales 58,320 sq. miles, or 37,324,915
imperial acres. The forms of the islands are irregular, and
do not approach simple geometrical figures, if we except
England, which was not inaptly compared by the ancients
to a triangle. The area of Great Britain is equal to a squaie
of 299 miles to the side; England to a square of 226 miles
to the side; Scotland to a square of 177 miles to the side;
Wales to a square of 86 miles to the side; the Islands in
the British Seas to a square of 20 miles to the side. While
the area is in the ratio of these squares, or as 51, 31, 7, and
■j^, the population is nearly as 17, 3, 1, and |; England has,
on an average, to a square mile 332 persons, Wales 136,
Scotland only 92, the Islands in the British Seas 363 per¬
sons. While about 21,200,000 acres of territory lie north,
and 36,400,000 acres soutfe of the 55° of north latitude ; the
populations on the north and south side of the line are re¬
spectively about 3,173,000 and 17, / 87,000.
England is generally a level region, though it is traversed face 0f
in different directions by ridges of considerable elevation, country,
forming the watersheds of the country. The northern part
716
ENGLAND.
Geology.
Statistics, of the kingdom (including Westmoreland, with portions of
Cumberland, Lancashire, and Yorkshire) is mountainous;
and a chain of hills, varying in elevation from about 1200
to 3000 feet, extends southward from the borders of Scot¬
land to the middle of Derbyshire. A range of table-land
(rising sometimes into hills, and attaining a height of 1500
feet) extends in a tortuous line through the East Riding of
Yorkshire, and the counties of Lincoln, Northampton, Ox¬
ford, Gloucester, Somerset, and Dorset, where it terminates
with the isle of Purbeck. It is chiefly composed of oolitic
rocks, rising above the lias formation, and presents gene¬
rally a bold escarpment to the west, with a regular slope to
the east. The southern and eastern counties are traversed
by ranges of chalk hills of small elevation, diverging from
Salisbury Plain. One of these extends eastward through
Hampshire and Sussex to Beachy Head, forming what are
called the South Downs; a second extends through Hamp¬
shire, Surrey, and Kent, forming the North Downs ; and a
third passes north-easterly through the counties of Berks,
Oxford, Bucks, Bedford, Cambridge, Suffolk, and Norfolk,
where it forms the eastern border of the fens. Devon and
Cornwall are occupied by mountains of granitic formation,
and Wales by a series of high and rugged mountains, form¬
ing several groups and chains between the vale of the Severn
and the Irish Sea. It would therefore appear that the
highest and most rugged part of England is to be found
near its western coast, while the principal plains and low¬
lands lie towards the German Ocean. To the south-east¬
ward of a line drawn from the isle of Portland, by Oxford,
Northampton, Leicester, Nottingham, Doncaster, and York,
to the vicinity of Scarborough, the whole of this district is
composed of chalk, calcareous sandstone, and other second¬
ary strata, or alluvial ground, in which there are no beds
of workable coal or metallic veins. To the westward of the
above line the country is composed of secondary strata of a
different description, in many parts of w hich beds of coal and
ironstone are found. To the north and west of this second
district are found mountains ofmetalliferous limestone. Gra¬
nite and granitic rocks are found in Cornwall, Devon, North
Wales, Anglesea, the Malvern hills in Worcestershire,
Charnwood forest in Leicestershire, and in Cumberland and
Westmoreland. Primary stratified rocks are chiefly limited
to the clay-slate, grauwacke, and silurian systems ; the first
two of which extend over the south of Cornwall and Devon,
the northern part of Devon, a large portion of Wales, and
nearly the whole of the lake districts of Westmoreland, Cum¬
berland, and Lancashire. Gneiss and mica-slate are almost
unknown, though traces of them are to be found in the
Saddleback rocks in Cumberland, and in the Isle of Man.
The secondary rocks commence with the carboniferous
system, which is extensively developed in the northern
counties and in South Wales, and the adjacent parts of Eng¬
land. Outlying groups of this system occur likewise in other
places. Millstone-grit rocks, which prevail to a great extent
in the north of England, are, however, little known in the
southern carboniferous region ; while, on the contrary, the
old red sandstone, which is enormously developed in the lat¬
ter, is limited in the north to a few inconsiderable traces.
The saliferous or new red sandstone system commences at
the Tyne, and skirts the northern carboniferous region to
near Liverpool. It is found also near Carlisle, in the upper
part of the estuary of the Severn, and in the valley of the Exe.
The oolitic system, as already mentioned, forms a belt nearly
30 miles in breadth, extending from Yorkshire to Dorsetshire
—supplying some of the best building materials in the king¬
dom. A fresh-water formation, called the Wealden, extends
over a large portion of Kent and Sussex. The cretaceous
system, or chalk formation, extends from Flamborough Head
in Yorkshire (though interrupted by the Wash) to Sidmouth
in Devonshire, forming the ranges already referred to. The
tertiary strata consist chiefly of the argillaceous formations,
abounding; in organic remains, named the plastic clay and the Statistics.
London clay; extending over Middlesex, Essex, Suffolk, and's—
portions of Kent, Surrey, and Norfolk. A variety of the same
formation is found on the south coast, from Brighton on the
east to Dorchester on the west. The localities of the post-
tertiary or diluvial and alluvial formations are too numerous
to admit of specification in such a sketch as the present.
Trap has found its way through all the stratified formations,
but occurs in masses of varying dimensions in different places.
The coal-beds of England, contained in the carboniferous
system, are found in Northumberland and Durham, south
Yorkshire, Nottingham and Derby, south Lancashire, Staf¬
fordshire, Warwickshire, Anglesea, Flint, Salop, Worcester¬
shire, Gloucestershire, and the northern part of Somerset,
South Wales, and near Whitehaven in Cumberland. Iron is
found in inexhaustible quantities in all the formations. Lead
is found chiefly in the mountain limestone, copper in the
granite and older primary stratified rocks, tin in Cornwall
and Devon. Salt springs, yielding large quantities of salt,
are found in Cheshire and Worcestershire.
The sea-coast of England presents a very different aspect Sea-coast,
in different situations; in some quarters—as in Cornwall,
Kent, part of Norfolk, and Wales—it is steep and elevated ;
in other parts it is low, sandy, or marshy ; exhibiting, on the
whole, a variety which hardly admits of being brought under
a uniform description, and which, though partaking much
more of a level than rugged character, still differs greatly
from the opposite shore of Flanders, Holland, and Friesland,
which is one continued flat for more than 300 miles.
Of the rivers of England, the largest are the Thames, the Rivers.
Severn, and the Trent. The Thames has no pretensions to
romantic effect in any part of its course, nor is its body of
fresh water large; but it is navigable for more than 120
miles, and, in the approach to London from the Nore, pre¬
sents to the admiring spectator a prospect which, whether
we consider the quantity of shipping, the thickening popu¬
lation, or the high state of improvement of its banks, is
wholly without parallel. The Severn, though not equal to
the Tay in quantity of fresh water, is superior to the 1 hames,
and during the first part of its course preserves the charac¬
teristics of a mountain stream, being clear, and at times bor¬
dered by picturesque scenery; but, on leaving Wales, and
entering a more level country, it assumes a different aspect,
and becomes a full slow-flowing river, admitting of easy navi¬
gation, and facilitating greatly the commerce of Shropshire,
Worcestershire, and Gloucestershire. Towards its mouth
it receives the Wye, a large navigable river from Males.
The Trent rises in Staffordshire, and—after a course often
tortuous, but generally in a north-east direction falls into
the Humber, which soon after becomes a broad estuary.
The Mersey, as a river, is of no great importance; but as
an arm of the sea it affords from the west a very capacious
inlet to the trade of Liverpool, and facilitates the convey¬
ance of the produce of the interior. 1 he I yne is a large
stream, having Newcastle on its banks, and Shields near its
mouth. The Medway, as a fresh-water river, is small and
sluggish, but acquires, by the influx of the tide, such a depth
of water at Chatham as to adapt it to the reception of the
largest men-of-war. It is only the rivers of M ales, West¬
moreland, Cumberland, and a few mountainous districts,
that are rapid or transparent; the great majority of English
rivers, particularly in the eastern and central part of the
kingdom, are slow in their course, and owe the degree of
beauty which they possess less to the effect of the water or
scenery than to the high cultivation and elegant disposition
of the adjacent grounds. _ , t
A similar remark applies to the lakes of England. No- foregts.
thing can exceed the beauty of Windermere, Keswick, and
Ulleswater; whilst the unvaried and uninteresting collec¬
tions of water, such as Whittleseameer and others in the fen
district, are to be compared only to those in North Holland
ENGLAND.
717
Statistics, or Friesland. In regard to wood, England is very well pro-
vided, without having many of those extensive forests which
are met with on the Continent upon great mountain ranges,
such as on the Jura ridge between France and Switzerland,
and the Suabian Alps upon the Upper Rhine. It is in private
plantations of limited extent, but of frequent occurrence,
and sometimes of great beauty, that the chief stock of English
timber is to be found. Several very extensive tracts—such
as the New Forest in Hampshire, the Forest of Dean in
Gloucestershire, and Sherwood in Nottinghamshire, belong
to the crown.
The soil of England is suited to a great variety of pro¬
ducts ; but it has not the exuberant fertility of southern
climates, much labour and vigilance being requisite to ob¬
tain from it a grateful return. The quantity of moisture
makes it admirably adapted for pasture; a characteristic
which does not particularly strike those whose travels have
never extended beyond their own country, but is of the
highest importance in the view of those who have visited
the Continent, and have witnessed the parched and arid
state of the richest plains in the months of autumn. In re¬
gard to husbandry, it happens, by a singular coincidence,
that in England, as in Scotland, the best is practised in the
east part of the island, particularly in Norfolk, Lincolnshire,
Soil and
produce.
and Northumberland. As to mineral treasures, the eastern Statistics,
counties of England, to the south of Yorkshire, are remark- v'1"^
able for containing no mines, either of coal or of metal;
these valuable deposits are found in the more uneven dis¬
tricts of the north and west, viz., in Northumberland, Dur¬
ham, Westmoreland, Lancashire, Shropshire, Worcester¬
shire, Somerset, Devon and Cornwall, in Wales, and in the
midland counties of Warwick, Stafford, and Derby. In the
east, particularly in Lincoln and Cambridgeshire, vast im¬
provements have been made in the present age by draining ;
but there are still the means of making further and valuable
acquisitions. Much also remains to be done in bringing into
culture extensive heaths and moorlands in almost every
county in the kingdom. The soil of these is in general
poor, but the tillage required would seldom be obstructed,
as in many parts of Scotland, by the ruggedness of the sur¬
face. Comparing the soil of England with that of the ad¬
jacent countries, we find it greatly superior to that of Scot¬
land, except along our eastern coast; it is perhaps better
also than that of Ireland, fertile as the latter naturally is ;
nor needs it, on the whole, dread a comparison even with
the soil of France, where, amidst districts of great beauty
and luxuriance, the eye of the traveller is often struck with
extensive tracts of heath or marsh.
Area in Square Miles ; Houses ; and Population, in 1851 ; in Divisions and in Registration Counties.*
Divisions and Registration
Counties.
Area in
Square
Allies.
ENGLAND and WALES  
London Division 
South-Eastern Division..
South-Midland Division..
Eastern Division 
South-Western Division
6 West-Midland Division..
7 North Midland Division.
8 North-Western Division
9 York Division  
10 Northern Division —
11 Welsh Division 
58,320
1.—London Division.
Middlesex {part of) 
Surrey {part of) 
Kent {part of) 
2.—South-Eastern Division,
1 Surrey {extra-metropolitan)
2 Kent {extra-metropolitan) 
3 Sussex 
4 Hampshire 
5 Berkshire 
3.—South-Midland Division.
6 Middlesex {extra Metropol.).
7 Hertfordshire 
8 Buckinghamshire 
9 Oxfordshire 
10 Northamptonshire 
11 Huntingdonshire 
12 Bedfordshire 
13 Cambridgeshire, 
4.—Eastern Division.
14 Essex...
15 Suffolk..
16 Norfolk.
122
6,352
5,002
5,022
7,804
6,013
5,527
3,144
5,710
5,457
8,167
744
1,584
1,484
1,658
882
276
669
629
749
988
321
477
893
1,536
1,454
2,032
Inhabited
houses.
3,278,039
17,927,609
305,933
298,054
246,422
228,843
338.986
418,205
246,645
435.987
358,663
164,694
235,607
213,279
72,344
20,310
36,839
88,048
59,173
74,592
39,402
28,026
33.919
29,181
34,459
43,928
12,464
25,709
38,736
68,375
69,324
91,144
Population.
2,362,236
1,628,386
1,234,332
1,113,982
1,803,291
2,132,930
1,214,538
2,490,827
1,789,047
969,126
1,188,914
1,745,601
482,435
134,200
202,521
485,021
339,604
402,016
199,224
150,606
173,962
143,655
170,247
213,844
60,319
129,805
191,894
344,130
336,136
433,716
5.—South-Western Division,
17 Wiltshire 
18 Dorsetshire  
19 Devonshire 
20 Cornwall 
21 Somersetshire 
Divisions and Registration
Counties.
6.—West-Midland Division
22 Gloucestershire 
23 Herefordshire 
24 Shropshire   
25 Staffordshire 
26 Worcestershire 
27 Warwickshire  
7.—North-Midland Division.
28 Leicestershire 
29 Rutlandshire  
30 Lincolnshire 
31 Nottinghamshire 
32 Derbyshire 
Area in
Square
Miles.
8.—North-Western Division.
33 Cheshire ...
34 Lancashire
9.—York Division.
35 West Riding 
36 East Riding {with York).
37 North Riding  
10.—Northern Division.
38 Durham  
39 Northumberland.
40 Cumberland 
41 Westmoreland....
11.—Wels” Division.
42 Monmouthshire  
43 South Wales  
44 North Wales  
1,216
962
2,671
1,377
1,578
1,119
665
1,413
1,179
678
959
831
168
2,718
937
873
1,083
2,061
2,637
1,142
1,931
1,178
1,952
1,565
762
676
4,401
3,090
Inhabited
houses.
49,007
34,721
99,288
68,205
87,765
78,319
20,433
48,792
120,485
51,943
98,233
49,963
4,955
79,735
59,533
52,459
79,829
356,158
267,427
50,799
40,437
68,959
47,737
36,763
11,235
32,880
119,481
83,246
Population.
240,966
177,095
572,330
356,641
456,259
419,514
99,120
244,898
630,545
258,733
480,120
234,957
24,272
400,236
294,380
260,693
423,526
2,067,301
1,340,051
254,352
194,644
411,679
303,568
195,492
58,387
177,130
607,456
404,328
* The counties of which the deven statistical division^ of England and _^lcS flTthlsake of distinction,
counties proper, hut are aggregates of entire registration districts poor
“ Registration Counties.”
718
ENGLAND.
Statistics. The total amount of real property in England and Wales, ways, £2,417,610. The following table gives the amount Statistics,
as assessed in 1843, was £85,802,734; of which—lands, of property assessed under the different schedules of the
£40,167,088 ; houses, £35,556,400 ; tithes, £1,960,331; Property and Income Tax Act in England and Wales, for
quarries, £207,009 ; mines, £1,803,794 ; iron-works, the years ending 5th April 1814 and 1815, and 1843 to
£412,022; fisheries, £10,967; canals, £1,229,196; rail- 1851.
Climate.
Years ending
5 th April.
1814 andlSlo
1843  
1844  
1845  
1846  
1847  
1848  
1849  
1850  
1851  
Schedule A. | Schedule B.
Lands, Houses, j
Mines, Quarries, j Houses,
&c., in respect i ^cc” *n resPect
of Property. | of Occupancy.
L.
53,495,375
85,802,734
85,700,123
86,573,636
88,724,253
89,759,066
91.172.471
94.538.472
94,217,959
94,809,969
Schedule C.
Dividends from
the Public
Stocks, &c.
Schedule D.
Profits derived
from Trades,
&c.
L.
36,260,565
41,558,550
40,442,128
41,104,043
41,661,575
41,070,325
41,086,413
42,529,913
42,516,450
42,473,404
L.
30,048,610
27,909,793
27,340,052
26,501,078
25,585,579
26,005,019
26,132,625
26,446.891
26,310,990
26,435,182
L.
34,287,685
63,021,904
56,627,161
55,505,733
60,888,094
60,867,494
60,068,090
56,701,896
54,977,566
55,587,248
Schedule E.
Salaries and
Emoluments of
Persons in
Public Offices.
L.
14,142,573
9,417,463
10,992,253
10,780.478
10,993,631
11,235,798
11,408,627
11,740,518
11,203,964
11,110,490
Total Amount of
Property Assessed.
168,234,808
227,710,444
221,101,717
220,464,968
227,853.132
228,937,702
229,868,226
231,957,690
229,226,929
230,416,293
The climate of England is that of an insular country of
limited extent, subject in consequence to rain, and exempt
from intensity of either heat or cold. Compared with the
adjacent countries, it is less humid than Ireland, which,
like Portugal, in a different latitude, is the first land to in¬
tercept the vapours of the Atlantic; but, on the other
hand, the climate of England is less dry than the opposite
shores of Holland and Germany, to which every wind but
the west arrives across a tract of continent. The climate
of the S. of England resembles much that of the opposite
coast of Brittany, Normandy, and Flanders ; whilst that of
the N. is very similar to the temperature of Denmark,
which, like the N. of England, is a narrow country inclosed
on either side by the sea. In regard to the relative degrees
of heat or cold, if England have not so much summer
warmth as continental countries on the same parallel, she
generally escapes in winter that intensity of frost, which in
less than 48 hours of easterly wind so frequently seals up
their harbours. On the other hand, our weather is much
more variable than in the inland part of the Continent, and
our sky is less clear ; still it by no means follows that the
balance of disadvantage is on our side. The moderate heat
and frequent returns of rain preserve throughout the year
that verdant pasture, which in autumn the Continent enjoys
only in its maritime districts; whilst those droughts in
spring, which are so noxious in the S. of France and in
similar latitudes of the Continent, are hardly known among
us. In point of salubrity, also, we may fairly stand a com¬
parison with our neighbours ; for, variable as is our atmo¬
sphere, no country perhaps exhibits a larger proportion of
examples of longevity.
There exists, however, a considerable difference in the
climate of different parts of England. The W., exposed
to the Atlantic, and containing hills and mountains which
intercept the clouds, is much more rainy than the E., where
the aspect of the country is level, and the expanse of adja¬
cent water much less considerable. Another and equally
remarkable difference arises from latitude, the season being
a fortnight or three weeks later in the N. than in the S. of
England. Notwithstanding all the skill of the Northum¬
brian farmers, the traveller who leaves the harvest finished
in the S- of England in the first week of September, and
who sees the corn cut, if not carried, in the midland counties,
will generally find it in the middle of that month untouched,
and standing in most parts of the country to the northward
of York. In winter this difference in the temperature of
the N. and S. of England is less perceptible. As to the
spring months, March is proverbially raw and cold, from
the prevalence of easterly winds, particularly in that part
of the kingdom adjacent to the German Ocean. April is
in general wet and favourable to vegetation ; but May,
though a pleasant month, can hardly be said with us to
bring more “indulgent skies.” It is in June, July, and
August, that our climate assumes a more settled aspect;
whilst, at the same time, the power of taking exercise on
almost any day is indicative of a very gratifying advantage
over the sultry atmosphere of our southern neighbours on
the Continent. November, though frequently wet and
foggy, is only a prelude to winter; even December does
not often bring intense frost, which is commonly reserved
for January ; and during the last 20 years we have been
repeatedly without any frost of consequence, or heavy falls
of snow, until a considerable time after the days had
lengthened.
During the six winter months, from October to March, Variations
the mean temperature of the central part of England is of tempera*
commonly between 42° and 43° of Fahr. In December,ture*
January, and February, it is generally below 40°; in July
and August 62° to 65°. The variations of temperature
within the space of 24 hours are felt most strongly in the
equinoctial months, March and September. In these there
is often a difference of 18° or 20° between the day and the
night, whilst in the summer months this difference seldom
exceeds 12° or 15°, and in December or January is only
from 6° to 8°. The mean annual temperature, noon and
night, of the central part of England, is about 50°. The
greatest summer heat seldom exceeds 80°, and the cold of
December or January is rarely below 20° or 25°. In mild
situations in Devonshire and Cornwall, the winter tempera¬
ture is 2°, 3°, 4°, and even 5° higher than in London.
Penzance is the spot in England least visited by severe
cold; and it is consequently much recommended in pul¬
monary cases.
Of rain, the largest proportion falls in the N.W. of Eng¬
land, particularly in Westmoreland and Lancashire, owing
to the neighbourhood of the sea and the height of the
mountains. There the average quantity is found to be 45,
50, and, in some situations, 60 inches, whilst the average
of the kingdom at large is from 30 to 40 inches.
The prevalent winds in England are W. and S.W. Our Prevailing
outward-bound merchantmen are often detained, from the winda.
want of a northerly or easterly wind ; but it rarely happens
that our homeward bound are kept beating in the channel
by the want of a westerly breeze. In these respects, also,
the case is the same on the opposite shores ot the Con¬
tinent ; the Dutch and French outward-bound vessels often
experiencing detention from the continuance ot westerly
winds.
Statistics.
Divil divi-
iions.
ENGLAND.
II-—Civil Divisions.
The civil divisions of England are those of counties,
hundreds, and parishes. The county divisions, like several
of our national improvements, date from the reign of Alfred,
and, though subsequently increased by the acquisition of
the three northern counties from the Scotch, have not, in
other respects, experienced much alteration since his time.
The 12 counties of Wales added to the 40 counties of
England, make a total of 52. J he name of “ county cor¬
porate” is given to most of the cities of England, and to
some of the towns; and this distinction, little attended to
by the public, and seldom mentioned but in law papers,
implies that the district in question is governed by its own
sheriffs and other magistrates, to the exclusion of the officers
of the county at large.
The counties of England and Wales have undergone con¬
siderable changes in the ancient territorial sub-divisions of the
country.
_ The observance in Wales of peculiar laws and customs, com¬
bined with the use of another language by the people, naturally
tended to maintain in a marked manner the distinction, which
still exists in a less degree, between the inhabitants of the prin¬
cipality and those of England. Partly with a view to remove
this distinction, an act was passed in the 27th year of Henry
VIII. (a.d. 1535), declaring Wales to be for ever incorporated
with the realm of England, and that all natives of Wales
should enjoy the same liberty as the king’s other subjects, with
the like laws, justice, and customs of tenure. By this statute,
all the marshes or border lands between England and Wales
were either formed into new shires, or added to old ones. The
new counties thus created were Monmouth, Brecon, Radnor,
Montgomery, and Denbigh; Monmouth being named as an
English county.
Few changes have been made in Scotland in respect of
county limits ; although the confused manner in which the
component parts of some of the counties are scattered over
the mainland and islands, and the frequent intermixture in
others of detached parts of adjoining counties, must be pro¬
ductive of inconvenience.
Under the Reform Act, all the large and populous counties
of England have been divided for the purpose of returning ad¬
ditional members to parliament.
Where portions of counties were detached from the main
body of their respective counties, and locally situate in other
counties, it was enacted that, for the purposes of elections,
every such portion should be considered to be part of the county
or division by which it was wholly surrounded, or, if bounded
by more than one, of that county" with which it had the longest
common boundary. Some exceptions were, however, admitted ;
and the town of Dudley, with other portions of the county of
Worcester, lying in contiguous counties, and certain portions
of the county of Flint, were allowed to remain undisturbed.
A bill was subsequently passed, in 1844, under which every
detached part of a county7 in England and Wales has become,
since the 20th October 1844,/or all purposes part of the county
to which it had been annexed for parliamentary purposes.
About one-half of the English counties have thus been altered
more or less. The only considerable changes, however, are
those affecting the counties of Worcester and Salop, Durham
and Northumberland. An addition of surface, amounting to
17,403 acres, with 20,401 inhabitants, has been acquired by
Worcestershire, consisting chiefly of portions of the parish of
Hales-owen lying in that county, but belonging to Salop, from
which they have been severed. Northumberland has gained
an additional area of 64,389 acres, containing 19,035 inhabi¬
tants, by the annexation of the districts of Islandshire and
Norhamshire, and other parts of Durham which were locally
situated either north of Northumberland or in the body of that
county. The other counties which have increased are Oxford
(by nearly 7000 acres), Sussex, Bucks, Devon, Hereford, and
York.
719
Besides Durham and Salop, the English counties which have Statistics,
undergone some curtailment of territory are Hants, Berks, v
Hertford, Wilts, Dorset, Cornwall, Somerset, Gloucester, Staf¬
ford, and Monmouth.
Ot the Welsh counties only four are altered, viz., Brecon,
Radnor, Montgomery, and Denbigh; and these are affected
to a very trifling extent.
Changes have also been made in the boundaries of many of
the old corporate towns, while the limits of others equally re¬
quiring readjustment have been allowed to remain undisturbed.
1 he obvious necessity, arising from the rapid growth of many
of the boroughs, for an extension of their limits, in relation to
the parliamentary franchise, was no less apparent with respect
to municipal government; and it was deemed just and reason¬
able that all possessing a community of interest, as inhabitants
of one town, should, while sharing many common advantages,
also bear their due proportion of the burdens attaching to the
corporate institutions. A general revision, and the extension
where necessary of the boundaries of boroughs, was therefore
deemed an essential part of the plan of reform, under the Muni¬
cipal Corporation Bill. When that measure became law, the
commissioners appointed to inquire into the municipal boun¬
daries had accomplished only a small portion of their task. It
was provided, therefore, as a temporary arrangement, that with
respect to certain boroughs returning members to parliament,
the parliamentary boundaries should be taken for municipal
purposes until altered by parliament, and that, with respect to
the remaining boroughs, their limits should remain unaltered,
until parliament should otherwise direct.
In 1837 the commissioners made their report, and suggested,
in numerous instances, new municipal boundaries for boroughs
sending members to parliament, and for most of the unrepre¬
sented towns. The general effect of their recommendations
was to extend the existing boundaries, so as to take in suburbs
and localities immediately connected with the towns ; in a few
cases, rural parts included within the ancient limits were to be
left out. Many of the proposed changes were, however, for
various reasons, opposed by the inhabitants ; and the munici¬
pal boundaries are suffered to remain in the state in which they
were left by the act of 5th and 6th Will. IV., cap. 76. Of 178
boroughs in the schedule of that act, 60 were enlarged by the
adoption of the parliamentary limits; but no extension of area
has taken place in 118 boroughs—including the whole of those
not possessing the parliamentary franchise—although no in¬
considerable number of them has strikingly increased in popu¬
lation. As a consequence, it not unfrequently happens that
the municipality scarcely represents the town any more than
the City of London represents the metropolis of the British
empire.1
By the enlargement of the 60 cities and boroughs referred
to, contiguous parts, containing in 1851 a population of 510,852,
have been brought within the pale of municipal institutions ;
the population within the old limits being 1,185,850, and with¬
in the present limits 1,696,702.
The Act for “ the Amendment and Better Administration of
the Laws relating to the Poor,” empowered the Poor Law Com¬
missioners “ to declare so many parishes as they may think fit
to be united for the administration of the Laws for the Relief
of the Poor.” The united parishes were designated Unions.
The act also provided for the election of a representative board
of guardians, and for the appointment of otficers in every union,
by whom the local rates for the relief of the poor, and for many
other purposes, are collected and expended. The Unions,
under the Act for Registering Births, Deaths, and Marriages
in England, were subdivided into as many smaller districts as
the Commissioners, subject to the approval of the Registrar-Ge¬
neral, thought fit. The whole of England and Wales has not
been placed under the Poor Law Amendment Act; but the Re¬
gistration Act extends over all England and Wales, which is
thus divided into 624 new districts. A district comprises on
an average three or four subdistricts, to each of which there
is a registrar of births and deaths. A subdistrict extends over
a certain number of parishes or townships, except in those
rare cases where the parish is large, and is itself made one or
more subdistricts. The subdistricts contain on an average
1 The borough of Stockton may he mentioned as an example. Its ancient limits, to which the present reformed municipal jurisdic¬
tion is confinedf contained a population, in 1851, of only 1867; while the town, of which the borough forms but a fraction, contained
9808 inhabitants.
720
ENGLAND.
Statistics, seven parishes, townships, or places, of which the population
is, in 16,008 cases, separately returned.
To the new districts a staff of officers is attached ; and, where
they are unions, there are the clerk to the Board of Guardians,
relieving officers, medical officers, superintendent registrars,
and registrars, whose duties are defined by the Poor Law Board
and the Registrar-General. A system of rating is in opera¬
tion ; and the districts have practically been found useful for
other administrative purposes besides those which were in con¬
templation at the time of their formation. Besides the sub¬
divisions—ancient and modern—which have been described,
others exist for a great variety of purposes: these are often of
a complex character, and evidently made quite independently
of each other, as the boundary lines cross in every direction.
The late Mr Rickman noticed that “ there are in England
and Wales about 550 parishes which are known to extend into
two counties, or into more than one hundred, or other division; ”
and he pointed out “ the scattered confusion of the component
parts” of the ancient hundreds, as well as the irregularities in
their size: “ so irregular,” he says, “ is this distribution of
territory, that while some of the southern hundreds do not ex¬
ceed two square miles in area, nor one thousand persons in
population, the hundreds of Lancashire average 300 square
miles in area, and the population contained in one of them
(Salford hundred) [in 1831] is 430,000.’’ . .
The cause of these irregularities is evident. The division ot
England and Wales into hundreds, on the original plan, of
which Kent and the counties in Wessex offer examples, was
never carried out; and in the course of the thousand years that
have since elapsed, the face of the country has undergone great
changes : the distribution of the population—which from less
than four millions has increased to eighteen millions—is no
longer the same. A hundred no longer contains a hundred
families. Bridges have brought into intimate union popula¬
tions which rivers divided; villages have grown into vast
cities; the mining and manufacturing industry of the last
hundred years has covered the woodlands, wastes, and deso¬
late lands of the midland and northern counties with people.
The hundred courts, the manor courts, the shire motes, the
burgh motes, have been superseded by the petty sessions, the
county courts, the town councils, the boards of guardians , that
discharge duties—such as the election of members of parlia¬
ment, and the relief of the poor—never contemplated when the
counties, boroughs, and hundreds were formed; while the sys¬
tem of frank-pledge in tythings has disappeared. Lor all the
useful purposes of comparison and statistical inquiry, the old
divisions in many parts of the kingdom are entirely unsuited.
The legislature, then, without any settled plan, has in recent
acts of parliament entirely disregarded the old divisions of
the country into hundreds, and has changed in^ numerous in¬
stances the boundaries and divisions of counties as well as
boroughs. „ _TT , „„ p
Counties.—The 40 counties of England, 12 of A\ ales, ot
Scotland, making 84 counties in Great Britain, vary much in
size and population. The English counties consist of a vari¬
able number of hundreds, and until latterly had detached parts
within each other’s limits. ,
The shire is an important subdivision of the. kingdom, ana
each shire has numerous officers: (1) a lord-lieutenant, who
is also (2) custos-rotulorum, or keeper of the archives, except
in counties of cities ; (3) a sheriff, who appoints (4) an under¬
sheriff ; (5) justices of the peace, all appointed by the crown ;
(6) a county treasurer, and (7) a clerk of the peace, genera y
an attorney, who is appointed by the custos-rotulorum, (8)
the county-coroners are elected by the freeholders, as (9)
knights of the shires were formerly. The revenue of the shires
is chiefly derived from rates which are struck by the justices
of the peace in counties at quarter-sessions. The rates, which
were formerly collected by the high constables., or constables
of hundreds, are directed under 7th and 8th \ict. cap. 3o, to
be collected by the boards of guardians, and to be paid by
them to the county treasurer. The county expenditure is
chiefly incurred in maintaining bridges, gaols, police, prisoners,
lunatic asylums, and the various county officers, some of wThom
are paid, although several of the offices are honorary, and are
discharged gratuitously.
Hundreds.—Subdivisions of the shires have existed since
the age of Alfred; and hundreds, tythings, and hides, are
named in the early Saxon laws, charters, and other records.
The notices are, however, by no means precise ; nor are they Statistics.
all consistent, either with themselves, or with what is found to i  /
exist of the ancient divisions in later times. The simplest
view may be thus stated : England was divided into hides—
about 274,950 in number ; and a hide of land, containing .100
or 120 acres, supported a free family ; ten such free families
constituted a tgthing ; ten or twelve tythings, a hundred ; an
indefinite number of hundreds, a shire. The hundred is used
in the Domesday return (1086) as a well-defined territorial
division of the county.
The division of men into tens, twelves, hundreds, and thou¬
sands, on the basis of their system of numeration, is so na¬
tural, that instances occur of its use in the history of almost
every nation ; but it is not probable that Alfred, or any of his
successors or predecessors, ever succeeded in organizing all the
races, tribes, and states in England so simply as the above
theory implies, without reference to other considerations than
mere numbers. If the holdings were ever equal in extent, or
the numbers of men in townships and hundreds the same, they
could not continue unchanged: as the numbers and settlements
of the people increased, and as the properties were so frequently
won and lost by conquest, as well as the other mutations inci¬
dental to societies of men in the civilized as well as the bar¬
barous state. Accordingly, it is found that the hundreds, in
the survey after the Conquest, and the hundreds still remain¬
ing as constituent divisions of the country, differ to such an
extent in area and population—not only in different, but in
the same counties, and in similar situations—that it is difficult
to conceive they could ever have been formed on a uniform
scale of area, or of free population.
Sessional Divisions.—'The divisions existing in all the coun¬
ties of England and Wales for the purposes of special and
petty sessions, are in general based on the hundreds and other
ancient county subdivisions. By the authority of various acts
of parliament the justices at quarter sessions may alter and re¬
arrange these sessional divisions, and they are empowered to
adopt the same limits as those of poor-law unions, l.he divi¬
sional meetings of the justices or petty sessions in 1831
amounted to 609 in England and Wales.
For the purposes of assize and gaol delivery, there are in
England and Wales eight circuits of the judges, besides the
jurisdiction of the central criminal court at London. Ihe cir¬
cuits are known as the Home, Midland, Norfolk, Oxford,
Northern, Western, North Wales, and South Wales circuits,
and include the counties situated in the parts of the country
implied by their names.
Municipal Cities and Boroughs.—When the Anglo-Saxons
first invaded England “the woods” were no longer “the
towns” of the natives. The Britons had been collected m
cities, polished but subjugated by the Roman legionaries, who
lived in villas and towns, on taxes which their publicans col¬
lected. Unlike the adventurous colonists and “Pilgrim fa¬
thers,” who planted the British race in America, they did not
find nations less civilized than themselves on the land, but
more corrupted ; less capable of freedom, and of political or¬
ganization. As the Roman towns still existed, some of t leir
forms and institutions may have remained; and have impressed
on the populations of London, A ork, and other cities, some
modification of the national institutions of the Anglo-baxons
and Scandinavians. Those modifications can, however, rare y
be traced. The condition and circumstances were no longer
the same in the fertile cultivated soil of England as they had
been on the western shores of the continent, and the new races
adapted themselves to the change ; but their relations to each
other, to their families, and to their princes, required free in¬
stitutions of a character very different from the provincial
organization of the declining Roman empire. 1 e > axon
borough was a modification of the hundred; the burgesses were
freemen bound to each other as neighbours, responsible for
each other to surrounding communities, sharing common bur¬
thens ; classified further in guilds of trades, or companies,
which sprang up with the divisions, of labour; and banded
firmly together for the defence of their walls and dwellings..
The hundred necessarily underwent some modification in
the towns ; and in this as in other cases, it soon.ceased to de¬
signate a specific number of men. But it is of importance to
observe, that in the early times the same principles of subdi¬
vision, organization, and government were applied alike to
town and country populations.
ENGLAND.
721
Statistics. London, Winchester, Abingdon, and some other boroughs
°f importance, are not entered in Domesday, and were pro¬
bably not surveyed by the commissioners of William 1., but
the customs of 41 cities and burghs are noticed with some de¬
tail.
The eleven cities of London, Bristol, Canterbury, Chester,
Exeter, Gloucester, Lichfield, Lincoln, Norwich, Worcester,
York ; and the five towns of Kingston-on-Hull, Newcastle-
on-Tyne, Nottingham, Poole, Southampton, in England; and
two, Caermarthen and Haverfordwest, in Wales, are “ counties
of themselves ; ” as was also the city of Coventry until lately.
The cities on the old Roman sites maintained their independ¬
ence of the country around them, as well as of the early Saxon
kingdoms, to a larger extent than other towns ; as is indicated
by their independent county jurisdiction.
Some of the ancient boroughs fell into decay ; new boroughs
sprang up in other parts of the country; many towns were
created boroughs for purposes not now very intelligible ; and
with the rapid progress of population which commenced after
1750, and has gone on for nearly a century—through three
successive generations—the houses have spread beyond the
limits of the old boroughs and cities. In 1835 a great change
was made in their constitution ; and the limits of many were
enlarged by the adoption of the new boundaries settled for
purposes of parliamentary elections, after an inquiry by com¬
missioners into the circumstances of each place. The affairs of
municipal boroughs are administered by councils elected in the
several wards ; by a mayor and aldermen, elected out of the
council; auditors and assessors, elected by the burgesses; a
treasurer and a town-clerk, appointed by the council. Such
functionaries exist in every reformed borough ; others may be
appointed. Justices of the peace may be appointed by the
Queen; so may salaried police magistrates and a recorder,
after petition by the council to the crown. There are coroners
of the borough. The control of the police, the administration
of justice, the lighting and paving of the streets, and other
local functions, are in the hands of the corporations ; the bur¬
gesses and householders, in many municipal boroughs, elect
burgesses by majorities to serve in parliament.
During the period of nearly twenty years which have elapsed
since the investigation was made into the condition of the mu¬
nicipal boroughs, some of the unreformed corporations have
ceased to exercise any active functions, having become, in fact,
either extinct or dormant, while others, although still claim¬
ing to be corporations, are municipal only in name.
By section 141 of the Municipal Corporation Act, charters
of incorporation may be granted to towns, on the petition of
the inhabitant householders, if Her Majesty, by the advice of
the privy-council, shall think fit to grant them. At the period
of the census only 19 towns had petitioned to be incorporated,
and all of them, except one—Huddersfield—have received
charters.
The municipal organization, as regards the number of towns,
stands thus:—
England and Wales—
Reformed boroughs named in the schedules annexed to 1 -^g
the Municipal Corporation Act , j
Boroughs which have had charters of incorporation j ^g
granted to them since the passing of that act J
London, and the other unreformed corporate towns  89
England and Wales  285
Scotland—
Number of cities and burghs governed by the Muni- 1 g3
cipal Acts for Scotland J
Corporate towns in Great Britain... 368
The 196 reformed boroughs in England and Wales and the
city of London contain 4,473,138 inhabitants. One-half of the
population (2,220,542) is found in 17 boroughs ; each of which
contains more than 60,000 inhabitants.
It is found, also, that 102 boroughs, or more than half of the
total number, contain less than 9000 inhabitants in each ; and
in the aggregate 472,551 inhabitants.
A population ranging from 2000 to 7000 is that most com¬
monly met with ; 87 boroughs fall under this category. 27
municipal boroughs have from 20,000 to 40,000 inhabitants,
8 have from 40,000 to 60,000 inhabitants ; 7 from 60,000 to
80,000 inhabitants ; 2 from 80,000 to 100,000 inhabitants ; 5
VOL. VIII.
from 100,000 to 200,000 inhabitants; 3 have 200,000 inhabi- Statistics,
tants and upwards.
Although some of the most populous and important towns
in England have obtained charters of incorporation since 1835,
several considerable places are still without a municipal organ¬
ization. Amongst these may be named, in England and Wales,
the metropolitan parliamentary boroughs of
Pop. in 1851.
The Tower Hamlets    539,111
Finsbury  323,772
Marylebone      370,957
Greenwich  105,784
Lambeth   251,345
Westminster  241,611
Census Report, 1851.
III.—Harbours, Roads, Canals, Bridges.
Portsmouth, Milford Haven, and Plymouth, are the Harbours,
finest harbours in England, and are surpassed by few if
any in the world. Of these, Portsmouth is entitled to the
pre-eminence. This noble harbour is about as wide at its
mouth as the Thames is at Westminster Bridge, expand¬
ing within into a capacious basin, almost sufficient to con¬
tain the whole navy of Great Britain. Its entrance is un¬
obstructed by any bar or shallow; and it has throughout
water adequate to float the largest man-of-war at the low¬
est tides. The anchorage ground is excellent, and it is
entirely free from sunken rocks, sand-banks, or any similar
obstructions. The western side of the harbour is formed
by the island of Portsea; and on its south-western ex¬
tremity, at the entrance to the harbour, is situated the
town of Portsmouth, and its large and important suburb
of Portsea. Here are docks and other establishments
for the building, repair, and outfit of ships of war, con¬
structed upon a very large scale, and furnished with every
conveniency.
Portsmouth harbour has the additional and important
advantage of opening into the celebrated road of Spithead,
lying between the Hampshire coast and the Isle of W ight,
and forming a safe and convenient retreat for the largest
fleets.
Milford Haven deeply indents the southern part of Pem¬
brokeshire. It is of great extent, and has within it many
bays, creeks, and roads. The water is deep and the an¬
chorage ground excellent; and being completely land¬
locked, ships lie as safely in it as if they were in dock.
Plymouth, which, after Portsmouth, is the principal naval
depot of England, has an admirable double harbour. The
roadstead in Plymouth Sound has been much improved by
the construction, at a vast expense, of a stupendous break¬
water more than 1700 yards in length. This bulwark pro¬
tects the ships lying inside from the effects of the heavy
swell thrown into the Sound by southerly and south-easterly
winds.
London stands at the head of the river ports of Great
Britain. Considering the limited course of the Thames,
there is probably no river that is navigable for large ships
to so great a distance from the sea, or whose mouth is less
obstructed by banks. London is mainly indebted for the
unrivalled magnitude of her commerce to her favourable
situation on this noble river; which not only gives her all
the advantages of an excellent port, accessible at all times
to the largest ships, but renders her the emporium of the
extensive, rich, and populous country comprised in the
basin of the Thames.
The Mersey, now the second commercial river in the
empire, is more incommoded with banks than the Thames,
and is in all respects inferior, as a channel of navigation, to
the latter. Still, however, it gives to Liverpool very great
advantages; and the new channel which has recently been
discovered in the banks promises to be of much importance
in facilitating the access to and from the port.
722
ENGLAND.
Statistics. Bristol and Hull are both river ports. Owing to the
extraordinary rise of the tide in the Bristol channel, the
former is accessible even to the largest ships. The Hum¬
ber is a good deal impeded by banks; but it also is naviga¬
ble as far as Hull by very large vessels. The Tyne admits
vessels of very considerable burden as far as Newcastle,
which, next to London, is the most important shipping port
in the empire.
Roads. It was not until after 1660 that the public took an ac¬
tive part in regard to the highways. Turnpikes were at
that time placed on the great North Road, in the counties
of Hertford, Huntingdon, and Cambridge ; but it was not
till after the peace of 1748 that adequate exertions were
made to redeem our public roads from their wretched con¬
dition. After 1760 the increasing price of agricultural pro¬
duce, and the general spirit of improvement, had the most
beneficial operation in this respect; and in the fourteen
years from that time to 1774, no less than 452 acts were
passed for the amelioration of our roads. It was then also
that our inland navigation assumed an aspect of activity.
The Bridgewater and Trent Canals were commenced; yet
the number of canal acts which passed between 1760 and
1774 was only 19. The American war interfered consi¬
derably with public improvement; and it is only from the
date of its cessation that we enter upon an active and pros¬
perous era.
The total length of paved streets and roads in towns in
England and Wales may be taken, according to a parlia¬
mentary return in 1843, at about 29,000 miles; the total
length of all other roads at nearly 96,000 miles. In France
the highways are under the care of government, and are
kept in repair out of the general taxes, without any tolls or
turnpike dues; in England they are managed by the re¬
spective counties, represented by commissioners, and no
part of the expense comes out of the public treasury. It
is defrayed partly by local imposts, partly by dues levied;
and the local impost is discharged either by labour, or by
composition money.
In consequence of the superior means of communication
afforded by the numerous railways, a great reduction has
taken place both in the revenue and expenditure of the
turnpike trusts. The receipts from tolls and other sources
in England and North Wales, which, in 1835, amounted to
L.1,755,222 were reduced in 1852 to L. 1,142,592, and the
total expenditure for repairs, improvements, interest of debt,
&c., which in 1835 was L.1,733,404, was reduced in 1852
to L.l,126,384.
The returns for turnpike roads in South Wales are kept
separate according to act 7 and 8 Viet., cap. 91.
According to the general law of England every public
highway is a parochial charge, and is maintained by the
rate-payers of the parish in which it is situated. Conse¬
quently each road or class of roads was constructed under
the authority of private legislation.
The local turnpike acts were always temporary, generally
limited to 20 or 30 years, probably with the view of the
loans being paid off before the expiry of the term, but as
the acts were usually renewed, the debts were unpaid and
undiminished for many years.
The result of this state of things has been, that the turn¬
pike debt of England amounted, in 1849, to L.6,382,647,
and the unpaid interest upon the debt amounted, for the
same time, to L.l,587,010. The bonded debt on the turn¬
pike trusts in England and North Wales in 1852 amounted
to L.5,813,728, and the unpaid interest to L.l,126,507.
The debt on the roads in South Wales, at the same period,
amounted to L.217,020, which is payable by annuity, and
will cease partly in 1875, and altogether in 1879.
Railroads, The railroads have, since 1830, along with steam-vessels,
placed the English population in direct and easy communica¬
tion, not only with each other, but with the rest of the world.
The total length of railways in England and Wales open Statistics,
for traffic at 31st December 1853, was 5811 miles. The V—
number of passengers conveyed in that year was 84,222,961,
of whom considerably more than one-half were first and
second class passengers. The receipts from the goods
traffic somewhat exceed those from the passenger traffic.
The length of lines in course of construction at 30th June
1853 was 491, while the length authorized was 2969 miles,
nearly 2500 miles being neither open nor in course of con¬
struction.
The total amount of capital and loans authorized to be
raised by railway companies in the United Kingdom previous
to 31st December 1852 (after deducting amounts proposed
for lines subsequently abandoned), was L.356,610,456, of
which L.264,165,680 had been raised: the amount raised
in 1852 was L.l6,398,993. The number of passengers
that travelled by railway in the half year ended 30th
June 1854 was 45,080,316; the amount of receipts from
passengers was L.4,092,661; from horses, carriages, lug¬
gage, and mails, L.505,116; from general merchandise,
cattle, minerals, &c., L.4,826,825 ; total for six months,
L.9,424,602.
Connected with the railways is the electric telegraph, Electric
which is now stretched along thousands of miles across the Telegraph,
length and breadth of the land, or sunk in the depths of the
ocean, conveying intelligence between distant points with
the rapidity of lightning.
In 1846, an association under the title of the Electric
Telegraph Company, obtained an act of incorporation, and
having bought up the various patents for electric telegraphs,
they secured the exclusive right of sending intelligence
through the kingdom by this means. Since then, they have
been extending their operations in all directions; but great
as are the advantages conferred on the country by this in¬
vention, there is reason to expect that they will be vastly
increased and extended, as the instrument is capable of still
greater improvements ; and when the charges for the con¬
veyance of intelligence are reduced to their proper level,
the electric telegraph will be much more generally used.
The canals of England are extremely numerous ; in fact, Canals,
no country except Holland can enter into competition with
us in this respect. The English canals are of moderate
size, being from 25 to 30, 35, and 40 feet in width, and,
in general, from 5 to 6 feet in depth; the barges navi¬
gating them are very long, frequently 70 or 80 feet, on a
width of 10, 12, or 14 feet; but in many cases their di¬
mensions, at least their width, are necessarily smaller, the
less frequented canals being narrower than those we have
mentioned. Could the application of steam to naviga¬
tion have been foreseen, the canals of England would
probably have been made wider. For full details with re¬
spect to the canals of England, and the recent improve¬
ments in their construction, and in travelling by them, the
reader is referred to the article Navigation Inland.
The principal bridges in the kingdom are the railway Bridges-
bridges across the Tweed and the Tyne, and the seven erect¬
ed across the Thames at London, tour of which have been
opened since 1817. Of these, two, the Southwark and Vaux-
hall, are of cast-iron, the one being of three very large
arches, and the other of nine arches, each of 78 feet span.
The first example of an iron bridge on a large scale, either in
England or any other country, was that erected in 1/96 at
Wearmouth in Durham, the span of which was 240 feet.
The chain bridge over the Menai Straits, and the tubular
bridge over the same place, are wonderful examples of en¬
gineering skill. See article Bridges, &c.
IV.—Agriculture.
Of the state of English agriculture in former ages we can
form some idea from a reference to the acts of the legisla¬
ture. In these we find, at a very early date, the traces of
Statistics.
\
ENGLAND.
that policy which expects abundance and cheapness to result
from discouraging the exportation of corn. No permission
to export seems to have been granted till 1394, and then
only on the payment of certain duties; in 1436 some addi¬
tional latitude was given, and exportation was allowed when
the quarter of wheat did not exceed a price corresponding to
nearly 13s. of our present money. The reign of Elizabeth was
the epoch of a great rise in the prices of corn, originating, not,
as was vulgarly asserted, in the “ decay of tillage,” but in
the sudden depreciation of money, produced (as has been
explained in the article Corn Laws) partly by degradation
of the coin, and partly by the influx of silver from the mines
of America. The complaints of the “ decay of tillage,” if
they express anything more than the ordinary discontent
of the ignorant part of the consumers, are to be accounted
for by the gradual consolidation of small farms, and by in¬
closing land for pasture, with a view to the exportation of
wool. In these days, however, government participated in
the prejudices of the people; and the general purport of
the acts passed under Elizabeth and her successors was to
shackle exportation and prevent a rise of price. It was not
till the reign of Charles II. (1670) that the exportation of
corn was exempted from taxation ; and it is from 1689 that
we are to date that fundamental change in our corn laws
which encouraged exportation by a bounty.
Clover, turnips, and potatoes were introduced into Eng¬
land in the seventeenth century. In the Improver Improved,
published by Blythe in 1649, we find the first traces of what
may be termed the modern system of husbandry ; that is, of
a rotation of crops, and of the occasional substitution of green
for culmiferous crops. But the practice, though thus early
introduced, and though it lies at the foundation of all good
husbandry, made but little progress for a very long period.
The writings and the example of the famous Jethro Tull,
in the early part of last century, notwithstanding he carried
his theory to an excess, did much to introduce the practice
of drilling, and had a very favourable influence on agricul¬
ture. Nothing, however, did half so much to accelerate the
march of improvement, as the wonderful increase of manu¬
factures and commerce, and consequently of the town popu¬
lation, subsequently to the peace of Paris in 1763. The
greater number, and still more the improved circumstances,
of the people, occasioned, in particular, a very great increase
in the demand for butchers’ meat. And it is to this cir¬
cumstance that we are mainly indebted for the extraordi¬
nary improvements which have been made during the last
sixty or seventy years in stock husbandry. But the indirect
influence of the augmented demand for butchers’ meat has
been equally conspicuous, and has proved of the utmost ad¬
vantage to arable husbandry, inasmuch as it caused a cor¬
responding increase in the demand for green food, that is,
for turnips, clover, &c. This did incomparably more than
anything else to introduce that intermixture of green and
culmiferous crops which is so essential to good 'husbandry ;
and it was the real cause of the greatest of all agricultural
improvements, namely, the substitution of turnips for fal¬
lows on all light lands. This has increased the productive
power of the soil in a degree not easy to be conceived ; and,
coupled with the frequent substitution of beans for naked
fallows on stiff’ clay lands, has in all probability more than
doubled the available raw produce of the kingdom.
For a lengthened series of years England exported large
quantities of corn. But notwithstanding the vast additions
made to the supplies of corn by the improvements alluded
to, the still greater increase of wealth and population, after
occasioning, first a diminution, and next a cessation of ex¬
portation, has for many years past rendered a large impoita-
tion necessary to meet the consumption of the country. It
has been supposed by some that this change was owing to the
alterations effected in the laws with respect to the impoitation
of corn in 1772 ; but we have elsewhere shown that there is
723
no ground for any such opinion. (See Corn Laws and Statistics.
Corn Trade.)
The principal crops cultivated in England and Wales are
wheat, oats and beans, barley and rye, turnips and potatoes,
with clover, hops, flax, &c. It is to be regretted that no
estimate, derived from authentic returns, has been formed
on which much reliance can be placed, either of the extent
of land under different crops, or of the average product
per acre. Mr Caird, in his work on English Agriculture
p. 522, gives the following estimate as the result of his
survey of England in 1850-51 of the extent of land under
the different species of crops, and in fallow, in England:—
Acres.
Wheat  3,416,750
Barley and rye  1,416,750
Oats and rye      2,000,000
Beans and pease  1,139,000
Clover  2,277,750
Roots (turnips, mangold, potatoes, &c.).;... 2,116,750
Hops, gardens of all sorts, &c  150,000
Fallow and rape  1,300,000
13,817,000
An estimate of the extent of land in England and Wales
under the principal descriptions of crops in 1852-53, with
the average rate of produce per acre, the value of such pro¬
duce, &c., will be found in our article Corn Laws and
Corn Trade. The recent agricultural reports of Scot¬
land have shown that, as regards that country, the previous
estimates of the extent of land under the different kinds of
crops were very far from being correct. The result of these
reports proves the great difficulty of arriving even at an
approximation to the truth in such estimates, and that it
is only by authentic returns that accuracy on that and simi¬
lar subjects can be obtained; and it is by no means credit¬
able to the country, that till this day no effectual measures
have been taken to procure authentic information as to the
amount of food which England can supply for the sub¬
sistence of her population ; but after the example which
has been set by the rural tenantry of Scotland, it is to be
hoped that another year will not be permitted to pass till
measures have been taken to procure equally satisfactory
returns of the agricultural capabilities of England. In the
meantime, we make the accompanying statements upon the
most reliable estimates we have been able to procure.
Various estimates have been formed of the number of Cattle,
cattle in England and Wales ; but judging from the best
authorities, they may be said to amount to about 4,500,000.
By systematic breeding, turnip feeding, and other means,
the quality of the cattle has been much improved even
within the present century. The principal breeds are the
North Devons, Herefords, Suffolk duns, and the leeswater
short-horns. .
M‘Culloch estimates the number of horses in Great Bn- Horses,
tain at from 1,300,000 to 1,400,000. The English horses
are justly celebrated for their size and condition ; and ex¬
cite the admiration of foreigners who are accustomed to the
miserable horses abroad. The famous London drays are
reared in the fens and rich pastures of the midland coun¬
ties. The Suffolk punches are compact, hardy, and very
active, and have been long reared in the county from which
they take their name. Another well-known English breed
is the Cleveland bays, which are properly carriage horses,
but in their native district they are largely employed in
fieldwork. . , ,
The number of sheep in England and Wales may be Sheep,
estimated at about 27,000,000. The distinct breeds and
varieties are very numerous. The most important and the
most widely diffused are the Leicesters, which constitute
the staple breed of the Midland counties. The Lincolns
were at one time large ungainly animals, but by crossing
them with Leicesters the character of the breed has been
724
Statistics.
Produce of
grass¬
lands.
Rent.
Farmers’
capital,
profits, &c.
Size of
farms.
ENGLAND.
entirely changed, and it is now, in fact, a variety of the
Leicester with larger frame and heavier fleece than the pure
breed. This variety is reared in immense numbers on the
wolds and heaths of Lincolnshire. The black-faced or
heath breed is found on the mountainous parts of York¬
shire, Lancashire, Cumberland, and Westmoreland, being
better adapted than any other for elevated pa-tures. The
chief of the other breeds are the Cotswolds, New Oxfords,
Teeswaters, Kents, South Downs, and Dorsets, whose
names indicate the districts in which they chiefly prevail.
Merinos were introduced about the beginning of the pre¬
sent century, and were imported in large numbers after our
alliance with Spain in 1809. Opinions differ in regard to
their utility, the carcass not having answered so well as the
fleece. Considerable advantage, however, has been derived
from crossing them with our own breeds. The annual pro¬
duce of wmol is calculated at 556,000 packs of 240 lbs. each.
The great pasturage counties are Leicester, Northamp¬
ton, Lincoln, and Somerset. Of the counties producing
butter and cheese, the principal are Cheshire, Gloucester¬
shire, and Wiltshire. But notwithstanding the immense
supplies of these articles produced at home, the demand is
such, that at an average we import about 130,000 cwts. a-
year of foreign butter, and about an equal quantity of
cheese, principally from Holland. The average annual im¬
portation of Irish butter into England cannot be precisely
ascertained ; but in 1825 it amounted to 425,000 cwts., and
since that time has much increased.
The produce of grass lands may be determined in two
ways; either by ascertaining the quantity and value of the
different articles annually produced, or by taking a general
rough average value per acre. The former would be the
most satisfactory mode; but the details are too numerous
and too loose to admit of their being put forward with
much confidence. We believe, however, that the annual
value of the various products derived from pasture land may
be estimated, on an average, at about L.3, 10s. an acre,
being equivalent, upon 17,000,000 acres, to L.59,500,000.
The rent of land in England and Wales is usually esti¬
mated at from one-fifth to one-fourth of the value of the
produce, which, taking the latter at L. 130,000,000, would
give from L.26,000,000 to L.32,500,000, or L.29,250,000
at an average, as the rent of the kingdom. We incline to
think that this is pretty near the real amount. In 1810 the
rent of England and Wales, as ascertained by the property-
tax commissioners, was L.29,500,673 ; and the general
opinion seems to be, that the rent at present is about equal
to the rent in 1810; the rise that took place in the four suc¬
ceeding years having been balanced by the subsequent fall.
Since 1851 the rent of land has been gradually rising.
The capital employed in the cultivation and stocking of
the land in England cannot be estimated, at the present
prices, at less than from L.6 to L.7 an acre; which, ex¬
cluding waste land, would give a total capital of from
L.172,494,000 to L.201,243,000. It appears from the pro¬
perty-tax returns for 1810, that the profits made by the
occupiers were almost identical with the rent. But it will
be observed, that besides the interest on, or return for, the
capital employed in farming, the profits in question included
all that the occupiers received on account of their trouble
in superintendence, and for the greater part of their own
labour and that of their families.
We have already, in the article Agriculture, treated
of the points of superiority in our husbandry over that of
the Continent; ascribing it to various causes, and to none
more than the medium size of our farms, which differ equally
from the large unmanageable tracts held by Polish noble¬
men, and the diminutive occupancies so common amongst
the French peasantry, particularly since the Revolution.
The size of farms in England is greatest in the best-
cultivated districts, that is, in the counties to the east of the
metropolis, viz., Kent, Essex, Suffolk, and Norfolk, and in Statistics,
the various chalk districts. Farms are also extensive in V .
Northumberland. In these counties the engagements of
farmers are for larger sums than in East Lothian, Berwick¬
shire, or any part of Scotland, rents being frequently from
L.800 to L.1200 and L.1500 a-year. In more retired dis¬
tricts, particularly in Cumberland, Westmoreland, and
Wales, the occupancies, whether farmed or held in property,
are in general very small ; and an average of all the farms
ofEngland and Wales would not much exceed L.l50 a-year.
By the census of 1851, it appears that there are 285,936
farms in Great Britain, of the average size of 102 acres; in
England and Wales the farms amount to 225,318, or 111
acres on an average; in Scotland 56,650 farms have an
average size of 74 acres. The average English farm, it
will be seen, differs little in size from the Hyde of the
Anglo-Saxons, which according to some estimates con¬
tained 100, according to others, 120 acres. Half of the
territory of Great Britain, two-thirds of the English terri¬
tory, and one-fifth part of Scotland, are thus asserted to be
occupied as farms. The rest remains unaccounted for; and
the greater part of it is probably hill, moor, marsh, or other
less fertile ground ; as well as water and land now entirely
sterile. The hill pastures are not included in the farms to
which they are attached.
Two-thirds of the farms in Great Britain are of a size
under 100 acres: or, taking the exact 'proportions, in a
thousand farms 0*12 are under 100 acres; 187 are 100 and
under 200 acres ; 137 are 200 and under 1000 acres; and
4 are 1000 acres and upwards. The proportions to 1000
farms in England and Wales are 638 under 100 acres ; 205
of 100 and under 200 acres; 154 of 200 and under 1000
acres ; and 3 of 1000 acres and upwards. In Scotland there
is at once a great excess of small and of large holdings.
There are 360 farms in Scotland, and 771 farms in England
of 1000 acres and upwards. There are 142,358 farms in
England, and 44,469 farms in Scotland, each of which is
under 100 acres. In England and Wales the large hold¬
ings abound in the south-eastern counties and in the eastern
counties ; the small farms in the north-midland counties,
in Yorkshire, in Wales, and in the north-western counties,
comprising Lancashire and Cheshire. Nearly all the farms
(947 in 1000) in the Islands of the British Seas are small,
if farms under 100 acres can be so designated.
Number of Farm Holdings of different Sizes in Great
Britain.
Size of Farm Holdings.
Number of Farm Holdings returned in
'
Under 100 acres
100
200
300
400
500
600
1000 and upwards.
Great
Britain.
190,573
52,912
20,603
9,031
4,063
2,248
2,816
1,132
Total.
283,378
England
and
Wales.
142,358
45,752
18,401
8,061
3,585
1,971
2,372
771
223,271
Scotland
44,469
7,009
2,166
961
471
272
442
360
56,150
Islands
in the
British
Seas.
3,746
151
36
9
7
5
2
1
3,957
Note.—The size of 2558 farms in Great Britain was not stated.
The farmers who returned themselves as actually occupy¬
ing land in England and Wales amounted to 225,318, of
whom 133,620 had 665,651 labourers in their employ on
the census day; 40,650 farmers, employing 5 or more
labourers, had two-thirds or 467,709 of the agricultural la¬
bourers ; 16,501 farmers, each having 10 or more, employed
311,707 of these labourers.
ENGLAND.
Statistics. Farmers employing In and Out-door Labourers in Eng-
wvy—^ land and Wales, from the Census Tables of 1851.
Number of Labourers Number of Farmers
J T- 1 1*111 VI LctllllUia
employed by each farmer. employing the Labourers.
0  *91,698
1       33,564
2   27,949
3   17,348
4    14,109
5     7,622
6   6,449
7     3,849
8   3,806
9   2,423
10  8j632
15  3,221
20  2,073
25  850
30  721
35 n  256
40  275
45    106
50  132
55  65
60 and upwards  170
Total Farmers   225,318
Total Labourers,   665,651
* 91,698 farmers made no return of the number of labourers on
their farms; in the majority of such cases it may be assumed that
no labourers were employed by them.
Leases. Leases in England are, with the exception of particular
districts, granted for seven years only; when the term is
longer the case is peculiar, and applies to land which evi¬
dently requires very extensive improvement. But by far
the largest portion of England is held by tenants at will,
or by tenants holding only from year to year. There is in
such cases something like an assurance, on the part of the
landlord, that the tenant shall not be removed for a certain
number of years, or that otherwise the improvements shall
be considered and allowed for. When a tenant holds from
year to year there is a written agreement, with specified
covenants, the tenant being subjected to fines in the event
of a deviation from them. Both methods are highly inju¬
dicious ; and it is in the prevalence of these that we are to
look for the backward state of agriculture in many of our
finest counties. No class of men have more liberality than
the English landholders; but it would be in vain to expect
a tenant to lay out much capital on the improvement of a
farm of which his tenure comes to an end in seven years,
or may be disturbed by the commission of a trespass or the
occurrence of a death. A tenant so situated loses the habit
of reflecting on improvements, and even of carrying into
effect those which he is aware would in time be advan¬
tageous. If he succeed in saving money, he is much more
likely to place it out at interest than to employ it in his own
business.
Compari- In Scotland the rent bears a higher proportion to the
son with gross produce than in England, being in general not less
Scotland than from one-fourth to one-third. This is owing not cer-
^nd ^he tainly to greater capital, and still less to superior soil, but
on ment. to an exempt;on from tithe, the use of long leases, and
partly, and principally, we believe, to greater economy,
particularly in horses. It is in tillage, not in pasturage, that
the Scotch farmers lay claim to superiority. On comparing
English agriculture with that of the Continent, we find that
our chief superiority consists in machinery and in live stock.
Thrashing machines are little used on the Continent, and all
iron manufacture is of inferior quality. In regard to livestock,
the countries which approach nearest to us are Jutland,
Holstein, Holland, Flanders, and Normandy; all evidently
indebted for their extensive pasturages to the vicinity of
the sea: in the interior of the Continent, pasturage is, in
general, very indifferent. Even in these maritime provinces,
the cattle, though frequently large, are not fattened in the
725
same gradual manner as in our grazing counties; and the Statistics,
meat, consequently, is not of equal flavour. In horses the
inferiority is more apparent to the eye, and holds both as
to size and shape. Flemish horses are large, but heavy;
whilst the Norman breed, though capable of much labour,
is small in size when compared with the English. Nowhere
aie horses seen of such bulk and strength as the drays in
London. If they are, as is supposed, of foreign origin, they
have greatly surpassed the primitive stock, since neither the
Netherlands nor Holstein can now match them.
We cannot close this part of our subject without a few
remarks on the connection between the state of our agri¬
culture and the extent of our financial burdens. Those
who compare the heavy pressure of our taxes with the
lighter burdens of our Continental neighbours, have in gene¬
ral the satisfaction of finding some counterpoise in the su¬
perior dexterity of our people, and the productiveness of
our capital. I his holds true in regard to our navigators,
our merchants, and our manufacturers ; and it holds in
agriculture in regard to grazing, because in grazing little
personal labour is requisite, whilst capital and active habits
of business are of the most beneficial operation. But, in
the department of tillage, much remains to be done ere
England can claim any great superiority. Farms are yet
too small in more than two-thirds of England, and leases
are generally too short. The course of husbandry is fre¬
quently injudicious, the ploughs are on a bad construction,
and there exists a gross misapplication of animal strength.
However light the soil, and hov/ever strong the horses, it
is still customary to put three, four, and frequently five, in
a plough, throughout almost all the south, the west, and
south-west counties. These are the main causes of the
comparative unproductiveness of our finest counties.
The quantity of land still remaining uncultivated in the
shape of wastes and commons is a frequent topic of animad¬
version ; persons unacquainted with agricultural calculation
calling loudly for this island being brought into culture,
whilst the landed interest object to passing a general inclo¬
sure act, or, in other words, to giving unlimited scope to
speculative cultivation. We by no means participate in the
apprehensions of the latter; but we would abstain from
giving any artificial stimulus to this, more than to any other
branch of industry. Let the progress of inclosure be re¬
gulated by the gradual increase of our population, and the
discovery of better methods of turning such land to ac¬
count. No benefit can be derived from applying to this
purpose any more capital than would go to it voluntarily;
and every experienced farmer is aware that the best pro¬
spect of profit lies, not in reclaiming new soils, but in be¬
stowing further labour and expense upon the land already
under culture.
V.—Mines—Quarries—Iron, Copper, Tin, and Salt
Works.
In regard to minerals, England does not yield to any
country in Europe in natural abundance, and takes the lead
of all in the extent to which these rude treasures have been
converted to purposes of utility. Our great superiority lies
in our coal-mines, which are not only more productive, but
much more advantageously situated, than those of the Con¬
tinent. To the mines along the coast a ready conveyance
is afforded by our insular position, and to those in the in¬
terior by our inland navigation. The consumption of coal in
England for domestic use has been estimated at 20,000,000
tons annually. Large as this quantity is, and larger as it
must be when we add to it the vast consumption of manu¬
factories, such as iron-works, copper-works, salt-works,
glass-houses, and the like, there is no reason to apprehend
the exhaustion of this precious mineral; the depth of the
coal beds being very great, and the extent of ground con¬
taining them amounting to many hundred thousand acres.
726
Statistics.
Quarries.
Iron mines
and works.
ENGLAND.
The principal coal-beds lie in Northumberland, Durham,
Derbyshire, Staffordshire, and Glamorganshire. The ports
for shipping coal in large quantities are Newcastle, Sun¬
derland, and Hartlepool. The motive of the tax on coal
exported to foreign countries was thus neither an appre¬
hension of eventual scarcity, nor even a calculation of
revenue, so much as a dread of giving our Continental
neighbours the means of rivalling our manufactures. Coal
is not wanting in France and Germany, but the mines are
at a distance from water carriage, and as yet very imper¬
fectly wrought; whilst for the purpose of domestic fuel the
inhabitants give a preference to wood. After various
changes, the export duty on coal was totally abolished in
1850.
According to the census of 1851 the total number of
persons engaged in the coal trade is 239,459.
In 1853 the exports of coal to foreign countries, accord¬
ing to the real or declared value, amounted to L.1,602,762.
See articles Colliery and Coal Trade.
In quarries, whether of stone or slate, England is not
rich, particularly the eastern half of the kingdom ; and
hence the almost universal use of brick in ordinary build¬
ings. It is not till the traveller reaches Durham that he
finds stone commonly used. In the northern counties
quarries occur frequently; in the southern, those of Port¬
land and Bath are the most considerable. Still the annual
profits of the whole are small.
No branch of our industry has increased more rapidly in
the present age than our iron-works. A century ago it was
computed that we required an annual importation of 20,000
tons of foreign iron ; an importation which for many years
seems to have been on the increase, so as, after the middle
of last century, to carry the quantity required to 30,000,
40,000, and even to 50,000 tons. This supply was brought
to us from Sweden and Russia, and, though burdened with
duty, it was in quantity more than double our native pro¬
duce. But fortunately, after the year 1780, discoveries
were made which increased greatly our supply at home.
Bar iron had been manufactured in England, as on the
Continent, with charcoal fuel only, coal being deemed in¬
applicable to that purpose. Under that impression, the
rapid consumption of the wood in the neighbourhood of our
different iron-works had necessitated a removal, at a great
expense, of materials from one spot to another, and was on
the point of causing an alarming decay in the business,
when our iron-masters, after long perseverance, succeeded
in applying coal to their manufacture. They had to con¬
tend with various prejudices, particularly the supposed in¬
feriority of iron so made ; but, in the course of years,
the manufacture acquired such an extent that there were,
in 1805, 220 blast-furnaces, making 250,000 tons of pig
iron.
The transition from war to peace did a good deal of in¬
jury to some branches of the iron trade ; but the effect of
the change was not of long duration, and the production of
iron has since been astonishingly increased. In 1820 the
produce was calculated at 400,000 tons. 4 he excitement
and speculation of 1824 and 1825 had a wonderful influ¬
ence on this department. According to careful inquiries
made at the time, the furnaces at work in England and
Wales in 1827, with their produce, were as under:
Staffordshire 95 furnaces 216,000 tons.
Shropshire  31   78,000
South Wales  90  272,000
North Wales  12   24,000
Yorkshire  24   43,000
Derbyshire  14   20,500
Totals  266  653,500
Owing to the failure of various railroad and other projects
set on foot in 1825 and 1826, the supply of iron seems to
have greatly exceeded the demand ; and there was a very
heavy fall of prices in 1828, 1829, and 1830, and again in Statistics.
1850 and 1851. But within the last two years prices have
again risen ; and the iron trade is at this moment in a state
of great activity. The produce of the various furnaces of
England and Wales may be estimated at nearly two mil¬
lions of tons.
Account of the number of Furnaces, and of the Quantities
of Iron produced in Great Britain in 1825 and 1848.
South Wales 
North Wales 
Northumberland.
Yorkshire 
Derbyshire  
Staffordshire 
Shropshire 
Scotland 
Totals.
Total
Furnaces
in 1825.
107
14
34
19
107
48
25
354
Produce
of Iron
in 1825.
Tons.
230,412
17,756
39,104
22,672
182,156
89,596
33,540
615,236
Total
Furnaces
in 1818.
196
11
36
28
30
158
34
130
623
Produce
of Iron
in 1848.
Tons.
706,680
16,120
100,000
66,560
95,000
385,840
88,000
550,000
2,008,200
The quantity of iron of all kinds manufactured and un¬
manufactured, exported in 1852, amounted to 1,035,884
tons, besides 25,289 tons of cutlery of the declared value of
L.2,691,697. Now that the railways are nearly completed,
it might have been expected that this would have caused a
stagnation in its manufacture; but iron is now so exten¬
sively used in the construction of steam-vessels, that the
demand has been maintained. For more ample details, the
reader is referred to the article Iron.
Copper-mines have long been known in England, but Copper,
they wrere wrought with very little skill or effect until to¬
wards the year 1700. Even at that time the annual pro¬
duce, after smelting the metal from the ore, was only a few
hundred tons of copper ; and it hardly exceeded 1000 tons
annually down to the middle of last century. From that
time forwards the increase became considerable, as well in
Cornwall as in Devon, North Wales, and Derbyshire ; in
all of which copper-mines were discovered and wrought.
In North Wales there were two mines, Parys and Mona,
which, for some time after the year 1780, yielded annually
a large quantity of ore, but they are no longer so produc¬
tive ; the mines of Devon and Derbyshire continue to be
wrought, but the great product is from Cornwall; the mines
of Cornwall and Devon in 1853 yielded 181,969 tons of
copper ore, the metal obtained from which, at the rate of
6^ per 100, produced 11,823 tons of standard copper, which,
at the average rate of L.140 per ton, amounted to L.1,655,220.
It is the Welsh collieries which afford to Cornwall, as to
Devonshire, the means of smelting; and as the ore is less^
heavy than the coal required for this operation (one ton of
ore requiring from two to two and a-half tons of coal), the
practice is to convey the ore in vast quantities to Wales,
particularly to Swansea. In this, as in other minerals,
France is greatly behind England. She has various copper-
mines, but her coal-mines, at least those hitherto wrought,
are at too great a distance to make such undertakings pro¬
fitable ; and she consequently requires an annual importa¬
tion from England.
In 1854 there were exported of brass and copper manu-
factures 1,851,689 cwts., of the value of L.1,761,878.
Cornwall is also the great seat of the tin-mines oi E,ng- Tjn>
land. A century ago the average produce of our tin-mines
hardly exceeded 1500 tons; it may now be estimated at
about 5000 tons a-year. From abroad we receive tin prin¬
cipally from our Indian possessions, Holland, and the United
States. Of this we imported, in 1853, 49,740 cwts. ^ Ihe
value of tin unwrought, and in plates exported in 1854 was
L.1,307,246.
ENGL
Statistics. The lead-mines of England are principally in Cumber-
land, Northumberland, Derbyshire, Flintshire, and Salop.
Lead. In 1852, England and Wales produced 80,790 tons of lead
ore, and 57,621 tons of lead. Black lead is found in Cum¬
berland, in the romantic district of Borrowdale. The mine
was formerly opened only periodically, in order that the
market may not be overstocked; but for a considerable
number of years past it has been constantly open.
Salt. There is no country so well supplied as England both
with brine springs and beds of fossil or rock salt. The
brine springs are found in Cheshire, in the southern part of
the county, in places contiguous to the river Weaver, and
at Droitwich in Worcestershire. The beds of rock salt,
which are of great thickness, were discovered in the vicinity
of Northwich and Lawton. The greater part of the salt
produced is obtained from the brine springs. Formerly
considerable quantities were produced by the evaporation
of sea water, but since the abolition of the duties most of
the works appropriated to this manufacture have been aban¬
doned. From the brine springs it is obtained (see the ar¬
ticle Cheshire) at the rate of one gallon of solid salt from
four gallons of liquid, whilst common sea water does not
yield above one in twenty-eight. The consumption of salt
in this country is immense. Necker estimated its consump¬
tion in those provinces of France which had purchased an
exemption from the gabelle (paj/s francs redimees) at about
19^ lbs. (Eng.) for each individual. {Administration des
Finances, tome ii. p. 12.) From all that we have been
able to learn on the subject, we believe that the consump¬
tion of the people of this country may be estimated a little
higher, or at 22 lbs.; the difference in our food and habits,
as compared with those of the French, fully accounting for
this increased allowance. On this supposition, and taking
the population of Great Britain at 21,000,000, the entire con¬
sumption will amount to 462,000,000 lbs., or 206,250 tons.
Exclusive of this immense home consumption, we an¬
nually export about 18,000,000 bushels, which, at 56 lbs.
a bushel, are equivalent to 357,143 tons. The Americans
are the largest consumers of British salt.
The cheapness of this important necessary of life is not
less remarkable than its diffusion. Its present cost may be
estimated, at a medium, at from 14s. to 16s. a-ton.
Salt has been at all times a favourite subject of taxation.
In this country it was first taxed in the reign of William
III. In 1798 the duties amounted to 5s. a bushel, but
they were subsequently increased to 15s. a bushel, or about
forty times the cost of the salt. So exorbitant a duty was
productive of the worst effects, and, in particular, occa¬
sioned a great deal of smuggling. The duty having in con¬
sequence become exceedingly unpopular, was finallv repealed
in 1823.
VI.—Fisheries.
At present our space allows no more than a brief notice
of the principal branches of our fisheries.
Mackerel. The mackerel fishery is strictly English, and is carried
on with great vigour on the coasts of Kent and Sussex, in
May, June, and July. Large as the supply is, it would
still admit of augmentation; and herrings also might be
caught in vast quantities on the coast of Kent in October
and November. The desideratum with the fishermen is not
so much a high price as a certain market; and the most effec¬
tual way to procure that is, to quicken, by every possible
means, the conveyance to London, which has been accom¬
plished by the employment of steam-boats and railways.
Pilchards. The pilchard fishery takes place chiefly on the coast of
Devonshire and Cornwall, and, though subject to great
fluctuations, as well from the seasons as from our political
situation relatively to the Continent, forms on the whole
an important branch, employing a number of seamen both
A N 13. 727
in catching the fish and in carrying it to foreign markets. Statistics.
Its season is generally from June to September. ^ v — J
1 he herring, the most important of all our fisheries, is Herrings,
happily now in a state of rapid extension. It formed, dur¬
ing the seventeenth century, the great employment of the
Dutch seamen, and was contemplated by their neighbours
with very jealous eyes. Accordingly, in the reign of Charles
II., particularly after the rupture with Holland in 1672,
several acts were passed for the encouragement of our fish¬
ermen, and in a spirit of hostility to the Dutch. The sub¬
sequent accession of William to our throne, and the long
friendship between the two countries, relaxed the exertions
of government; and it was not till after the peace of 1748
that a large bounty was given on the tonnage of the busses,
or masted vessels, so employed. Still our fishermen proved
unable to compete with the experience and patient perse¬
verance of the Dutch, and it was found necessary to raise
the bounty from 30s. to 50s. per ton. This had the de¬
sired effect, and the number of busses increased ; but the
additional 20s. being withdrawn in 1771, the fishery again
declined. The American war, and, subsequently, the wars
of the French revolution, proved extremely adverse to its
extension. At last, in 1808, an act was passed carrying
the bounty to L.3 a ton on the busses, with a further grant
of 2s. per barrel on all herrings caught, whether in busses
or boats. This act was further confirmed in 1815, and the
bounty per barrel raised to 4s. with the qualification that
the herrings should be gutted before curing.
In consequence of the encouragement thus afforded, the
fishery was materially extended; but this was effected at
a great expense, and had, besides, several bad consequences.
The bounties given by government tempted persons with¬
out capital or skill to enter into the business, to the great
injury of the regular fishermen; so that notwithstanding
the extension of the business, it was found, as is invariably
the case with all departments carried on by means of a
bounty, to be in a very unhealthy state. In consequence
partly of the circumstances now stated, and partly in con¬
sideration of the real and substantial relief given to the
fishery by the abolition of the duties on salt, it was resolved
gradually to withdraw the bounty, which totally ceased in
1830. And we are happy to have to state, that though the
fishery fell off whilst the bounty was in the course of being
withdrawn, it has since been materially increased, and is now
in a better situation than at any former period. From the
year 1811 to 1830, the year when the bounty ceased, the
greatest number of barrels cured in Great Britain was
442,195; and in the year ending December 1853, they
amounted to 778,039, the largest number cured in any pre¬
vious year. The quantities cured in each year vary consi¬
derably according to the abundance of the shoals that appear
upon our coasts in different seasons; but since 1838 the
annual quantity cured has never fallen below 500,000 barrels,
while for the 25 previous years they would scarcely average
300,000. In 1851 there were exported 239,330 barrels of
the declared value of L.228,885.
This fishery is next in importance to that of the herring. Cod Fish-
It is carried on in a great variety of places contiguous toery.
the British shores. The finest fish is caught round the
edges of the Dogger Bank, but within these few years
London has been principally supplied with cod taken be¬
tween Yarmouth and the Nore. The fisheries in the neigh¬
bourhood of the Shetland and Orkney islands are produc¬
tive and valuable, but the great bank of Newfoundland is
the principal station of the distant cod fishery. About 2000
men are employed in the sole fishery.
Salmon are rarely caught except in estuaries or rivers, Salmon,
which in most instances are private property. It is found
in most English rivers, but in such small quantities as to
make the fishing an object of little consequence.
England is chiefly supplied from the fisheries in the Scotch
728
ENGLAND.
Whale
fishery.
Statistics, and Irish rivers, but from some cause or other there is a
growing scarcity in this fish, probably from the weirs or
salmon traps placed in the rivers and estuaries in the way
of the fish when ascending the rivers to spawn.
Greenland was first discovered by the English ; but in
this, as in other branches of navigation, we long allowed the
Dutch to take a lead. It was not till after 1750 that, go¬
vernment having granted a bounty of 40s. a ton on every
vessel employed in the whale fishery, a considerable in¬
crease took place in this branch.
In 1750, the vessels employed were only nineteen ; in
1756 they had increased to sixty-seven. The war soon
caused a decrease of one-half; but at the return of peace
in 1763 this fishery revived, and in 1770 the vessels em¬
ployed amounted to fifty, in 1773 to fifty-five, in 1775 to
ninety-six. The American war again caused a decrease,
and in 1782 the vessels so employed were only thirty-eight.
In 1784 they increased to eighty-nine, and in 1(85 to 140.
After this they exceeded 200 annually till 1793 ; but the
long continuance of the late wars reduced them below half
the number employed previously. In 1852, the whale
fishery employed ships, of the aggregate burden of 16,113
The Newfoundland fishery has been considerable for
fully a century past. As a nursery for seamen, it is ac¬
counted of such consequence as to have formed the object
of a specific article in most of our treaties of peace. I he
fish caught, particularly in time of peace, is sent less to
Britain than to the Catholic countries in the south of Eu¬
rope ; a market subject to all the interruptions attendant
on a change of political relations. The number of vessels
employed in this fishery at different times was as follows:
In 1731  7°
1764  140
1774  254
The American war caused a diminution ; but in
1784 the number was  236
1785   292
At this rate the fishery continued until the war of 1793,
after which, particularly after our rupture with Spain in
1797, it fell off greatly; the fishing vessels in 1798 being
only 140.
the continuance of war, and the aggrandisement of the
French in Italy, occasioned additional depression ; so that
in 1810 the number of our vessels employed at Newfound¬
land did not exceed ninety-two. The peace seemed to
promise a revival of this important nursery of seamen ; and
in the year 1816 the number of vessels which arrived in
Newfoundland was 795, manned by 6000 seamen {Report
of Committee in June 1817, p. 7) ; but the trade, both then
and in 1817 and 1818, proved unprofitable, inconsequence
of indifferent seasons, of the high duty imposed on fish im¬
ported in British vessels into Naples, and of the competi¬
tion of the French fishermen, supported by a high bounty
from their government. The total value of fish exported
from the British colonies in North America in 1851 was
L.827,738.
It is matter of surprise to foreigners that a maritime
nation should not have more effectually cultivated this great
means of facilitating the support of our population. The
ample supply which might have been afforded by the Nymph
Bank, on the south-east coast of Ireland, has been avowedly
neglected; and it was only in 1818 that we made the dis¬
covery of a bank of almost equal productiveness in the
vicinity of Orkney.
Fish is little known to the mass of the people in our in¬
land counties, though the facilities of transport afforded by
the railways is gradually distributing it in larger quantities.
London has always been amply supplied. Mr Mayhew, in
his pamphlet on London Labour and the London Poor,
estimates the weight of fish annually consumed in London
at above 450 millions of pounds, besides an enormous quan- Statistics,
tity of shell-fish. Calculating the fish of all kinds at 3d. per N—
lb. on an average, the amount would exceed five millions
sterling. See the article Fisheries.
YII.—Manufactures.
In this great department of our productive industry ive ^ ool^en
begin with woollens, which, although no longer the largest ac'
of our manufactures in point of exportation, nor even in
the value annually made, is entitled to the first place from
the priority of its establishment, as well as from the sub¬
stantial basis on which it rests. England, from the extent
of her pastures, abounded in wool from a very remote age,
and the inhabitants were doubtless capable of manufacturing
it into rude clothing; each weaver working in his separate
cottage, and with very little aid from machinery. In the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries we appear to have had only
the most humble fabrics, and to have imported all cloth of
finer texture ; sending abroad our wool in quantities to
Flanders, a country the inhabitants of which were at that
period much further advanced than the rest of Europe, with
the exception of Italy. It was in the middle of the four¬
teenth century that a better system was introduced. Flemish
manufacturers were invited over to England, and improved
greatly the quality of our home-made woollens. The seats
of this branch of industry appear at that time to have been
Kent and Essex; afterwards Gloucestershire, and subse¬
quently the West Riding of Yorkshire. It occupied at first
the southern and more improved districts, and spread after^
wards to the northward, on account of the cheapness of
labour, the abundance of coal, and the convenience of water¬
falls for the machinery. The general character of the
woollen manufacture of England has been that of slow pro¬
gress, but of little fluctuation ; the latter evidently a conse¬
quence of its depending more on home consumption than
on exportation. In the long period from 1700 to 1780, the
exports experienced a regular but not rapid rise, amounting
in the latter years to about L.3,500,000, whilst our home
consumption increased in proportion to our augmenting num¬
bers. More recently the manufacture has been materially
improved by the adoption of various important mechanical
inventions in the spinning, weaving, and dressing depart¬
ments. On the whole, however, improvement has been
much less rapid in it than in the cotton manufacture ; so that
whilst our exports of cotton stuffs and yarn have increased
beyond all precedent, those of woollens have been compara¬
tively stationary.
As we shall enter fully, in the article Woollen Manu¬
facture, into the details connected with its history, progress,
and present state, it would be useless, even if our limits
permitted, to anticipate these here. We shall only observe,
therefore, that the entire value of the manufacture is esti¬
mated at about L.25,000,000.
According to the census of 1851, there were employed
in the various branches of the woollen manufactures 176,131
males and 118,642 females.
By far the largest proportion of the raw material of the
manufacture is the produce of our own flocks ; but for many
years past we have imported large quantities. Previously
to 1800 our average imports did not exceed 3,000,000 lbs.,
mostly brought from Spain, the wool of which long main¬
tained a high character. In 1800 our imports increased to
9,000,000.' Since then they have gone on increasing, till,
in 1852, they reached 93,761,458 lbs., of which 43,197,301
lbs. came from our own dependencies in Australia.
In 1831, the exports of woollen manufactures amounted
to L.5,232,013. Since then they have annually increased,
till, in 1852, they reached L.8,730,934.
For an account of the prices and qualities of wool, &c.,
the reader is referred to article Wool in this work, oi in
M'Culloch’s Commercial Dictionary.
ENGLAND.
Statistics. Our cotton manufacture is entitled to the greatest atten-
vr—' t'on on different accounts. Of all our manufactures, it
Cotton affords the largest export, and exhibits the most rapid im-
manufac- provements in machinery. Its introduction, though not
ture remote, is less recent than is commonly supposed. " It ap¬
pears to have taken place early in the 17th century, when it
was established at Manchester; but it was long conducted
upon a very limited scale. The raw material, imported at
first only from the Levant, in particular from Smyrna, began
after 1660 to be supplied by our West India colonies. The
quantity imported amounted, about the year 1700, to 3500
bales; but, increasing with the extended cultivation of our
colonies, it averaged, about the year 1720, something more
than 7000 bales. From the colonial conquests of the war
of 1756, our import of cotton received a further augmenta¬
tion ; but the manufacture increased very slowly, a great part
of our cotton being re-exported to Holland, for the supply
of Dutch and German weavers. It was not till after the
peace of 1763, and the invention, first of the carding ma¬
chine, and next of the spinning jenny, that this manufac¬
ture became considerably extended. In 1775, the average
import of cotton approached to 18,000 bales. A variety of
inventions, unequalled in the history of manufacturing in¬
dustry, were now made (see our article on the Cotton
Manufacture), which gave an astonishing stimulus to the
business. Fine calicoes and muslins were introduced ; the
workmen were withdrawn from their detached dwellings,
and collected into large factories ; and the price of the
finished article experienced a reduction, notwithstanding
a rise in the raw material, and in the wages of labour. The
period which followed the peace of 1783 is perhaps unex¬
ampled for the reduction of price, and the consequent ex¬
tension of sale that took place in regard to cotton goods.
The commencement of hostilities in 1793 gave a pretty
severe shock to the business; but the improvements in
machinery continuing, the manufacture soon recovered, and
has gone on increasing, under many vicissitudes, with a
rapidity unparalleled by any other business, either in this or
any other country. Neither does there seem to be any
ground for fearing that this progress will be speedily checked.
On the contrary, our superiority in all that contributes to
the advancement of the manufacture is so very decided,
that, provided the public tranquillity be preserved unimpaired,
we have nothing to fear from the competition of others.
The reader is referred to the article Cotton Manufac¬
ture in this work, for an account of the rise and progress
of this great branch of national industry, and for tabular
statements, exhibiting the present magnitude and importance
of the trade, the sources whence the raw cotton is derived,
and the foreign markets for the finished articles.
Hardware. We have already noticed the surprising increase in the
produce of our iron mines since 1780. This increase of the
raw material, joined in some cases to the command of coal
in the vicinity, and in all to a facility of conveyance of coal
and iron by canals and railroads, has, in the last fifty years,
given a great extension to our hardware manufacture. In
it we take the lead of foreigners as decidedly as in our
cottons ; and if the ratio of increase has not been altogether
so rapid, it is owing, not to inferior ingenuity in the work¬
men, but to radical differences in the two manufactures.
In no department has the subdivision of employment been
carried to so great a length ; in none are its effects in cheap¬
ening production so conspicuous. Birmingham and Shef¬
field are the two great workshops for our hardware; the
latter is confined to iron and steel, whilst in the former, not
only iron and steel, but copper and brass, constitute the
materials of labour. Sheffield fabricates articles which are
less for ornament than utility, and which possess in general
a certain bulk, such as grates, spades, sickles, files, knives,
fenders, fire-irons; whilst in Birmingham there is, in addi¬
tion to articles of solidity, a surprising variety of toys, fancy
VOL. VIII.
729
goods, and petty manufactures ; each trifling when consi- Statistics,
dered separately, but the whole forming an aggregate of
great value. The most insignificant of these, such as a
brass cock or a button shank, passes through a number of
hands, and each artisan performs only a single operation.
He thus acquires an extraordinary dexterity in his limited
department, and in the course of a day despatches several
hundred, perhaps even a thousand articles, through his par¬
ticular stage ; the result of all which is, that the price, when
sold in quantities, is incredibly low. Another and very in¬
teresting feature in the situation of Birmingham, is the
populousness of its neighbourhood. Yet in none of our
large towns is living less expensive; an advantage owing
partly to the abundance of coal, partly to the ready supply
of milk and vegetables from the wade space occupied by the
population.
The nail trade is carried on, not in the town of Birming¬
ham, but in a part of the surrounding district. It is com¬
puted, by the census of 1851, to employ, in England and
Wales, 16,965 males, and 9976 females, of whom 7625 are
under 20 years of age ; for even this heavy article admits
of a subdivision of employment, which lightens the labour,
and enables the workman to avail himself of the aid of his
family. Of the two towns, Sheffield is by much the more
ancient; the command of coal and iron in the same neigh¬
bourhood having rendered it, so far back as the thirteenth
or fourteenth century, a place for the fabrication of the
homely articles used in these days by our ancestors. It is
about a century since its razors, knives, and files began to
take a more delicate shape. Birmingham, however, em¬
braced a wider range, and advanced with much greater rapi¬
dity ; but Sheffield also has its adjacent district inhabited
by manufacturers, though to a much less extent than the
vicinity of Birmingham. This district, called Hallamshire,
extends six or seven miles to the W. of Sheffield.
Hardware is made in several other places, such as Bilston,
Wolverhampton, Dudley, and Walsall. Each of these towns
is situated in Staffordshire, and, in point of manufacture, is
small only in comparison with Birmingham or Sheffield.
Articles apparently very trifling are manufactured to a sur¬
prising extent in different places, such as pins at Gloucester,
needles at Red-ditch in Worcestershire, watch movements
and main springs at Prescott in Lancashire. The total value
of our articles of iron, steel, brass, and copper, including the
manufacture from its earliest to its most finished stage, is ne¬
cessarily fluctuating, but may be computed at L.30,000,000
annually; two-thirds of which appear to be consumed
amongst ourselves, whilst the other third is exported to two
great markets, the Continent of Europe and the United
States of America.
The number of persons employed in the hardware ma¬
nufacture in England in 1851 was about 465,000. In the
United States, iron and coal are found, where land and
provisions are certainly much cheaper than in Britain;
but the scattered state of American population must, dur¬
ing several ages, oppose serious obstacles to the division
of employment necessary in all the nicer branches of the
hardware manufacture ; particularly as the ease with which
the Mississippi and Ohio are navigated by steam opens
even the western states to the importation of British
goods. Upon the whole, therefore, we look on our hard¬
ware manufactures as resting on a solid basis, because in
them we combine several advantages;—the raw material,
the command of cheap fuel, and the use of machinery,
which, the more it is adopted, will bring a greater propor¬
tion of the work within the compass of women and boys,
and thus lessen the proportion borne by wages in the cost
of the finished article.
Linen has never formed one of the staple manufactures Linen
of England, flax having been less cultivated amongst us manufac-
than on the opposite shore of the Netherlands; a country ture.
4 z
730
E N G L A N D.
Statistics, which, ill the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, supplied
the 1'est of Europe with the finest linens and woollens.
When England subsequently advanced in manufacturing
arts, the abundant supply of wool pointed out the most
suitable branch; and we were contented to continue our
imports of linen from the Netherlands, from France, and
from Germany, or to favour the manufacture of the sister
island in a department which did not excite our jealousy.
In Ireland, the linen manufacture dates about two centu¬
ries ago, and is said to have owed much of its extension to^
the measures of the unfortunate Wentworth, in the reign of
Charles I. The annual consumption of linen in England a
century ago was probably not far below that of her double
population at present, owing to the very general substitu¬
tion in our time of cotton articles. At that time the
linen manufacture of England was established chiefly in
Lancashire, in Cumberland, anti in a county very remote
from these, namely, Dorsetshire. In 1745, government,
apprised of the extension of the manufacture of coarse linen
in Silesia and other parts of Germany, and actuated by the
fallacious notion of making a monopoly of all kinds of pro¬
ductive industry, granted a bounty of Hd. per yard on the
exportation of all British linen of a value from 6d. to 18d.
per yard; in other words, a premium of 20 or 25 per cent,
on the prime cost of all inferior qualities exported. So large
a grant soon augmented the manufacture of osnaburgs and
other coarse cloths, particularly in Scotland, although the
ratio of increase was infinitely smaller than in the case of
cotton, where there was no premium, but a rapid improve¬
ment of machinery. The demand for bounty in the ten
years ending in 1785, was about L.33,000 annually. More
recently these impolitic issues were greatly increased; but
at length the impolicy of forcing a manufacture in this way
having become obvious to every one, the bounties, after
being gradually reduced, ceased finally in 1830.
The manufacture is principally carried on in the West
Riding of Yorkshire, its chief seat being in Leeds and its
neighbourhood, and in Lancashire, Dorset, Durham, and
Salop.
Ireland and Scotland, particularly Dundee, are both su¬
perior to England in the manufacture of linen. But some
of the flax mills established at Hull are on a more extensive
scale than any other in the empire. The reader will find
under the head of Linen, in this work, an account of the
value of the manufacture in each division of the empire, of the
amountof capital, and the number of hands employedin it,&c.
The exports of linen manufactures from 1851. 1852.
Great Britain and Ireland in 1851 and L. L.
1852 Avere of the declared value of   3,822,935 3,872,491
Thread and small wares  284,461
Linen yarn      951,426
359,295
1,140,565
5,058,822 5,372,351
Silk manu- In the silk manufacture, as in linen, we have had to con-
facture. tend with a formidable opposition in other countries, par¬
ticularly in France and Italy; and we have also had to
import the whole of the raw material. It would therefore
hardly have been attempted by our countrymen, but for
the great profits expected from an article of general use
amongst the higher classes. Its introduction amongst us
goes back to the fifteenth century. About the beginning
of the seventeenth it seems to have been carried to a con¬
siderable extent, owing certainly not to the luxury of the
age, nor to any great proportion of affluent persons in the
community, but to silk being almost the only article of ap¬
parel in which the vanity of dress could display itself. In¬
wards the end of the reign of Charles II., about the year
1680, raw silk began to be imported in quantities from
India ; and the English manufacture received a substantial
addition by the numbers and ingenuity of the Frenchmen
who settled in this country after the revocation of the edict
of Nantes in 1683. Various circumstances thus contri¬
buted to preserve and extend the manufacture, which con- Statistics,
tinued rather upon the increase till the general substitution
of cottons for silks about 1790. This gave a serious shock
to the manufacture, from which it recovered only by slow
degrees. Its situation had not indeed been at any time
prosperous; and the continued complaints of the manu¬
facturers occasioned within these few years a fundamental
change in the policy under which it had previously been
conducted. ,
From the first introduction of the manufacture into Eng¬
land down to 1825, foreign silks were either positively or
virtually excluded. But the monopoly which was thus se¬
cured to the manufacturers produced, what all monopolies
invariably do, an indifference to improvement. Instead of
trusting to the ingenuity or to the superior skill which they
might have called to their aid for preserving their ascen¬
dency in the market, the manufacturers depended upon
custom-house regulations, and additional penalties on smug¬
gling. In consequence, invention was quite at a stand.
Such indeed was the influence of the system in this respect,
that in 1826 the member for Coventry (Mr Edward Ellice)
affirmed in his place in the House of Commons that the
improved silk looms in use in various parts of the Continent
enabled the workman to execute/w times as much work
as he could do here \ whilst in every business not protected
by a monopoly the result was precisely opposite. At length,
after a great deal of discussion, it was resolved to adopt a
more liberal system. In 1825 a bill was in consequence
passed, allowing the importation of foreign silks on payment
of an ad valorem duty of 30 per cent., accompanied, how¬
ever, by the effectual reduction of the singularly oppressive
duties which had previously been imposed on the imports
of raw and thrown silk. This measure, though vehemently
opposed at the time, has proved most successful. We aie
cpiite sure that we are within the mark when we affirm that
the silk trade has made more progress since 1826, when the
new system was introduced, than it did during the whole of
the preceding century. The following quantities of the raw
and thrown silk were imported into the United Kingdom in
Years. lbs. Years. lbs.
1822 2,680,568 1850 5,411,934
1832 4,224,897 1851 5,020,9(2
1849.. .!..5,606,242 1853 7,309,217
This table shows conclusively that the manufacture has
increased nearly 200 per cent, since the adoption of those
sound and liberal measures which have been the theme of
so much ignorant invective. It is of importance, too, to
observe, that not only our imports of raw silk, but also our
exports of manufactured silk goods, are rapidly increasing.
The following table shows this
1822.. .L.381,703
1832 529,990
1850.. ..1.225.641
It is plain, therefore, that the manufacture is not increas¬
ing merely by reason of an increased demand in the home
market, but because we are rapidly gaining on our rivals in
the markets of foreign countries. This affords unques¬
tionable evidence of the improvement as well as the exten¬
sion of the manufacture. In 1852 our exports of wrong .t
silks to France amounted to L.257,555, and to the United
States to L.464,590. . . c _ ,,
Leather, however little it may figure as an article of ex- Leather
port, is necessarily one of extensive home consumption m
every civilized country, particularly in such a climate as
ours, and where there are so many rich and sumptuous
equipages. It is matter of regret that we should have so
very few data, official or otherwise, on which to form an
estimate of the export or import of hides in former ages.
Such an estimate would possess interest, as indicating the
extent of our pasturage and the number of our cattle m
comparison with our population. Whatever may have beert
1851...L.l,326,778
1852  1,551,863
1853  2,044,912
E N G L A N D.
731
Statistics, the case at a remote date, the custom-house returns, for
many years past, show, by the annual imports, that the de¬
mand for leather has greatly exceeded the home supply of
hides. For a long time this importation took place from
the Continent of Europe, and from the least civilized quar¬
ters ; from countries, such as Lithuania and Poland, where
the quantity of hides furnished by the cattle materially ex¬
ceeds that of the leather required by the inhabitants. But
since the opening of the trade to South America, it has been
found more advantageous to import hides from that conti¬
nent, where the herds of wrild cattle are so numerous as to meet
the eye of the traveller in almost every point of the horizon.
On an average there are imported annually about two
millions of hides, tanned and untanned. The quantity of
leather annually made in England and Wales may be esti¬
mated at about 50,000,000 lbs. The largest tanneries are at
Bermondsey in Southwark ; but there are also very extensive
establishments of the kind in the country, as in Cheshire,
Lancashire, Westmoreland, Cumberland, and also in Lin¬
colnshire. The late war, by its long continuance, and the
magnitude of our army and navy, produced great orders
from government for our leather manufacture. Shoes were
and still are made wholesale in several towns of Stafford¬
shire, Cheshire, and Northamptonshire ; but those made in
London, by the principal dealers, are, though expensive, by
far the best.
Of the annual value of the leather manufactured into
shoes, boots, harness, saddlery, See., there are no means of
forming a correct estimate ; but we have merely to con¬
sider the population of England, and the unavoidable ex¬
tent of their wants, to be satisfied that from ten to twelve
millions sterling are rather below than above the mark. But
whilst our home consumption is so considerable, our ex¬
port is comparatively small, in ordinary years not exceed¬
ing L.800,000; but in 1853 the exports of manufactured
leather rose to L.l ,578,595. This large increase was pro¬
bably occasioned by the reckless consignments to Australia.
The leather shipped to Ireland is merely tanned; to other
countries our exports are in a manufactured shape. The
duty on leather was wholly abolished in 1830.
Glove Connected with our general manufacture of leather is the
trade. glove trade, a branch of no inconsiderable extent, being
carried on in several of the midland and western counties,
viz. at Woodstock, Worcester, Ludlow, Hereford, Yeovil in
Somersetshire, &c. This branch of industry enjoyed for a
lengthened period the protection of monopoly, which, how¬
ever, was abolished in 1825. Many contradictory state¬
ments have been made as to the effects of this measure.
We believe, however, that the depression so much com¬
plained of has not been produced by it, but by the substitu¬
tion of cotton gloves for those of leather ; and we have no
doubt that, had it not been for the greater cheapness and
improved quality of leather gloves, caused by the abolition
of the monopoly, this substitution would have been carried
much farther than it has been. The increased imports of
the lamb and kid skins used in the manufacture show con¬
clusively that it is not declining.
Paper. The manufacture of paper, and the trades connected with
it, such as printing, bookselling, bookbinding, &c., give oc¬
cupation to between 60,000 and 70,000 persons. From the
excise returns, it appears that the quantity of paper of all
kinds manufactured in England in 1852 was 114,521,304
lbs.; and the duty, which is at the rate of l^d. per lb., plus
5 per cent., amounted to L.751,546. It is difficult to say
what portion of this was used in printing books, and how
much was consumed by the newspapers; but the quantity
used by some of the latter is so great, that a single news¬
paper, The Times, is said to consume about oO tons a week.
See Bookselling and Newspapers.
Brewery. We come next to a branch of industry of a very different
description, namely3 the brewery. I he amount of capital
and labour invested in brewing establishments in England Statistics,
is very large, and particularly striking to those who have
lived on the Continent, and have contrasted our situation
with that of the wine countries of the south of Europe. It
is only in Flanders and Germany that breweries are nu¬
merous ; and in the latter, from the limited capital, and the
scattered state of their population, there are hardly any of
those large establishments which exist in our metropolis.
An Account of the total number of Quarters of Malt made between the
5th day of January 1852 and the 5th day of January 1853, in
the United Kingdom; distinguishing the Quantity made in each
Country, and the Quantity used by Brewers, by Victuallers, and
by Retail Brewers ;—and similar Account for the year ending the
5th day of January 1854.
YEAR ENDED 5th JANUARY 1853.
England
Scotland
Ireland..
The United 1
Kingdom j
Quarters
of
Malt made.
4,435,453
491,474
207,134
5,134,061
Quarters of Malt used
By Brewers
and
Victuallers.
3,445,245
150,386
160,693
3,756,324
By Retail
Brewers.
481,007
481,007
Total.
3,926,252
150,386
160,693
4,237,331
YEAR ENDED 5th JANUARY 1854.
England.
Scotland.
Ireland..
The United 1
Kingdom J
Quarters
of
Malt made.
4,530,730
520,479
203,759
5,254,968
Quarters of Malt used
By Brewers
and
Victuallers.
3,576,166
164,677
160,929
3,901,772
By Retail
Brewers.
487,128
487,128
4,063,294
164,677
160,929
4,388,900
Quantities of Spirits charged with Excise Duties in the United
Kingdom in— Gallons.
1850  23,901,432
1851  24,030,933
1852  25,270,262
The quantity of beer brewed in England in 1830 was
4,678,428 barrels. The duty on beer having ceased on the
10th of October 1830, there are no subsequent accounts
of the quantities brewed. There can be no doubt, how¬
ever, from the increased quantity of malt, that the pro¬
duction of beer has likewise greatly increased.
Spirituous liquors form one of the branches of manufac- Spirituous
ture in which England is dependent on her neighbours, as lKlours-
she imports an annual supply of corn spirit from Scotland
and Ireland, rum from the West Indies, and brandy from
France. It has been generally supposed that the consump¬
tion of gin has increased materially in England since 1825,
when the duties were reduced. We are, however, inclined
to doubt whether such be really the case, and are disposed
to believe that the effect is more apparent than real; in fact,
that it has resulted rather from a diminution of smuggling,
than from a positive increase of consumption. That such
has been the case in Scotland and Ireland is beyond all
question ; and there seems no reason to conclude that it is
otherwise in England. For tables of the quantity of maltused
in 1853, and of the quantity of spirits charged with excise duties
in 1850,1851, 1852, see articles Brewing and Distilling.
To the remaining manufactures our limits allow of little
space, though several of them would be accounted of great gl^s^ £^
importance in any other country than England. The ex- pottery.
732 ENGL
Statistics, tent to which such articles as soap and paper are made
v y ; among us is amply shown by the excise returns ; but the
list of our exports is of more consequence to the political
economist, not from the vulgar notion that it is by export
only that national profit is realised, but as indicative of those
commodities for which we possess, in our soil, our climate,
or our colonial possessions, advantages that give us a supe¬
riority over our neighbours. Thus, in the case of glass, the
abundance and cheapness of our coal enable us to make an
annual export of above L.500,000. In the manufacture of
hats, likewise, our command of wool for the coarser kind,
and of furs from our North American colonies for beaver
hats, enables us to ship to an extent of nearly 45,000 dozen,
or L.44,000 a-year. In earthenware we have the advan¬
tage of clay, of fuel, and of ready communication by canals.
These, joined to the taste and ingenuity of individuals en¬
gaged in the manufacture, carried it, in the course of the
eighteenth century, to an extent which has rendered it a
national object; a tract of seven or eight miles in Stafford¬
shire, called the Pottery District, being almost entirely ap¬
propriated to it. The population of this tract is about
60,000. The great outlet is Liverpool, and the shipments
take place partly to the United States, partly to the conti¬
nent of Europe. Exports (comprising procelain) in 1853
reached L.1,337,911 in real value.
The stocking manufacture is carried on chiefly in the
counties of Nottingham, Derby, and Leicester. It formerly
employed great numbers of women in knitting; but in this,
as in most other branches, machinery has greatly superseded
manual labour. Lace is made in vast quantities in the mid¬
land counties; and here also machinery is extensively ap¬
plied. And so extraordinary has been the progress of in¬
vention in this department, that British lace at present com¬
mands a ready sale in all foreign markets, and is largely
smuggled even into France.
VIII.—Commerce and Shipping.
Commerce. With Ireland the intercourse of England is very great,
that country sending us grain, salted and fresh provisions,
live cattle, butter, &c. to the amount of six or seven mil¬
lions annually, and taking largely in return our manufac¬
tures, particularly cotton, woollen, and hardware.
North of Europe.—From Russia our chief imports are
tallow, hemp, flax, corn, linen, timber, pitch, &c.; from the
Swedish dominions, iron and timber; from Poland, wheat,
timber, and potash ; from Prussia, wheat, timber, and flax.
All these countries take our cottons, hardware, and colonial
produce.
Central part of Europe.—From Holland our imports are
not foreign merchandise, as in the seventeenth century,
when the Dutch were the carriers of Europe, but agricul¬
tural produce, as oats, w heat, seeds, hemp, cheese, butter;
also gin; the whole to a large amount; in return for which
the Dutch take our hardware, cottons, and woollens. From
France our imports have long been burdened with heavy
duties, but still they are large and increasing, consisting
chiefly of wine and brandy, silk, lace, gloves, &c. With
Germany our chief intercourse is through the medium of
Holland and Hamburg. With these countries our exports
are large, particularly in cottons, hardware, and colonial pro¬
duce. Our imports are also very various and large, con¬
sisting of w ool, corn, flax, timber, linen, and wine, from the
vicinity of the Rhine.
South of Europe.—Here we enter on countries of much
less industry. From Portugal we take wine in very large,
and fruit in smaller quantities, in return for our cottons,
our woollens, and our hardware. From Spain we receive
wool, wine, brandy, oil, fruits, barilla, &c. Italy, without
A N D.
anv commercial treaty, takes a large quantity of our manu- Statistics,
factures, and gives in return silk, oil, and fruit. With the ^
Levant, our traffic is similar; consisting of an export of ma¬
nufactures, particularly printed cottons and hardware, and
of an import of silk, fruit, and drugs.
The United States are, notwithstanding their tariff, our
best customers, receiving from us manufactures of almost
every kind to a great amount, and sending us in return vast
quantities of cotton, tobacco, rice, and flour; but the mer¬
chandise received from them being far inferior to the value
of our exports, the difference is paid by remittances in money
from the Continent of Europe, arising from American mer¬
chandise sold there. With South America a wide field of
commercial intercourse has been opened; at present, how¬
ever, the chief articles received from that vast region are
bullion, hides, skins, indigo, and cochineal. The trade is,
and will long be, subject to the various disadvantages of
a newdy-settled country, bare of capital, deficient in in¬
dustry, and possessing but a small number of consumers
of European commodities in proportion to its extent and
fertility.
From Asia we import tea, indigo, cotton, coffee, sugar,
piece goods, ivory, drugs, &c. Our principal article of ex¬
port is cotton goods, for which, how singular soever it may
appear, India has, since the opening of the trade in 1814,
become one of our very best markets. Besides cotton stuffs
and yarn, we send to Asia woollen goods, copper, and a
great variety of other articles.
From Africa we import drugs, ivory, teak wood, hides,
&c. Our exports are but inconsiderable, consisting prin¬
cipally of cotton and linen manufactures. The hopes so
frequently entertained, of opening an advantageous trade
with the interior of Africa, have hitherto been altogether
disappointed, and we do not suppose that they are destined
to be more successful in future.
The recent discovery of the gold fields in Australia, and
the consequent influx of immigrants into that country, have
made it an important market for our produce and manufac¬
tures. The declared value of our home produce and manu¬
factures exported to the Australian colonies, including Van
Diemen’s Land and New Zealand, in 1850, was L.1,574,145,
while in 1851, 1852, and 1853 it respectively amounted to
L.2,807,356; L.4,222,205 ; and L.l 4,506,532. The num¬
ber of ships that cleared from the United Kingdom for the
various Australian colonies was 272 in 1851, 568 in 1852,
and 1201 in 1853. A return of the exports and imports
to the Australian colonies for 1851, 1852, and 1853, shows
some curious results. The exports for 1853 exhibit in
some instances an extinction, and in almost every article a
decline, except wrool, and of course gold, which is not noticed
in the return ; thus tanner’s bark, of which 35,894 cwts.
were exported in 1852, was reduced to 4776 cwts. in 1853 ;
and tanned hides, of which 642,198 lbs. were exported in
1852, only amounted to 9842 lbs. in 1853; while untanned
hides rose from 30,243 cwts. in 1852, to 41,987 in 1853.
Flax and hemp, guano, wine, timber, tortoise shell, whale-
fins, &c., all declined or disappeared from the return. So
did copper and lead ore; but copper partly wrought, that
is, in bars, rods, or ingots, increased from 373 tons in 1852,
to 686 tons in 1853. Quicksilver fell from 14,631 lbs. in
1852, to 6933 lbs. in 1853 ; and wool rose from 43,197,301
lbs. in 1852, to 47,075,963 lbs. in 1853.
The amount of exports in 1851 being doubled in 1852,
and quintupled in 1853, and probably increased still moie
in 1854, could not fail to cause a glut in the market, which
has produced great embarrassment in the colony, and entailed
heavy losses on the speculators.
The value of the produce and manufactures of the United
ENGLAND.
Statistics.
Kingdom exported from Great Britain and Ireland to foreign
parts, according to the real or declared value, amounted in
1832 to  L.38,251,502
In 1851 they had risen to  74,448,732
Of which were sent to the United
States... L. 14,362,976
To the various British de¬
pendencies  19,513,960
To Brazil and South Ame¬
rican States  8,229,628
  42,106,564
From which it appears that the United States of America
consume nearly one-fifth of our exported produce and ma¬
nufactures, and that the countries colonized by Great Bri¬
tain, and those dependent on her, are her customers for
nearly a half of all the produce and manufactures which she
sells to the world. There is every reason to expect that,
under the wise and liberal constitutions granted to the
British colonies, increasingly populous and prosperous na¬
tions will extend over the present unexplored wildernesses;
and as the United States of America are rapidly enlarging
their boundaries to the west and the south, and as their in¬
creasing population has been uniformly attended with a
proportionate increase of trade, it is obvious that the pros¬
perity of Britain is especially bound up with the prosperity
of her colonies and with that of the United States. Britain
is not less interested in the increasing wealth and prosperity
of the other countries of the world; for the richer and more
prosperous they are, the better customers will they be for
our goods, and the more will they be able to contribute
to our comfort and enjoyment by the produce which they
will be able to export to our shores.
An Account of the Declared Value of British and Irish Produce and Manufactures Exported from the United
Kingdom to various Countries in each Year from 1850 to 1852.
Countries.
Russia, Northern Ports..,
in the Black Sea
Sweden  
Norway 
Denmark  
Prussia  
Mecklenburg-Schwerin...
Hanover.... 
Oldenburg & Kniphausen
Hanseatic Towns 
Heligoland   
Holland 
Belgium 
Channel Islands 
Prance 
Portugal, Proper 
... Azores 
... Madeira 
Spain 
Canary Islands 
Gibraltar 
Sardinian Territories 
Duchy of Tuscany 
Papal Territories 
Naples and Sicily 
Austrian Territories 
Malta and Gozo 
Ionian Islands 
Kingdom of Greece 
Turkish Dominions 
Wallachia and Moldavia
Syria and Palestine 
Egypt 
Tripoli 
Tunis.... 
Algeria 
Morocco 
Western Coast of Africa.,
British South Africa 
Eastern Coast of Africa..,
African Ports on Red Sea
Cape Verd Islands....
1850.
L.
1,297,660
157,111
151,030
211,917
454,304
424,480
33,898
231,987
11,436
6,755,545
250
3,542,632
1,136,237
506,415
2,401,956
1,029,204
47,607
41,578
864,997
61,754
388,141
774,512
769,409
222,559
1,026,456
607,755
314,386
135,912
202,228
2,515,821
294,604
303,254
648,801
5,128
15.069
31,799
641,975
796,600
1,728
3,242
1851.
L.
1,157,543
132,161
189,319
257,814
445.500
503,531
33,153
227,288
10,009
6,920,078
238
3,542,673
984.501
613,724
2,028,463
1,048,356
59,635
41,941
1,015,493
49,827
481,286
706,108
869,131
266,633
1,266,211
812,942
301,443
223,096
220,592
1,937,011
284,348
359,871
968,729
7\549
6,917
40,783
658.934
752,393
224
788
11,094
1852.
L.
994,330
105,587
184,734
254,276
452,436
581,884
38,351
365,843
31,715
6,872,753
60
4,109,976
1,076,499
564,453
2,731,286
1,104,213
63,479
41,825
1,253,957
39,641
510,889
924,225
693,749
188,231
911,658
674,423
256,867
138,642
152,527
2,079,913
269,533
511,096
955,701
2,947
336
6,800
110,126
536,358
1,064,283
5,542
1,138
9,561
Countries.
Ascension and St Helena
Mauritius 
Aden 
British East Indies 
French Possessions 
Java 
Philippine Islands 
Other Islands   
China and Hong-Kong...
British Settlements in |
Australia   J
South Sea Islands 
British North America...
West Indies 
Honduras 
Cuba   
Porto Rico 
Gaudaloupe  
Martinique  
Curafoa 
St Croix 
St Thomas  
Dutch Guiana 
Hayti......  
U. States of America... 1
California,., J
Mexico...   
Central America 
New Grenada 
Venezuela 
Ecuador 
Brazil... 
Uruguay    
Buenos Ayres  
Chili   
Bolivia.., 
Peru  
Falkland Islands 
Russian America 
Greenland 
Total.
.L.
1850.
L.
30,063
368,726
13,711
8,022,665
1,746
507,499
193,269
l,574’l45
2,602,253
18,143
3,235,051
2,030,229
183,352
849,278
45,205
267
340
30,126
2,873
589,655
5,152
274,918
14,891,961
451,820
251,073
330,810
301,094
33,289
2,544,837
60,480
848,800
1,156,266
845,639
1,145
10,063
565
71,367,885
1851.
L.
30.555
232,955
17,184
7,806,596
443
759,361
202,585
652
2,161,268
2,807,356
60,795
3,813,707
2,201,032
232,633
1,164,177
63,353
135
1,642
43,096
5,086
572,721
2,130
239,146
14,362,976
577,901
319,814
319,889
349,701
54,099
3,518,684
218,078
458,329
1,181,837
20,100
1,208,253
2,841
282
74,448,722
1852.
L.
31,760
229,693
20,686
7,352,907
618,368
115,303
1,134
2,503,599
4,222,205
33,784
3,065,364
1,908,552
122,806
1,033,396
35,069
830
900
21,675
917
536,965
7,426
251,409
16,134,397
433.340
366,020
260,699
502,128
273,738
3,163
3,464,394
615,453
837,513
1,167,494
1,024,007
7,792
125
78,076,854
733
Statistics.
734
ENGLAND,
Statistics.
Value of Imports into Great Britain and Ireland from Foreign Parts, calculated at the Official Rates of
Valuation, for the years ending 5th January.
Statistics.
SPECIES OF IMPORTS.
Almonds of all Sorts 
Animals, living; viz.—
Oxen, Bulls, Cows, and Calves
Sheep and Lambs 
Annatto 
Ashes, Pearl and Pot 
Bacon 
Barilla and Alkali.... 
Bark for Tanning or Dyeing 
 Peruvian 
Beef, Salted or Fresh 
Bones of Animals and Fish 
Books, Bound or Unbound 
Boots, Shoes, and Galoches 
Borax 
Brimstone   
Bristles 
Butter 
Caoutchouc 
Cassia Lignea 
Cheese   
Cinnamon 
Clocks 
Cloves   
Cochineal, Granilla, and Dust....
Cocoa and Chocolate 
Coffee 
Copper Ore and Regulus 
Copper, unwrought and part wrt
Cork 
Corn, Meal, and Flour 
Cotton Manuf. of India and China
of Europe, &c...
Cream of Tartar
Currants 
Dye and Hardwoods; Barwood
 BrazilWood
 Fustic 
  Logwood ..,
 Mahogany..
 Rosewood...
Embroidery 
Figs 
Flax and Tow 
Ginger 
Glass, except Bottles 
Guano  
Gum Animi and Copal 
• Arabic 
 Lac Dye 
 Shellac 
 Senegal 
Hair, Manufacture of 
Hair, Horse 
Hams 
Hemp 
Hides, raw or tanned 
Indigo 
Iron in bars, unwrought....
Isinglass.. 
Lace 
Lard 
Lead, Pig and Sheet 
Leather Gloves 
Linens 
Liquorice Juice and Paste.
Mace 
Madder and Gar an cine 
Nutmegs 
Oil, Castor 
■ Cocoa Nut  
 Olive 
GREAT BRITAIN.
Carry forward.
1853.
L.
69,216
.138,830
50,833
40,101
199,082
166,408
2,664
82,461
254,896
114,710
231,907
41,787
90,568
171,091
378,047
36,628
410,177
54,900
37,270
442,182
108,371
89,263
78,634
1,977,319
151,086
3,427,019
107,609
534,281
57,139
6,928,565
461,172
355,135
95,200
363,623
59,777
8,350
48,045
224,156
403,438
82,475
74.317
24,772
2,813,469
25,372
166,837
1,296,200
70,335
104,034
74,052
68,695
9,844
237,559
62,274
16,810
920,098
1,701,856
1,236,169
324,158
24,678
65,758
92.985
198,767
66,393
50,559
45.986
38,561
1,919,757
71,784
341,910
304.317
298,259
1854.
31,320,980
L.
65,305
192,508
57.621
51,421
201,181
428,567
1,621
79,770
192,784
167,626
179,304
44,710
135,610
287,761
462.712
60,695
590.930
48,485
16,632
603,387
144,356
126,690
120,939
910,936
191,406
3,469,737
125,983
533,021
67,409
10,559,120
588,097
478,454
131,295
279,869
10,089
146,193
49,293
236,701
241,109
113,000
103,678
31,392
3,889,587
27,673
246,531
1,231,655
90,646
132,637
75,811
119.712
15,008
245,245
86,113
34,906
1,153,706
2,461,209
972,752
466,006
20,761
91,930
177.621
260,825
86,910
66,320
53,217
51,889
2,342,674
60,323
253,082
490,536
333.930
IRELAND.
1853.
L.
689
38,066,612
40,662
8,715
3
290
11
10
11,137
1
' 15
93
1
2,274
4,419
148
10,618
4,313,477
" 26
724
1,292
6,662
2,586
2
56
141,114
7
2,695
70
20,288
9,256
2^091
58
294
877
1
160
1
2,535
1854.
L.
476
4,613,360
39,428
9,494
39
398
185
90
82
9,425
4
"628
4,433
1,735
14,195
4,276,234
" 25
53
1,469
3,364
1,146
5
55
144,774
" 23
290
200
18,968
13,343
1,686
333
392
’ 851
12,424
UNITED KINGDOM.
1853.
4,556,249
L.
69,905
138,830
50,833
40,101
199,082
166,408
43,326
91,176
254,896
114,713
232.197
41,798
90,578
171,091
389,184
36,628
410,178
54,900
37,270
442.197
108,371
89,356
78,635
1,979,593
155,505
3,427,167
107,609
534,281
67,757
11,272,042
461,172
355,161
95,924
364,915
59,777
8,350
48,045
230,818
406,024
82,475
74,319
24,828
2,954,583
25,372
166,844
1,298,895
70,335
104,034
74,052
68,695
9,844
237,559
62,274
16,880
940,386
1,711,112
1,236,169
326,249
24,678
65,760
92,985
198,825
66,393
50,853
46,863
38,562
1,919.917
71,785
341,910
304,317
300,794
1854.
35,934,340
L.
65,781
192,508
57,623
51,421
201,181
428,567
41,049
89,264
192,823
168,024
179,489
44,800
135,692
287,761
472,137
60,695
590,930
48,485
16,632
603,391
144,356
127,318
120,939
910,936
195,839
3,471,472
125,983
533,021
81,604
14,835,354
588,097
478,479
131,348
281,338
10,089
146,193
49,293
240,065
242,255
113,000
103,683
31,447
4,034,361
27,673
246,554
1,231,655
90,646
132,927
75,811
119,712
15,008
245,245
86,113
35,106
1,172,674
2,474,552
972,752
466,006
20,761
91,930
177,621
262,511
86,910
66,653
53,609
51,889
2,343,525
60,323
253,082
490,536
346,354
42,622,861
\
ENGLAND.
735
Statistics.
Value of Imports into Great Britain and Ireland from Foreign Parts, calculated at the Official Rates of
Valuation, for the years ending oth January—Continued.
Statistics.
SPECIES OF IMPORTS.
Brought forward 
Oil, Palm 
 Rape Seed 
— Blubber     
Oil Seed Cakes 
Oranges and Lemons 
Pepper 
Pimento   
Pork, Salted or Fresh 
Potatoes  
Quicksilver 
Rags, &c. for Paper 
Raisins  
Rhubarb 
Rice 
Rosin  
Safflower 
Sag°   
Saltpetre and Nitre 
Seeds, Clover 
 Flax and Linseed 
 Rape 
Senna 
Shumac 
Silk, Raw and Waste 
 Thrown   
 Manuf. of India and China
 of Europe, &c 
Skins and Furs 
Spelter 
Spirits, Brandy 
  —• Geneva 
 Rum 
GREAT BRITAIN.
1853.
1854.
Sugar, Raw and Refined....
 Molasses 
Tallow 
Tar 
Tea 
Teeth, Elephants’   
Terra Japonica and Cutch..
Tin  
Tobacco and Snuff. 
Turpentine..' 
Yalonia   
Watches 
Wax, Bees’ 
Whale-fins 
Wines 
Wood and Timber, viz.
Deals, &c., Sawn 
Timber, not Sawn 
Teak Staves 
Wool, Cotton... 
  Sheep’s 
Woollen Manufactures 
Yarn, Worsted or Silk 
All other Articles 
31
Total Official Value of Im- \
ports from Foreign Parts j
L.
,320,980
523,812
128,745
373,801
260,707
87,077
110,523
64,155
90,475
386.104
422,637
38,601
238,749
53,857
770,677
113,310
134,529
144,881
367,050
81,351
729,949
151.104
24,971
62,665
2,729,343
550,817
329,866
1,398,489
348,886
925,268
534,005
13,914
470,241
9,739,227
368,372
1,070,668
129,404
6,560,183
54,396
115,069
237,215
450,039
240,733
66,646
146,970
63,694
64,205
702,502
246,512
900,115
65,334
30,311,094
2,459,142
719,726
61,423
4,654,187
103,408,395
L.
38,066,612
636,581
185,482
383,071
350,692
99,712
91,605
38,379
144,557
565,077
373,624
52,345
304,979
88,773
1,151,635
185,987
72,397
191,507
422,458
128.928
966,421
88,257
14,650
69,624
3,208,717
1,054,830
325,122
1,902,941
360,099
1,170,923
666,251
24,619
355,903
10,322,372
618,419
1,236,216
144,216
7,113,482
59,709
90,327
248.702
638,816
196,324
98,122
199,729
55,561
72,507
1,178,589
305.703
1,142,296
94,920
28,881,813
3,111,708
1,210,673
128,336
6,340,466
IRELAND.
1853.
117,231,764
L.
4,613,360
349
40
3,169
16
73
7
" 664
4,761
5
1,596
951
106,393
1,447
308
32
5,142
75
547
722,991
44
45,564
3,246
75,870
9
19,292
46,864
40,862
146,385
1,974
14,478
3,^96
51
76,553
1854.
5,937,014
L.
4,556,249
87
3,912
80
61
2,542
37
150
1,005
5,628
’2,351
522
1
2,039
5
1,706
171,487
2,074
1,534
5,444
14
80
5,741
264
755
720,469
2
14,133
4,392
32
C837
196
160
13,787
169
67,314
47,520
155,185
1,702
1,004
2,859
85
110*457
UNITED KINGDOM.
1853.
1854.
5,905,071
L.
35,934,340
523.812
128,745
374,150
260,747
90,246
110,539
64,155
90,548
386,111
422,637
39,265
243,510
53,857
770,682
114,906
134,529
144,881
367,050
82,302
836,342
151,104
24,971
64,112
2,729,343
550,817
330,174
1,398,521
348,886
925,268
539,147
13,989
470,788
10,462,218
368,416
1,116,232
132,650
6,636,053
54,398
115,069
237,215
450,048
240,733
85,938
146,970
63,694
64,205
749,366
287,374
1,046,500
67,308
30,325,572
2,463,038
719,777
61,423
4,730,740
L.
42,622,861
636,668
189,394
383,15]
350,753
102,254
91,642
38,379
144,557
565,227
373,624
53,350
310.607
88,773
1,153,986
186,509
72,398
193,546
422,463
130,634
1,137,908
90,331
14,650
71,158
3,214,161
1,054,830
325,122
1,902,955
360,179
1.170.923
671,992
24,883
356,658
11,042,841
618,421
1,250,349
148.608
7,113,514
59,709
92,164
248,702
639,012
• 196,484
111,909
199,898
55,561
72,507
1,245,903
353,223
1,297,481
96,622
28,882,817
3,114,567
1,210,758
128,336
6.450.923
109,345,409
123,136,835
736 ENGLAND.
Statistics. Value of the Produce and Manufactures of the United Kingdom, Exported from Great Britain and Ireland to
Foreign Parts, according to the Beal or Declared Value thereof, for the years ending 5th January.
Statistics.
SPECIES OF EXPORTS.
Agricultural implements 
Alkali of all sorts 
Alum 
Apothecary wares 
Apparel and slops   
Arms and ammunition 
Bacon and hams 
Bags, empty  
Beef and pork, salted 
Beer and ale 
Bichromate of potash 
Bleaching materials. 
Books, printed'   
Brass and copper manufactures 
Bread and biscuit 
Bricks 
Butter and cheese 
Cabinet and upholstery 
Caoutchouc and gutta, manufact. of.
Carriages of all Sorts 
Cement  
Coals and culm 
Confectionery 
Cordage  
Corn, meal, and flour  
Cotton manufactures  
yarn.
Earthenware of all sorts 
Pish of all sorts 
Pishing tackle 
Fuel, manufactured 
Glass of all sorts 
Haberdashery and millinery 
Hardwares and cutlery 
Hats, beaver and felt 
 of all other sorts 
Hemp, dressed .  
Hops  
Horses 
Iron and steel, wrought and unwrt.
Lard  
Lead and shot 
 red and white 
Leather and saddlery 
Linen manufactures 
 yarn. 
Machinery and mill-work   
Mathematical instruments 
Molasses 
Musical instruments 
Oil, hemp, linseed, and rape 
 Train and spermaceti 
Painters’ colours and materials 
Perfumery   
Pickles and sauces 
Plate ware, jewellery, &c.   
Platting for hats of straw, &c 
Potatoes 
Provisions, not described 
Salt  
Saltpetre, refined in United Kingd..
Seeds of all sorts 
Silk manufactures  
Soap and candles 
Spelter, wrought and unwrought....
Spirits 
Stationery of all sorts 
Sugar, refined   
Tin, unwrought 
Tin and pewter wares 
Tobacco, manufactured 
Toys 
Turnery and turners’ wares 
Twine  
Umbrellas and parasols   
Wool, sheep’s, and other sorts 
Woollen and worsted yarn 
Woollen manufactures 
All other articles 
Total exports
GREAT BRITAIN.
1853.
L. 59,225
399,236
27,543
380,308
1,246,160
398,458
47,305
149,771
33,578
748,596
25,624
107,609
289,388
1,704,054
20,110
45,894
294,845
131,719
46,014
70,133
49,833
1,369,625
46,476
144,588
143,407
23,221,085
6,654,655
1,151,790
349,456
46,566
39,741
378,418
2,074,117
2,691,242
48,055
92,460
31,872
29,726
98,495
6,656,148
6,253
353,165
65,079
843,322
4,230,126
1,140,155
1,248,360
44,222
52,409
122,918
434,899
49,715
249,099
44,029
146.330
425,705
67,970
6,349
56,488
221,101
51,395
19,893
1,551,846
315,649
33,365
63,618
411,590
300,134
83,604
1,080,725
12,651
26,783
30,142
54,775
79,777
792,289
1,430,140
8,729,609
1,361,587
77,780,591
1854.
L.
77,309
478,532
25,039
538,537
2,765,094
548,927
137,021
187,118
60,237
1,285,623
23,867
94,230
451,711
1,853,641
41,961
67.350
445,344
349,560
72,687
159.625
64,212
1,602,762
97,424
221.626
375,740
25,807,986
6,895,653
1,337,911
456,008
50,015
48,664
517,842
4,156,139
3,663,746
87,388
174,783
17.351
39,591
85,887
10,802,690
6,582
372,940
66,703
1,576,253
4,756,839
1,154,939
1,985,317
59,441
48,033
175,370
516,311
60,505
324,169
69,627
332.448
727,351
54,877
1,312
139,999
271,129
48,965
23,745
2,044,289
412,265
97,328
204,141
618,498
301,627
140,859
1,213,612
19,669
46,825
40,094
57,037
119,905
483,812
1,456,786
10,170,788
2,342,467
1863.
L.
98,709,688
16
517
389
2,207
523
4,351
6,031
284
45
29
719
98,474
775
732
29
2,489
2
1,336
12,038
2,347
107
940
146
409
63
455
372
28,128
2,465
15
1,437
1,660
410
3,000
1
40
60
31
26
50
415
40
2,875
777
20
8,795
2,930
123
53,480
1,325
52,335
296,263
1854.
L.
70
79
1,602
1,547
1,470
218
1,638
5,734
”681
351
690
463
75,312
435
165
5
1,829
65
4,776
15,925
9,263
459
10
698
355
1,305
161
\ 80
42,732
1,171
2,342
1,593
38
219
25
17
676
279
14
35
572
1
1,044
72
7,614
4,300
384
18
19
25
700
1,394
33,423
UNITED KINGDOM.
1853.
224,093
L. 59,241
399,236
27,543
380,308
1,246,677
398,847
49,512
150,294
37,929
754,627
25,624
107,893
289,433
1,701,083
20,110
46,613
393,319
132,494
46,014
70,865
49,862
1,372,114
46,478
145,924
155,445
23,223,432
6,654,655
1,151,897
350,396
46,566
39,887
378,827
2,074,180
2,691,697
48,055
92,460
31,872
29,726
98,867
6,684,276
8,718
353,180
65,079
844,759
4,231,786
1,140,565
1,251,360
44,223
52,409
122.958
434.959
49,715
249,130
44,055
146,380
425,705
67,970
6,764
56,528
223,976
51,395
20,670
1,551,866
324,444
33,365
66,548
411,713
300,134
83,604
1,080,725
12,651
26,783
30,142
54,775
79,777
845,769
1,430,140
8,730,934
1,413,922
78,076,854
1854.
L. 77,379
478,532
25,039
538,616
2,766,696
550,474
138,491
187,336
61,875
1,291,357
23,867
94,911
452,062
1,854,331
41,961
67,813
520,656
349,995
72,687
159,790
64,217
1,604,591
97,489
226,402
391,665
25,817,249
6,895,653
1,338,370
456,018
50,015
48,664
518,540
4,156,494
3,665,051
87,549
174,783
17,351
39,591
85,967
10,845,422
7,753
372,940
66,703
1,578,595
4,758,432
1,154,977
1,985,536
59,441
48,033
175,395
516,328
60,505
324,845
69,906
332,462
727,386
54,877
1,884
140,000
272,173
48,965
23,745
2,044,361
419,879
97,328
208,441
618,882
301,627
140,859
1,213,630
19,669
46,825
40,113
57,062
119,905
484,512
1,456,786
10,172,182
2,375,890
98,933,781
E ]N GLAND.
Statistics. Account of the Value of the Imports into, and of the Exports from, the
i , ^ United Kingdom, during each of several years ending the 5th Janu¬
ary, showing the official as well as the real or declared values of these.
737
Years
ending1
Jan. 5)
1815.. .
1853.. .
1854.. .
Imports into
theU. Kingdom
calculated
at the official
rates.
L.
32,620,771
109,345,409
123,136,835
Exports calculated at the Official Rates of
Valuation.
Produce and
Manufactures
of the United
Kingdom.
L.
32,200,580
196,176,601
214,360,489
Foreign and
Colonial
Merchandise.
L.
19,157,818
23,329,089
27,767,733
Total
Exports.
L.
51,358,398
219,505,690
242,128,222
Produce and
Manufactures
of the U. King¬
dom exported,
at the real or
declared value.
L.
43,447,373
78,076,854
98,933,781
Decline in
the real
value of the
exports.
The great increase in the official, and the comparative
decline in the real or declared value of the exports, since
1815, has given rise to a great deal of irrelevant discussion.
It has been looked upon as a proof that our commerce is
daily becoming less prosperous, whereas, in point of fact,
a precisely opposite conclusion should be drawn from it.
The rates according to which the official values of the
exports are determined were fixed as far back as 1696;
so that they have long ceased to be of importance as afford¬
ing any criterion of the actual value, their only use being
to show the fluctuations in the quantities exported. To
remedy this defect, a plan was formed during the early
part of Mr Pitt’s administration, for keeping an account of
the real value of the exports, as ascertained by the decla-
clarations of the exporters. Those who contend that our
trade is getting into a bad condition, argue that the great
increase in the official value of the exports since 1815 shows
that the quantity of the articles exported has been propor¬
tionally augmented, whilst the fall in their real value shows
that we are selling this larger quantity for a smaller price,
a result which, they affirm, is most injurious. But the cir¬
cumstance of a manufacturer or a merchant selling a large
or a small quantity of produce at the same price, affords no
criterion by which to judge as to the advantage or disad¬
vantage of the sale ; for if, in consequence of improvements
in the arts or otherwise, a particular article may now be
produced for half the expense that its production cost ten
or twenty years ago, it is obvious that double the quantity
of it may be afforded at the same price without injury to
the producers. Now this is the case with some of the most
important articles which are exported from England. Cot¬
tons and cotton-twist form a full third or more of our entire
exports; and since 1814 there has been an extraordinary
fall in the price of these articles, occasioned partly by cot¬
ton wool having fallen from about Is. 6d. per lb. to about
5d. per lb., but more by improvements in the manufacture.
Hence, whilst the official value of the exports of cotton
goods and twist has increased from about L. 18,000,000 in
1814, to about L.100,000,000 in 1853, their declared value
has risen only from about L.20,000,000 at the former period
to about L.33,000,000 at the latter. Surely, however, this
is, if anything can be, a proof of increasing prosperity ; it
shows that we can now export and sell with a profit (for
unless such were the case, does any one imagine the ex¬
portation would continue ?) nearly four times the quantity
of cotton goods and yarn which we exported in 1814 for
about the same price. See Cotton Manufacture.
The commercial interests of England long suffered from
the inextricable confusion of our maritime laws. From the
revolution down to 1786 some hundreds of acts were passed,
each enacting some addition, diminution, or change of the
duties, drawbacks, bounties, and regulations previously exist¬
ing in the customs. Mr Pitt has the merit of having first intro¬
duced something like order into this chaos. Under his auspices
all the separate custom-duties existing in 1787 were repealed,
and simple and intelligible ones substituted in their stead.
In the report of the Lords’ Committee on Foreign Trade
in 1820, it is stated that the laws under which the commerce
of the country was regulated amounted to upwards of 2000,
VOL. VIII.
of which 1600 were in force in 1815. After this report was Statistics,
printed, Mr Huskeyson introduced great reforms into the
laws affecting shipping and navigation. And since his time
the repeal <of a vast number of custom-duties and the many
important and beneficial changes effected by Sir Robert
Peel, have vastly simplified our commercial legislation.
Carious improvements have also been introduced by the
late chancellor of the exchequer, Mr Gladstone ; and the
Customs Consolidation Act of 1853 has brought the
various laws relating to the customs into a concise and
simple form. It comprises the whole law respecting the
importation, exportation, warehousing, smuggling, &c., of
goods, with the regulations to be observed in the coasting
and colonial trades, &c., and is at once brief, comprehen¬
sive, and so clear as to be level to the comprehension of
those least acquainted with such matters. Besides con¬
densing and simplifying the various laws respecting the
customs, this act has also introduced some most important
changes. The merchant is now no longer obliged, when
successful in a suit, to pay his own expenses, as was for¬
merly the case; nor are goods in dispute now detained till
the point be inquired into and decided, but are given up on
the amount claimed being deposited. If the claim is found
to have been unjust, the sum overcharged is returned, with
interest at the rate of 5 per cent., and the expenses of the
suit. The merchant may also, if he consider himself
aggrieved by the decision of the board, have the case brought
into open court before a commissioner, where he may meet
the officer, and learn by examination the real facts of the
case. The evidence so taken is reported to the board, who
may thereupon confirm or modify their decision; it being
optional with the merchant either to abide by it, or to carry
the case before a competent tribunal. If the duty or penalty
claimed be under L.100, or the case be of a simple kind, it
may be tried before magistrates, county courts, or other in¬
ferior tribunals.
In order to promote the shipping interest in Britain the Shipping,
navigation laws were passed, which were long considered the
safeguards of British commerce. By these laws certain enu¬
merated articles, which in fact comprehended everything
that was of importance in commerce, could be brought to
our shores only in British ships, or in the ships of the country
of which the goods were the produce, or in ships of the
country from which the goods were to be brought. Expe¬
rience proved that these restrictions which were intended
for the benefit of British commerce, operated only as fetters
upon trade. By the act passed in 1849, the restrictive pro¬
visions of the old acts were repealed from and after the 1st
of January 1850. Great alarm was created among the ship¬
builders and others, by the change, which as they apprehended
was fraught with ruin to the trade and commerce of the
country; but instead of that, the trade increased more rapidly
than before. The amount of tonnage built in 1849 was
121,266, in 1851 it was 149,599, and in 1853 it was 203,171.
The increase has been more remarkable in steam than in
sailing vessels : in 1850 the number of steam-vessels built
was 36, and their tonnage 3835; in 1853 the number of
steam-vessels built was 153, and their tonnage 45,215.
Another circumstance which is remarkable, is the recent
extraordinary substitution of iron for wood in the construc¬
tion of steam-vessels. Of the 158 built in 1853, no less
than 117 were iron. Dr Strang, in a communication made
to the British Association in 1852, states, that during the
last seven years there have been constructed, or were con¬
structing, in Glasgow and neighbourhood, 123 vessels, 122
of which were iron. At Greenock and Port-Glasgow, during
the same period, there were constructed 66 steam-vessels,
13 of which were of wood and 53 of iron.
The subjoined tables give a complete view of the shipping
belonging to the different ports of the British empire, and of
the navigation with foreign countries, in 1852 and 1853.
5 A
T38
Statistics.
ENGLAND.
~ *
A Return of the Number and Tonnage of Sailing Vessels Registered at each of the Ports of Great Britain and Ire- Statistics.
land, including the Isle of Man arid the Channel Islands; distinguishing those under and those above Fifty Tons
Register, on the ?>\st December 1853:—Also, a similar Return of Steam Vessels and their Tonnage.
ENGLAND.
Aberystwith...
Arundel 
Barnstaple .....
Beaumaris 
Berwick ....
Bideford ...
Boston 
Bridgewater...
Bridport 
Bristol 
Caernarvon 
Cardiff 
Cardigan 
Carlisle 
Chepstow 
Chester 
Colchester 
Cowes 
Dartmouth 
Deal 
Dover 
Exeter 
Falmouth 
Faversham —
Fleetwood 
Fowey 
Folkstone 
Gainsborough.
Gloucester 
Goole 
Grimsby 
Hartlepool 
Harwich 
Hull 
Ipswich 
Lancaster 
Liverpool 
Llanelly 
London  
Lowestoft 
Lyme 
Lynn 
Mai don 
Maryport.....
Milford 
Newcastle 
Newhaven 
Newport  
Padstow 
Penzance 
Plymouth 
Poole 
Portsmouth...
Preston 
Ramsgate 
Rochester 
Rye 
Saint Ives 
Scarborough .
Scilly 
Shields 
Shoreham 
Southampton
Stockton 
Sunderland..
Swansea 
Teignmouth.
Truro 
Wells 
Weymouth...
Whitby 
Whitehaven.
Wisbeach....
Woodbridge.
Workington.
Yarmouth ...
Total, England.
Sailing Vessels.
Under 50 Tons.
Vessels.
Tonnage.
121
50
51
139
30
60
112
55
3
165
114
23
128
12
42
59
191
126
166
19
48
41
50
225
16
38
7
6
275
116
74
3
72
228
51
36
232
40
749
40
7
55
111
19
73
7
10
19
69
27
250
33
170
79
95
324
81
63
62
15
17
54
136
22
93
73
2
12
120
29
48
14
25
30
3
328
4,034
1,372
1,724
4,286
1,015
1,891
4,176
1,965
124
4,974
3,738
614
3,819
398
1,155
2,219
3,981
3,259
4,591
346
1,369
1,197
1,393
4,936
480
1,335
137
257
7,687
8,824
2,151
17
2,170
8,223
1,453
1,389
8,019
1,098
24,621
1,093
217
1,769
3,196
562
1,979
3,164
216
766
2,558
693
7,394
871
4,221
3,007
2,564
10,091
1,848
1,380
1,767
403
545
1,027
3,588
578
2,776
2,116
60
431
2,614
825
1,649
402
930
1,008
88
9,332
Above 50 Tons.
Vessels.
123
44
29
118
29
77
49
69
14
229
298
36
92
20
13
59
69
47
253
21
146
73
82
14
109
7
5
74
396
14
124
54
223
112
53
1,786
36
2,209
23
13
122
48
88
70
695
15
59
54
63
200
75
74
42
37
62
45
98
134
45
763
62
85
135
832
94
14
38
79
55
341
181
79
38
90
289
Tonnage.
6,588 1 204,195 | 12,443
11,247
5.901
3,300
17,330
3,112
9,061
3,286
11,476
1,843
61.354
23,506
6,128
8,742
1,488
I, 096
4,063
7,907
5,136
28,291
2,503
19,533
7,364
10.355
3,424
10,696
900
363
II, 200
25,041
I, 251
26,777
5,171
48,438
12,180
5,479
704,342
3.329
654,694
1,862
I, 754
18,569
4,741
16,088
8,494
147,782
2,405
II, 378
6,846
7,497
36,759
13,429
8,335
3,929
3,485
7,745
4,657
II, 038
32,079
6,216
201,104
11,277
10,744
27,830
208,891
14,301
2,638
3,381
7,226
6,487
59,274
31,359
10,796
2,718
18.394
32,991
Steam Vessels.
Under 50 Tons.
Vessels.
2,771,806
Tonnage.
1
2
12
1
7
1
1
7
1
1
1
1
2
2
4
6
12
5
24
3
116
1
2
1
89
82
8
25
38
6
1
2
1
3
1
3
1
5
Above 50 Tons.
18
21
308
49
179
38
17
246
23
22
19
14
9
49
54
27
71
124
291
192
873
62
3,759
17
"26
34
48
1,624
67
105
22
142
145
10
154
1,646
265
555
671
141
19
30
31
85
37
70
18
87
18
1
2
1
1
4
Tonnage.
30
4
7
102
291
13
1
’ 6
504 t 12,514
543
219
74
3,728
88
187
231
53
907
54
904
307
680
1,030
7,418
447
1,085
24,325
109,598
2,123
199
2,226
52
266
180
768
62
726
1,864
53
519
122
879
482
282
162.138
ENGLAND,
739
Statistics.
SCOTLAND.
Aberdeen 
Alloa 
Arbroath  
Ayr 
Banff 
Borrowstounness.
Campbeltown 
Dumfries 
Dundee 
Glasgow 
Grangemouth 
Greenock 
Inverness   
Irvine 
Kirkcaldy 
Kirkwall 
Leith   
Lerwick 
Montrose 
Perth  
Peterhead 
Port Glasgow 
Stornoway 
Stranraer 
Wick 
Wigtown 
Total, Scotland.
IRELAND.
Ballina 
Belfast  
Coleraine 
Cork 
Drogheda 
Dublin 
Dundalk 
Galway 
Limerick 
Londonderry
Newry  
Ross 
Skibbereen...
Sligo 
Strangford...,
Tralee 
Waterford ...
Westport 
W exford 
Total, Ireland.
Isle of Man 
Channel Islands.
Sailing Vessels.
Under 50 Tons.
Vessels.
19
28
17
16
49
29
26
73
34
78
8
220
169
41
63
22
79
54
10
10
8
38
42
5
23
36
1,197
159
11
158
7
291
5
12
59
10
78
2
94
13
32
12
60
4
28
1,037
318
207
Tonnage.
539
884
704
486
1,666
942
883
2,327
1,161
2,744
297
6,209
4,195
1,194
2,020
560
2,350
1,231
437
316
246
1,442
1,131
548
665
1,236
36,413
36
5,428
272
3,696
193
8,407
181
359
1,761
256
2,401
69
2,285
401
1,053
303
1,524
87
1,006
29,721
7,422
5,445
Above 50 Tons.
Vessels.
212
51
94
26
96
44
1
51
284
382
38
184
79
77
36
21
102
8
88
44
40
16
14
28
16
16
2,048
1
322
228
41
127
18
3
40
14
39
16
3
19
21
4
94
1
70
1,061
Tonnage.
46,411
13,693
13,409
4,472
11,343
4,891
576
8,437
55,466
152,528
7,955
65,677
6,536
17,714
7,096
1,925
22,007
755
14,359
4,262
9,485
4,827
1,477
856
1,281
1,543
478,981
Steam Vessels.
Under 50 Tons.
Vessels.
3
17
4
2
13
1
’ 1
43
215
75,536
41,'626
5,166
21,588
1,431
502
10,315
4,171
5,293
5,756
202
3,739
2,406
729
12,964
120
7,660
199,419
Tonnage.
41
25
94
610
81
47
274
19
14
Above 50 Tons.
1,205
28
214
119
24
125
44
17
554
39
286
2,947
43,743
21
7
91
3
12
2
3
1
15
1
2
12
164
10
16
5
43
2
1
4
3
19
Tonnage.
104
3,116
302
70
259
1,686
26,963
747
1,965
535
476
62
3,672
"76
116
2181
316
42,542
2,186
4,827
1,787
11,656
844
300
1,339
873
67
5,791
29,670
1,197
271
Statistics.
VESSELS REGISTERED.
An Account of the Number of Vessels, with the amount of their Tonnage, and the Number of Men and Bogs usually
employed in Navigating the same, that belonged to the several Ports of the British Empire, on the 31st December
1851, 1852, and 1853 respectively.  
England   
Scotland 
Ireland  
Isles of Guernsey, Jersey, and Man
British Plantations  
Total.
On the 31st December 1851.
Vessels.
19,404
3,587
2,203
849
8,201
34,244
Tonnage.
2,803,052
536,266
262,411
60,615
669,741
4,332,085
145,222
29,587
14,155
5,798
46,166
240,928
On the 31st December 1852.
Vessels.
19,600
3,450
2,178
858
8,316
34,402
Tonnage.
2,907,999
535,008
254,997
61,274
665,114
4,424,392 243,512
147,252
29,512
13,902
5,978
46,868
On the 31st December 1853.
Vessels.
20,078
3,451
2,219
860
S^Ol
35,309
Tonnage.
3,150,653
559,141
259,364
61,046
734,218
4,764,422
Men.
152,184
29,563
14,083
5,701
52,365
253,896
740
ENGLAND.
Statistics. A Return of the Number and Tonnage of Sailing Vessels Registered at each of the Colonies of the United Kingdom Statistics.
respectively, distinguishing those under and those above 50 Tons Register, on the 31 st December 1853 :—A similar
Return of Steam Vessels and their Tonnage.
Africa—
Bathurst 
Sierra Leone 
Cape of Good Hope ..
Mauritius 
Australia—
Sydney 
Melbourne 
Hobart Town   
Launceston 
New Zealand  
America (British Northern
Colonies)—
Newfoundland  
Canada   
New Brunswick   
Nova Scotia and Cape Breton....
Prince Edward Island 
British West Indies—
Antigua 
Barbadoes 
Dominica 
Grenada 
Jamaica  
Montserrat  
Nevis 
St Christopher   
St Lucia 
St Vincent 
Tobago   
Tortola 
Trinidad 
Bahamas 
Bermuda   
Demerara  
Berbice   
Sailing Vessels.
Under 50 Tons.
Vessels.
49
11
7
60
150
65
106
32
117
458
257
428
1,167
213
80
26
16
46
75
1
11
18
12
35
8
34
51
135
14
32
17
Tonnage.
923
270
228
1,747
3,805
1,584
2,773
834
2,400
13,774
8,628
10,568
52,998
6,002
1,191
626
333
484
1,798
13
127
245
332
623
228
205
886
2,900
421
868
273
Above 50 Tons.
Vessels.
14
8
46
49
141
55
221
32
29
490
437
375
1,773
132
2
7
1
2
4
31
30
9
2
Tonnage.
1,270
746
6,839
7,344
26,321
7,327
21,088
6,344
1,918
49,720
73,181
102,029
135,989
19,831
411
738
248
1,054
59
335
656
97
182
305
2,615
2,754
670
133
Steam Vessels.
Under 50 Tons.
Vessels.
1
22
10
3
Tonnage.
191
44
69
40
789
358
96
48
Above 50 Tons.
1
69
14
Tonnage.
171
1,487
460
52
96
8,564
1,633
”’57
69
A Return of the Number of Vessels, ivith their Tonnage (distinguishing Steam from Sailmg Vessels'), that ivere Built
and Registered in, the United Kingdom, distinguishing Timber from Iron Vessels, in the Year 1853.
Sailing Vessels
Steam Vessels..
Total,
Timber.
Vessels.
635
36
671
Tonnage.
146,380
3,305
149,685
Iron.
Vessels.
Tonnage.
10
117
127
8,576
44,910
53,486
From the statistics of Glasgow, published by Dr Strang
in 1855, we learn that the tonnage of steamboats built on
the Clyde during thirty years, from 1820 to 1850, amounted
to 103,270, while in the three years 1851, 1852, 1853, it
amounted to 141,713 in 206 vessels, which were almost
entirely of iron. And to show the magnitude of this great
department of Scottish industry, he adds that, during a.
period of twelve months, embracing the greater part of
1853, the tonnage of all vessels built in the ports of the
Clyde was 64,114 tons, whereas the total tonnage of vessels
built in London in 1853 was only 62,745, and in Liverpool
45,682.
E N G L A N D.
741
Statistics. ^4 Return of the Shipping employed in the Irade of the United Kingdom, exhibiting the Number and Tonnage of Statistics.
Vessels that entered Inwards and cleared Outwards {including their repeated Voyages), separating British from
Foreign Vessels, also Steam from Sailing Vessels, and distinguishing the Trade xoith each Country, in the Year
1853 {in continuation of Parliamentary Paper No. 299, of Session 1852-3).
Russia.
Sweden.
Norway
Denmark
Prussia.
Germany.
Holland.
Belgium.
France.
Gibraltar.
Italian States
f Steam
\ Sailing
{Steam
Sailing
f Steam
\ Sailing
f Steam
' \ Sailing
{ Steam
' \ Sailing
f Steam
' ( Sailing
f Steam
’ \ Sailing
[ Steam
* \ Sailing
Channel Islands (
1 Sailing
| Steam
[ Sailing
Portugal, Azores, and Madeira.... j g^™g
„ . . r, • f Steam
Spain and Canaries  j Sailing
{Steam
Sailing
{Steam
Sailing
f Steam
l Sailing
Ionian Islands    Sailing
Greece   Sailing
f Steam
Turkey  1 Sailing
Wallachia and Moldavia  Sailing
„ . f Steam
Syria 1 Sailing
{Steam
Sailing
j Steam
\ Sailing
( Steam
\ Sailing
f Steam
| Sailing
f Steam
\ Sailing
United States j
Central and Southern States.... (
Sailing
Falkland Islands   Sailing
Arctic Regions  Sailing
Whale Fisheries  Sailing
Inwakd.
Malta.
Africa,
Asia   
America—
British Northern Colonies.
British West Indies
Foreign West Indies.
Ships.
Total.
27
1,790
38
223
13
110
101
84
’958
432
1,126
825
958
290
345
326
1,526
1,576
2,926
29
607
1
516
36
24
32
464
38
43
68
51
272
242
3
28
47
563
16
834
4
1,877
1
690
25
150
79
441
16
693
2
62
Tonnage.
21,628
13,489
397,775
11,388
44,814
3,185
13,624
44,188
7,966
154,855
153,096
202,124
246,627
133,305
85,515
40,441
51,599
121,603
290,158
302,449
9,856
62,386
403
55,450
14,247
3,766
14,212
66,037
6,383
5,773
10,263
30,674
56,335
42,106
968
5,377
36,410
158,438
24,172
476,983
1,791
775,446
321
184,027
38,527
43,224
86,354
266,408
14,731
229,399
562
16,113
5,055,343
Foreign.
Ships.
1,881
2
1,089
1,765
19
2,120
11
2,573
124
1,783
184
1,146
126
480
38
15
4,367
179
12
252
3
257
16
5
23
277
315
14,
291
”’68
443
42
1
239
27
889
171
Tonnage.
21,248
377,754
190
200,187
284,908
4,799
157,789
2,638
416,194
41,659
164,150
38,566
225,593
29,213
70,987
3,648
1,597
420,130
22,644
2,510
32,198
210
57,265
3,490
1,212
4,857
68,964
55,600
3,146
si,098
44,390
225,753
10,058
250
60,926
37,390
697,857
37,830
113
3,887,763
Outward.
British.
Ships.
22
1,353
36
164
16
126
29
406
817
419
1,146
605
913
289
272
320
1,166
1,491
2,651
23
626
1
1,014
37
174
33
708
2
170
40
21
50
245
73
5
' 36
44
581
41
1,515
2
1,329
1
612
26
204
86
860
16
590
3
2
67
Tonnage.
21,478
12,225
295,037
10,872
31,216
3,920
19,306
11,393
75.779
130,304
150,254
203,794
176,056
118,076
85.779
18,254
53,818
74.728
275,303
301,791
8,451
68,785
500
174,401
15,273
21.728
14,877
130,583
756
41,600
8,183
3,740
30,408
53,458
12,489
1,756
7,244
37,465
173,109
26,553
739,492
1,281
537,767
321
168,748
44,354
56,949
88,428
470,848
17,338
189,282
1,352
574
16,982
5,212,980
Foreign.
Ships.
1
1,089
887
1,849
8
5,034
10
1,708
117
1,984
185
612
121
200
15
4,061
548
11
683
o
67
1
575
172
31
65
581
50
10
”260
408
92
44
342
36
1,175
"266
1
23,301
Tonnage.
1,800
200,010
145,817
292,764
2,304
529,957
2,350
308,725
31,365
195,484
38,434
47,740
27,858
23,695
1,597
342,092
94,063
2,279
116,821
650
11,955
150
130,229
44,657
8,636
17,685
153,994
6,558
1^997
e’i’gsi
214,437
29,548
11,285
90,229
49,397
932,605
62^910
116
4,234,124
i
742
ENGLAND.
Statistics.
These Returns embrace Vessels belonging to the Channel Islands, but not Vessels registered in the
British Plantations.
Statistics.
2. Return of the Number and Tonnage of British Registered Vessels employed solely as Home-Trade Ships in the
Years 1849, 1850, 1851, 1852, and 1853, with the Number of Men employed; distinguishing Sailing Vessels
from Steamers.
YEARS.
1849.
1850.
1851.
1852.
1853.
Number of
Vessels.
9,298
8,830
8,898
8,776
8,477
Sailing Yessels.
Tonnage.
665,726
666,957
635,641
701,803
689,342
Number of
Men employed.
40,208
38,527
36,906
35,793
36,051
Steam Yessels.
Number of
Vessels.
312
320
368
358
374
Tonnage.
Number of
iMen employed,
54,089
54,196
78,820
66,606
85,471
4,442
4,491
6,048
5,182
6,689
2. Return of the Number and Tonnage of British Registered Vessels employed partly as Home- Trade Ships, and
partly as Foreign-going Ships, i?i the Years 1849, 1850, 1851, 1852, and 1853, with the Number of Men em¬
ployed ; distinguishing Sailing Vessels from Steamers.
YEARS.
1849.
1850.
1851.
1852.
1853.
Sailing Vessels.
Number of
Vessels.
1,897
1,487
1,489
1,063
970
Tonnage.
281,951
222.341
242,656
147,867
156,800
Number of
Men employed.
12,715
10,291
8,570
6,875
7,134
Steam Vessels.
Number of
Vessels.
20
20
18
42
28
Tonnage.
Number of
Men employed
5,539
5,298
4,926
15,244
7,250
262
396
282
944
560
3 Return of the Number and Tonnage of British Registered Vessels employed solely as Foreign-going Ships in the
Years 1849, 1850, 1851, 1852, and 1853, with the Number of Men employed; distinguishing Sailing Vessels
from Steamers.
YEARS.
1849.
1850.
1851.
1852.
1853.
Sailing Vessels.
Number of
Vessels.
6,612
7,149
7,277
7,431
8,120
Tonnage.
2,040,344
2,143,234
2,287,897
2,365,995
2,665,685
Number of
Men employed.
Steam Vessels.
Number of
Vessels.
91,242
93,912
85,801
103,618
111,821
82
86
134
149
237
I Number of
Tonnage. jy[en employed
48,693
45,186
60,995
83,369
125,539
3,742
3,813
4,330
7,151
10,270
A—Aaareaate Returns 1, 2, and 3, showing the Total Number of British Registered Vessels employed in Trading in,
9%om, aZ to Great Britain and Ireland, in the Years 1849, 1850, 1851, 1852, and 1853, with their Tonnage
and Number of Men.
YEARS.
1849.
1850.
1851.
1852.
1853.
Sailing Vessels.
Number of
Vessels.
17,807
17,466
17,664
17,270
17,567
Tonnage.
2,988,021
3,032,532
3,216,194
3,215,665
3,511,827
Number of
Men employed.
144,165
142,730
131,277
146,286
155,006
Steamers.*
Number of
Vessels.
414
426
520
549
639
Tonnage.
108,321
104,680
144,741
165,219
218,260
Number of
Men employed
8,446
8,700
10,660
13,277
17,519
* River steamers are not included in this return.
ENGLAND.
743
Statistics. IX.—Establishments for Religion and Education.
Rank of The Church of England has two archbishops and twenty-
the clergy, six bishops, twenty-four of whom are peers of the realm,
e and all indebted for their appointment to the crown. The
province of York comprises six bishoprics, viz. Durham,
Carlisle, Chester, Manchester,1 Ripon, and the Isle of Man •,
all the rest, to the number of twenty, are in the province of
Canterbury. The clerical dignitary next to the bishop is
the archdeacon, whose duty, though very different in differ¬
ent dioceses, may be termed that of a representative of the
bishop in several of his less important functions. The num¬
ber of archdeacons in England and Wales, including the
Channel Islands, is—in the province of Canterbury 56,
in the province of York 15, in all 71. The number of
deaneries is 463—in the province of Canterbury 397, and
in the province of York 66. The name of Dean (De-
canus) was probably derived from his originally superin¬
tending ten canons or prebendaries. Each bishop has a
chapter or council appointed to assist him, and each chapter
has a dean as its president; but there are in the Church of
England many deaneries of other descriptions. Rector is,
in general, the title of a clergyman holding a living of which
the tithes are entire ; vicar is understood of a living where
the great tithes have passed into secular hands. The very
general name of curate signifies sometimes (as cure in
France) a clergyman in possession of a living, but more
frequently one exercising the spiritual office in a parish
under the rector or vicar. The latter are temporary curates,
their appointment being a matter of arrangement with the
rector or vicar; the former, being more permanent, are
called perpetual curates, and are appointed by the impro¬
priator of the tithe in a parish which has neither rector nor
vicar. The name of priest is, in general, confined to the
clergy of the Church of Rome; in the Church of England
the corresponding term is a clerk in orders. A parson
(persona ecclesice) denotes a clergyman in possession of a
parochial church. Deacon is, in England, not a layman, as
in Calvinist countries, but a clergyman of limited qualifi¬
cations, entitled to preach, baptize, marry, and bury, but
not to give the sacrament. Readers are not regular cler¬
gymen, but laymen of good character, licensed by the bishop
to read prayers in churches or chapels where there is no
clergyman. (See Adolphus on the British Empire, vol. i.)
The division of the country ecclesiastically _ into dioceses,
archdeaconries, and deaneries, took place in very early
times. Most of the present bishoprics were founded in the
Saxon period : originally there were three archbishoprics—of
Canterbury, York, and Caerleon in Wales; the latter was
suppressed by Henry L, and the territory annexed to the see
of Canterbury. Most of the dioceses, on their first formation,
had their limits co-extensive with the boundaries of the king¬
doms of the sovereigns who formed them ; subdivisions soon,
however, were discovered to be necessary ; and the Council of
Hertford, convened by Archbishop Theodore, decreed that, as
the faithful grew to be more numerous, the number of sees
should also be increased. The first subdivision was made by
this prelate in the diocese of York; and the various princes
subsequently made repeated alterations, until at length the
whole arrangement settled into its existing shape, excepting
the addition made by Henry VIII., and by the recent acts of
parliament. Henry, witli a portion of the proceeds of the
confiscated monasteries, founded seven new bishoprics, viz.
Gloucester, Bristol, Peterborough, Oxford, Westminster, Ches¬
ter, and Man. The bishopric of Westminster, however, only
lasted until 1550, when it was again incorporated with the see
of London; and the act of 6th and 7th Will. IV., cap. 77, united Statistics,
into one the sees of Gloucester and Bristol, and created two i ^ f^
additional—Manchester and Ripon. By this statute, the Ec¬
clesiastical Commissioners were authorized to alter the limits
of nearly all the rest, by effecting a transference of parishes
from one to another, with a view to the more convenient dis¬
tribution of territory and population.
Archdeacons anciently were only members of chapters
without territorial jurisdiction. The assignment of specific
limits for archdeaconries took place soon after the Conquest.3
The act of 6th and 7th Will. IV., cap. 77, gives power to the
ecclesiastical commissioners to re-arrange the boundaries of the
ancient, and to form certain new, archdeaconries. The new
ones formed in exercise of this authority are Bristol, Maid¬
stone, Monmouth, Westmoreland, Manchester, Lancaster, and
Craven.
Deans are principally of two kinds : (1) those attached to
cathedrals, who are the heads of the different chapters ; and
(2) rural deans, who perform certain functions as assistants to
the bishops, in particular definite portions of the several dio¬
ceses. These Rural Deaneries were recognised ecclesiastical
divisions of a diocese in Saxon times. They seem to have been
designed to correspond with hundreds in the political division
of the country, as archdeaconries were possibly intended to
correspond with counties. The etymology of the word (De-
canus) favours this idea ; and it is not improbable that all such
deaneries originally embraced districts with ten churches, and
no more ; their boundaries, once settled, never having been
disturbed, although increase of population caused an increase
in the number of religious edifices. Some of them still contain
ten churches only. These deaneries gradually fell into disuse
from the period of the Conquest; but recent legislation tends
to their revival.
The clergy are in theory supposed to assemble in convoca¬
tion during the sitting of parliament to consult on ecclesiastical
subjects. The convocation is summoned by writ from the
crown directed to each archbishop, but it cannot constitute any
canons without license from the crown: consequently the assem¬
bly since the time of Henry VIII. has been a mere form ; no
business is transacted. Lately, however, attempts have been
made to revive this obsolete court, and on the last meeting
(1854) the assembly sat a short time during the day, and en¬
tered on some formal proceedings.
A clerical education in England is much less extensive
than in Calvinist countries ; in Scotland, Holland, Swit¬
zerland, or the north of Germany, after going through a
course of classics and philosophy, a second course is re¬
quired for theology solely; but in England the former is
sufficient. The degree of bachelor of arts requires an ex¬
amination and a university residence of three or four years ;
but to qualify for the acceptance of a curacy, a certificate
of attending a single course of lectures in divinity is all that
is necessary.
The total number of benefices in England and Wales is Livings.
11,728, of which 9669 are iu the province of Canterbury
and 2059 in the province of York. From this multiplicity
of benefices, and from the general smallness of the incomes,
have arisen two great irregularities, pluralities and non-re¬
sidence, both forbidden by the ancient statutes of the church,
but both long sanctioned by usage. Many clergymen hold
livings without doing duty at any of them ; others do duty
in one or in two which are adjacent to each other, and have
a curate for the more distant; whilst curates frequently do
duty at two and sometimes at three distinct places of wor¬
ship. To prevent, or at least to lessen, the abuse of non¬
residence, an act of parliament was passed in 1813, direct¬
ing that every non-resident incumbent should nominate a
curate at a salary of not less than L.80 a-year, unless the
▼ • t/"vo v,t v, _»A/fnnpVip^fpr') wn.®} orGcitcd. but the act dsclarcs tbat the number of lords
1 By the act 10th and llth Viet., cap. > * ™ thL creation. The bishop of Sodor and Man, who was formerly appointed by
spiritual sitting in parliament shall not be increased by ^ ^ ^ ^ HousP, of Lords, and his salary is only L.2000. The bishops
SLond^n! Durham, and°WinTe^er, rank immediately after the archbishops; the others according to priority of consecration; and the
last appointed bishop has no seat in the House of Lords.
2 The first assignment was by Archbishop Lanfranc, A.D. llbo.
ENGLAND.
744
Statistics entire living should be less. The effect of this act was to
^ reduce the number of non-resident clergymen by 800 fully ;
they had previously been about 4700 ; but in 1815 the offi¬
cial return to parliament of the incumbents in England
and Wales was as follows :
Non-resident front the following causes :
Sinecures    52
Vacancies 164
Sequestrations  40
Recent Institutions  87
Dilapidated churches  32
Held by bishops  22
Law-suits, absence on the Continent, &c 122
Livings from which no report 279
798
Incumbents non-resident from other causes 3,856
Incumbents resident 5,847
10,501
Returns for the year 1850, made by the respective arch
bishops and bishops in England and Wales, give—
The total number of benefices in which the incumbents
were resident  8,077
Ditto, ditto non-resident 2,952
Miscellaneous cases  699
Total  11,728
The number of benefices on which there was a
glebe-house was  8,214
Of these 11 are under the annual value of L.10 ; 19 from
L.10 to L.20; 32 from L.20 to L.30; 235 from L.30 to
L.50; 1629 from L.50toL.100; 1602 from L.100 to L.150;
1354 from L.150 to L.200; 1979 from L.200 to L.300;
1326 from L.300 to L.400; 830 from L.400 to L.500;
954 from L.500 to L.750; 323from L.750 to L.1000; 134
from L.1000 to L.1500; 32 from L.1500 to L.2000; 16 of
L.2000 and upwards. Among the last are the rectory of
Stanhope in Northumberland, and that of Doddington in
Cambridgeshire, the former being of the annual value of
L.4863, and the latter of L.7306.
Churches. The income of the Church of England is derived from
lands, tithes, church-rates, pew-rents, Easter offerings, and
surplice fees. The distribution of these revenues, accord¬
ing to the report of the commissioners for inquiring into
ecclesiastical revenues, was, in 1831, as follows :—
Bishops L.181,631
Deans and Chapters  360,095
Parochial Clergy  3,251,159
Church-rates  500,000
L.4,292,885
The total number of churches and chapels of the Church
of England was then 11,825; and from that time to 1851,
2029 new churches had been built. The value of church
property had also much increased, so that the total income
of the church in 1851 was estimated to be considerably
above L.5,000,000. The number of beneficed clergy in
1831 was 10,718, and consequently the gross average in¬
come of each would be about L.300 a-year; the number
of curates was 5230, whose stipends amounted in all to
L.424,695, averaging L.81 per annum to each. As many
incumbents possessed more than L.300 a-year, and some
curates more than L.81, the remuneration of others was
below these sums respectively. For the purpose of raising
the incomes of incumbents of the smaller livings, the gover¬
nors of “ Queen Anne’s Bounty” annually receive the sum
of L.14,000, the produce of first-fruits and tenths, which were
formerly paid to the Pope, but were at the Reformation
appropriated to the sovereign, and by Queen Anne granted
“ for the augmentation of the maintenance of the poor
clergy.” Ihe ecclesiastical commissioners also apply to
the same object a portion of the surplus proceeds of episco¬
pal and capitular estates.
Tithes necessarily fluctuated with the state of agricul- Statistics,
ture, and, during the distress of 1815, the deficiency in
this respect became alarming. Application was made to Tithes,
parliament, and the subject was for some time under serious
discussion; but the rise of corn in 1816 and 1817 prevented
any other measure than an act founded on a committee re¬
port of 18th June 1816, authorizing the possessors of tithes,
laymen as well as clergymen, to grant leases of them for a
term not exceeding fourteen years.
By Act 6th and 7th Will. IV., cap. 71, a board of com¬
missioners called the “ Tithe Commissioners for England
and Wales” was appointed, the object of which was to con¬
vert the tithes into a rent-charge, payable in money, but
varying in amount according to the average price of corn
for seven preceding years. The amount of the tithes was
to be calculated on an average of the seven years preceding
Christmas 1835 ; and the quantity of grain thus ascertained
was to remain for ever as the annual charge upon the parish ;
and the annual money value was ascertained from the re¬
turns of the comptroller of corn, who publishes annually in
January the average price of an imperial bushel of wheat,
barley, and oats, computed from the weekly averages of the
corn returns during the seven preceding years. The com¬
missioners report in 1851, that voluntary commutations had
been commenced in 9634 tithe districts; 7070 agreements
had been received, of which 6778 had been confirmed;
and 5529 drafts of compulsory awards had been received, of
which 5260 had been confirmed. Thus in 12,038 tithe
districts the rent charges had been finally established by
confirmed agreements or confirmed awards.
A prebend is a provision in land or money given to a Clerical
church in prcebendum, that is, for the support of a clergy- terms,
man whose title may be either prebendary or canon. Ad-
vowson {advocatid) is the right of presentation to a living,
and was first vested in those laymen who were founders of
or benefactors to livings. A living is held in commendam
when, to prevent its becoming void, it is committed (com-
mendatur) until it can be conveniently provided with a pas¬
tor. The modus {modus decimandi) is a composition for
tithes ; it may be either perpetual or during the lives of the
contracting parties. The lay impropriators of tithe, so fre¬
quent in England, date from the dissolution of the monas¬
teries in the reign of Henry VIII.; patrons were then allowed
to retain the tithes and glebe in their own hands, without
appointing a clergyman ; in cases of such appointment, the
clergyman was called vicar ius, or representative of the patron.
By the census of 1851, the clergymen in Great Britain
of the Established churches amount to 18,587—17,320
in England and Wales, 143 in the Islands of the British
Seas, and 1124 in Scotland; the other Protestant minis¬
ters to 8521; the Roman Catholic priests to 1093; theo¬
logical students, and various real or pretended religious
teachers, to 1477. The total number in the class is 30,047.
The churches have connected with them a considerable
number of subordinate officers, whose time is, however, only
very partially engaged; so that they have generally other
occupations under which they are returned. Thus only
2386 men are referred to the head “parish clerks;” 815
are called sextons, 756 church officers ; and the whole sub¬
class comprehends 4573 males, 901 females.
The Dissenters in England are, first, the Presbyterians,
who nearly coincide with the Church of England as to doc¬
trine, but differ in church-government, allowing no hierarchy
in individuals ; next the Independents, who go further, and
disclaim hierarchy in synods and other collective assemblies ;
thirdly, the well-known sect of Quakers, who date from the
middle of the seventeenth century ; and, lastly, the more
numerous Methodists, who date from 1729. Of the Bap¬
tists, the chief characteristic is their not receiving baptism till
they become adults. The Catholics in England are not nu¬
merous, but comprise a large proportion of wealthy families.
Statistics.
Education.
ENGLAND.
Proportion oj Accommodation provided by each Religious
Body in England and Wales.
Religions Denominations.
Number of
Places of Worship and
Sittings.
Protestant Churches :
Church of England  
Scottish Presbyterians:
Church of Scotland 
United Presbyterian Church
Presbyterian Ch. in England..
Reformed Irish Presbyterians
Independents  
Baptists :
General  
Particular 
Seventh Day  
Scotch   
New Connexion General ...
Undefined 
Society of Friends 
Unitarians  
Moravians 
Wesleyan Methodists:
Original Connexion  
New Connexion 
Primitive Methodists  
Bible Christians  
W. M. Association  
Independent Methodists  
Wesleyan Reformers  
Calvinistic Methodists :
Welsh Calvinistic Metho¬
dists  
Lady Huntingdon’s Con¬
nexion  
Sandemanians 
New Church 
Brethren  
Isolated Congregations 
Lutherans 
French Protestants  
Reformed Church of the Ne¬
therlands  
German Protestant Reformers
Other Christian Chs. :
Roman Catholics  
Greek Church  
German Catholics 
Italian Reformers 
Catholic and Apostolic
Church 
Latter Day Saints 
Jews  
Total.
14,077
18
66
76
1
3,244
93
1,947
2
15
182
550
371
229
32
6,579
297
2,871
482
419
20
339
828
109
6
50
132
539
6
3
1
1
570
3
1
1
32
222
53
34,467
5,317,915
13,789
31,351
41,552
120
1,067,760
20,539
582,953
390
2,547
52,604
93,310
91,599
68,554
9,305
1,447,580
96,964
414,030
66,834
98.813
2,263
67.814
211,951
38,727
956
12,107
18,529
104,481
2,606
560
350
200
186,111
291
300
150
7.437
30,783
8.438
10,212,563
Proportion
per cent,
of Sittings.
297
•1
•2
■2
60
•1
3-3
81
•5
2 3
•4
•5
1-2
•2
•1
•1
•6
1-0
569
2SJ
52-1
•1
•3
•4
10-5
•2
5-7
•5
•9
•9
•7
•1
14-1
10
4-0
•7
1-0
2-1
•4
•i
•2
1-0
1-8
100
In regard to the mode of education in England, there is
much both to commend and to censure. Scotland has for
a century past been in possession of a larger proportion of
parish schools; but the utility of these is much lessened
by an established routine of teaching Latin to almost all
youths, whatever be their intended line of life. In England
this absurdity is less prevalent, because most of the schools
are private undertakings, the managers of which are neces-
sarily guided by considerations of utility. The youth des¬
tined for a life of business are thus saved a serious waste of
time ; their education, if imperfect, is not supererogatory ;
but, on examining the higher seminaries of England, we Statistics,
find much ground for disappointment, and many marks of
a blind adherence to ancient usage. The universities of
Oxford and Cambridge are evidently inadequate for the
education of the nobility, the gentry, and the clergy of so
populous a country. Their course of study, also, is quite
unsuitable to the future occupations of many of the students.
I hey were originally designed for the education of church¬
men ; and, to this day, Latin, Greek, and mathematics, form
the chief objects of instruction. In 1850 a parliamentary
commission was appointed to inquire into the state, disci¬
pline, studies, and revenues of the universities of Oxford
and Cambridge; and in the session of 1854 a bill was
passed by which various important reforms were introduced
into the management and government of these valuable
institutions.
No country rivals England in the magnificence of her Education
academical buildings. Whilst in France, Germany, or of the poor.
Holland, a university possesses only a single pile of build¬
ing, Oxford and Cambridge can boast for every college a
large, commodious, and generally an elegant structure. The
endowments appropriated to them are very various, both in
their origin and destination, but these arise chiefly from
land, and, having increased with the rise of rents, are in
many cases very ample. The destination of these funds is
regulated by the bequest of the donors and the established
usage of the colleges ; part going to the students under the
name of exhibitions or scholarships; part to the head and
fellows; and a further part consisting in livings, which de¬
volve on the fellows, and lead to their removal from the
university. A hall is an inferior college; an academical
establishment not incorporated or endowed, but possessed
of exhibitions or other provisions for students. Oxford has
nineteen colleges and five halls; Cambridge has twelve
colleges and four halls.
Two institutions, the London University and King’s
College, have recently been founded in the metropolis, with
the view of obviating the defects complained of at Oxford
and Cambridge, and of cheapening and diffusing the ad¬
vantages of an academical education.
Boys in England are taught the classics, either in the
lesser schools established at every town of consequence
throughout the kingdom, or at the great public schools.
Of the latter, the principal are Eton, Westminster, Win¬
chester, and Harrow ; also the Charter-house, St Paul’s, and
Merchant Tailors’ School. These seminaries, at present
so expensive, and attended by youths of the first family, had
their origin in a fund or provision set apart for scholars of
humbler birth. This has served as the basis of a stately
superstructure, each school having attracted, by the advan¬
tage of situation or the repute of the teachers, a much greater
number of pupils in independent circumstances. But in
each a proportion of the scholars are still on the foundation.
At Eton there are seventy thus provided for; and the same
number at Winchester.1 This subject will be resumed and
treated in detail under the article Universities.
There are 304 collegiate and grammar schools supported
by endowments the annual revenue of which is L.128,693 ;
and there are 1607 other schools possessing endowments
which amount to L.160,293. This, however, gives a very
inadequate idea of the annual value of the endowments which
have been from time to time left for the purpose of educa¬
tion. Lord Brougham estimated the annual amount at
L.500,000, and recent writers consider that the estimate is
not too high. A board was appointed by parliament to in¬
vestigate the misappropriation of these funds, but the powers
of the commissioners are either too limited, or they seem
to be unwilling to exercise them with sufficient vigour to
make the funds available.
i
5 B
VOL. VIII.
Reports of the Education Committee, 1817 and 1818.
ENGLAND.
Popular education in England is almost entirely the
creation of the present century. Before 1801, the total
number of public and private schools was only 3363; in
1851 they were 44,836. In 1781, Mr Raikes of Glouces¬
ter with difficulty collected the*first Sunday school; in 1851
they numbered 23,137. In 1818 the scholars attending
the day schools were 674,883; in 1851 they were 2,144,378.
The Sunday scholars in 1818 were 477,225; in 1851 they
2,407,642. The records of the condition of society a cen¬
tury or even half a century ago describe a state of ignorance
and immorality both gross and general. The happy transfor¬
mation which has since taken place is attributable in no
small degree to the great extension of education. Never¬
theless the state of education is much below what it ought
to be, both in quantity and quality.
It is generally assumed that one-eighth of the whole
population would be a satisfactory proportion for attendance
at the day schools, after making due allowance for prac¬
tical impediments. This proportion of the population of
England and Wales (17,927,609) gives 2,240,951 as the
number that should have been under school instruction in
1851. But Mr Horace Mann, in his report to the Registrar-
General, assuming that the school instruction of a child
should not be procrastinated after five years of age, and
should not be relinquished earlier than twelve (the legal
period in Prussia is from five to fourteen), calculates, after
making every deduction for ill health, employment, re¬
ceiving education at home, &c., that there should be
3,015,405 children attending day schools. According to
this estimate, as the total number of children attending
Schools supported by Religious Denominations.
Denominational—
Church of England 
Church of Scotland 
United Presbyterian Church 
Presbyterian Church in England .
Scottish Presbyterians 
Presbyterians 
Independents 
Baptists   
Society of Friends 
Unitarians  
Moravians 
Wesleyan Methodists 
Methodists, New Connexion 
Primitive Methodists 
Bible Christians 
Wesleyan Association 
Calvinistic Methodists 
Lady Huntingdon’s Connexion....
New Church 
Dissenters 
Isolated Protestant Congregations,
Lutherans 
French Protestants 
German Mission 
Roman Catholics 
Jews  
Undenominational—
British 
Others 
school according to the census of 1851 was 2,144,378, Statistics,
there must have been 871,027 receiving either a mere '
fraction of education or none at all.
The following classification of the 29,425 private schools in
England will give some idea of thequalityof the education:—
1. Superior—Classical, Boarding, Proprietary, Ladies,
&c       4,956
2. Middling—Commercial, &c.—teaching, Arithmetic,
English Grammar, and Geography  7,095
3. Inferior—Principally dame schools, only Read¬
ing and Writing taught, the latter not always  13,879
Underscribed     3,495
29,425
In the case of 708 out of these 13,879 the returns were
respectively signed by the master or mistress with a mark.
The same is noticeable with respect to 35 public schools,
most of which had small endowments.
The following table will show that not only has popular
education in this country been promoted mainly by a re¬
ligious influence, but that it is now becoming rapidly a
matter of denominational activity. This tendency, so far
as the Dissenters are concerned, has only recently been
evidenced; for schools upon the British system (which
discourages sectarian teaching) satisfied their wants till
about ten years ago. The controversies of that period,
however, when it seemed to the Dissenters that the govern¬
ment designed to place too much of the education of the
poor in the hands of the Established Church, produced very
great exertions on the part of the various bodies to counteract
this supposed design.
Number of Schools and Scholars.
Excluding Schools in which
the Endowment exceeds the
Subscriptions of Religious
Bodies.
Schools.
8,571
5
3
25
1
7
431
115
23
30
7
363
13
25
8
10
41
9
9
43
14
1
1
1
311
10
514
4
Scholars.
Including all Schools re¬
ceiving Support to any
amount from Religious
Bodies.
Schools.
10,595
801,507
946
217
2,447'
345
1,321
47,406
8,665
2,247
3,736
366
39,764
1,815
1,297
367
1,112
2,814
644
1,551
5,392
1,144
157
15
100
38,583
1,234
82,597
1,062
1,048,851
10,555
5
3
28
1
13
453
131
33
39
7
381
14
26
8
11
44
10
9
49
14
2
1
2
339
12
514
4
929,474
946
217
2,723
345
2,030
50,186
9,390
3,026
4,306
366
41,144
1,851
1,342
367
1,176
2,929
714
1,551
5,805
1,144
221
15
116
41,382
2,361
82,597
1,062
12,708
1,188,786
Total
ENGLAND
Statistics.
Day Schools, Sunday Schools, and Evening Schools for Adults.
Summary of England and Wales.
747
Statistics.
Belonging to the Schools or on the
Books.
Schools.
Day Schools
Public Day Schools ..
Private Day Schools,
Sunday Schools 
Evening Schools for Adults
46,042
15,518
30,524
23,514
1,545
Sex.
Total.
2,144,378
1,422,982
721,396
2,407,642
Males. 1 Females.
1,157,685
801,156
356,529
1,193,788
986,693
621,826
364,867
1,213,854
In actual attendance on the day of the
Census.
Total.
1,786,324
1,126,987
659,337
1,817,499
39,783
968,580
642,690
325,890
903,545
27,829
Females.
817,744
484,297
333,447
913,954
11,954
Up to 1853 all that had been accomplished for national
education was the fruit of private liberality acting princi¬
pally through the British and the National educational
societies, but in 1833 government first proffered its assist¬
ance by voting an annual grant of L.20,000, which was
continued till 1839, when it was raised to L.30,000. In
1842-3-4 it was L.40,000; in 1845, L.75,000 ; in 1846-7,
L.100,000; in 1848-49-50, L.l 50,000; and in 1853,
L.260,000.
None of this money was given towards the expense of
maintaining schools, but only towards the cost of buildings,
the purchase of school apparatus, or in aid of the salaries of
efficient teachers. But certain sections of the Dissenters,
who object to the interference of the state either in the
church or the school, felt themselves precluded by the
principles they had adopted from accepting any aid from the
government grants, and therefore depend entirely upon vo¬
luntary liberality for the maintenance of their schools.
Statement of the Expenditure from the Education Grant, from 1839 to 31si December 1853, and of the Expenditure
for the year ended 3\st December 1853.
Classified according to object of Grant.
In building, enlarging, repairing, and furnishing Elementary j
Schools   J
In building, enlarging, repairing, and furnishing Normal or I
Training Schools J
In providing Books and Maps 
In augmenting the Salaries of Certificated Schoolmasters and )
Schoolmistresses  J
In paying the Salaries of Assistant Teachers 
In paying the Stipends of Pupil Teachers, and Gratuities for 1
their special instruction   J
In Annual Grants to Normal Schools  
Ind ustrial Schools   • • •
Pensions 
Inspection    
Administration (Office in London)   
Poundage on Post-Office Orders 
Agency for Grants of Books and Maps 
For Vear ended
31st December 1853.
L. s. d.
26,100 15 3
6,578
2,894
26,777
81
139,040
19,196
281
138
26,260
1,812
902
594
8 6
14 10
10 10
0 10
4 0
19 3
5 10
6 8
0 6J
13 2
250,658 18 3£
From 1839 to 31st December 1853.
Amount Granted.
L. s. d.
466,081 1 8£
124,678 2 6
12,688 0 8£
76,696 9 2
81 0 10
382,409 12 9
72,273 8 Hi
609 0 4
278 6 8
149,352 8 6
17,091 12 6)
2,499 10 9 l
2,209 9 10 J
1,306,948 5 2i
Results.
2,972 Schools.
24 Colleges.
3,993 Schools aided.
2,297 Certificated Teachers.
95 Assistant Teachers.
6,912 Pupil Teachers.
27 Colleges.
50 Industrial Schools.
18 Pensions.
38 Inspectors.
Classified according to Denomination of Recipients.
On Schools connected with the Church of England  _ 
Ditto ditto British and Foreign School Society.
On Wesleyan Schools 
On Roman Catholic Schools, Great Britain  
On Workhouse Schools     
On Schools in Scotland connected with the Established Church 
Ditto ditto Free Church 
Ditto ditto % Episcopal Church 
Other Schools 
Administration as in Table (A.) 
For Year ended
31st December 1853.
L. s. d.
165,824 8 8
23,579 15 5f
11,286 15 0£
9,789 7 10£
9,507 3 11J
13,848 1 8
14,300 3 6
664 6 6f
46 2 4£
1,812 13 2i
250,658 1 3£
From 1889 to
31st December 1853.
L. s. A.
880,960 6 74
117,000 17 Ilf
46,113 8 6f
24.372 15 0|
8lj784 12 11
78,673 11 54
59,745 6 9f
993 6 6f
212 6 94
17,091 12 6
1,306,948 5 24
748
Statistics.
Poor-rates.
Paupers.
ENGLAND.
X.—Establishments for purposes of XJharity—Poor Rates.
The public charities of England are very numerous ; the
bequests of benevolent founders in this country exceeding
those of the zealous Catholics of France or Spain, as well
as those of the once affluent Protestants of Holland. Our
limits do not admit of a notice of the great variety of chari¬
table institutions which abound in the country. In the
metropolis alone there were, in 1853, 530 charitable institu¬
tions, which disbursed during the year the aggregate amount
of L. 1,805,635. Among these, grammar-schools and edu¬
cational establishments, such as Merchant Tailors’ and
St Paul’s, are not included, nor miscellaneous endowments
in the gift of city corporations and parishes.
Amongst the principal Hospitals are—Bethlem Hospital;
St Luke’s, Old Street; St Bartholomew’s, West Smithfield ;
Guy’s, in Southwark; the Lock Hospital, Hyde Park Cor¬
ner ; the London Hospital, Whitechapel Road; the Mag¬
dalen Hospital, St George’s Road; the Middlesex Hospital,
Berner’s Street; St Thomas’s; the Foundling Hospital.
A College, in the sense of a charity, is an alms-house
on an enlarged scale, under the direction of a master and
other incorporate officers. There are only three in the
neighbourhood of London, namely, Bromley, Morden, and
Dulwich Colleges.
Alms-Houses.—These are very numerous, viz., the Ha¬
berdashers’, Mercers’, Skinners’, E. India Company’s, &c.
School Charities.—These institutions are also very nu¬
merous. Amongst the most remarkable are—Christ’s Hos¬
pital, or the Blue Coat School; Marine Society; School
for the Indigent Blind ; &c.
A compulsory provision for the support of the poor has
existed in England for a lengthened period. Its introduc¬
tion dates from the reign of Henry VIII., and it was per¬
fected in that of Elizabeth; the famous statute of the 43d
Eliz., cap. 2, having embodied all the principles, with many
of the regulations, still to be found in the system. The law
has, however, been repeatedly modified, and very great al¬
terations have taken place in its administration. These
changes will be fully detailed in our article on the Poor-
Laws ; and in it also the reader will find an examination of
the important and difficult question as to the policy of a com¬
pulsory provision for the support of the unemployed poor.
Here we have only to state what has been the amount of
the rates levied on account of the poor, from what sources
they have been derived, and how they have been distributed.
Paupers.—According to the returns of the poor-law hoard,
the number of paupers in receipt of relief both in-door and
out-door in England and Wales was 862,827 on 1st January
1851, and 813,089 on 1st July 1851. At the time of the census
126,488 paupers were inmates of workhouses in England and
Wales, being in the proportion of one in-door pauper to every
142 inhabitants, or 7 in everyTOOO. Out-door paupers are
often in receipt of relief for very short periods on account of
sickness or temporary distress ; but those received into the
workhouses are for the most part supported for long periods—
frequently for the remainder of their days.
In Scotland the number of poor on the relief register on 14th
May 1851 was 76,906. At the census there were 5438in-door
paupers, chiefly in the southern Scottish counties, where poor-
houses have been established by means of funds raised by rate
in many parishes ; while in the northern counties the progress
of the new system of legal assessment has been but partial.
Years ended. Total Expenditure for Rate per Head
at the Relief of the Poor on
Lady-day. in England and Wales, Population.
L. s. d.
1845   5,039,703 6 Of
1846   4,954,204 5 10£
1847   5,298,787 6 2J
1848   6,180,764 7 If
1849   5,792,963 6 6£
1850   .. 5,395,022 6 1
1851   4,962,704 5 6£
1851 (In Scotland).... 535,944 3 8f
The relative numbers of the sexes of in-door paupers do not, Statistics,
on the whole, ditfer greatly. In England, 64,294 are males, , ^ >
and 62,194 females ; in Scotland, the females are most nume¬
rous, being 3239 to 2199 males. To every 10,000 males and
females respectively living in Great Britain there are 65 males
and 61 females in workhouses.
The following statements rest mainly upon the authority of
the masters of workhouses. Almost every branch of employ¬
ment—professional, commercial, agricultural, manufacturing—
is represented, and the returns include some large numbers of
particular classes. Of agricultural and other labourers there
are 17,700, of whom 8113 appear at the ages above 60 ; domes¬
tic servants 15,036, all but 679 of whom are females, and a
large proportion in advanced life—a fact which points signifi¬
cantly to the want of a suitable provision for this class when
worn out or otherwise incapacitated for service ; charwomen,
2001; washerwomen, 1799 ; milliners and dressmakers, 2464 ;
shoemakers, 1901; tailors, 1022. A large number, 70,943—
of whom 50,197 are under 15 years of age—'are returned with¬
out any specific statement as to their occupations. In the
workhouses are found some of the oldest people in the country;
18,489 in-door paupers are upwards of seventy years of age,
including 360 aged ninety and upwards.
Besides the poor-rates the total county rate expenditure of
England in the year ending Michaelmas 1850 was in round
numbers L.1,400,000 ; of this sum L.257,000 was defrayed by
allowances from the Treasury in aid of the expenses of prose¬
cutions and prisoners, and L. 138,000 was paid out of the parish
poor-rates for the maintenance of lunatics in county asylums.
The sum actually raised as county rate from the rate-payers,
amounted only to L.796,000 ; and as this sum was levied
upon an assessment of L.64,598,831, the average poundage
of the county rate throughout England, which measures the
real pressure upon the rate-payer, was less than 3d. in the
pound.
Prisoners.—The statistics of crime in Great Britain presented Prisoners,
in the criminal returns prepared at the home office furnish a
digest of the nature of the offences, the number of offenders,
and the result of the proceedings in each year. At the census,
information was obtained which enables us to state the num¬
bers confined on a particular day, with their ages and occupa¬
tions—points of much interest, as supplemental to those em¬
braced in Mr Redgrave’s tables.
The total number of persons in the different prisons, bride¬
wells, convict-depots, and hulks in Great Britain on the 31st
March 1851, was 26,855; 22,451 males, and 4404 females.
Of these some were debtors, others were untried; but the ma¬
jority were convicted and undergoing sentence. The propor¬
tion of prisoners is, therefore, 1 in 785 of the general popula¬
tion. Owing partly to the government convict establishments
and the hulks, the proportion is higher in England than in
Scotland; and in London, Hampshire, and other localities, it,
for the same reason, exceeds the average of England.
To every 100,000 males and as many females in Great Bri¬
tain, there are respectively 220 males, and 40 females confined
in prisons. In London the proportions are as high as 450
males and 90 females ; while in the Welsh division they are
only 68 males and 17 females in 100,000.
According to the criminal returns, the number of persons
committed in Great Britain in 1851 was 31,961—25,283 males,
and 6678 females. In Scotland the committals of females are
proportionately more numerous than in England.
With respect to the ages of prisoners, it appears that 6833,
or 25 per cent, of the whole number, are under twenty years of
age, while 134 are aged seventy and upwards. The returns of
occupations present a great variety of items, and will doubt¬
less be examined with attention by all interested in the various
questions affecting the criminal class which have proved so dif¬
ficult of solution both to the statesman and the philanthropist.
Amongst the employments furnishing the largest numbers
are—-agricultural labourers, 3026 ; labourers not particularly
described, 5062; domestic servants, 1174, of whom 220
are males and 954 females ; shoemakers, 891 ; tailors, 533 ;
hawkers and itinerant venders, 614; engaged in the cotton
manufacture, 694; carpenters, bricklayers, masons, slaters,
plasterers, and plumbers, together, 1381. . The occupations
of 24,189 prisoners are described ; the residue, we presume,
represents the incarcerated class of professional criminals.
Inmates of Lunatic Asylums.—The public and private Lunatics.
ENGLAND.
Statistics, establishments for the insane are subject to definite regula-
v ^ > tions, enforced by the inspection and control of the proper
authorities; the number of patients is restricted within the
limits of the accommodation afforded, and every private asylum
is duly licensed. The physiology of mental disease has likewise
engaged the attention of eminent medical men, and generally
a gentle and humane treatment has been successfully adopted,
in the place of harshness and unnecessary restraint.
At the period of the census there were in the various lunatic
asylums, and other institutions for the reception of the insane
in Great Britain, 18,803 persons; 8999 males, and 9804
females. Lunatic paupers in the insane wards of workhouses
are not included, as they are not usually distinguished from
other paupers in the returns. By the establishment of county
lunatic asylums, however, the number of insane and fatuous
paupers in workhouses has been greatly reduced.
The proportion which the lunatics in asylums bear to the
general population is 1 in every 1115 inhabitants in Great
Britain. To every 100,000 males and 100,000 females living,
there were 88 males and 91 females in these institutions.
The former occupations of lunatics will be examined with
interest. It will be seen that the educated and professional
classes furnish many cases of insanity : of clergymen and minis¬
ters, 84 are returned ; barristers and solicitors, 88 ; physicians
and surgeons, 108; officers of the army and navy, 95 ; the
East India service, 118 ; schoolmasters and teachers, 258.
Amongst the largest items are—labourers, 1794 ; female do¬
mestic servants, 1753 ; shoemakers, 364 ; weavers, 240 ; and
tailors, 224. No information is given as to the employments,
if any, of 7674 lunatics of all ages.
Patients in Patients in Hospitals for the Sick.—Although of late years
hospitals, additional hospital accommodation has been provided in towns,
it may be doubted whether the habits and feelings of the people
of this country render necessary an extended provision, inde¬
pendent of the poor-law system, for the reception and care of
the sick. In the principal cities and towns, hospitals and in¬
firmaries, supported chiefly by the voluntary subscriptions of
749
the benevolent, are established with great advantage to the Statistics,
working classes ; and in many market-towns and large country
parishes, for want of these institutions for their reception, per¬
sons of the same rank in life, when suffering from malignant
fevers and other contagious diseases, often remain in small
dwellings or single chambers, where the healthy and the sick
are crowded together, aiding the progress of infection, until
the disease spreads itself on every side. Still, the removal of
the sick to infirmaries is not unattended with disadvantages;
and the strong inclination on the part of their relatives to keep
them at home, where they can be watched and attended by
those connected with them by family ties, is both natural and
commendable. To domestic servants and persons living away
from their relations, or having no homes to resort to in sick¬
ness, these institutions are of great benefit.
The census returns show only 9876 persons of both sexes—■
5525 males, and 4351 females—in general hospitals for the
sick on the night of 30th March 1851. Patients in the mili¬
tary hospitals are not included. More than one-third of the
whole number of the patients is returned in the various hospi¬
tals in London, where the sick are driven by their wants, or
attracted by the extent of accommodation, the high professional
standing of the medical officers, and the immediate attention
that is given in cases of accident and emergency.
In Great Britain 1 in every 2122 of the whole population
is sick in a general hospital; and of 100,000 males and as
many females living, there are respectively 54 male and 41
female patients.
Amongst the occupations furnishing the largest number of
patients are the following :—domestic servants, 1797, of whom
157 are males and 1640 females ; agricultural and other la¬
bourers, 1495; seamen, 197 ; milliners and seamstresses, 262 ;
charwomen and washerwomen, 166 ; shoemakers, 173; car¬
penters, 123.
The following table shows the proportion which the inmates
of the public institutions adverted to bear to the male and fe¬
male population:—•
Proportion of Paupers in Workhouses, Prisoners, Lunatics in Asylums, and Patients in Hospitals, to the Male and
Female Population in Great Britain, 1851.
Great Britain and Islands in the British Seas
England and Wales 
Scotland  
Islands in the British Seas
To every 10,000 living, the Proportion of
Paupers.
65-4
73-2
16-0
58-5
Prisoners.' Lunatics.
22-0
8-8
23-3
14-2
11-7
8-9
8-8
DO
Patients
in
Hospitals.
5-4
5'5
4-8
3-9
Paupers.
61-3
68-0
21-4
50-7
4T
3-7
6-9
2-1
Lunatics.
Patients
in
| Hospitals.
91
9'4
7-6
2-2
4 1
4- 1
3-5
5- 4
The blind. The Blind.—In Great Britain and the Islands of the British
Seas there are 21,487 persons—11,273 males and 10,214 fe¬
males—-returned as totally blind. The number in England and
Wales is 18,306 of both sexes ; in Scotland, 3010 ; and in the
Islands of the British Seas, 171 persons. These numbers fur¬
nish a proportion relatively to the whole population of 1 blind
in every 975 persons in Great Britain—-1 in every 979 in Eng¬
land and Wales, 1 in 960 in Scotland, and 1 in 837 in the
Channel Islands and the Isle of Man.
These results admit of favourable comparison with the rela¬
tive numbers in Ireland, which, according to the census, are
1 in every 864 inhabitants. In the level portions of Europe,
comprising Belgium, Hanover, parts of Germany, and the
plains of Lombardy and Denmark, the proportion is stated to
be 1 blind in every 950 inhabitants—but slightly differing from
the average of Great Britain. In more elevated regions the
proportion is considerably lower ; but in Norway it is found to
be 1 in every 482 inhabitants.
It is obvious, from the preceding tables, that, allowing
for the increase of population, the increase of the rates has
not been nearly so great as is commonly supposed. I he
poor-rates. pernjcjous practice of ekeing out wages by means of con-
Payment
of wages
out of
tributions from the rates began in 1795 ; and formed one
of the principal evils in the state of the English poor.
« The price of corn, which, at a medium of the three
years ending with 1794, averaged 48s. 2d., rose in 1795 to
75s. 2d. As wages continued stationary at their former
elevation, the distress of the poor was very great; and many
able-bodied labourers, who had rarely before applied for
parish assistance, became claimants for relief. Instead of
meeting this emergency, as it ought to have been met, by
temporary expedients, and by grants of relief proportioned
to the exigency of every given case, one uniform system was
adopted. The magistrates of Berks, and some other southern
counties, issued tables, showing the wages which, as they
affirmed, every labouring man should receive, according to
the number of his family, and the price of bread ; and they
accompanied these tables with an order, directing the parish
officers to make up the deficit to the labourer, in the event
of his wages falling short of the tabular allowance! As
might have been expected, this practice did not cease with
the temporary circumstances which gave it birth, but con¬
tinued to be acted upon down to the passing of the Poor
GO
50
ENGLAND.
tatistics.
Law Amendment Act. It was in fact very generally esta¬
blished in the southern half of England, in large districts of
which there were no longer any independent labourers to
be found ; and produced an extent of artificial pauperism
and moral degradation that could hardly have been con¬
ceived possible. (M‘Culloeh’s Principles of Political Eco¬
nomy, 4th edit. p. 463.)
XI. Crimes in England and Wales.
The criminal tables for the year 1853 complete a series
of twenty years, compiled from the same authentic materials
and upon precisely the same principles. They form an accu¬
rate comparison of the state of the commitments for trial dur¬
ing that period; the only disturbing causes being some changes
in the laws constituting crimes and fixing punishments.
These totals, comparing the first year with the last, show Statistics,
an increase of 20-5 per cent., while the increase of the po-
pulation in the same period is 27 per cent.; comparing the
total of the last ten years with the total of the first ten years,
the increase amounts to 8 per cent. only. In each of the
last three years the commitments have slightly decreased,
and since 1842 the tendency to decrease has been almost
uninterrupted.
In the last year the decrease of the commitments was T8
per cent, only ; but it extended over twenty-eight English
counties, including all the agricultural districts. It seems
unnecessary to enumerate the details of this trifling de¬
crease. They show little variation which calls for particu¬
lar remark; but it may be observed generally, that the de¬
crease extends to all the violent offences, both those against
the person and those against property.
Table, Showing the number of Persons committed for Trial or Bailed in each of the last Ten I ears.
Offences against the Person  
Offences against Property, cor
mitted with violence 
Offences against Property, cor
mitted without violence 
Malicious offences against Property..
Forgery, and Offences against the )
(Currency J
Other offences not included in the |
above Classes.
Total  26,542
1844.
2,306
1,759
20,425
347
548
1,157
1845.
1,966
1,471
19,506
149
438
773
24,303
1846.
2,249
1,507
20,035
209
406
701
1847.
2,023
1,732
23,571
186
525
796
25,107 28,833
1848.
2,234
2,172
23,910
191
684
1,158
30,349
Total of
Five
Years,
1844-48.
10,778
8,641
107,447
1,082
2,601
4,585
135,134
1849.
1,846
2,076
22,053
293
676
872
1850.
27,816
1,886
2,014
21,253
236
680
744
26,813
1851.
2,218
2,069
21,906
305
808
663
1852.
2,241
1,975
21,309
271
899
815
1853.
2,100
1,696
21,545
219
850
647
27,960 27,510 27,057
Total of
Five
Years,
1849-53.
10,291
9,821
108,066
1,324
3,913
3,741
137,156
On the 1st September 1853, an act came into force (16th
and 17th Viet., cap. 99), substituting for transportation a
sentence of “ penal servitude” in the United Kingdom, in
all cases where a sentence of transportation for a term of less
than fourteen years might have been passed ; and, at the
discretion of the court, when the offence warrants a longer
term of transportation.
The sentences passed in 1853, are given in greater de¬
tail in the following table, and are compared with those in
the nine preceding years :—
! 1844. 1845.
Death   
Transportation :—
For Life  
Above fifteen years 
Fifteen years and above ten years  
Ten years and above seven years  
Seven years  
Imprisonment:—
Above three years 
Three years and above two years 
Two years and above one year 
One year and above six months 
Six months and under 
Whipped, Fined, and Discharged  566
57
180
50
543
1,126
1,421
1
13
454
1,927
12,574
49
79
22
405
1,119
1,273
3
360
1,654
12,035
398
1846.
56
101
29
322
946
1,407
2
332
1,933
12,635
372
1847.
51
46
30
23 0
769
1,731
4
455
2.355
15,498
373
1848.
60
67
28
291
843
2,022
’ 6
513
2,648
16,008
404
1849.
66
60
31
255
933
1,565
548
2,485
14,728
330
1850.
49
84
39
281
805
1,369
4
551
2,770
14,277
308
1851.
70
124
38
217
895
1,526
4
591
3,120
14,703
255
1852.
60
43
31
229
797
1,435
3
565
3,081
14,792
268
1853.
55
48
38
215
662
1,405
12
700
3,034
14,384
203
XII. Establishments for the purposes of War and Defence.
These consist, of course, principally of the army and
navy. But as detailed accounts, derived from the very best
sources, are given, under the articles Army and Navy in
this work, of all the most important particulars relating to
the history and present state of each of these grand depart¬
ments of the public force, it would be quite superfluous to
enter into any details with respect to them in this place.
Complete returns of the men engaged in the defence of
the country were furnished by the war departments, the
admiralty, the ordnance, and the offices for half-pay and
pensions, to the census commissioners; from which it
appears that the army and navy had on 31st March 1851
—exclusive of the East India Company’s army and navy,
and officers of the staff of the army, not serving with their
regiments and militia—178,773 effective men ; namely,
142,870 in the army, 35,903 in the navy; besides 83,79/
non-effectives on half-pay or pensions—63,305 from the
army, 20,492 from the navy. The effectives of the army
comprised 6593 officers, 136,277 men; and the 142,8/0
were composed of—cavalry, 12,911 ; infantry, 115,567; ar¬
tillery, 12,006; engineers, 2386 : of whom were stationed
in England and Wales, 36,504; Scotland 2655; the Is¬
lands in the British seas, 993; Ireland, 26,2/2; the Colonies,
44,402 ; India, 29,096; on passage out or home, 2948.
Ireland, comprising so much of the Celtic, and Scotland,
so much of the Celtic and Scandinavian populations, con-
ENGLAND.
751
Statistics, tribute largely to the army. England, with its Anglo-
v > Saxon and Scandinavian people, whose “ home is on the
deep,” furnishes seamen to the navy.
Birthplace of Soldiers and Seamen.
Army (all ranks)   
Navy, exclusive of Ma¬
rines (all ranks) 
England
and
Wales.
67,647
20,125
Scotland.
15,300
1,078
Ireland.
53,169
2,532
Islands
in the
British
Seas, and
Abroad.
6,754
1,168
tive force, and 62,848 on half-pay, or as pensioners liable Statistics,
to serve under certain contingencies. The active force is
2 per cent, of the men of great Britain, or 1 in 47; and if
13,673 men and boys under the age of twenty are added,
making 134,080, 1 in 158 of the total population of Great
Britain is found to be engaged in the army and navy.
One-fourth part of the active force of the United King¬
dom, employed in Ireland, is left out of the calculation; as
well as the East India Company’s army and navy.
Exclusively of the army and navy, great numbers of in-
dividuals in all parts of the country are enrolled as special
constables, who may be called upon by the magistrates and
other civil authorities to assist in suppressing disorders and
in preserving the public peace. In London, and in other
great towns, strong bodies of police are also employed, con¬
stituting a sort of half military half civil force.
XII —Revenue and Expenditure.
The various taxes, the produce of which forms the pub¬
lic revenue of the kingdom, will be described in the article
Taxation in this work, where also their real incidence and
In the middle of 1851 there were 5,610,777 men of the practical operation will be pointed out. The subjoined
age of twenty and upwards of Great Britain ; of whom table gives an account of the income and expenditure of
183,255 belonged to the army and navy—120,407 as effec- the empire for the year ending 5th January 1854.
An Account of the Net Public Income of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, in the Year ended the
oth day of January 1854 (after abating the Expenditure thereout defrayed by the several Revenue Departments), and
of the Actual Issues or Payments within the same Period, exclusive of the Sums applied to the Redemption of Funded
or payina off Unfunded Debt, and of the Advances and Repayments for Local Works, §c.
Army (all ranks)
Navy, exclusive of Ma- )
rines (all ranks) J
Proportion in 100.
47
82
11
37
10
4
Income or Revenue.
Ordinary Revenue & Receipts—
Customs 
Excise   
Stamps  
Taxes (Land and Assessed) 
Property Tax 
Post-Office 
Crown Lands 
One Shilling and Sixpence, and
Four Shillings in the Pound on
Pensions and Salaries  
Small Branches of the Hereditary 1
Revenues of the Crown   )
Surplus Fees of Regulated Public I
Offices   J
Total.
L. s. d.
20,902,734 4 8
15,337,724 4 6
6,975,416 19 9
3,153,867 6 5
5.588,171 18 8
1,104,000 0 0
402,888 9 3
4,634 10 4
16,669 13 1
105,070 10 8
53,591,177 17 4
Expenditure.
Funded Debt—
Interest and Management of the
Permanent Debt  
Terminable Annuities 
Total Charge of theFund ed Debt,
exclusiveof L.12,773,Is. lid.,
the Interest on Donations and
Bequests 
Unfunded Debt—
Interest on Exchequer Bills 
Other Receipts—
Produce of the Sale of Old Stores,
and other extra Receipts.,
Imprest and other Monies 
Money received from the East In-1
dia Company J
Unclaimed Dividends (more than 1
paid)   J
484,308 17 0
294,857 15 2
60,000 0 0
54,430,344 9 6
Civil List 
Annuities and Pensions for Civil,)
Naval, Military and Judicial I
Services, &c., charged by vari- (
ous Acts of Parliament on the I
Consolidated Fund J
Salaries and Allowances 
Diplomatic Salaries and Pensions..
Courts of J ustice 
Miscellaneous Charges on the Con- j
solidated Fund j
Army 
Navy  
Ordnance 
Civil Services, chargeable on the j
Annual Grants of Parliament.. J
Kaffir War   ••
L. 8. d.
23,623,756 17 8
3,812,436 10 8
27,436,193 8 4
368,650 16 2
399,572 10 0
352,435 2 5
268,710 0 7
149,777 19 8
1,107,094 13 2
233,225 12 10
6,763,488 5 1
6,640,595 19 6
2,661,590 11 11
4,463,690 3 8
260,000 0 0
Unclaimed Dividends (more than received)..
Excess of Income over Expenditure   
L.
8. d.
27,804,844 4 6
2,510,815 18 8
20,789,365 0 2
51,105,025 3 4
69,814 11 7
51,174,839 14 11
3,255,501 14 7
54,430,344 9 6
XIV.—National Debt.
The national debt consists, as every one knows, of sums
borrowed to make up deficiencies of revenue. It originated
during the wars carried on by William III. against ranee.
Its contraction was then not a matter of choice, but of neces¬
sity; for, owing to the numerous adherents the exiled family
of Stuart had in the country, it would have been impossible
to have imposed such an amount of taxes as would have
sufficed to defray the expenses of the war, without inflam¬
ing the popular discontent to such a degree as would most
probably have been subversive of the new government.
752
Statistics.
'ENGLAND.
At first it was usual to fund the amount of stock equal to jectionable practice already adverted to, of funding large
. Kut cinr-o tlifi rpio-n nf ftpnrcrp IT. a lanitals at a. low rate ot interest, the saving in this way
Statistics.
the sums borrowed; but since the reign of George II. a
different practice has obtained ; and it has been judged ad¬
visable to fund generally in a stock bearing a low rate of
interest, by proportionally increasing its amount. Thus,
suppose interest were five per cent., and that government
wished to borrow in three per cent, stock; in such a case
they would give L. 166§ of stock for every L.100 money
paid into the exchequer. By affording, in consequence of
the increase of the stock, greater scope for speculation, this
practice is supposed to have enabled government to borrow
on rather lower terms at the time ; but, by disabling them
from reducing the interest on such loans at the close of a
war, when the market rate of interest uniformly falls, it has
proved most signally injurious. It is not going too far
to say that this blunder costs the public at this moment
L.7,000,000 a-year.
Since 1817 a deduction has been made of L.90,331,196
from the principal of the debt, and L.6,594,920 from the
interest on its account. This diminution has been princi¬
pally effected by taking advantage of the fall in the rate of
interest since the peace, and offering to pay off the holders
of the different stocks unless they consented to accept of a
reduced payment; and had it not been for the highly ob-
capitals at a low rate ot interest, the saving in
would have been incomparably larger.
Debt at the accession of Queen )
Anne in 1702  J
Debt at the accession of George I. j
in 1714 J
Debt at the accession of George II. [
in 1727  J
Debt in 1763 
Debt at the commencement of the j
American war in 1776  j
Debt at the conclusion of the 1
American war in 1784  J
Debt at the commencement of the 1
French war in 1793 J
Debt 5th January 1817, when the "l
English and Irish exchequers V
were consolidated )
Debt 5th January 1854 
Principal.
L.16,394,702
54,145,363
52,092,238
138,865,430
128,583,635
249,851,628
239,350,148
848,282,477
757,951,281
Interest.
L.1,310,942
3,351,358
2,217,551
4,852,051
4,471,571
9,451,772
9,208,495
33,854,466
27,259,546
We subjoin an account of the funded and unfunded debt
of Great Britain and Ireland, as at 5th January 1854.
An Account of the State of the Public Funded Debt of Great Britain and Ireland, and the Charge ^upon ^he
5th January 1854, exhibiting the Capitals as they stood on that Day after the Reduction of Capitals P^en
in Money, or Commutation into other Stocks, under the operation of the Act \<oth Viet., cap. 23, of all those Stocks
Dividends on which were payable at 5th January and 5th July in each Year.
N.B.—The effect, which took place on 5th April 1854, under that Act, on the Old South Sea Annuities, and Reduced Annuities,
payable on 5th April and 10th October, is shown in a Note at the foot of this Account. 
DEBT.
GREAT BRITAIN—
New Annuities af per cent.
*01d South Sea Annuities  at 3 per cent.
Debt due to the Bank of England  
Consolidated Annuities  •••
^Reduced Annuities 
Total, at 3 per cent 
Annuities   at 34 per cent.
New Annuities   at 34
New Annuities at 5
Total, Great Britain,...
IRELAND—
New Annuities   ^4 per cent.
Consolidated Annuities      at 3
Reduced Annuities    at 3
Annuities    at 3|
Debt due to Bank of Ireland  at 34
New Annuities   at 5
Capitals.
Capitals transferred to
and standing in the Names
of the Commissioners.
L. s. d.
1,833,893 5 11
2,759,778 9 10
11,015,100 0 0
368,934,857 7 3f
116,067,768 17 5
Total, Ireland.....   
Total, United Kingdom, at 5th January 1854 ...
* The result of the commutation of the following Capitals'
(the Interest on which did not cease until 5th April
1854) is not shown in the above Account; but on 5th
April 1854 the sum of L.2,759,778, 9s. 10d., Old South
Sea Annuities, ceased, L.2,020,545, 8s. 7d. was paid
off and cancelled, and L.739,233, Is. 3d. was can¬
celled and converted into 
The above-stated sum of L.116,067,768, 17s. 5d. reduced
3 per cents, was, on the 5th April 1854, reduced to
L.115,633,972, 3s. lOd , and the balance of L.433,796,
13s. 7d. cancelled, and converted into 
498,777,504 14 6|
216,200,835 10 5
174,751 7 4
431,749 14 4
717,418,734 12 64
L. s. d.
18,769 18 10
13,101 16 3
1,068,204 15 2
1,532,209 18 7
2,613.516 10 0
424,969 7 8
624 15 0
3,057,880 11 6
Capitals Unredeemed.
L. s. d.
1,815,123 7 1
2,746,676 13 7
11,015,100 0 0
367,866,652 12 14
114,535,558 18 10
496,163,988 4 64
215,775,866 2 9
174,751 7 4
431,124 19 4
714,360,854 1 04
8,229 15 7
6,049,366 3 8
118,757 15 2
31,723,424 3 4
2,630,769 4 8
2,000 0 0
40,532,547 2 5
757,951,281 14 114
8,229 15 7
6,049,366 3 8
118,757 15 2
31,723,424 3 4
2,630,769 4 8
2,000 0 0
3,057,880 11 6
40,532,547 2 5
754,893,401 3 5J
CAPITALS CFiEATED on 5th April 185L
New 3i per Cents
Total.
L. s. d.
34,142 12 4
31,852 8 5
65,995 0 9
New 2J per Cents.
L. a. d.
764,002 17 6
432,836 9 0
1,196,839 6 6
Exchequer Bonds.
Jj. s. d.
3,300 0 0
1,700 0 0
5,000 0 0
753
ENGLAND.
Statistics. An Account of the Charge upon the Public Funded Debt of Great Britain and Ireland at 5th January 1854. Statistics.
Sinking
fund.
CHARGE.
Due to the Public Creditor—
Annual Interest of Unredeemed Debt     
Long Annuities, expire 1860    
Annuities per 4th Geo. IV., cap. 22, expire 1867 
Annuities for a limited term of years, per 59th Geo. III.,
cap. 34; 10th Geo. IV., cap.24; and 3d Will. IV.,cap. 14,
which expire at various periods : viz.
Granted up to 5th January 1854, L.l,704,682 2 0
Deduct,Expired and Unclaimed up 'j
to ditto, including U106100 1 803 19 3
Waterloo Annuities, 59th Geo. f ’
III., cap. 34 J 
a Eg
L.900,875 2 9
/Life Annuities, per 48th Geo.III.,cap. 142; 10th Geo. IV.,
cap. 24; 3d Will. IV., cap. 14; and 16th & 17th Viet,
cap. 45 : viz.
Granted up to 5th January 1854, L.2,664,743 1 0
Deduct, Expired and Unclaimed | 602 555 16 6
up to ditto J * ’ 
^Tontine, and other Life Annuities, per va- |
rious Acts     \
English
Irish
Management
Total Annual Charge, exclusive of L.95,855,4s.ll|d., the
Annual Charge on Capitals and Long Annuities, and An¬
nuities for terms of years, per 10th Geo. IV., cap. 24, stand¬
ing in the names of the Commissioners on account of Stock
unclaimed ten years and upwards, and of unclaimed Divi¬
dends, and also on account of Donations and Bequests 
IN GREAT BRITAIN.
A. s. d.
21,970,685 18 5|
1,157,091 6 2
585,740 0 0
viz. 838,875 2 9
1,062,187 4 6
15,986 5 4
28,771 17 9
25,659,337 14 Ilf
87,904 19 4
25,747,242 14 3f
IN IRELAND.
h. s. d.
1,308,437 13 4£
135,546 15 0
62,000 0 0
6,319 1 5
1,512,303 9
1,512,303 9 9f
Total Annual Charge of
Unredeemed Debt.
L.
s. d.
27,259,546 4 1
ABSTRACT.
On account of Donations
and Bequests... L.433,552 19
Ditto of Stock un¬
claimed 10 years
and upwards 580,818 8
Ditto of unclaimed
Dividends 2,043,509 3
L.3,057,880 11
The Act 10th Geo. IV., cap. 27, whichy
came into operation at the 5th July 1829,
enacts, That the sum thenceforth an¬
nually applicable to the Reduction of
the National Debt of the United King¬
dom, shall be the sum which shall ap¬
pear to be the Amount of the whole ac- \
tual annual surplus Revenue beyond
the Expenditure of the said United
Kingdom ; and the following sums have
been accordingly received by the Com¬
missioners for the Reduction of the Na¬
tional Debt, including sums on account
of Donations and Bequests ; viz 
APPLICABLE BETWEEN
5th April and 5th July 1853
5th July and 10th Oct. 1853
10th Oct. 1853 and 5th Ja¬
nuary 1854 
5th January and 5th April
1854  
ON ACCOUNT OF
The Sinking Fund.
604,389 16 6
615,185 9 0
892,156 4 2
811,855 17 11
2,923,587 7 7
Donations and
Bequests.
2,415 16 4
3,951 13 10
2,512 3 1
3,951 13 10
12,831 7 1
A sinking fund for the extinction of the public debt was
established by Sir Robert Walpole as early as 1716 ; but it
was virtually subverted in 1733. It was again instituted
by Mr Pitt in 1786; and, singular as it may now appear, it
was for a lengthened period supposed that, by means of the
legerdemain operation of compound interest, the public debt
might be reduced by borrowing money to pay it off. Dr
Hamilton of Aberdeen has the merit of having dissipated
this extraordinary delusion, the grossest, certainly, by which
any civilized nation ever suffered itself to be imposed upon.
He showed that the excess of revenue over expenditure is
the only real sinking fund—the only means by which any
portion of the public debt had ever been, or ever could be,
paid off; and that all sinking funds operating at compound
interest or otherwise, excepting in as far as they happened
to be founded on this principle, were mere quackery and
delusion. In fact, upon examining into the matter, it was
found that the public debt would have been decidedly less
had the sinking fund never been heard of. After such an
exposition, the existence of the sinking fund was impossible ;
and having undergone various modifications, it was finally
abolished by the 10th Geo. IV., cap. 27, which enacts that
the sum thenceforth annually applicable to the reduction of
the public debt shall consist of the actual surplus revenue
beyond the expenditure.
XV.—Population.
The population of England and Wales at periods ante¬
cedent to 1801 can only be determined by computations
founded on the returns obtained under poll and^ hearth
taxes, and on the registers of births and deaths. Unfbrtu-
YOL. VIII.
nately, however, none of these affords data from which the
amount of population can be accurately deduced. During
the latter part of last century the uncertainty in which this
subject wyas involved afforded materials for a keen contro¬
versy, which was carried on by Dr Price on the one hand,
and by Mr Hewlett, vicar of Dunmow in Essex, and Mr
Hales, on the other. The former contended that population
had been declining in England from the Revolution down¬
wards, and that it did not in 1777 exceed 4,763,000. Mr
Hewlett, however, showed conclusively that no reliance
could be placed on either Dr Price’s facts or arguments;
and that there could be no reasonable doubt that the popu¬
lation had materially increased in the interval between 1700
and 1780. The returns obtained under the population acts
put an end to this controversy, and proved the general ac¬
curacy of Mr Hewlett’s conclusions. The population, as
deduced from them, after allowing for their defects and
inaccuracies, is as follows:—
Years.
Population of
England and Wales.
1700 5,475,000
1710 5,240,000
1720 5,565,000
1730 5,796,000
1740 6,064,000
1750 ....6,467,000
1760 ..6,736,000
1770 7,428,000
Years.
Population of
England and Wales.
1780  7,953,000
1790  8,675,000
1801  8,892,536
1811 10,164,256
1821 12,000,236
1831 13,896,797
1841 15,914,148
1851 17,927,609
The population for 1801 was determined by actual enu¬
meration ; and since then censuses have been taken in 1811,
1821, 1831, 1841, and 1851, the results of which are embo¬
died in the followdng comprehensive table;—
5 c
754 ENGLAND.
Statistics. Population, and its Rate of Increase, and Value of Property, in the Counties of England and Wales, 1801-1851. Statistics,
Counties.
1801.
England and Wales
England.
1811.
8,892,536 10,164,256
8,350,859
Wales  541,677
England.
Bedford 
Berks 
Buckingham 
Cambridge 
Chester 
Cornwall 
Cumberland 
Derby. 
Devon 
Dorset 
Durham 
Essex 
Gloucester 
Hereford   
Hertford 
Huntingdon 
Kent 
Lancaster  
Leicester  
Lincoln   
Middlesex 
Monmouth   
Norfolk 
Northampton 
Northumberland 
Nottingham 
Oxford 
Rutland 
Salop 
Somerset 
Southampton 
Stafford 
Suffolk 
Surrey 
Sussex  
Warwick  
Westmoreland  
Wilts 
Worcester 
York (East Riding)..
... {City). 
... {North Riding).
... { West Riding)..
Wales.
Anglesey 
Brecon 
Cardigan 
Carmarthen ..
Carnarvon 
Denbigh 
Flint 
Glamorgan...
Merioneth 
Montgomery
Pembroke 
Radnor 
9,553,021
611,235
63.393
110,480
108,132
89,346
192,305
192,281
117,230
161,567
340,308
114,452
149,384
227,682
250,723
88,436
97.393
37.568
308,667
673,486
130,082
208,625
818,129
45.568
273,479
131,525
168,078
140,350
111,977
16,300
169,248
273,577
219,290
242,693
214,404
268,233
159,471
206,798
40,805
183,820
146,441
111,192
16,846
158,927
572,168
33,806
32,325
42,956
67,317
41,521
60,299
39,469
70,879
29,506
48,184
56,280
19,135
1821.
12,000,236
11,281,883
718,353
70,213
119,430
118,065
101,109
227,031
220,525
133,665
185,487
382,778
124,718
165,293
252,473
285,955
93,526
111,225
42,208
371,701
828,499
150,559
237.634
953,774
62,105
291,947
141,353
183,269
162,964
120,376
16,380
184,973
302,836
246,514
294,540
233,963
323,851
190,343
228,906
45,922
191,853
168,982
133,975
19,099
170,127
662,875
37,045
37,735
50,260
77,217
49,655
64,249
45,937
85,067
30,854
52,184
60,615
20,417
1831.
13,896,797
13,090,523
806,274
84,052
132,639
135,133
122,387
270,098
261,045
156,124
213,651
438,417
144,930
193,511
289,424
336,190
102,669
129,731
48,946
427.224
1,052,948
174,571
283,058
1,145,057
75,801
344,368
163,097
212,589
186,873
138.224
18,487
198,311
355,789
282,897
345,962
271,541
399,417
233,328
274,482
51,359
219,574
194,074
164,643
21,711
188,178
809,363
45,063
43,826
57,784
90,239
58,099
76,428
53,893
102,073
34,382
60,245
73,788
22,533
1841.
15,914,148
1851.
14,997,427
911,705
95,483
146,234
146,977
143,955
334,391
301,306
169,262
237,170
493,908
159,385
239,256
317,507
387,398
110,617
142,844
53,192
479,558
1,336,854
197,003
317,465
1,358,330
98,126
390,054
179,336
236,959
225,327
153,526
19,385
213,518
403,795
313,976
409,480
296,317
486,434
272.644
336.645
55,041
237,244
222,655
168,891
26,260
192,206
984,609
48,325
47,763
64,780
100,740
66,818
82,665
60,244
126,612
35,315
66,844
81,425
24,743
17,927,609
In¬
crease
per
Cent,
in 50
Years.
101
16,921,888
1,005,721
107,936
161,759
156,439
164,459
395.660
342,159
178,038
272,202
532,959
175,054
307,963
344,979
431,495
113,272
156.660
58,549
549,353
1,667,054
215,867
362,602
1,576,636
134,368
412,664
199,228
266,020
249,910
163,127
21,302
225,820
435,599
354,682
509,472
315,073
584,036
300,075
401,703
56,454
256,280
248,460
194,936
28,842
204,701
1,163,580
50,891
55,603
68,766
106,326
81,093
88,478
66,919
171,188
39,332
69,607
88,044
25,458
102
An¬
nual
Rate
of In¬
crease
per
Cent.
Yalue.
Amount of Real
Property As¬
sessed to the
Property and
Income-Tax, for
the Year ended
April 5, 1851.1
1-41
85 1'24
124,478
170,065
163,723
185,405
455,725
355,558
195,492
296,084
567,098
184,207
390,997
369,318
458,805
115,489
167,298
64,183
615,766
2,031,236
230,308
407,222
1,886,576
157.418
442,714
212,380
303,568
270,427
170,439
22,983
229,341
443,916
405,370
608,716
337,215
683,082
336,844
475,013
58,287
254,221
276,926
220,983
36,303
215,214
1,325,495
57,327
61,474
70,796
110,632
87,870
92,583
68,156
231,849
38,843
67,335
94,140
24,716
1-42
96
54
51
107
137
84
66
83
66
61
160
62
82
31.
72
71
98
201
77
95
130
244
62
61
79
93
52
41
36
62
83
151
57
154
111
130
43
38
89
97
116
35
132
68
90
65
64
111
54
72
223
32
40
66
29
L.94,809,106
Amount of
Property As¬
sessed to the
Relief of the
Poor for the
Year ended
March 25,1850.
L.64,700,153
90,820,728
3,988,378
1-36
•87
•83
1-47
1-74
1-23
1-02
1-22
101
•96
1-93
•97
1-21
•54
1-09
1-08
1- 37
2- 23
1-15
1- 34
1-68
2- 50
•97
•96
1-17
1-32
•84
•69
•61
•97
1-22
1-85
•91
1-88
1-50
1-68
■72
•65
1-28
1-36
1-55
•61
1-69
1-05
1-29
1-00
•99
1-50
•86
1- 09
2- 38
•55
•67
1-02
•51
566,029
977,386
875,350
1,138,314
2,062,283
1,349,959
963,077
1,999,550
2,736,361
970,858
1,679,938
1,961,308
2,235,627
816,336
870,179
389,677
3,152,173
8,640,695
1,364,270
3,009,456
13,867,829
710,733
2,463,893
1,297,200
1,560,876
1,198,843
1,012,365
160,284
1,563,311
3,111,703
1,820,316
2,833,602
1,834,252
3,964,049
1,795,721
2,430,861
353,032
1,474,625
1,427,746
> 8,180,661
173,040
229,376
216,855
385,660
288,893
431,504
399,261
850,440
168,236
340,192
64,826,092
2,874,061
358,849
146,072
418,693
784,859
711,047
869,918
1,593,157
926,512
708,096
1,058,351
2,014,925
751,173
1,053,315
1,684,506
1,964,671
667,308
736,116
305,751
2,402,874
6,616,707
970,375
2.221,415
8,118,969
489,442
1,865,216
974,439
1,256,799
937,180
708,946
128,679
1,195,032
2,047,336
1,451,719
1,948,790
1,366,648
2,392,003
1,360,794
1,749,508
278,984
1,184,796
1,002,594
5,908,447
124,020
198,523
165,961
344,853
179,225
284,804
222,161
552,095
121,975
280,833
288,604
111,007
1 From a Return furnished by the Board of Inland Revenue.
2 From Parliamentary Paper, No. 539, Session 1852.
ENGLAND.
Statistics.
Population and Extent of the British Empire.
POPULATION.
1811.
1821.
1831.
1841.
1851.
Area in English
Square Miles.
Great Britain—-
England    
Wales    
Persons travelling at night, June 6th.
Scotland    
9,538,827
611,788
1,805,688
11,261,437
717,438
2,093,456
Ireland  ..
Islands in the British Seas—
Guernsey, &c 
Jersey 
Man 
Army, Navy, &c 
Total of United Kingdom.
11,956,303
5,937,856
640,500
18,534,659
14,072,331
6,801,827
20,827
28,600
40,081
319,300
13,091,005
806,182
2,365,114
16,262,301
7,767,401
26,128
36,582
41,000
277,017
14,995,138
911,603
5,016
2,620,184
16,733,947
1,188,821
2,870,784
18,531,941
8,175,124
28,521
47,544
47,975
188,453
20,793,552
6,515,794
33,645
57,155
52,116
167,604
21,282,966
24,410,429
27,019,558
In Europe.
Asia.
Colonies and Foreign Possessions.
Gibraltar, Malta, Gozo, Heligoland.
East India Company’s Territories, Presidencies of Bengal, Madras, and Bombay,
the north-west Punjaub, and Scinde Provinces 
Ceylon and Hong Kong  
Cape of Good Hope, Mauritius, Sierra Leone, Cape Coast Castle, Accra, Gambia,
St Helena, Ascension ,  
North America. Canada, Hudson Bay Territory, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Cape Breton,
Prince Edward Island, Newfoundland 
South America. British Guiana, comprehending Demerara, Essequibo, and Berbice; Falkland
Islands     
Jamaica; The Windward Islands—Barbadoes, St Vincent, Grenada, Tobago, St
Lucia, and Trinidad ; the Leeward Islands—Antigua, St Christopher,
Aniguilla, and Montserrat; Nevis, Dominica, Virgin Isles, Bahamas, Ber¬
mudas, Honduras  
New South Wales, South Australia, Western Australia, Van Diemen’s Land,
New Zealand, Norfolk Island 
Africa.
West Indies.
Australasia.
27,619,866
143,928
95,300,000
1,370,015
612,114
2,480,730
128,195
839,116
429,309
Total of the British Empire.
Protected States and Tributaries.
Ionian Islands 
Tributary and Protected States in India.,
128,923,273
223,349
45,000,000
174,146,622
50,387
7,425
32,167
89,979
32,512
50
62
220
122,823
229
659,270
24,687
201,403
754,577
89,000
78,384
560,000
2,490,373
1,041
433,500
2,924,914
Rate of
mortality,
&c.
Notwithstanding the defective state of the registers of
marriages, births, and deaths, the results deduced from
them are such as to establish beyond all question the fact
of an extraordinary improvement having taken place in
the healthiness of the mass of the people. Although about
919,000 were added to the population of England and
Wales in the interval between 1780 and 1800, the annual
average number of burials did not differ materially during
that period.1 It appears from the returns, that in 1780 the
rate of mortality in England and Wales was one in forty ;
meaning by this, that one fortieth part of the whole popu¬
lation died annually. In 1790 the rate of mortality was
reduced to one in forty-five. During the five years end¬
ing with 1800, it was one in forty-eight; during the five
years ending with 1810, one in fifty-one ; and during the
five years ending with 1820, it had sunk to one in fifty-
seven. During the five years ending with 1830, it seems to
have slightly increased ; having been, at an average of that
period, one in fifty-four, but in 1851 it was one in fifty-six.
This extraordinary decrease of mortality is no doubt
owing to a variety of causes ; such as the greater preva¬
lence of habits of sobriety and cleanliness; the better
lodging, feeding, and clothing, of the labouring classes ;
improvements in medical science, &c. But to whatever it
may be owing, it affords unquestionable evidence of the
signally improved condition of the population.
The increase of longevity has been particularly conspi¬
cuous in London and other great towns. During the first
half of last century, the mortality in the metropolis is be¬
lieved to have been as high as one in twenty-four; and it
required, down to the American war, large supplies of re¬
cruits from the country to keep up its numbers. But from
1770 the rate of mortality has been gradually diminishing.
In 1790 the births for the first time exceeded the burials;
and since then the city would have gone on increasing,
though it had not been indebted to the country for a single
immigrant. In Manchester, Bristol, &c. the improvement
has been equally striking.
The proportion of births and marriages to the population
has continued pretty nearly stationary since 1790. We
subjoin abstracts from the tables of births, marriages, and
deaths, registered in England during the year 1852.
Abstract of Marriages, registered in England, pursuant to
the Act of Glh and 1th Will. IV., cap. 86, in the year
ending December 31, 1852.
Marriages registered in Quarter ending last day of
March  32,977
June  40,092
September  38,400
December  47,313
755
Statistics.
* Preliminary Remarks to Census of 1821, p. 26.
756
Statistics.
ENGLAND.
Marriages contracted between
Bachelors and spinsters   130,672
Bachelors and widows   6,696
Widowers and spinsters   14,044
Widowers and widows....    7,370
Marriages of
Widowers.,  21,414
Widows  14,066
Marriages of Persons not of full age.
Men  8,551
Women...     26,978
Signed Marriage Register with marks.
Men  48,421
Women    70,772
Cases in which
Both signed    26,636
One signed  45,921
Married according to rites of Established
Church     133,882
Not according to do  24,900
Total  158,782
In 1851 there were in Great Britain, of the age of twenty
years and upwards, 5,458,815 males, of whom 1,689,116
were bachelors, 3,386,811 husbands, and 382,888 widowers ;
and 5,998,384 females, of whom 1,767,194 were spinsters,
3,435,917 wives, and 795,273 widows.
Abstract af Births registered in England in the Four Statistics.
Quarters ending ?Ast March, 2>0th June, 30th Septem-
her, and Slszf December 1852 {exclusive of Still-born).
Registered in Quarter ending last day of
Males.
March   82,605
June  81,227
September  77,532
December  77,672
Total  319,036
Illegitimate Births in the several Quarters.
Males.
March  5,640
June    5,380
September  5,334
December  5,380
Females.
79,198
77,804
73,690
74,262
304,954
Females.
5,497
5.234
4,915
5,111
Total  21,734 20,757
Abstract of Deaths {exclusive of Still-born).
Registered in the Quarter ending the last day of
Females.
52,180
49,315
49,277
49,324
200,096
Males.
March 1852  54,178
June  51,310
September    51,108
December   50,446
207,042
PART III.1
GOVERNMENT AND LAWS.
Formal
constitu¬
tion.
I.—Government.
“ By the constitution of a country, is meant so much of
its law as relates to the designation and form of the legis¬
lature ; the rights and functions of the several parts of
the legislative body; the construction, office, and juris¬
diction of courts of justice.” This is the definition given
by Paley. It seems necessary to add also, “ whatever
prerogatives are vested in the executiveat least, in case
any powers and privileges are conferred on it beyond
what, from being indispensable to the administration of
the public affairs of a community, must be common alike
to all executives. Even with this addition, the mere me¬
chanism of a government, in the three principal relations
which it bears to its subjects, is all that is here described.
Yet something more is generally understood by a constitu¬
tion, and would seem to be properly comprehended under
that name. A government, it is true, may and must be
influenced in a hundred ways by independent circum¬
stances, and by manifold considerations, which are no part
of it. But when certain specific tendencies and principles
are directly and designedly moulded into its original con¬
formation as so many distinct ends and maxims, or when
they are subsequently developed by it or incorporated
with it, so as to guide and qualify its spirit, they become
entitled to the character of constitutional as much as the
organization itself. There is no doubt that the mechan¬
ism of a government, if left to itself, will mainly determine
the nature and direction of its movements ; yet this me¬
chanism consists of a moral and intellectual agency. It
is accordingly capable of accommodating itself, and of
working in subjection to whatever rules and impulses may
be impressed upon it by the society whose instrument it is.
No society can be so stationary but that changes must
take place, sooner or later, for the better or for the worse,
in some one or other of the conditions, whether of principle
or of organization, which make up its constitution. W hen
these happen to take place, hardly any society can have
been so judiciously constructed from the first, or be so
fortunate in all its future circumstances, that lawyers
shall be able at once to call every change which is for
the worse unconstitutional, and which is for the better
constitutional. An approximation to this favourable situ¬
ation has been one of the great and innumerable advan¬
tages of the uniform and gradual progress by which the
English constitution has been distinguished. Its history
is the history of the internal policy of a people, who at
every advance in civilization succeeded in occupying one
advanced post after another, fortifying their free position
at every remove. The early prospect would have discou¬
raged the most sanguine philosopher. But the evil ten¬
dencies were suppressed, and the good ones brought for¬
ward, until the process appears to resemble the natural
development by which a germ grows up into a plant, with
but little occasional help from the pruning hand of man.
Precisely the reverse might have happened. It is what
takes place during that imperceptible decay, which, by a
foolish analogy to vegetable and animal life, it has been
supposed that institutions are also destined to undergo.
The bulk of mankind more easily perceive that abrupt
and extensive changes, the innovations by which new prin¬
ciples, or a new organization, are introduced, amount in
fact, as far as they go, to a new constitution. This may
be done legally or illegally. If illegally, it is a revolution ;
a case which by the supposition has nothing to do with
law. If legally, the letter of the law and the forms of the
1 For this part of the article the Editor is indebted to William Empson, Esq. Professor of the Laws of England at the East India
College.
ENGL
Govern- constitution may be used for the purpose of substituting
H'la1 sld a worse as we'^ as a ^etter government to the extent that
, _ the ancient constitution is displaced. The question, what
name wj]i niost properly describe any specitic measure of
this class? must depend upon the nature and degree of
the measure. There is on these occasions another ques¬
tion for a people, prior in time, and far more important than
discussions about a name. It is their duty to ascertain
whether the proposed change is, under all the circum¬
stances, a practicable improvement, and to fix where the
authority for deciding this point can, upon the whole, be
most safely lodged. A comparison of the different me¬
thods by which the latter problem can be solved will show
what little cause there is for maintaining, as some mo¬
dern writers are disposed to do, that the course adopted
in England is too loose and arbitrary to be consistent with
the positive character implied in a constitution.
Three very diffei’ent systems may prevail in this respect.
The two first are alluded to rather than recognised in
English history. Its whole tenor proceeds upon the last.
Every country has at one time or another given more
or less countenance, upon some favourite points, to the de¬
lusion of fundamental laws and unalienable rights ; mean¬
ing by these, laws and rights incapable of alteration, except
by a violence or decay equivalent to the suspension, if not
dissolution, of society. Confounding the principle of mo¬
ral and of legal obligation, Chief-Justice Hobart, from the
bench, and Blackstone, calmly writing in his closet for
the instruction of the eighteenth century, concur in stat¬
ing that the supreme power of every state is necessarily
subject to one condition. By this condition, all legislative
commands against natural justice must be void in them¬
selves, that is, void in law. With much less latitude than
has often been given to the law of nature and to the rights
of man, this exception might be made to cover extensive
and dangerous ground. Lord Coke, for example, has said,
that a statute against Magna Charta, or one to prevent the
Irish from coming into England, would be void. In this
manner the Stuarts were taught by servile judges to be¬
lieve that most of the prerogatives anciently affixed to
the crown were irrevocable even by act of parliament. A
similar opinion, grounded on the doctrine of the three
estates of the realm, was formerly propagated concerning
the episcopal right of sharing in the legislature. At the
Reformation, Bishop Gardiner conceived, that in conse¬
quence of the forced absence of himself and his brethren,
its proceedings would be of none effect. The example
was followed, but equally in vain, when, during the violent
re-action provoked by Charles I., who considered himself
as so pre-eminently a Church of England king, the bishops
protested against all acts passed in their absence by a par¬
liament no longer free. Charles I. held the very act by
which the bishops were excluded, although some of them
attended and voted against it, to be ipso facto null. The
more intelligent a nation really becomes, the less likely is
it thus to presume in favour of the political optimism of its
own or of former times. No fiction can be more gratui¬
tously mischievous than the creed that there can be any
thing in the force of invading arms in 1066, or in the au¬
thority of national wisdom in 1688, or in any length of
prescription whatsoever, to disable successive generations
from exercising their own discretion respecting the pro¬
priety of their existing institutions.
Another plan is to set apart, in a written charter or de¬
claration, certain excepted cases. The high matters which
are the chosen objects of this deliberate sanction, are con¬
ceived to acquire thereby the privilege of being placed
beyond the control of the ordinary legislature, and of being
reserved for the direct volition of the body of the people.
Locke, in treating of the right of popular resistance, seems
A N D. 757
to have stated too broadly, that the power of a community Govern-
can never be exercised in this manner under any form ment and
of government, because such a proceeding, he says, pre- t Laws-
sumes the government to be dissolved. Blackstone (vol. i. w'V'w/
p. 161) expresses himself still more strongly to the same
effect, adding, that no government will presuppose its own
destruction. rl he contemplated occasions are neither as
extreme in theory nor as impracticable in execution as
this language would represent. There is really no ques¬
tion in this case about resistance, nor what can reason¬
ably be called dissolution. Whilst, on the one hand, the
law has nothing to do with possibilities belonging to the
ultimate and latent right of resistance; on the other, the
idea of a supreme power which may be lawfully resisted
in points where it is called supreme, is of course a con¬
tradiction. Ihus in an absolute government society must
be remitted to its first principles before the right of popu¬
lar interposition can be recognised by it. An ordinance
of Louis XIV. declared that the extinction of the family
of Bourbon would raise a case of this kind, and that on
the occurrence of such event the right of electing to the
crown of France would revert to the French people. But
limited governments stand in an entirely different posi¬
tion. Minor contingencies, far short of the transgressions
which justify an appeal to arms, or of the accident which
summons a nation to the Champ du Mars to agree upon
a successor to a vacant throne, are part of their necessi¬
ties. The entire legislature may be only supreme sub
modo. For under the doctrine both of fundamental laws
and constitutional charters, every variety of restriction
may be imposed upon the legislature. The prudence of
these restrictions is more than problematical. But wher¬
ever a government consists of several parts possessing co¬
ordinate authority, the demand for some external control
necessarily arises ; since encroachments of one part on the
other must be expected ; and means ought to be arranged
beforehand for bringing them back peaceably within their
proper limits.
In this manner, wherever the doctrine of fundamental
laws is admitted, a sufficient authority, as, for instance, a
high court of justice, should be created for the purpose of
inquiring into and correcting any violation of them with
which the ordinary legislature may happen to be charged.
It will be necessary, besides, to chalk out, as in pri¬
mary assemblies or otherwise, the extraordinary course
by which the policy of the fundamental laws themselves
may be reviewed, as occasion shall require. Both these
precautions have been introduced and satisfactorily ap¬
plied by the founders of the United States. But they are
not wanted for this purpose by the English constitution.
For, notwithstanding a few fanciful conjectures, as above,
at times incautiously or intemperately hazarded, the Eng¬
lish constitution is not established on any strictly funda¬
mental laws, and still less are any specific questions re¬
served by it for the direct intervention of the people. But
there are analogous dilemmas which may arise under it as
a limited and a mixed monarchy. Many, indeed most, of
these dilemmas appear to be left open to the chances of
unnecessary aggravation, by the want of some similar ar¬
rangement. A government, composed of several members
with distinct powers, can only exist as such on the suppo¬
sition that they each remain content with their own share,
or that, in case one should trespass on the other, the irre¬
gularity can be set right by recurring to expedients legal¬
ly providing for the emergency. Every one of the triple
divisions of the English legislature has in its turn made
experimental encroachments, against which there exist
but imperfect and often very circuitous guards in the con¬
stitution. By the law of constructive contempts, once so
flagrantly abused, either house of parliament is armed
758
ENGLAND.
Govern- with a despotic weapon. This weapon is beginning to
ment and gather a prudential rust in the sheath at present; but the
kaw3, want or the jealousy of a superior court is a poor excuse
for allowing it to continue there at all. The mysticism
belonging to the maxim that the king can do no wrong,
coupled with the recognised absence of any remedy against
the crown for any possible amount of misgovernment, prov¬
ed the ruin of the Stuarts. It encouraged them in the opi¬
nion that the supreme power was lodged, not merely in
part, but wholly, in the sovereign, and that it might be
abused with legal impunity, dhe 16th Charles II., as re¬
newed by 6 William and Mary, declares that a new par¬
liament shall be called within three years of the determi¬
nation of the former ; but no measures are taken by either
statute for the assembling of a parliament in case the king
should not choose to call one. The security is left to the
old indirect check, the stoppage of the supplies, and to the
new one, which, by means of the annual mutiny act, has
been derived from a source where an aid to freedom could
hardly have been expected, namely, the innovation of a
standing army. There is at present abundance of rectify¬
ing principle and of auxiliary appliances in the sounder
portions of the English constitution, which will prop up the
rest, and hold the feebler part to its work. Otherwise
the history of the Habeas Corpus act is a striking proof
of the inadequacy of all general declarations. In doubt¬
ful times these are merely waste paper, unless accompa¬
nied by positive arrangements for carrying them into exe¬
cution, and subjected to proportionate penalties on their
infringement and neglect. The act of 16 Charles I. had
provided, that if the king neglected to call a parliament
for three years, the peers might assemble and issue writs
for choosing one ; and, in case of neglect by the peers, the
constituents might meet and elect one themselves. Ibis
act was repealed with great ignominy at the Restoration.
But it seems to have left the crown its due precedence,
and to have provided, with as little impatience as pos¬
sible, for the securing an object which all parties are agreed
it is absolutely necessary some way or other to secure,
The debates upon the command of the militia previously
to the breaking out of the civil war, are a memorable in¬
stance of the folly of leaving great constitutional rights
in obscurity up to the fatal hour when they can no longer
be settled calmly and on reasonable terms. If it be impor¬
tant to define rights in times of tranquillity, it is no less
so to provide the particular forms by which, in case of
violation, the remedy may be applied. It is true that
these collisions approach to the character of revolutions.
When a king has so far separated himself from his parlia¬
ment, there is little chance of their returning to that har¬
mony by which alone a constitutional monarchy subsists.
No previous arrangements can completely meet the crisis
after it has occurred; but they may mitigate its severity,
and, by the mere fact of their known existence, may do
the still more acceptable service of preventing its occur-
rence.
According to tne third and remaining plan, the consti¬
tution recognises the existing legislature as supieme for
all purposes whatsoever. To this plan the English nation
has always stedfastly adhered. From the time when the
commons jf England were adopted into the legislatuie
(49 Hen. III.), or shortly afterwards, the legislature has,
without any deviation worth mentioning, been the parlia¬
ment ; that is, the king, lords, and commons, in parliament
assembled. The popularity of parliaments has been so pa¬
ramount throughout, that the public have never until re¬
cent times been tempted to look elsewhere for rules, incli¬
nations, or opinions. The supremacy of parliament kept
its hold, like an anchor which nothing could shake, in the
most stormy seasons, and under every variety of circum¬
stance. The impossibility of complying with the custo- Govern,
mary forms was satisfied as often as it occurred, by the ment and
nearest approximation which could be obtained. This Laws-
was no less remarkable in the course taken as far back
as the supposed resignations of Edward II. and Richard
II., than on the later occasions of the imperfect convention
parliaments. Nobody suggested the propriety of calling
together the people to restore Charles II., or to instal
William III. into the vacant throne. Mr Hallam ob¬
serves, that in the combination of gift, descent, and popu¬
lar election, which took place on the accession of Henry
IV. in the year 1399, there was as great formality as in
1688, making due allowance for times and men. The sem¬
blance of election remained with the members of the guasi-
parliament. They had been summoned by the king’s writ,
but, from not having his commission, they did not take
that solemn name, and only called themselves the estates
of the realm. Wherever it was possible to preserve by
fictions the appearance of a regular parliament, fictions
were called in. Thus, during the infancy of Henry VI.
the shadow of the royal infant, then only nine months
old, opened his first parliament, and made appointments
during pleasure. On the derangement of George III.
the regency was appointed under the great seal. To keep
up the entireness of the body politic of the state, the co¬
operation and personal will of the king were necessarily
assumed in the very act which was to supply his personal
incapacity. It was from the court of parliament that
Richard III. obtained a confirmation of his alleged title.
He rested upon it as “ the known quieter of men’s minds
and the Earl of Surrey appealed to it as the one conclusive
authority, when taunted afterwards by the successful com¬
petitor for the crown upon Bosworth Field. Though Wol-
sey, “ hating parliaments,” which therefore hated him,
“ had been the means that none was holden in the realm
but one for the space of fourteen years yet Henry VIII.
told them that he was informed by his judges that he was
never so great as when sitting there in his estate royal.
The great test of the omnipotence of parliament was its
power of altering the succession. This, which was the
established doctrine of the prior period, it was by a sta¬
tute of Elizabeth made treason to deny. At the begin¬
ning of the civil wars, Charles I. called the peers together
at York ; and the cavalier members seceded from the
House of Commons. Under these circumstances a me¬
taphysical question might easily have been raised, as to
which was the real parliament. But the locality of West¬
minster was like keeping the field of battle. It decided
the direction of that wonderful and superstitious homage,
which made Clarendon complain that “ an implicit reve¬
rence for the name of parliament was the fatal disease of
the whole kingdom.” The substance and vitality, how¬
ever, of the institutions to which the entire authority of
national legislation is transferred, are still more important
than the name. For this purpose their independence as
intelligent deliberative assemblies must be secured. No
question can be made concerning open violence. Any
attempt by intimidation to force the repeal of a law or a
change of measures, or to overawe either house, is trea¬
son. But, further than this, no minority or fraction of
the people must be allowed to exercise over the legisla¬
ture an influence of opinion, which the constitution does
not attribute to the people at large, or at least does not
provide them with the means of exercising. This is a
subject of great delicacy; but still there must be some
limits. Accordingly, both in law and practice, limits
more or less elastic have been put on the nature and de¬
gree even of the moral pressure which may be urged on
parliament from without.
Tumultuous petitions having been carried to a great
ENGLAND.
759
Govern- excess during the long parliament, the statute 13 Charles
went and jj. jn consequence, imposed several restrictions upon pe-
, Caws- titions for any alteration in church or state. But notwith-
standing the opinion of Mr Dunning, and the present prac¬
tice, these restraints have been judicially determined not
to be affected by the bill of rights. Mr Hallam says
that he has traced public meetings for the debate of poli¬
tical questions no higher than the year 1769, and, sub¬
ject to very few exceptions, petitions simply political not
quite so high. Rights of this kind, guaranteed to the body
of the people, and liberally construed, appear to be supple¬
mental to a representation which stops short of annual par¬
liaments and universal suffrage. They are the democra-
tical counterpart to addresses of loyalty to the throne, and
of confidence in the government, which are said by Evelyn
to have come in even in the time of Cromwell. The right
will probably not be used, certainly not used frequently,
till a want of sympathy between the representative body
and the people, or particular classes, begins to be suspected.
The sense of the public, so taken, may often be found to
clash with the sense of particular constituencies. In this
case, two questions necessarily arise for a member’s con¬
sideration : first, what weight either one or the other
ought to have as mere authority in overruling his own opi¬
nion ; and, next, which of them, in the event of competi¬
tion, is entitled to a preference. The same constitutional
answer will apply to both difficulties. The inclination on
the part of the English constitution appears to have settled
down, after some previous oscillation, to one consistent
course, as soon as the commons began to feel and act up
to their real dignity and strength. A member must ne¬
cessarily be returned for a particular place. The ques¬
tion is, Are his duties therefore local ? The terms of
the writ of summons had all along plainly signified that,
although chosen by a single district, he was chosen for
the wants and service of the realm. Nevertheless many
instances formerly occurred of the commons begging for
time to consult with their constituents. It may natural¬
ly be presumed that this was nothing more than a timid
way of evading unreasonable requests. Because their
ancestors, afraid of Edward III.’s designs upon their
subsidies and fifteenths, had declined to be made con¬
sulting parties to his wars, it was absurd in James I. to
imagine that he could altogether call away from politics
the English gentry of his day. Yet at so late a period
no less a person than Burghley condescended to argue
against the propriety of the interference of the House of
Commons in matters of war and peace.; and to take the
distinct ground that its members by its institution had
minds only of a compass each for the place which he served.
But parliament had already heard the contrary within its
walls. The movement of society which had made it im¬
possible to execute the statute requiring the member of a
district to be an inhabitant, had brought out, in the reign
of Elizabeth, the first parliamentary declaration in behalf
of the complete legislative authority of members of the
House of Commons, in full accordance with the letter and
conditions of the ancient writ. In the declaration that
members were to act not only for their constituents, but
for the whole kingdom, it was evident that a great prin¬
ciple was proclaimed. If sycophants then contested it,
Mr Hallam, speaking of modern days, says very truly,
1 that it is one which at present “ none but the servile wor¬
shippers of the populace are ever found to gainsay.” The
weightiest arguments in Burke’s letter to the sheriff of
Bristol, against particular instructions, are little more than
the application and extension of this principle. The ne¬
cessity of going back to their constituents for a specific
assent, was one of the main grounds of that incompeten¬
cy to the duties of a representative assembly which faci¬
litated the ruin of the states-general of France. A few Govern-
votes beyond what a question would have obtained upon ment and
its general merits may thus be stolen, and a few indivi- 1^aws' ,
duals may thus push themselves forward into temporary
notice. But public opinion can never be truly ascertain¬
ed, any more than the public interest comprehensively
promoted, by desultory and individual pledges. For this
purpose the public must act in concert. With this view,
kings of England have sought to satisfy themselves and
the House of Lords with regard to the reality of the
public sentiments, by a dissolution addressed to specific
points. On the occasion of Mr Fox’s India bill, the new
members were expected to bring to the House of Commons
an answer concerning the royal choice of particular men
as ministers ; and on the occasion of the Ref .rm Bill, con¬
cerning the policy of a particular measure. This is the ut¬
most advance which the English constitution has made to¬
wards admitting the doctrine of the will of the people or the
instructions of constituents. So narrowed, it is a proper,
and at times an indispensable part of every rational sys¬
tem of representation. It is practically quite consistent
with the general rule that the select body of electors are
trustees for the entire community ; and that their repre¬
sentatives are the only organ by which the public will is
on all subjects ultimately and conclusively expressed.
This then is the English system. It seems to be an
extreme and fanciful subtilty to doubt whether the title
and character of a constitution can properly belong to it.
It is something in its favour that it can appeal to expe¬
rience as practically embodied in a government, now of
ancient standing, at once the most progressive and the
most permanent which the world has ever yet seen. Why
is it less a constitution because it gives to its ordinary con¬
temporary legislature the most plenary attributes of su¬
preme political power, and because it disclaims the sup¬
position that its early constitutional legislation had or
could have the sanction of any higher authority ? The
assent of any one generation can be of neither greater nor
less value than that of another. It is not wonderful that
a society, setting up for itself for the first time, or obliged
by circumstances to begin anew in an enlightened age,
should try to build upon the basis of fundamental laws.
But it is fortunate for a constitution, of which the first
stone was laid in haste and ignorance, and in the dark, and
which nevertheless always kept so far in advance of its
contemporaries, as to serve other nations for the model
whence the criticisms have been derived by which its ir¬
regularities were afterwards to be condemned, that it start¬
ed with no similar pretensions. If it were to suit the ages
through which it was to endure, it could only do so by
a plastic mode of conformation. In this manner its people
were educated along with it and up to it, the two acting
and re-acting upon each other. Hence an instinctive in¬
telligence and conformity, otherwise almost unattainable,
appear to have been secured, which political changes have
hitherto slightly disturbed. Some bad logic, and a few in¬
cidental anomalies, are a small price to pay for conciliat¬
ing opinions and smoothing over the transitions through
which, in the course of centuries, an improving nation has
to pass. But the mode in which these alterations have
been made is objected to. The body of the people, it is
said, ought to have legislated upon them in their own
persons. It is surely a sufficient answer that it would be
difficult to name a year, when in point of fact more would
not have been lost than gained by tying up the hands of
parliament, and putting its legislature to the circuity of an
appeal to the freeholders of the county courts. The na¬
ture of things does not admit of there being any greater
security for good government than can be given by a le¬
gislature of which a popular representative assembly, pro-
760 ENGLAND.
Govern- perly chosen and seasonably renewed, is a member. To to the political stability of a limited monarchy, by form- Govern¬
ment and caii in the people to council, is to abandon to that extent, ing the members of this second assembly into an here- m£nt( an(^
Laws. uncier circumstances too of great probable excitement, the ditary nobility. A mixed government has, however, a still
advantages of representation ; and for no countervailing greater advantage. It naturally leads to and facilitates a
benefit, unless on the singular supposition that a people division of powers, which is the most important of all the
incapable of choosing able and honest representatives, will checks that mere arrangement can produce. According
be found capable of being able and honest legislators them- to this division, the authority of parliament is strictly con-
selves. The device is much more likely practically to fined to the original enactment of the laws. I he duty
delay improvement than to check encroachments; since, of the judges is as strictly judicial. They have no more
for the latter purpose, the restraints it imposes are either to do with the politic administering of the law than with
unnecessary or insufficient. There can be no substitute the making of it. Ihe law being thus made, and thus
for the spirit of a people. With that spirit, these precau- interpreted, the entire charge of carrying it into effect is
tions are not wanted; without it they are vain. The two vested immediately or mediately in the crown. Whilst
cases which look most suspicious in English history (one the several parties who make, interpret, and execute the
in substance, the other in form) are the proclamation-sta- laws, are kept, in this manner, perfectly distinct, it becomes
tute of Henry VIII. and the septennial bill. The parlia- exceedingly improbable that any confusion, either uninten-
ment of Henry VIII. gave royal proclamations in certain tional or wilful, should arise between the principles pro¬
cases the force of law. The extent of the innovation has perly belonging to their several operations. This is a cau-
often been exaggerated. But, with regard to the present tion which the cause of public hbeity, as well as that of
question, there can be no doubt, that a generation which civil justice, alike imperatively require. Blackstone1 has
by royal order changed its religion four times in twelve expressed a strong opinion as to the propriety of the ex¬
years, would, on the subject of royal proclamations, have ecutive being only a branch, and not the whole, of the
as readily acceded to his majesty’s desires. A few cor- legislative ; also2 that the judicial authority should in some
porations petitioned against the septennial bill. But an degree be separated from both. This was one of the points
observer of the prior, contemporary, and subsequent con- on the paramount importance of which Jefferson and
duct of the body of the people on this point, and a reader Adams were agreed when they came to apply the experi-
of Burke’s speech against triennial parliaments, will per- ence of the English constitution to the construction of
haps see little reason to believe or to wish that the people, their own.
if calmly consulted, would have come to a different con- Eastern nations, notwithstanding their supposed imme-
elusion. It should be recollected, that the question is morial civilization, appear never to have got much nearer
one of pure argument only, and not of history. By the than the inhabitants of the South Sea Islands to a con-
common law a parliament, unless dissolved, lasted for the ception of the just foundation on which alone the rights
kind’s life. In 1694 this duration was first shortened to and duties of sovereignty rest. On the other hand, the
three years; but in 1717 these three years were lengthened citizens of Greece and Rome were fully aware that politi,
to seven. Thus, the law of triennial parliaments, spoken cal society was grounded on the advantage of its members,
of by some as an almost vital part of the English consti- Their patriotism was not more exalted by the pride of
tution, was never known in England but for neither more national independence than by the consciousness of being
nor less than the space of twenty and three years. responsible only to the law. Nevertheless, the real con-
Every government is characterized by the ends which dition of these great commonwealths was for the most
it proposes as its primary objects, and by the means which part in lamentable contradiction to the individual ability
it applies for the attainment of its ends. These objects and virtue by which their history has been made famous
represent what is vaguely called its spirit. The only means throughout all ages. The glory of free and classical an-
properly at its command refer to the making, interpreting, tiquity was frequently clouded, and was brought at last
and executing laws. It follows that the most important to an abrupt and final termination. This is apparently to
distinctions in this respect between one government and be attributed to the defective mechanism of their institu-
another, must be found in the specific provisions which de- tions, more than to any other cause. Iheir construc-
termine the formation and distribution of the legislative, tion and division of the legislative, judicial, and executive
judicial, and administrative power. The English constitu- authority were all along so imperfect, that their negh-
tion is a limited or mixed monarchy ; limited, by the maxim gence of the means of a better political aiiangement can
that the king has no rights but those which are prescribed only be accounted for by their ignorance of its necessity,
and ascertained by law ; mixed, by the fact that the parlia- ’Ihere is nothing to this effect, even in their theoietical
ment, in which the sole legislative authority resides, con- works upon government, when carefully examined. Poly-
sistsof the king and the three estates, the nobility, clergy, bius, it is true, gives the preference to a combination of
and commonalty of the realm, as comprised in the two monarchy, aristocracy, and demociacy, as being in a de¬
houses of Lords and Commons. The suppression of par- gree more stable than the simple forms. Cicero also agrees
tial interests is sought to be attained, and the practical with him in saying, that this was the true Roman consti-
recognition of the great end of government, namely, the tution; but he most unwisely adds, in compliance with
happiness of the whole body of the people, has been prin- the Roman jealousy of kings, that wherever the execu-
cipally developed and enforced by the share which the live is placed in a single hand, the government is mixed
people exercise more or less in the government. This takes only, not tempered, and must be ruined by the vices o
place in the legislative department, by means of their re- the individual. Different writers appear to have meant
presentatives; in the judicial, by the agency of the jury; different things by the same woid. Anstides enonn-
in the administrative, by the doctrine of official responsi- nated the government a mixed one as late as the time of
bilitv', and from the example and control of a great diver- Marcus Aurelius. Tacitus saw through the fictions, an
sity of popular local municipal institutions. thought that the. word implied more, otherwise ie wou
A more considerate legislation is promoted by a se- scarcely have said that such a combination may be more
cond legislative assembly. A great addition is also made easily praised than effected, and that weie it e ected it
1 Commentaries, vol. i. p. 146 and 154.
2 Ibid. p. 269.
ENGLAND.
761
Govern-
rnent and
Laws*
Could never be lasting. In case, however, the constitution
had done nothing further than realize the above combina¬
tion in the general sense which alone these philosophical
statesmen were contemplating, it would have stopped in¬
finitely short of the principal benefits which it has con¬
ferred. The separation of the three great branches of
political authority into distinct departments, as it is one
of the most probable consequences of a mixed monarchy,
so is it beyond all comparison the most valuable. Unfor¬
tunately it had not taken place under the imperfect spe¬
cimens of mixed government with which they were ac¬
quainted. It is not surprising, therefore, that in theory
the philosophical truth of such a corollary should never
have occurred to them. If that consequence had been
duly presented to his mind, Tacitus must surely have seen
reason to question the cycle of Polybius, and to feel great¬
er confidence in the political contrivance by which the ef¬
ficiency and the durability of states have both been found
in practice to gather equal strength. No political pheno¬
menon can be more interesting than the circumstances
and the method by which a government has thus arrived
at the high distinction of first uniting improvement and
stability, liberty and order, and has been enabled to com¬
bine the greatest of all ends with what, from the failure
of the most celebrated experiments, it may be well sup¬
posed were means very difficult both to discover and to
apply. Sanguine spirits often appear to imagine that as
good a constitution as can be devised may be struck out
and fitted upon at a moment’s notice. The history of the
English constitution may teach them greater caution. A
distinct examination of its respective parts will show, not
only how slowly they have been formed, but to what ex¬
treme risks at different periods the existence and the
principle of each have been, and perhaps must be, seve¬
rally exposed.
The English constitution is more historical than philo¬
sophical. It has been the gradual development of na¬
tional good sense, shown in a spirited and prudent improve¬
ment of tendencies and events, without any of the ambi¬
tion of a regular, preconcerted system. Its object was
never stated in a declaration of the abstract rights of man,
nor its organization derived from a metaphysical analysis
of the elements of human nature. He must have been
indeed a prophet, who, at the time of the Norman conquest,
could have foreseen the course by which it would outstrip
the feudal monarchies which resembled and surrounded
it. The difference lay in this : For successive centuries,
circumstances played favourably for a people who had the
merit or the good fortune to profit by them as they occur¬
red. M. Rey is so far right. England has experienced
the truth of Aristotle’s observation with regard to Crete.
An insular position has great advantages for political ex¬
periments. Assistance has also frequently come in from
the most unlikely quarters, and the scale has more than
once been turned by causes to which, as far as we can ob¬
serve, no nobler name than that of accident is to be as¬
signed. At one time the very strength and concentration
of the monarchy of England, as compared with the weak¬
ness of the monarchy of France, brought the barons, the
people, and even the church, into a closer union for their
defence. At a later period the impoverishment of the
crown by foreign wars, and the alienation of the crown
lands, brought it into dependence upon, what was most
fortunately, one national parliament instead of several dis¬
tinct provincial assemblies. The separation of the great¬
er from the lesser barons, the assembling of the commons
and the lords in different chambers, the transit through
which the exemptions claimed by the clergy became dis¬
qualifications, the conversion of the jury from their origi¬
nal character (whatever that may have been) into a popu-
YOL. VIII.
lar tribunal, have turned out to be the hinges on which Govern-
English freedom has ultimately turned. They are in- ment and
stances of incidents, in themselves at first comparatively , ^aws' ;
trifling, diverted by circumstances into a deeper channel, ”^
or transmuted by a noble alchemy into a much higher
purpose than what was their original purview and intent.
Although the English government was from the first a
limited monarchy, it was not for nothing that monks and
lawyers lent a hand in the pious frauds of forging tales
about Alfred, Kentish privileges, and imaginary Saxon
laws, or in encouraging the more recent fiction of the
notorious anti-tallage statute. . The stoutest antiquarian
who ever argued that the title of William the Conqueror
represented merely the feudal conquisitio, and not the
conquest of the nation, nevertheless must admit from time
to time great historical distinctions. The nature and de¬
gree of the limitations practically needed and applied to
the powers and mechanism of the several component parts
of the government varied exceedingly at different periods.
The importance even of the grand division between the
legislative, judicial, and executive authorities, was far from
being at once recognised and observed.
A constitution upon paper and in practice are such very Changes
different things, that we must look into the history as80cifty
well as the laws of a country, in order to know at anya1?^ °Pi*
given time what was the real contemporary character of
its government. English antiquarians have been more or
less successful in tracing back the dates of their most po¬
pular institutions. But the sense in which the same in¬
stitutions were in point of fact understood and adminis¬
tered at different periods, and the security which they
were capable of affording, are distinct and much more in¬
teresting questions. A people and their government, it is
true, are always cause and effect to each other; and none
more so than those of England. In the present instance,
however, there can be no doubt but that the narrative of
English parliaments and of English juries establishes their
existence, as a matter of pedigree, long before there was
spread throughout the community either the spirit, the
knowledge, or the means to turn them to their legitimate ac¬
count. The systematic regularity of modern governments
was unknown even to the ancient republics. No wonder,
therefore, that it was wholly unthought of either by the
feudal chieftains themselves, or by the rude vassals who
attended to do suit and service at their courts. Our an¬
cestors were satisfied, we are told, with the rough stand¬
ard of measurement taken from parts of the human body,
though differing in different men, till Henry I. ordered
the ulna or ell, which answers to our modern yard, to be
made the precise length of his own arm. To lay down
any thing like a precise standard for civil obedience, was
left for later times, and for arms still stronger than those
of any king. Even long after the golden rules and mete¬
wand of the law were recognised at Westminster, acts of
violence were frequent over the kingdom, with more or
less remonstrance; so that judicandum est legibus non
exemplis is a maxim which the constitutional inquirer is
obliged to keep constantly before him.
The history of England opens with a society divided
into castes. The distinctions taken by the law were one¬
rous and severe. There is a great difference between
Glanville and Beaumanoir. Nevertheless, the blot upon
Magna Charta itself, in the limitation (liber homo) cannot
be explained away. The later thredt of Richard II. after
the unsuccessful insurrection to which the peasantry*had
been driven by oppression, is equally intelligible. Their
condition, he told tlyenu should be made yet more miser¬
able. The statute'of^bourers, which was passed in the
reign of Edward III., was in the same spirit. It continu¬
ed to be a no less absurd than wicked favourite with after-
✓
762
E N G L A N D.
Govern- times. It is impossible to look over the whole interme-
ment and diate legislation concerning the lower orders down to the
Law8, reign of Elizabeth, without perceiving that most of its pro-
visions are as much statutes of police as of trade. I hey
have the air of being expressly directed to the object of
preventing the consolidation of the different degrees of
society into one people. When we compare the laws of
England in this respect with those of the continent, we
cannot estimate too highly the comparative equality of
ranks, and the absence of exclusive privileges. Neverthe¬
less the laws were bad, and public opinion worse. The
dialogue on the Exchequer, written towards the close of
the reign of Henry II., observes, that in all cases of secret
slaying, whether of English or Norman, the penalty should
be levied on the hundred, “ unless there are plain indicia
of the servile condition of the deceased.” The petition
of the commons to Richard II. that villeins might not be
put to school and so get on in the church, “ for the honour
of all freemen,” was re-echoed two hundred years later,
in the cry against the Lord Cromwell, on account of his
“ villein blood.” The class was then about to disappear.
It is evident that it was only by its extinction that preju¬
dices incompatible with real equality under a free consti¬
tution could be removed. The gradual elevation of the
entire population into the condition of freemen, put all
ultimately in possession of rights which had been wrested
from the crown by feudal leaders and independent yeo¬
men with a much more partial object. It took nges to
compass this emancipation, and to reverse the proportional
shares of the national wealth, as held by the king, the
church, the nobility, and the commons. If all the land
of the kingdom had continued to be the portion of the
church, the king, and the immediate tenants of the crown,
who, according to the list in Domesday-book and Brady,
did not exceed seven hundred in number, this consum¬
mation would never have been accomplished. Civil wars
and commerce, by scattering properties and displacing
chivalry, broke up the feudal system much more effectu¬
ally than any positive enactment. I he possession of pro¬
perty gave leisure; leisure, especially when the reforma¬
tion and the press stirred up the human mind with new
and more liberal excitements, gave knowledge. Even
without the strength of numbers, the combined influence
of property and knowledge must give power. Until the
body of a people has obtained the intelligence necessary
to understand something of their own interests, and the
power of making an attention to their interest and feelings
a matter of prudence on the part of the higher classes, it
is in vain to expect that just principles of government will
be steadily acknowledged, much less that they will be stea¬
dily put in practice.
The king appears in the law-books as the source of al¬
most every institution and every right. Ihere is no other
independent political existence save his baronial court.
Nevertheless, as far at least as concerned the people,
the king was originally still more powerful in fact than
even in law. There was always a legal control upon him.
But it was lodged at the beginning in an assembly where
as yet the people bore no part. Bracton, who wrote under
Henry III., probably not long before Leicester’s writs to
knights, citizens, and burgesses, appears to have as little
anticipated them as he could have anticipated their effect.
In his perversion of the imperial law to the purposes of a
limited monarchy, he declares that the will of the prince
must be according to his counsellors; that is, of “ his
court of earls and barons.” He terms them his <f as¬
sociates,” and makes them his superiors; for he adds,
“ were the king without a bridle from the law, they ought
to put one on him.” The court of peers, or royal council
of France, by the non-attendance of the tenants in chief.
sunk into the great judicial tribunal of the country, and Govern-
became known by the name of parliament, after the time mentand
of St Louis. The peers of England were not so confident
of their feudal exemption from supreme legislative con-
trol; consequently, when, about the same time, or a little
earlier, the aula regis or great council of England assum¬
ed a new form, it separated into two compartments; one
judicial, or the supreme courts of justice; the other legis¬
lative. The last consisted originally of the earls and ba¬
rons only. By the time that the incipient House of Com¬
mons became its colleague, the name of parliament was
appropriated, and, from its omnipotence over the feelings
of the English nation, has become almost consecrated in
their behalf. It was long before the parliament felt its
strength, or knew how to use it. In the mean while the
constitution, directly or indirectly, within doors and with¬
out, kept making head. During the struggles which the
crown, reign after reign, was maintaining, sometimes with
different members of the royal family, at others with the
aristocracy, and at others against the church and papal
usurpations, the people became important as allies. I he
people appear on the whole to have judiciously sided,
where, according as the temporary pressure was felt to
bear, it was for the interest of the public that they should
side. It is difficult, owing partly to the uniformity which
prevails at present, to comprehend the sudden turns which
this instinctive policy might call upon them to make.
A sagacious and honest yeoman may have been with
King John to-day, and with his barons to-morrow. To
look merely at property : the Conqueror retained in his own
hands fourteen hundred manors, the reserved rents on which
Burke, in his Abridgment of English History, reduces to
L.70,000 of the money of that period. The resumption of
the grants of Henry VI. was prefaced by a public declara¬
tion that his ordinary income did not amount to more than
L.5000. In the next reign we find Edward IV., inde¬
pendently of parliamentary supplies, the owner of above a
fifth of the lay property of the kingdom. Within half a
century the scale had again changed its balance. Whole¬
sale confiscations, succeeded by the minuter and more po¬
litic arts of Henry VII. humbled the pride and broke the
combinations of the nobility. Although the nominal ren¬
tal of the royal demesnes was reduced to L.32,000 at the
accession of James I., yet the idea of any danger to the mo¬
narchy from aristocratical competition was almost a faint
tradition at the time of Lord Russell’s trial. He justly
exclaimed, in allusion to the apprehension, “ We have no
great men now.” Previously to this revolution in society,
it depended for the most part on the personal capacity
and character of the sovereign, whether the contingen¬
cies to which a wise constitutional jealousy ought to have
been most alive, would come from the turbulent intrigues
of the aristocracy, or from monarchical ambition. The
royal prerogative attracts the first and the liveliest atten¬
tion, as its power is always present and most promptly felt.
Besides, it was absolute in language, prominent in form,
and often irritating in the subject and occasion of its exer¬
cise. But all the great points whence a cloud might have
arisen over the freedom of the nation had been soon fore¬
closed, and, in spite of occasional, indeed numerous vio¬
lations, were closely watched. Ihere is no denying that
many remaining prerogatives were absurd and even odious.
Still the nature and the danger of the grievances to which
the people were legally and practically exposed from
them are usually overrated. I he Stuarts let no preioga-
tive drop willingly ; and it is well known that they labour¬
ed hard to revive some that were obsolete. Yet Loid
Bacon declared, on presenting an address to King James,
that there was no grievance in the kingdom “ so geneial,
so continual, so sensible, and so bitter, as the preroga-
ENGLAND. 763
Govern- tJve 0f purveyance.” Nevertheless, what did it amount
'"Laws'™ t0 w^len rePresented in money ? From one cause or an-
other, the commons receded from their negotiation, rather
than buy off this their master grievance, and that of mili¬
tary tenures into the bargain, at the cost of an annuity of
L.200,000. In the interval which elapsed between the
depression of the nobles and the rise of the commons, the
monarch had the stage comparatively to himself. The
crown also at that critical moment passed into a line of
able and haughty princes. Mr Hallam observes, that
constitutional freedom was consequently retrograde from
Henry VI. to VIII.; yet it is evident, from what passed
during that period, that the hardy plant was not only
alive, but safe. Bills in the form of acts, instead of peti¬
tions, which by adding to or diminishing from what the
commons had petitioned for, had been for ages scandalous¬
ly abused, begin with the reign of Henry VI. The first
writ of habeas corpus, apparently so simple a result of
Magna Charta, w^as obtained against Henry VIL, the wiliest
of the Tudors. Elizabeth had her father’s spirit, and can
scarcely be suspected of relaxing a bold which she could
have decently retained. Yet in 1586 the House of Com¬
mons first succeeded in bringing the inquiry into election
.returns from out of chancery before themselves. By un¬
fairly selecting the arbitrary passages from the reign of
Elizabeth, and misrepresenting them as the ordinary
course of her government, Hume gave both colour and cur¬
rency to sophisms, which betrayed a much greater passion
for ingenious paradox than for historical truth. The Eng¬
lish people are wrong, it seems, in charging the Stuarts
personally with the misgovernment which provoked the
great rebellion. That misgovernment is represented to be
nothing more than a continuance of the ancient English
constitution, such alone as their ancestors had knowm it.
According to this statement, the fault of the Stuarts would
have consisted in carrying down the prior constitutional
misrule into times which would no longer bear it. If such
had been the fact, it is a fact which those times must
certainly have known. But the understanding of contem¬
porary parties was plainly all the other way. History has
preserved the positive admission of Charles I. to the con¬
trary, in a reference too remarkable not to prove that he
was himself conscious of, and was aware also that his sub-
ie.cts knew, the whole extent as well as spirit of his inno¬
vations. What a satire on his own and on his father’s go¬
vernment, that he should, in 1640,1 hold it out to his par¬
liament as a boon, that he would return to the precedents
of a sovereign whom they had already endeared to the
people as “ Good Queen Bess whose reign, however, we
know, notwithstanding, to have abounded with tyrannical
executions, gross and frequent enough, it might have been
thought, to have satisfied any of her successors. It is not
the less true, that the time had come when the authority
as well as the ceremonies of the court must undergo mu¬
tations, at which minds, with much larger views of go¬
vernment than that of Clarendon, would be startled, and
perhaps annoyed. The state of society required popular
changes to be admitted, for which no precise precedent
could be found. Under these circumstances, men like
Selden, for instance, a little too apt not to look for liberty
beyond their law-books, must often have felt embarrassed Govern-
how to act. The Stuarts, however, did as much as could ment and
well be done towards relieving their subjects from difficul- Laws,
ties of this description.
Unluckily for the Stuarts, none of the innovations
which they attempted, nay not even the consistent system
to which it had been their object to bring the practice of
their government, were so new and so outrageous as the
principles on which they professed to reign. No coun¬
try set a higher value than England, whether it was
pleaded on behalf of the prerogative royal, or in the much
more reasonable case of civil possessions, on the some¬
what too stationary title of prescription. The coronation
oath on the one hand, and the oath of allegiance on the
other, the theory of the feudal system, and many passages
in their annals, had accustomed them to look to a rough
notion of contract as the criterion of submission. The
divinity studies of the early lawyers, and the usages of
the puritans, tended to influence the thought and language
of modern times by the course of authorities in the Old
Testament. But these views were common property. All
went there for what they wanted, and all found it. The
partizans of despotism and freedom, Hobbes and Locke,
Bossuet and Algernon Sidney, discovered, the two first in
Chronicles, the two last in Deuteronomy, arguments for
their opposite systems. It was far otherwise with the novel¬
ty which the Stuarts took up, and made the creed of theii
supporters. The new creed was precise and positive,
and the whole spirit of English history was in contradic¬
tion to it. No later than the 13th Elizabeth, a statute had
been passed, declaring it treason to maintain in any wise
that the king and parliament had not the power to limit
the succession. It was natural to lament that the feel¬
ing of feudal attachment was decayed. But the doctrine
of a divine hereditary patriarchal right was a strange in¬
vention to replace it withal. The cavalier loyalty of Or¬
mond belonged to former days, and had nothing in com¬
mon w'ith the superstition of Mainwaring and Sancroft.
Principles utterly inconsistent with all that had been ever
written on the subject, almost with all which had been ever
done, became the favourite and insulting theme of speeches,
proclamations, sermons. Thence the dread of the convo¬
cation sitting after the dissolution of parliament; thence
the unanimous resolution that their new canons would
not bind even the clergy ; thence the protests against
the new pulpit law, to make the king more absolute
than his predecessors. Roman Catholic ecclesiastics had
put their hands to Magna Charta. The Oxford decree
was the boast of the Church of England. The latter
books of Hooker, on account of their heretical latitude,
were to be made out to be fabrications ; whilst Jeremy
Taylor, the great ornament of his profession, pronounces
that there are few cases of conscience in which a man may
hope for half as much conviction as on passive obedience
and non-resistance. Non-resistance was soon improved
into absolute compliance. It became, in other words, the
indefeasible legitimacy of modern days. These prodi¬
gies of doctrine defeated themselves. They misled the
governors and provoked the governed, and, in James the
Second’s expostulation with the seven bishops, returned
* “ At the opening of parliament, the king very frankly delivered himself to the lords and commons, and was resolved to follow
their advice in repairing [he grievances at home, which he confessed the necessities of the times had brought upon his people. All
those, whether in church or state, he was willing should be removed, and desired that all things might be reduced o the good order
and practice of Queen Elizabeth ; which to the people of England were sure looked upon with the greatest reverence (1. Clarendon
519. This important passage is printed for the first time in the last edition. It is one of the worst omissions in the former garbled
text. The speech is imperfectly given in the parliamentary history, with a rather later date. It is in itself a complete answer to the
comparison laboured by Hume. The truth is, that the Stuarts had a dread of English history for its testimony against them.
Bishop Nicholson observes, in his Historical Library, that the publication of the second part of the Glossary of even the orthodox
S pel man was supposed to be'delayed, because he had called Magna Charta, Libertatum Anghcarum diploma ct sacra anchor a ; and that
in 1614 the Society of Antiquaries was suppressed on account of the jealousy manifested by James 1.
764 ENGLAND.
Govern- them their poisoned chalice to their own lips. A limited ladder had been so completely destroyed, that, in the Govern-
ment and monarchy and unconditional allegiance are a contradiction words of the age of Selden, an English tenant would be nient and
Laws. jn terms. The only consequence of allowing to a brave the first person to lay his landlord by the heels. The
anc} thinking people rights and privileges in the statute- landlords and the sovereign have been both amply indem-
book, and yet closing up every practicable channel through nified in increased security, for whatever either may have
which, if they are violated, a legal remedy can be ob- lost. At the same time the constitution and the country
tained, is the generating a spirit which sooner or later have been infinite gainers by the general adoption of a
must force itself a way by some great convulsion. Another more rational patriotism. The civil exemptions which the
revolution, and the example of a new dynasty, were made peers possessed in their individual character were all along
necessary to establish the truth of the opinion which insignificant. The judicial authority vested in their ter-
Gourville expressed in vain to Charles II.: “ A king of ritorial jurisdictions was superseded by circuit judges,
England who will be the man of his people, is the greatest and by justices of the peace in every county. That which
king in the world ; but if he would be any thing more, he had been reserved to them collectively was of a kind more
is nothing at all.” So evident, indeed, has it ever been honorary than formidable, and one which there was little
since the Revolution, that no king can long carry on the temptation to abuse. The small value which they attach-
government upon any other terms than by becoming the ed to their power as a civil tribunal is proved by the in-
man of his people, as represented in parliament, that the termission which took place of all writs of error to the
royal legislative negative has fallen into abeyance for a lords from the time of Henry IV. till the accession of James
century°and a half. Elizabeth, at the close of one ses- I. Their criminal jurisdiction, except in the case of im-
sion, rejected forty-eight bills which had passed both peachment, was confined to the members of their own
houses. The last exercise of this prerogative was in 1692, order. From the time that the commons were united
when William III. refused his assent to the bill for trien- with the lords, and their joint assent became equally in-
nial parliaments. With the modifications, and under the dispensable to all legislative measures, the sole undivided
circumstances in which alone the negative of the president glory of Bracton’s baronial court was at an end. A sta-
of the United States can be interposed, it is easy to see tute of Edward II. declares that every legislative mea-
how the head of that republic may prudently venture on sure not sanctioned by the consent of king, lords, and
the exercise of a power to which it would be the height of commons, shall be void. It states also that this is ac-
imprudence in a king of England so far to put himself in cording to custom. Nevertheless it was long before the
opposition to both houses as to revert. It cannot be said commons had the courage to act upon this supposed equa-
that the change is in the mode of operation only, and lity. Sometimes they stultified themselves by way of po-
that the kino- does now by influence what he used to do licy, to avoid any possible responsibility. On ordinary oc-
by prerogative. It is notorious that, on several occasions casions they felt themselves overshadowed by the neigh-
since 1692, influence has failed in doing that which the bouring greatness of the lords. Thus they applied to
acknowledged prerogative would have done by its single them on great emergencies, begging that they would send
word. The result is, that the king, who for many centu- some of their members to instruct them in their duty
ries was more powerful in fact than in law, is more power- (as in 1st Richard II.), “ on account ol the arduousness
ful in law than in fact at the present time. of their charge, and the feebleness of their own power
If under the same forms the rise of the commons has and understanding.” In the same manner, on the insani-
changed imperceptibly, but entirely, their relative posi- ty of Henry VI. they left the establishment of the regen-
tion with regard to the crown, this has happened to a cy with the peerage. “ You, the peerage, in whom, by
still greater extent between them and the barons. The occasion of the infirmity, resteth the exercise of his au-
power of the nobility consisted in their immense posses- thority.” In the reign of Charles I. the commons are
sions, in the clan-devotion of their dependents, in their seen for the first time taking the lead, and carrying the
territorial jurisdictions, and in the original superintending lords along with them. Several of the lords in that cri-
authority of the supreme feudal court. The blow struck sis gave in their adhesion, and co-operated with the com¬
at their properties, both by force and artifice, speedily mons. Before this, the spectacle of their concurrence had
took effect. The shake once given was so certain of always been, the commons walking in the train of the
spreading further, that the formation of new aristocratical lords. New principles must accompany such a change,
fortunes'out of the monastic confiscations has never been The House of Peers could no longer claim the privilege
made an imputation on the policy of Henry VIII. It was of legislating exclusively for the benefit of their order,
as the favourite of Elizabeth more than as the lord of nor proceed on the distinction that they sit in their own
Kenilworth, that Leicester succeeded in making the gen- right, answerable only to themselves ; whereas the House
try of Warwickshire wear his livery. The original rela- of Commons, as a representative body, is answerable to
tion between lord and tenant implied protection on the one the people. The sophistical distinction can hardly serve
hand, and obedience on the other. If the tenant could at present to prop up the privilege of their proxy ; a pre-
not alien without the lord’s license, the lord could not tension not less incompatible than popular instructions
transfer the tenant’s seignorial dependence without the with the first duty of a deliberative assembly. Fifty years
consent of the tenant. The social movement, commen- ago, when Paley first published his Moral Philosophy, the
cing at the top, naturally occasioned a relaxation in these peers had so far fallen into the back ground, and political
duties and sympathies on the part of the lord in the first reasoners had so far learned to look to reason only, that
instance. This broke the charm. It soon became evi- Paley defends the institution of a House of Lords as a part
dent that king-maker could be the title of no future War- of the British constitutipn, on grounds which would have
wick. There had been a series of concentric circles, amazed Simon de Montfort, and perhaps somewhat scan-
through which the feudal feeling rose from the vassal of dalized John earl of Somers. His main argument is found-
the mesne lord up even to the throne. But all gave way ed on the use of a second and totally distinct legislative
at once. It was clear that the mischievous distinction be- assembly, in order to protect the state against popular
tween a king de facto and a king dejure could not be re- caprice and fury. Ever since the Revolution, the mo-
called, nor the allegiance of the subject transferred from mentum in English legislation has lain necessarily in the
the regal office of the sovereign to his natural person and commons. The king and the lords have both sought to
blood royal, when once the feudal feeling lower down the keep there a hold, by way of influence, so as to fight their
ENGL
Govern- battle in that field always in the first instance, and thus
ment and procure an additional guard against the chances of more
Laws. clirect collision. The reform bill has to a certain de-
gree stopped up the communications by which this ar¬
rangement had been in substance effected evpr since, and,
in fact, long previously to, the Revolution. Mr vfume re¬
marks, on the existence of two legislative assembles, se¬
parate from each other, yet each of them supreme, as one
of the great anomalies of the Roman institutions. The
characteristic danger of such a state of things exists also
wherever the consent of two or more men is required in
carrying on public business. The only difference is, that
the danger in the latter case is often counterbalanced by
greater advantages ; and that the mischief will probably
be less violent from their opposition in the passive shape
of refusing to legislate in the same direction, than in the
more active shape which their opposition might have as¬
sumed in Rome, that of positively legislating, one against
another. It is evident, however, that a society, the ele¬
ments of which, by the supposition, are not paralysed and
torpid, must soon find out the means of evading the evils
of a political stale-mate. The necessary unanimity can be
f only obtained by reciprocal compromises and forbearance.
If we will have the benefits peculiar to such institutions,
we must be content to pay tbe price. In tbe administra¬
tion of justice, the limits which separate pertinacity and
weakness is one of the difficult discretionary questions
which judges and jurors have to settle with their respec¬
tive colleagues. If every member of a jury or a senate
were to be as impracticable as Cato is described to have
been, institutions of this nature could in no country' be
allowed to last a week.
Mr Hume and Mr Bentham appear to agree in think¬
ing, that in the case of numerous assemblies called upon
to determine the much more extensive and variable ques¬
tions which arise in the general conduct of political af¬
fairs, it would be unwise to rely upon the exercise of a
similar discretion, as sufficient security for the analogous
compromises which are nevertheless indispensable condi¬
tions to an efficient co-operation. For this purpose they
both acknowledge the propriety of some species of influ¬
ence, which shall make the one to a certain degree de¬
pendent upon the other. In such a case the only question
which remains practically to be argued will be its nature
and the mode and degree of its exercise. If Dr Paley
gives too much countenance to influences approaching to
a sordid bias, Mr Hallam, it may be feared, is somewhat
too confident in the assurance that moral influences will
of themselves always secure a just, or at least an ade¬
quate, concurrence.
Polybius has shown that the simple forms of govern¬
ment, however suited originally to this or that stage of
society, necessarily become in time unsuitable. What he
describes as the specific germ of decay, “ congenite in each
form,” would be more properly described as an alteration
in society itself. This alteration drags the government
after it into the requisite modifications of its form. It is
one of the great merits of a mixed government, that, with¬
out the violence of a revolution, it can accommodate it¬
self to these changes in a community, and pass the initia¬
tive with comparative facility from one class to another,
just as the leading shoot in society may happen to be mak¬
ing head. Under a nominal invariableness in the balance,
some variance in the weights must always be going on.
The crown was not easily content to resign the ascenden¬
cy it once enjoyed. When the higher classes had to out¬
ward appearance ceded the political powers they had for¬
merly possessed, they were enabled afterwards by circum¬
stances to continue in the covert enjoyment of it, to a much
greater extent and a much longer period than any one
A N D. 765
could beforehand have presumed. James I. probably was Govern-
not aware of the tendency of the proclamation by which, merit and
on calling his first parliament, he directed the sheriffs to , _awa'
address the writs upon a principle substantially the same
as the late reform bill. There can be no greater proof, on
one hand, of the respect of the people of England for an¬
cient forms, and, on the other, of the moderation by which
the higher conciliated the jealousy of the middle classes,
than the fact that the adoption of this principle was postpon¬
ed during the next two hundred years. In those classes,
including the gentry and independent commonalty of the
realm, in whom for some time past the heart’s blood of
the country has mainly been formed, the reform bill has at
last placed the command of the House of Commons. The
power which this portion of the community before exer¬
cised indirectly over the whole parliament, and especially
over that house, it now exercises directly. The conse¬
quence is, that there is a much greater security than be¬
fore, that no measure detrimental to their interests, and
in opposition to their feelings, will be .agreed to by a
House of Commons of which they are themselves now
made the constituents. There need be no fear for the
duration of moral frame-works like that of government,
on the ground of their supposed analogy to the growth and
decay of material forms. There seems also no better foun¬
dation for the inference drawn by Polybius, in his compa¬
rison between the governments of Carthage and of Rome
as they existed at the time of the campaigns of Hannibal,
where he says that a mixed government, in which the pre¬
ponderance has passed from the monarchical and aristo-
cratical to its popular members, has run its course, and is
so much nearer to its termination. Difficulties enough
remain inherent in the nature of all government, which
no possible adjustment of the machinery can reach. But
a mixed, though incomparably safer than a simple, go¬
vernment, has some difficulties peculiarly its own. It de¬
pends on a nicer balance of proportions, and it calls for a
greater degree of temper, patience, and mutual conces¬
sion from its members. A rational and public-spirited
House of Commons must be in constant danger of offend¬
ing one or other of the extreme parties in the state.
Whilst its honest concurrence with the other branches of
parliament must frequently incur the displeasure of the
demagogue and his mob, the sovereign or the peerage,
one or both, are often not unlikely to regard its general or
particular opinions with equal jealousy. A constitution
thus settled is only safe as long as the more intelligent
part of society can take advantage of its intermediate po¬
sition, and arbitrate between the extremes. A House of
Commons, identified with the great arteries of the nation,
contains within itself no inherent security for good govern¬
ment, beyond the power of stopping bad measures, and of
sending good ones up for their acceptance to the other
partners in the firm. If they accept, well; if they reject,
a class of cases arises, on which all the good sense and
good humour of a country may be wanted, in order to
guide a people to discriminate arigbt on the course which it
becomes them to pursue. Unless a power of rejection, ac¬
cording to a liberal construction of independent judgment,
be conceded, the whole benefit of a second assembly will be
altogether lost. The power of rejection may, however, be
so exercised by a headstrong monarch or by a small he¬
reditary body, especially when, in the case of the latter
body, the greater part of the legislature have been recent¬
ly raised to the peerage from the ranks of one political
party only, as to amount to a declaration that they are
looking only to themselves, their own interests and pas¬
sions. A civil disseverance from the sympathies of the na¬
tion, like that of the Roman Catholic clergy, justifies the
extreme remedy of removing the obstacle by whatever
766 ENG L
Govern- means. The occurrence of such fatal obstinacy in the
ment and pers0n of the sovereign, would be an exception to every
Laws, presumption upon which hereditary monarchy is engraft-
ed on a mixed government. The contingency of so re¬
mote and so insane a possibility could only be formally
counteracted by some such expedient as is adopted with
respect to the veto of the president of the United States.
In the instance of a refractory House of Peers, the con¬
stitution has given the king the means of applying this re¬
medy by a creation of additional peers. rIhis course w as
taken by Queen Anne on a much more questionable occa¬
sion, namely, for the sake of a mere ministerial majority.
It is not the less clear that a justifiable occasion might oc¬
cur. If the king took courage to apply the constitutional
remedy, all would proceed as usual. If he shrunk from
it, the public would be remitted to those ultimate consi¬
derations of civil prudence which are always in reserve.
They are the very same considerations which justify the
sacrifices of natural liberty which men must make upon
entering into a commonwealth. They may equally justify
the sacrifice of social order which man is called upon to
make whenever a commonwealth is overturned. It is to
higher authorities than the precedents which are to be
found in Rushworth, that freemen have recourse when
they are compelled to seek new modes of legislation by
forms which announce that the constitution has been de¬
stroyed.
The spirit and effect of institutions and of measures de¬
pend, as has been shown, in a great degree upon circum¬
stances beyond themselves. The same institution at dif¬
ferent periods produces very different results, whilst the
collateral and unforeseen consequences of a measure are
frequently much more considerable than the objects which
its framers had in view. All that is most important in the
present forms of the English constitution, is of a certainty
to be traced, however obscurely and imperfectly, from a
very early date. At the same time, it has become what
it is, only by making the most of a series of fortunate con¬
tingencies. The English government may be advanta¬
geously compared with the Roman in its best characteris¬
tic, the tendency to progressive self-improvement. In the
nature of the improvements there can be no comparison.
According to the process pursued, the substance has
been in a course of much more extensive alteration than
the forms. With regard to the latter, the change has
chiefly consisted in removing partial impediments out of
the way of certain movements, in strengthening particular
springs to meet particular pressures, and in separating the
several parts of the mechanism by more positive divisions,
lest they should clash one with another. The manner
in which the English clergy overreached themselves, by
standing on their claim to exemption from temporal juris¬
diction, and on their right to be taxed for temporal pur¬
poses, if at all, by themselves only, and in an assembly of
their own, is very instructive and curious. They chose to
remain apart, a separate estate; and resisted the attempt
of Edward I. to incorporate the inferior clergy in the
House of Commons, when that house as yet existed
mainly for taxation. They procured their convocation
about the same time instead of it. Afterwards, in its
palmy state of general legislation, they discovered, when
it was too late, that their exemption was turned into an
exclusion. In 1663 the supreme head of the church of
England found it no longer necessary to keep up appear¬
ances with a body already but a shadow. Without a law,
a struggle, or even a word, convocations have died away.
The clergy, on submitting to taxation by a temporal as¬
sembly, have acquired in return the humble privilege of
voting for the members of a house in which they cannot
sit. A few bishops in the upper house are all that re-
A N D.
mains in the English institutions, of that third estate Govern-
which was so necessary a part of the diets and states- ment and
general of the continent, and which made so great a ,
figure in our own original constitution. The suspension
of the royal negative, and of ecclesiastical convocations, tui”
has, almost unobserved, become part of the modern Eng¬
lish system. Yet the change which has been thus ope¬
rated is far more important, though it is short of what it
is sometimes represented, than many which have been
the subject of fierce contentions, and introduced by the
most deliberate enactments.
The transitions which we have hitherto been consider¬
ing, are independent of and paramount to legislation.
They follow slowly but necessarily the variations in the
condition of society and in public opinion, which must de¬
cide nine tenths of the materials and spirit of every go¬
vernment. We proceed, therefore, to consider the prin¬
cipal alterations which positive legislation has successive¬
ly effected in the three great divisions of political power.
The main objects of a government have been mention¬
ed as being tbe making, interpreting, and executing the
law; the first being the office of the legislature, the se¬
cond that of the courts of justice, the third that of the ex¬
ecutive administration. It will be proper to examine each
shortly in detail, both as to its duties and its form. The
English legislature, acting together as king, lords, and
commons, is vastly too cumbersome to take upon itself
the detail of the executive. This union, therefore, has
never been thought of. Its incompetency either as a whole
or in its parts to discharge judicial duties is not so soon
perceived; consequently bills of attainder, of pains and
penalties, and impeachments, are part of the legal history
of the most recent times. In the infancy of courts of jus¬
tice, and when the traditional supremacy of the aula regis,
out of which both they and the legislature had emanated,
was yet an active historical recollection, parliament in all
extraordinary cases continued to claim an original judicial
authority. But this pretension gradually dropped, and the
appellate jurisdiction is now evidently near its close. Re¬
garding the legislature in its legislative capacity only, it
will be seen that its form has remained the same as a
whole since the first admission of representatives from the
commons. The changes which have taken place have
been confined to the construction of its constituent parts,
and to the view taken of the characteristic rights pecu¬
liar to each.
In considering the several members of the legislature,
the king takes constitutionally the precedence. Nothing can
be more superficial and incorrect than the view presented
by Blackstone of early English history upon this part of
the subject. It was not until the accession of Edward I.
that the several titles of election, descent, and testament,
on which the claims to the crown were before rested, as
best served the occasion, became consolidated in that of
hereditary descent. This appears to have taken place in
analogy to the descent of land. The rival pretensions of
the houses of York and Lancaster tended to throw the
law once more into confusion. Being principally tried
and determined upon the field of battle, the law had too
much the appearance of giving way to force, or to its
hollow consequence, a mere ostensible election. Icet,
even in those times, there was no notion that the crown
was left at the personal disposal ot the monarch. Wil¬
liam the Conqueror, it is true, had set up a donation from
Edward the Confessor. But Richard II. on giving his
signet to the Duke of Lancaster, as testifying his wish that
the latter might succeed him, added, “ but that did not
depend upon his pleasure.” The lords, in a remarkable
lecture to the protector, the Duke ot Gloucester, whose
powers under the will of Henry V. had been limited by
ENGLAND. 767
Govern- the parliament (for lords and commons are mentioned in The mode finally adopted, by which the power is intrusted Govern¬
ment and t]ie act^ say his desire was grounded neither in precedent to the sole discretion of the crown, appears to be, upon ment and
nor 1&W; “ the which the king that dead is, in his life, the whole, the most desirable. Yet the prerogative was so , -kaws. ^
nor might by his last will, nor otherwise, alter without unsettled in practice, and probably also in law, that down to
assent of the three estates, nor commit or grant to any the reign of Henry VII. the assent of parliament was gene-
person government or rule of this land longer than his rally expressed in patents of personal creation. Upon this
life.” The extraordinary provision of 28 Henry VIII. c. usage West founded his theory, in opposition to Prynne,
7, is the first and only instance of putting the crown into that such assent was a necessary condition. Whatever
settlement, with a remainder “ to such persons as the king may have been understood to be the law, the practice was
by letters patent, or last will and testament, should limit liable to all the objections so triumphantly urged against
and appoint.” It is plain that the testamentary power so the bill twice proposed by Lord Sunderland in the begin-
granted to her father had puzzled men’s minds in the ning of the last century, for limiting the number of the
time of Elizabeth; and that temporary authority to be- peerage. Whilst a restraint upon the royal prerogative of
queath the crown has to answer for the strange and almost creating additional peers would occasion more evils than
oriental scene by which the death-bed of that princess it could cure, no similar risk accompanies the withhold-
was disturbed. Since the Revolution, however, the par- ing from the crown a power of punishing by exclusions
liamentary title is the one established in fact. Since the or of privileging by exemptions the actual members of
reign of Elizabeth it bad been the only one recognised in that body. Accordingly, Lord Coke holds that even dis¬
law. The king never had a legislative initiative, but only pensations, answering to the excuses formerly besought
a simple concurrence. The change of the form from pe- by poor boroughs, granted by the king in relief of lords
titions to bills, took away no right, but only an abusive petitioning to be spared the burdensome service of atten-
advantage. The real legislative authority of the crown dance, were contrary to law. The mode in which the pre¬
still continues in point of law the same that it has ever rogative of creation was exercised varied with the times,
been. It was at no time more than at present, at no time but never seems to have been felt to be a grievance. The
less. The right to make law by proclamations, and the jealousy of the Stuart creations before the breaking out
right to unmake it, whether by the repealing dissimula- of the civil wars, and the remonstrance against the Scotch
vitnus of Edward III., or by a dispensing and suspending and Irish honours, was only a temporary ebullition. The
power, were always arbitrary usurpations. For these are degradation which the decay of families might have
utterly inconsistent with the principle, and almost with the brought upon so much of the peerage as was called by a
letter, of the statute of Edward II., which had declared general writ of summons, came to a certain degree with-
the assent of the lords and commons to be as necessary as in the control of two principles : the one, that a patent
that of the king; since the maxim that the same solem- without words of inheritance is simply a dignity for life;
nity which bound is required also to unbind, is a rule of and the other, that peers might be summoned only toasin-
English law. The disuse of the royal negative since the gle parliament. There are instances of ninety-eight lay-
reign of William III. is purely matter of discretion ; how- men who were summoned only once, of fifty others who
ever paramount the political necessity by which that dis- were summoned two, three, or four times. The present
cretion is determined. course, however, of descendible nobility, is as old as the
The peerage was formed, under the feudal system, up- reign of Elizabeth. The uniformity of our modern usage
on the principle of tenure, that is, of land held directly of would be corroborated, amongst other causes, by the con-
the king ; the mitigated sense in which the soil of the temporary extinction of a corresponding variation which
western world was understood to belong to the sovereign had previously subsisted in the summons of the ecclesias-
baving been always very different from the absolute owner- tical members of the House of Lords. I he bishops are
ship of the sovereigns of the East. At the first, all ten- said to sit by a usage compounded of a triple title. I hey
ants in chief had a right of summons to parliament, not are supposed to be the representatives of the church,
yet known, however, by that name. During the period to have been more learned counsellors than the lay nobi-
which elapsed between the demise of John, the last year lity, and to be the life-proprietors of the baronies attach-
of whose reign is remarkable for the division of the greater ed to their sees. The last condition, however, is wanting
and lesser barons, and the middle of the reign of Rich- in the sees erected by Henry VIII. But parliamentary
ard II., when peers were first created by letters patent, bishops formed a small portion of the spirituality in the
tenure began to be disregarded. The political principle upper house. Out of one hundred and twenty-two abbots
had so far got the better of the feudal, that in the 49th and forty-one priors, who occasionally sat previously to the
Edward III. the ancient writ of summons was changed dissolution of the monasteries, it appears that only twenty-
from homage to ligeance. The further difference in the five abbots and two priors were constantly summoned,
form of this appointment, as whether it was to be made There are numerous instances of the allowance of exemp-^
by writ or patent, was of little consequence. But the tions to abbots and priors after summons, by reason of
dispensation from the necessity of holding land in chief their holding nothing of the king. Ibis ground of exemp-
was an important innovation. On the one hand, mere ter- tion, as insisted on and admitted, shows whence the duty
ritorial possessions, distinct from descent, ceased to confer was derived. It does not follow but that the giounds of
a title to a writ of summons ; on the other, the writ in its right on their part might be more extensive. It is accord-
general form might easily in time, by multiplying cases ing to this distinction that the writ requiring the atten-
of dependent poverty, have turned this august assembly dance of the temporal nobility by summons, belongs to a
into the lacqueys of a court. It was well that a sense of period and style when its duties were an obligation, and
dignity took the other course ; though disfranchisements were recognised as such ; the patent to a peiiod when they
on account of poverty, as the act degrading the Duke of had become an honour. I he most important pai lamen-
Bedford in the reign of Edward IV., and the resolution tary change, however, which collaterally resulted from the
against Lord Ogle in the reign of Edward VI., were pre- dissolution of the monasteries, was the subordinate con-
cedents liable to be abused. The questions, where the dition to which it reduced the church numerically in the
power of creating peers should be lodged, and the terms House of Lords. Ibis alteration was likely to diminish
on which it should be exercised, were likely in early times the general political influence o the church much more
to be determined by other circumstances than reason, than the subsequent cessei of the convocation in 1663*
768 ENGL /V N D.
Govern- The authority of the convocation being confined to the evv'ry supposed connection between public policy and par- Govern¬
ment and clergy, the public at large bad little immediate interest tial interests. An evil not quite similar, but equally, in-
Laws- in its operations beyond the share which they might there- deea in all probability more, destructive in its consequen-
in please to assess themselves by way of ecclesiastical con- ces tt the object and safety of the peerage as a branch of
tribution towards the public burdens. In point of fact, the legislature, must follow, whenever its vacancies are too
the temporalities even of the church seem to have lost no- long filled up from a particular party in the state. It is
thing from either cause; much less its substantial influ- self-evident that the chances of a difference of opinion
ence. Few will think, whilst the clergy have been shut between a House of Lords partially constructed, and a
out from the lower house of parliament, and are now repre- popular House of Commons, cannot be raised with impu-
sented by thirty spiritual peers only, that their friends nity beyond a certain point. Under the most accuiately-
have not done for them behind their backs quite as much balanced government, the question, whether the Lords
as they could have done for themselves if present. The shall at any time interpose their legislative negative, must
influence of the church of England in its apparently al- of course, as in the case of the king, depend at last on
most unrepresented and unprotected state, is a great proof their own discretion, d he difference in practice is found
how little comparatively depends on the means by which in their respective positions. I here can scarcely remain^
an end is to be produced, when a power, composed of a a possible presumption in favour of the single opinion of
wealth, an intelligence, and an opinion competent to pro- a chief hereditary magistrate, when a majority of the na-
duce the end, is really in existence out of doors. Al- tion, aware of that opinion, is found constitutionally ranged
though the dignitaries of the Roman Catholic church against him. On the other hand, abuse in their oiiginal
varied in numbers from time to time, yet they always appointments, and ignorance of the duties and necessities
formed the actual majority of the House of Lords up to of their station, must have gone to an extravagant length
the Reformation, which, nevertheless, they could not stop, indeed before a body of the nature of the House of Lords is
Here, again, with what prudent reserve did the Roman put in equal peril by the rejection of. whatever measures
Catholic clergy husband for ages tbe political power which may be sent up to it by a majority of the House of Corn-
mere numbers vested in their hands; and how evident is mons. lake either extreme ; a House of Loids in constant
it that, whatever form, even of superstitious incarnation, collision with the Commons, or a House of Lords only oc-
the dominant spirit of a government may assume, it is cupied in registering its edicts. In the former case, it
only by compromises that it can subsist. The Stuarts, cannot exist long ; in the latter, it is already existing only
the great examples of every species of political misrule, in name. . .
would have been ruined by this alone; they were bent on I he popular part of the English constitution is lodged
acting up to the very extent and margin of their powers, in the House of Commons, which originated in the year
Nobody reading English history previously to the Reforma- 1295 ;. and, in its present extension, consists of the repre-
tion would have an idea that during all that time the tern- sentatives of different interests or sections of the commu-
poral nobility were in a minority; that therefore their !e- nity, by individuals of their choice. It is very singular
gislative importance existed only by permission; and that that the simple expedient of popular representation, an
every act of the House of Lords might be said to be in indispensable condition to every form of a free govern-
strictness the will and pleasure of the church. ment in a great kingdom, never occurred to the legislators
The number of the lay nobility has fluctuated consider- of antiquity. By this device, the experiment of a fiee
ably. It had advanced from fifty-five in the reign of government is entirely changed, and becomes, under all
Llenry VIII. to one hundred and six in that of James I. circumstances, infinitely more practicable, safe, and bene-
It is at present 420. The aristocratical complaint made ficial. According to the ordinary theory of the English
by Lord Delamere under James II., that, ever since the constitution, the House of Commons is said to represent
time of Henry VIL, a systematic project had been pur- the whole population, as far as it is supposed to be by its
sued to humble the peerage, bv means of multiplying its circumstances independent. Of these, the knights, or the
numbers, and by introducing ‘into it persons of mean members returned by the freeholders of the county, are
extraction, was particularly injudicious. Unless some- alleged to represent the interest conceined in agriculture ,
thing of this kind had taken place, the extreme dispro- whilst the citizens and burgesses, or the members returned
portion between the two houses, in their external as well by certain towns, have been described as representing
as in their personal titles to consideration, would have de- the interest concerned in trade. Ihe basis of English
prived the peerage of a great part of its present strength, representation, at first very limited, and long extremely
If the order was to be more than a pageant, it became fluctuating, was never so extensive as to answer to the
most desirable to increase its numbers to the extent of first part of this theory; and time rendered it, by tie
o-iving them a better chance of bearing some compa- rise of some places and the fall of others, still less so.
risen in ability and character with the select representa- The reform bill has probably more nearly approximated
tives of tbe rest of the nation. It was scarcely less so towards realizing the theory of a representation as uni¬
te recruit into their ranks those members of the common- versal as the independence and intelligence of the peo-
alty who, whatever might be the obscurity of their pedi- pie, at the present than at any former period. Ihe
gree, were most distinguished for their wealth or services, most that can be said of the latter proposition is, that
Thus alone could the body have been protected against some such division as it assumes between real and per-
the narrow sense of corporate pretension which must sonal property, agriculture and trade, probably appeared
otherwise have infected it. The long recollections which originally between the two classes of members. Ibis was.
feudalism has left, and the recent jealousy which has col- the natural course as long as the duty of the Llouse of
lected around corporations, notwithstanding their former Commons was confined to taxation. Ihe original demai-
usefulness, demonstrate the depth of the national re-action, cation would probably continue visible as long as paiha-
which all invidious exclusiveness unavoidably provokes, mentary attendance was considered as a burden lather
In fact, no amount of popular opinions has been sufficient than an honour. Historically, this and any similar distinc-
to save the combination of the great Whig families from a tion gradually fell into disuse soon after the 23d Ilemy
suspicion of aristocratical tendencies of this description. VI. That statute required the knights of the shite to
I he popular criticisms on the corn-law legislation of land- be actual knights, or such notable esquires and gentle-
ed pronrietors are a proof of the keenness which watches men (generosi a nativitate) as had estates sufficient to be
ENGLAND. 769
Govern- knights, and by no means of the degree of yeomen. We
ment and f5n(i t]iat a county member who had been actually elect-
.aws. wag set jjgjjg becjjuse iie Vvas not of gentle birth. A
great change must be commencing before the possibility
of the want of such a precaution could be suggested ; and
still more before the precaution, when taken, should not
immediately succeed. The change may be assumed to
have begun as far back as the 19th Edward II. when there
were twenty-eight county members who appear not to
have been knights. Of course the arrangements and very
elements of society must have been still further broken
up, before a manufacturer could have a chance of a suc¬
cessful nomination with the freeholders of a county court.
It is but little that positive legislation upon these points
either accelerates or retards. It can recall nothing; and,
to be effectual, must continue to be in harmony with the
wants and character of the times. This was abundantly
proved in the failure of the statute of Henry V. the object
of which was to compel members to be inhabitants of the
places for which they served. The attempt fixes the era
when the deviation from the old connection was attract¬
ing general attention. Its pertinacious vitality in the
statute-book is a striking instance also of the extreme
reluctance with which the English people, so far from
anticipating needless innovations, have consented to affirm
the innovations made by time itself. Prynne shows that
Cornish names were formerly returned in the elections for
Cornwall, and northern from the north. Clarendon opens
his memoirs by stating the little communication which
passed between different parts of the country, even with the
metropolis, almost to his own time, except in the circuits of
the lawyers. The names of the members for the counties
were aristocratical, those for the boroughs plebeian. A
few burgesses begin to be called esquires in the returns of
Edward IV. By this time the House of Commons was be¬
coming of sufficient importance to render parliamentary
influence with a borough an object of ambition to the no¬
bility and gentry of its neighbourhood. The character of
the borough representation opened and extended itself ac¬
cordingly. It soon embraced every description of person
who had a claim to enter into public life. The lawyers,
to whom attendance was probably less personally incon¬
venient than to others, appear to have come in earlier
for more than their reasonable share. But this expansion
and adaptation beyond its original purpose could alone
have made the inequalities and anomalies of the borough
representation tolerated so long. The citizens and bur¬
gesses, though always more numerous, seem to have felt
their social inferiority, and for a long time to have con¬
tinued more humble minded than the knights. Of the
three hundred members, the average number from the 23d
Edward I. to Henry VIII., a third or more were returned
by the boroughs. During this long interval the sheriff
exercised a discretion, to the use or frequently to the
abuse of which the parliamentary existence, by prescrip¬
tion, of many unincorporated boroughs is to be ascribed.
Boroughs by charter, even from mesne lords, and towns,
whether the ancient or the actual demesne of the crown,
made up the list. Many boroughs were originally incon¬
siderable places ; and others imperceptibly decayed. This
latter cause would take effect from the reign of Henry
VIII., the date at which the elective franchise became
constitutionally too valuable to be left, when it had been
once enjoyed, to the mercy of the sheriff, or to be al¬
lowed by its possessors to drop into disuse. The royal
prerogative of new creations which existed in the House
of Lords, existed also over the borough compartment of
the House of Commons. Elizabeth indulged herself in
the plenary exercise of it in England, as freely as her
successor did in Ireland; but, supposing that her sub-
vol. YIII.
jects had ventured to remonstrate, she was too wise to Govein-
have ventured, in return, on his indecent answer: “ The ment an(I
more the merrier, the fewer the better cheer.” The pre- ^aws. ^
rogative of adding to the boroughs, however, is one which
could not last in an enlightened age. The same rea¬
soning which pleads against a parliamentary or popular
appointment of the peerage, presumes a parliamentary or
popular appointment of the commons. It is not so sur¬
prising, that after the shaking up of the political opinions
of the nation during the civil wars, one instance only of
borough creation (that of Newark) should have occur¬
red, as that Charles II. should have made the experiment
even of one. Borough creations were the great reservoir
whence the successive accessions to the numbers of the
House of Commons had been supplied. Nevertheless,
owing to the course pursued previously to the passing of
the reform bill, the interests engaged in commerce and
manufactures appear, notwithstanding the vast contempo¬
rary augmentation of their wealth, to have had less power
in parliament, or at least less influence on legislation, than
in an earlier age. The House of Commons in the first
parliament of James I. consisted of 470 members. The
last unreformed and the present reformed representation,
reckoning the additions derived from the Scotch and Irish
unions, are not much more numerous. They both give a total
of 658. The difference between the two lies in the propor¬
tions in which these numbers are divided amongst the seve¬
ral classes of the people. It has been calculated that a
hundred and fifty-four persons returned a majority of the
former house. Counties formed the only large constitu¬
encies, whilst scarcely a single large town was represent¬
ed. At present the franchise is compounded of a ratio of
property and numbers. Mere nomination is destroyed;
and, on analysing the numbers, it will be seen that the
members for counties are 253, the members for towns
and the universities 403. This question of proportion,
though it has been assumed by critical writers, was evi¬
dently never before seriously thought of. The necessity
of entering on such comparisons had not yet arrived. The
means of securing the impartiality of the sheriff, and the
independence of the electors, was formerly a more im¬
mediate and important point. It is impossible, from the
gross partiality of the sheriffs (officers annually appointed
by the crown), to reason upon the old returns. The free¬
holders of a county court were of course placed compara¬
tively beyond their reach ; yet sheriffs contrived to aid in
the virtual disfranchisement even of counties. Accord¬
ing to Prynne, it appears by the indentures that, as late as
the 8th of Henry VI. the attorneys of a few great people
could dictate or manage on occasion the representation of
Yorkshire itself. In the meanwhile political information
was spreading. Reformers of all kinds sallied forth. The
decayed boroughs, and the consequent flagrant inequa¬
lity of representation, became the subject of a criticism,
founded on theories more or less correctly derived from the
practice of earlier times. The very word representation
provoked observation, and was in many instances in ridi¬
culous contradiction with the fact. It appeared impossible
that this could be what the constitution intended by the
name. Even James I. was struck by it on his accession.
The charge given by him to the sheriffs, on calling his first
parliament, not to direct a writ to any ancient town, being
so ruined that there were not such sufficient residents as
to make a proper choice, comprehended a most desirable
reform. The fault was in the mode which he proposed for
carrying it into effect. The supposed prerogative was more
than could be safely entrusted to a sheriff of James I.
The system grew more unreasonable every day, both in
reality and in appearance ; and, to complete its indefen¬
sibleness, the stain of corruption gradually crept in, and
5 E
770 ENGL
Govern- deepened the offensive spectacle into a scandal and a nui-
ment and gance. The reform bill has at last brought this long out-
standing grievance to a satisfactory conclusion. The elec-
tive basis is so enlarged as to comprehend all the elements
of sound national self-government, and the independence
of the electors is amply secured against all danger but
from themselves. The interference of the executive in
elections may be more immediately dangerous to freedom ;
but a constitution undermined by corruption is infinitely
more disgraceful to the parties who are guilty of it, and
to their fellow-countrymen, who sit still in stupid conni¬
vance at their baseness. Lord Coke, mentioning tbe first
case of bribery on record (in the 13th Elizabeth), de¬
nounces it “ as poisoning the very fountain itself.” The
disease was communicated slowly. It is not yet a hundred
years since it had reached the height and notoriety of
being a public evil and a national dishonour. Clarendon,
in his disdainful notice of the first ministerial intrigue in
order to buy over a majority by bargaining and not by
reasoning, leads us back to the origin and cause of all.
He fastens on the government the first link of the chain,
the length and burden of which naturally increased at
every remove. Bolingbroke, the distinguished father of
the modern Tories, lays the principal blame of it on Clif¬
ford. Members who could make money of their own votes,
found it was worth while to pay for the votes of their con¬
stituents. Evelyn’s Memoirs contain frequent ejaculations
on the increasing expense and debauchery of elections,
before and after the Revolution. In works of the date
of Brown’s Estimate and Chesterfield s Letters, it is no¬
ticed, for the first time, that the franchise of making laws
for the English people was disposed of by boroughmongers
under private pecuniary contract, or brought openly to
market by burgesses and freemen, for the competition of
public sale. The expense of elections,_ to say nothing of
bribery, had become so ruinous, even in the earlier days
of Burke, that in a speech on one of Mr Sawbridge’s mo¬
tions, he says, “ the expense of the last election has been
computed (and I am persuaded that it has not been over¬
rated) at L.l,500,000—three shillings in the pound more
than the land tax.”
The antiquarian question of the origin and progress of
the House of Commons is interesting, not merely as the
title-deeds to English freedom, but as constituting an im¬
portant chapter in the history of man and of society. It
describes the germ and development of an institution which,
in its extensive and permanent application, is an invention
of modern times, and the most likely of all, not even except¬
ing the steam-engine and the press, to influence the for¬
tunes of the human race. In this view, the great consi¬
deration is not so much the steps by which its component
parts were formed, as those by which its authority was
obtained. There can be no doubt that the early summons
to the commons was not honorary, but onerous. Long
after the general right was perceived to be a national
advantage, the particular exercise of it was felt to be an
individual hardship. The real history of almost every peo¬
ple is in its exchequer. This is emphatically the case with
England. Fiscal considerations lie at the bottom of its
most celebrated institutions and enactments. Every body
worth taxing was to be got at in some form or other. The
right of arbitrary tallage upon towns was limited and invi¬
dious. It was abolished in the 25th Edward I. by the time
that the new experiment wras coming fairly into play. In
the facilities which representation afforded to taxation,
government soon found a compensation for the slight ad¬
ditional control and inconvenience which the co-optation
of the commons into the legislature might by degrees and
at times occasion. The yeomen owners of freehold lands
were to give an account of their pecuniary capabilities in
A N D.
that character. Wherever property had grown up in other Govern-
shapes, as in towns, it was also to be made amenable. Ap- m^a“d
parently when this was done by way of deputies, which , 1
was the ordinary mode in the estates and diets of the mid¬
dle ages, no particular directions issued. There is not a
word said in the wrrits concerning the qualifications of the
electors, or the numbers to be elected, or the forms to be
observed, either in counties or in boroughs. Two was the
number fixed upon, probably to prevent subsequent con¬
fusion, either by prevarication, mistake, or sickness; and
usage would soon turn the practice into law. Whilst taxa¬
tion was the great object at stake, it was one in which all
might equally be trusted for labouring to reduce the sub¬
sidy to the lowest point. The franchise in boroughs would
easily devolve from the towns’ people at large to a select
council, when all that the voter got by insisting on the pri¬
vilege, was a liability to pay his share towards the parlia¬
mentary wages of the member. The election struggles of
a later age, indeed ever since the committee of which Ser¬
jeant Glanville was the chairman, have been vain efforts to
undo the effect of these irregularities and encroachments.
But the great objects of a national legislation and the spirit
of freedom w'ere of older date. Long before the actual
existence of the commons as a third estate in parliament,
the barons had extorted from their monarch, and had
transcribed into the rude articles of Magna Charta, a prin¬
ciple and a feeling, before which the traditional longings
after the laws of Edward the Confessor speedily expired.
There was little left for the patriots of after times to add,
but the necessary machinery of more adequate forms and
institutions. Magna Charta seems to have been looked
upon almost as a personal contract, which it was necessary
to renew at the commencement of every reign, in order
to make it binding upon successive sovereigns. Ihe terms
of its successive confirmations (Lord Coke reckons no less
than thirty-two) fixed in the minds of men an inseparable
connection between the grant of supplies and the redress
of grievances. The House of Commons put forth at dif¬
ferent periods the claim to its peculiar privileges and its
general powers. As early as the reigns of Richard II. and
Henry VI., we find it refusing to proceed in the public
business without a sufficient answrer. For a time the two
houses voted separate and unequal aids. The first notice
of the maxim that parliamentary aids must be granted by
the commons and agreed to by the lords, appears in the
9th Henry IV. As the report expresses it, when both are of
accord, the grant is to be signified to the king by the mouth
of the speaker of the House of Commons. This is said to
be “ in manner and form accustomed, to the end that the
lords and commons may have what they desire of the
king.” The strictness of this privilege can never have
stood on any sufficient reason. It was unimportant whilst
the two houses voted their subsidies singly, and bound
each other to different amounts, which continued to be
the course with the clergy in convocation to the last. It
was still more indifferent which of the two began from the
time that supplies were voted by them in concurrence,
since either house, by the use of its negative, could protect
itself. Restraints on the initiative are not worth contend¬
ing for. The exclusive right of determining all questions
connected with the elective franchise would have been a
more equitable distinction. Upwards of a quarter of a
century before the third estate was called to parliament,
the barons had paid the subsidy demanded of them into
the hands of four of their own order, with directions to
expend it at their discretion for the benefit of the king
and kingdom. It was not until after the Restoration that
the House of Commons was provoked, by the scandals of
the court of Charles II. to adopt the much more respect¬
ful form in use at present, for the control and appropiia-
ENGLAND.
771
Govern- tion of the national expenditure, although Clarendon de¬
ment and c]ajms against it as an unheard of innovation. Of all their
civil rights, immunity from taxation, except through par¬
liament, has been that of which the English people were
most tender, and which they first succeeded in thorough¬
ly and irrevocably establishing. After the reign of Ed¬
ward III. a few attempts, ill concealed under the soft
words of loans and benevolences, are slight exceptions to
the universal current of precedents. On this, admitted
by Clarendon to be the clearest of all points, the Stuarts
dragged the judges with them into the abyss. The pa¬
tience and perseverance of the English people are equally
signalized in the steady parliamentary resistance by which
the account of ages wras closed with the act of the 16th
Charles I. c. 8, against the imposition of tonnage and
poundage, without consent of parliament. It is the last
act in the statute-book against arbitrary exactions of re¬
venue. The right to participate equally in general legis¬
lation was obtained early, but slowly enforced. Ihe 15th
Edward II. had recognised the necessity of the concur¬
rence of the commons to all measures whatever in the
most positive terms. It is probable, however, that for some
time afterwards, its assent for all purposes except taxation
was little more than constructive. Ihe commons, it is
true, after the next reign, figure, byname at least, almost
always in the enacting clauses; the laws being generally
said to be made by the king, with the assent of the lords,
at their request. At this period, however, the king, by
diminutions and additions to a petition, often so complete¬
ly changed its nature, as to become himself the real legis¬
lator on its contents. They consequently insisted, in the
2d Henry V. “ considering they had ever been as well as-
senters as petitioners,” that without their assent it should
be no statute. The abuse was only put an end to in the
reign of Henry VI. by the slight variation of drawing up
the bills in their present form. There is only one instance
mentioned during the tyranny of Henry VIII. of the re¬
jection of a bill supported by the crown. Ihe commons
found courage on several occasions to resist the measures
of his children. The year 9 Henry IV. above referred to,
is also remarkable for the first assertion in behall of free¬
dom of speech in parliament, by declaring that the king
is to take no notice of what passes there. Ihis impunity is
confined, however, to the locality of the speech so spoken.
A publication of it by the press or otherwise is responsible
to the ordinary law. The earliest definition of privilege
on arrest is in Larke’s case, in 8 Henry VI. Ihe case of
Storie in the 4th Edward VI. is the first commitment which
has been recorded of one of their own body for contempt.
In proportion as the House of Commons became gradual¬
ly more and more mixed up with the general affairs of state,
the possession of these powers and privileges rose in im¬
portance, as being essential to its independence. Mere as¬
surances of this or that immunity are of no avail, unless
the means of realizing them also exist. T he necessity to
which Sir Thomas More was obliged to yield, of retiring
into private life, in order to escape the displeasure of
Henry VII., on account of a speech in the House of Com¬
mons, shows that the season for a valid parliamentary oppo¬
sition had not yet arrived. In the attack upon the five mem¬
bers in the house itself, Charles I. outheroded himself.
On other occasions, he had lain in wait for the dissolution
of parliament, which was his usual signal for resuming
more open hostilities against the liberties of his people.
As soon as the speaker’s mace had been disenchanted of
its protecting power, the royal warrant was wont to go
forth against the most popular of the late members )}
whom his illegal designs had been principally thwarted.
The law and the fact, however, improved together, both
houses have long been in possession of whatever povveis
can be necessary for the performance of their public du- Govern-
ties. Popular members are as safe after as during sessions. ment an(^
Nobody dreams of intimidation. Parliamentary corruption
has not merely declined ; it has almost disappeared. If a
comparison between the pensioners and placemen of an¬
cient parliaments, with the modest list of officers of the
crown sitting there at present, be satisfactory, what ought
to be felt at the contrast between the unblushing bribery of
Walpole’s administration and the purity of modern govern¬
ments ? The compulsory economy introduced into the
treasury has co-operated, with other causes, of which the
chief is public opinion raised under the sanction of the
middle classes, to elevate the standard of public morals
amongst public men. The boundary which separates legi¬
timate and undue influence, is that at which practical po¬
liticians no less than theoretical reasoners have arrived at
last. As corruption began at the top, it has first ceased
there. Whatever remained to be done in improving the
public spirit of the elected, as well as of the electors, it is
the direct tendency of the reform bill to accomplish. The
elective franchise is now thoroughly identified with the
nation, and is made, in the eyes both of those who choose
and those who are chosen, more visibly and entirely a
public trust. The destruction of the nomination boroughs
leaves no pretence for the open constituencies which per¬
severe in converting the trust into a sordid personal advan¬
tage. The parts which unfortunately appear to continue
tainted are as yet inconsiderable. Unless they yield to
the alteratives by which the whole body politic has been
renewed and strengthened, they must be cut out. His¬
tory holds out no hope that the inconsistency of incorrupt
representatives and of corrupt electors can continue long.
The supposition of a legislature consisting of three co¬
ordinate authorities, does not imply a defined line or lo¬
gical division to which they must each conform, and which
every body can distinguish ; on one side of which, the con¬
currence of the several parts must degenerate into mere de¬
pendence ; whilst, on the other, their separation must form
into impracticable opposition. The experience, however,
of all mixed governments, more especially a comparison
of the case of England with that of countries subject to
the simple forms, establishes the fact that it is not a
mere fiction, concealing under nominal distinctions the
real servility of the inferior in their subjection to die supe¬
rior members of the supposed partnership. It is evident
that a sort of adjustment does practically take place, suffi¬
cient to produce a palpable effect. The nature and tem¬
per of a particular society may easily make such a consti-
tution impracticable. But, under fortunate circumstances^
it in a great measure accomplishes the ends which it is its
professed object to perform. The problem assumes the
natural inclination of its respective parts to press unduly
on each other. In tracing a constitution which has been
formed by time, and has endured through ages, the tendency
of the several biases must be expected to be more appa¬
rent, now one way, now another, than in a government of
entirely new construction. Encroachments at difteient pe¬
riods are more likely to take place, from a recuirence to
former usages on one side, or from a spirit of re-action to
them on the other, in constitutions which have grown up,
like those of England and ancient Rome, by the amend¬
ments of centuries, than in mechanical contrivances, like the
government of Lycurgus and that of America, modelled
from the beginning and at once, on an express design. Ac¬
cordingly, English history presents examples of each branch
of the legislature in its turn assuming a legislative power.
The king has issued his proclamations to create, not to
promulgate law, under the pretence of state expediency.
An irregular exercise of the equivalent power of suspend¬
ing or dispensing with the law, in other words, a claim to
$
772 ENGL
Govern- untie by himself the knot which the entire legislature had
ment and tied, had prevailed so long, that even at the Revolution
Laws. jt was on]y partially denounced. Ordinances authorized
V—hy both houses, whether for the militia or otherwise, are
equally indefensible. The same is the case a fortiori with
resolutions by either house singly against putting in exe¬
cution such laws as happen to be unacceptable to it, but
which the other branches of the legislature are not will¬
ing to repeal. Notwithstanding a most unguarded admis¬
sion by Mr Justice Gould to the contrary, in the conflict¬
ing decisions which arose out of Wilkes’s case, there can
be no doubt but that the doctrine of Lord Mansfield is
correct. Speaking of declarations of law made by either
house of parliament, he observed, that he never thought
himself bound in his judicial capacity to honour them
with the least regard. The vote of the commons in 1648,
that their single enactment was law, called forth on the
Restoration the statute of 13 Charles II. It subjects to
the penalties of proemunire, the advised affirmation that
both or either of the houses of parliament have any le¬
gislative authority without the king. The unconstitutional
attempts of both houses, especially of the lords, to extend
their jurisdiction as courts of justice, brings us properly
to the next consideration.
Judicial The necessity of separating the judicial from both
power. tiie legislative and the executive power, and of vesting
it in independent tribunals, is now universally admit¬
ted. But it is a necessity which antiquity never perceiv¬
ed ; and it was in direct opposition to the letter and the
spirit of the feudal system. Therefore the successive
generations which moulded the English constitution into
shape, may be excused for having learned it but slowly and
by experience. English history providentially is stained
with fewer judicial iniquities, which are the greatest of all
crimes, than that of almost any other country. But a fail¬
ure of justice is the worst feature of the long period com¬
prehended in the lines of Plantagenet and Tudor. Per¬
haps the greater part of the deficiency is to be attributed
to the imperfect division of these powers, especially of the
executive and judicial. Lord Clarendon has left a pic¬
ture, sketched as late as the middle of the reign of Charles
I., of what may be expected from a legislature, a court of
justice, and a board of administration, all in one. Officers
of the crown became “ a court of law to determine civil
right, and a court of revenue to enrich the treasury ; the
council table by proclamations enjoining to the people
that which was not enjoined by the laws, and prohibiting
that which was not prohibited; and the star-chamber,
which consisted of the same persons in different rooms,
censuring the breach and disobedience of those proclama¬
tions by very great fines, imprisonments, and corporal
severities; so that any disrespect to any acts of state, or to
the persons of statesmen, was in no time more penal, and
the foundations of right never more in danger to be de¬
stroyed.” The supreme courts at Westminster were ori¬
ginally derived out of the royal court or aula regis, which
consisted of the great household or personal officers and
the barons. They were intended to dispatch the ordinary
judicial business, especially during the absence of the
household and personal officers in attendance on the king,
or when the barony might not be assembled. The autho¬
rity of these derivative courts, whatever might be the
case with the aula regis as far as concerned the barons,
was not in the eye of the law inherent. It was supposed to
be delegated to them by the king, as the fountain of justice
to his subjects. The judicial power of parliament, however,
was not displaced, nor meant to be so, by these auxiliary
institutions. Fleta, writing in the reign of Edward 1.
treats it as still the high court of justice, “ where doubt¬
ful cases of judgments are resolved.” There can be no
A N I).
doubt but that annual parliaments were first demanded, Govern,
and their intermission felt to be a much more serious mentand
grievance on account of their judicial than of their legis- t Laws,
lative capacity. It is evident, from the state of the early
statute-book, that the meeting of many a parliament might
have Deen saved had they met only for the purpose of le¬
gislation. There is a memorable order of 18 Edward I., by
which petitioners to parliament are apportioned to the
several subordinate courts of justice, both for their own
dispatch, and to enable parliament to attend to public busi¬
ness. If the matter happened to be so great or of such grace
that these courts could not end it, the chancellor and
chief ministers were with their own hands to bring it before
the king and his council. Coke observes, that wherever
the king and council are mentioned judicially, it is to be
interpreted to mean the House of Lords. The celebrated
treason statute, 25 Edward III. closes its enumeration of
the treasons specified therein with the express reservation
of “ other like cases of treason which may happen in time
to come.” In which case “ the judge shall tarry without
going to judgment of the treason till the cause be showed
and declared before the king and his parliament, whether
it ought to be judged treason or other felony.” The re¬
servation, however inconsistent with the right of a people
that the law shall be defined beforehand, so that they may
know what to avoid, and under what penalties, is plainly
a reservation of judicial and not of legislative power. In
fact, this parliamentary superintendence is recorded, on
the authority of Chief Justice Thorpe, to have been at that
time the common course in other cases as well as trea¬
son. He stated, in the 40th Edward III. “ that he and Sir
Hugh Green went together to the parliament, when there
were present at least twenty-four bishops and earls, and
asked the opinion of those who had been the makers of the
late statute of jeofail, concerning the alteration of a re¬
cord.” “ At another time,” the same judge says, “ we were
commanded by the council, that when any case of doubt
should happen, we should not go to judgment without good
advice; therefore,” adds he, in the case then before the
court, “ go to the parliament, and as they will have us do
w’e will, otherwise not.” The danger from this anoma¬
lous tribunal would have been increased a thousand fold,
if the lords had succeeded in the unwarrantable claim
which they set up in 11 Richard II. to a law of parliament
differing from the civil and the common law. The exten¬
sion of this irregular claim by Coke to the privileges of
the lower house was more, certainly, than the imperious
barons of Richard II. ever contemplated by their mutinous
declaration. But it is still more unwarrantable, and more
surprising, that Burke should have renewed the doctrine
of a parliamentary supremacy, injudicial proceedings be¬
fore parliament, over the rules of ordinary law. As the
penalty of this grievous error, his admirable Report on the
proceedings against Warren Hastings remains compara¬
tively unknown.
The share which the Houseof Commons took in this judi¬
cial jurisdiction was, if any, very inconsiderable. Thorpe
in the above passage uses the word parliament, but men¬
tions only earls and barons. The ordinance 6 Henry IV.,
which has provoked so much legal spleen, from its direct¬
ing that no apprentice or other man of the law should be
elected a knight of the shire, took its hint from a previ¬
ous one in the reign of Edward III. against lawyers prac¬
tising in the king’s court. They were accused of putting
forward, as public petitions of the commons, matters which
concerned only their own clients. Notwithstanding the
expression client, the ground of disqualification here as¬
signed relates probably to what was formally legislative,
and not judicial business, something like the private bills
of the present day From the course of the constitution,
ENGLAND. 773
Govern- as well as on their own disclaimer, Mr Hallam considers
ment and the intermeddling at all in judicature by the com-
Laws. mons Up0n tjie petitions addressed to them, was pure usur-
pation. He suggests that their intrusion may probably
account for the disuse into which, from the time ol Henry
IV. the lords allowed their appellate authority to fall. It
is very difficult to make out the steps by which they could
have claimed the right in question. But there is some
difficulty in conceiving that the influence of the House
of Commons was so commanding at the period in ques¬
tion as the alternative supposition would imply. Could
they be strong enough to make good a mere encroach¬
ment of this sort, and leave a competitor like the House
of Lords no other method of resisting their invasion of its
ancient right than by also abandoning it altogether ? Writs
of error were resumed by the lords about the accession of
James I., renouncing all claim to any original jurisdiction
in judicial causes. This is surely anomaly enough. All
pretence for the other had disappeared in the equality of
persons, in the uniform supremacy of the law, and in the
acknowledged excellence of the ordinary tribunals. Not¬
withstanding this disclaimer, the extent to which the Eng¬
lish legislature, under circumstances more or less excu¬
sable, perplexes itself with questions properly belonging
to courts of justice, is subject to serious objections. It no¬
where appears to such disadvantage as in bills of attainder,
of pains and penalties, and divorce bills, which are all
proceedings of a judicial nature applied to a case of ex
post facto law. Injudicial inquiries, carried on as such
by either house, its numbers, partialities, habits, and the
intrinsic difference between legislative and judicial con¬
siderations, make it impossible to convert a legislative
assembly into a satisfactory court of justice. This truth
has been frequently, and is still, occasionally verified. In
its character of a court of ultimate appeal, the House of
Lords escapes the disgrace which must otherwise have
been heaped upon it long ago, by retaining the jurisdic¬
tion only in name, whilst the jurisdiction is in fact aban¬
doned to its legal members. There is more to be said for
so peculiar an exception as that of an impeachment. But
later precedents, as in the instance of Warren Hastings
and Lord Melville, do not warrant the expectation that an
impeachment, even before such a body, can easily become
an efficient instrument of justice. The only judicial mat¬
ters which can be brought before the House of Commons
are proceedings for contempts. Hurried on under great
excitement before the whole house, they are exposed in
an aggravated shape to whatever risk proverbially disqua¬
lifies an individual from being a judge in his own cause.
It is only in comparison with what is recorded of the trial
of disputed elections by the house itself, that election
committees have acquired a conditional reputation. Com¬
mittees on private bills are frequently legislative only in
form, wffiilst they are in reality judicial inquests. They con¬
sider themselves above even the forms of justice. No¬
thing is more common than for members to oblige their
friends, by stepping in to divide upon the merits of a case,
where they have never heard a syllable of either the evi¬
dence or the discussion. It is a singular instance of the
force of habit, and of the barrier raised by technical dis¬
tinctions, that tnis is done by persons who would act ne¬
vertheless with perfect honour upon a jury.
In a simple state of society the judicial and executive
authorities are always found united. Eastern kings admi¬
nistered justice at the gate ; St Louis under the oak. A
confusion between these authorities is therefore, under
all governments, in the natural course of things a more
probable event. The original theory of the English con¬
stitution, as far as theory can be predicated of its rude
provisions, saw no incongruity between the duties. The
traces of an entirely opposite presumption are still amongst Govem-
the minor embarrassments of at least the language of the merit and
law. The administration of justice in the name of the Jylws-
king was formerly more than an honorary prerogative. '
It was a feudal truth and necessity. It is now a fiction
which can only mislead both kings and people. Black-
stone says, that when the law calls the king the fountain
of justice, it does not mean that he is the author of it, but
the distributor. Yet there are many things contrary to
this distinction, and the contradictions show most strongly
the mischief of these metaphorical compliments. The pay¬
ment of fees on original writs, the unjust rules in the ex¬
chequer in behalf of the prerogative, the flagrant fines in
the olden time as the only means of obtaining common
justice, presuppose that the king was so far its author that
he could only be asked to grant it upon his own terms. Judi¬
cial extortions became less frequent after Magna Charta;
but they prove the grievous necessity which existed for its
assurance that the subject should have remedial justice,
“ freely without sale, fully without any denial, and speedily
without delay.” A tax on justice is one of the worst sources
of royal revenue, under whatever title it be imposed. At
the present day the propriety of completely separating ex¬
ecutive and judicial duties is the tritest truism. It is next
to impossible that a sovereign should have the leisure, the
attainment, or, in the most important cases, the impartiality,
to administer justice in his own person. The guilt of tam¬
pering or of intimidation addressed to the judges, to whom
the king has on the part of society committed his judicial
trust, is a heinous offence in the meanest subject. When
it proceeds from the king it is aggravated a thousand fold.
But it is not enough that the hands of justice should be
pure. Their purity should be beyond suspicion. For this
purpose the independence of the bench ought to be main¬
tained above all possibility of fear or favour. Perhaps there
is no better evidence of what had long been only tradition
concerning the personal attendance of the king in his
courts of justice, and on the limits within which he was^
confined, than is contained in the case of jurisdiction of
the House of Peers in the year 1666. It is there said,
that “ when the king attends in the House of Lords in his
judicial capacity, he sits but as chief justice, doing nothing
singly, but by plurality of opinions, as when the kings
would in person sit in the king’s bench, which they have
in former time done, where all is said to be corain rege,
though now he never come there; and in our memory
King James hath sate in the star-chamber.” It is natu¬
ral that the king’s presence should be last seen in the
courts, which were not made unintelligible to common
understandings by the forms of the common law, and
which, by retaining the longest the name and the charac¬
ter of his council, seemed to keep the nearest to his per¬
son. Serjeant, when elected speaker in 1640, tells Charles
I. “ My disabilities are best known to myself; and to your
majesty, I suppose, not altogether unknown ; before whom,
in the course of my practice and profession, it hath been
your goodness towards the meanest of your subjects divers
times to do me the honour and favour to appear and bear a
part as an ordinary pleader.” So little did the Plantagenet
generation know what they ought to have prayed for on this
subject, that in a list of very bold articles presented by par¬
liament, to which Henry IV. consented in the eighth year
of his reign, there is found the following request. It was
prayed his majesty, that, “ considering the wise govern¬
ment of other Christian princes, and conforming himself
thereto, he would assign two days in the week for petitions,
it being an honourable and necessary thing that his lieges
who desired to petition him should be heard.” James I. had
a great longing to exhibit every phasis of his learning to his
subjects. After having been told inWraynham’s case by
774 ENGLAND.
Govern- the judges, cessat regnare qui cessat judicare, it is not
ment and surprising that he should think the opinion of Lord Coke,
^ Laws, tjiat kings of England were incapacitated from the exer-
cise of any judicial functions, little short of treason. No¬
thing, however, is more fully settled than that, as on one
hand, the House of Lords, the Privy Council, and the
ordinary tribunals of the common law, derive all their ju¬
dicial authority in the first instance from the crown ; so,
on the other, whatever judicial authority the king origi¬
nally possessed, it was possessed as in a reservoir, and
has since all passed out of him into the appointed chan¬
nels of his courts.
Direct interference on the part of the crown with the
integrity of the judges was unfortunately not peculiar to
the Stuarts ; but it ended with them. It was carried by
them also to such extravagant and unheard of lengths, as
to throw all previous outrages of this description into the
shade. The ignominy of the imputation has rested there¬
fore principally on their name. Elizabeth had the sense
to respect the honour of the interpreters of her law's ; so
that Coke felt what he called the taking of auricular con¬
fessions by James to be a novelty and a disgrace. The
course, however, of the wdiole judicial history of England
teaches a great lesson : the extreme difficulty of maintain¬
ing freedom with dependent judges. The struggle began
at Nottingham, with the treasonable surrender of the infant
constitution of their country by Tresilian and Belknap, in
their discretionary expositions of law to Richard II. The
impunity of intervening centuries tempted the colleagues
of Finch and Crawley to believe that, supported by a so¬
vereign at least as arbitrary, they might in their day set
parliament at defiance. Although their virtue often fail¬
ed, yet, in the main, the judges of the supreme courts of
Westminster did their duty beyond what could have been
expected. Fortunately for their characters, special com¬
missions, composed chiefly of courtiers, were issued on
most occasions of jealousy and alarm. In consequence,
they seem to have kept their ground in the confidence of
the public much better than the subordinate magistrates,
who were subject, but in a less degree, to the same in¬
fluence. These latter never gave much satisfaction. The
ancient conservators of the peace, instead of continuing to
be elected by the freeholders, were turned, in the first
year of Edward III. into nominees of the crown. The
necessity of suppressing the malefactors, who appear in
those days to have been at times encouraged by members
of the nobility, could not prevent the justices so appoint¬
ed, on the extension of their jurisdiction, from becoming
speedily unpopular. A petition from the House of Com¬
mons, in the 11th Richard IL, declares that “ every
freeman in the land would be in bondage to these jus¬
tices.” Even in the retrograde years between Henry VI.
and VIII., the difference between the independent tribu¬
nal of a jury, and that of perpetual officers connected with
the executive, was well established. The right that cri¬
minal proceedings should follow the course of indictment
and of the common law, is repeatedly and earnestly urged.
Juries had so far begun to do their duty, that the fiscal
purposes of Henry VII. could only be carried into effect
by enabling these creatures of his power, removeable at his
pleasure, to try all offences except treason and felony by
themselves. The restoration of a jury to its pristine rights
was one of the measures by which Henry VIII. won, on his
accession, the popularity which he afterwards so cruelly
abused. This affectation of a return to the old constitution¬
al character of the English courts of justice, was soon over¬
thrown by terrible innovations, like the creation of the pre¬
sident and council of the north, and of the Welsh marches.
1 he worst part of these novelties consisted in their in reali¬
ty placing the judicial and executive authority in the same
hands. What could the subject expect from a tribunal Govern-
of which Wentworth was the president? Mr Hallam says ment and
that these and other irregular tribunals, when abolished *jaws-
by 16th Charles I., had usurped so extensive a cognizance
as to deprive one third of England of the privileges of the
common law. It was nevertheless reserved for the high
churchmen of Charles II. in the year 1664, to return to
the charge. Legislating against what they unjustly called
seditious conventicles, they ventured to arm a single jus¬
tice (it is necessary to remember only what were the de¬
pendent justices of those days) with the power of inflict¬
ing seven years transportation on a third conviction of the
offence of worshipping God contrary to act of parliament.
The objection applies still more strongly to the original
authority of the sheriff. The shrievalty was generally sold
by the Norman kings, and was an office of great emolu¬
ment, and still greater influence. The coroner, with his
limited inquest of criminal police, was left to popular elec¬
tion. But the sheriff, from the conquest downwards, except
during the sixteen years which intervened from the 28th Ed¬
ward I. to the 9th Edward II., was nothing but the annual¬
ly nominated servant of the crown. Great judicial autho¬
rity was intertwined with his civil superintendence over
his county; the more so, because the law has never suf¬
ficiently distinguished between acts which are judicial,
and acts which are ministerial only. Although in the
hundred and the county, as well as in the baronial court
(not being courts of record), the freeholders were the
real judges, both of law and of fact, the sheriff’s authority
was the subject of great alarm. The principal sources of
this jurisdiction were by degrees turned into other chan¬
nels. Criminal pleas were taken from him entirely as far
back as Magna Charta. The complaint upon which that
clause was founded had only sought that he should be
restrained from hearing them except when assisted by
the coroner. The confidence felt in the popular presence
of that officer for decompounding and breaking up this
dangerous identity of powers, appears by several other
writs in Rymer. The justices-in-eyre, not being the
same always as the judges of Westminster, were probably
often but partial improvements on the local administra¬
tion of the sheriff. Their circuits, however, facilitated
the transfer of most of the civil as well as the whole cri¬
minal business into a more strictly and purely judicial
court. The civil cases which were formerly tried by the
sheriff are now cognisable in the county courts, established
under the 9th and 10th Viet., cap. 95, and of which there
are sixty in number.
From this brief review, it appears that formerly the judi¬
cial power was often placed in the same hands with the
legislative and the executive. This probably never took
place without the people suffering severely from it. The
small territorial jurisdictions, civil or criminal, must have
been the worst of all. The existence of other checks at
present, and the vigilant rapidity with which public opi¬
nion keeps hovering over and bearing down upon all offi¬
cial misconduct, may blind us as to the importance of the
principle itself. A hazard, of which the only actual mis¬
chief is in the precedent, may seem not too much to
incur for the convenience of this or that exception. At
the same time, no nation is wise which in such a case
presumes too far upon its security. A judge, when mem¬
ber of the legislature or of the cabinet, is in a position
which ought to create, both with himself and with the
people, a degree of watchfulness, not to say jealousy,
far beyond the case of other men. It is to be remarked,
that the greatest of all exceptions which occurs in this
respect in English practice, that of the Lord Chancel¬
lor, occurs in the very instance where the existence of
the judge depends on the casualties of the ministry of
ENGLAND.
775
Govern- which he is a leading member. An examination of the
ment and judicial removals during the Stuarts shows the extent to
Laws’ which the hopes and fears of the bench were constantly
played w’ith. It was a system, and not an accident. No¬
thing short of the 13th William III. could have put it
down. That statute altered the patents of the com¬
mon law judges, from patents during the king’s pleasure,
to patents during their own good behaviour. Ihe little
that was left to be done, was done at the accession of
George III. This last amendment consisted in excepting
their commissions from the fate of all other crown ap¬
pointments, that of being vacated on its demise. It was
a very prudent waiver of the little remnant of arbitrary
power which, strange to say, had in the interval been
misused. But the waiver could of necessity be made by
any actual sovereign, solely at the expense of his suc¬
cessor. If a stop had been put to the analogous suspi¬
cions connected with the promotions of judges and the
translations of bishops, it would have obviated an evil of
more frequent recurrence. On considering the elements
of the character and of the happiness of the nation, the
English people are perhaps not more indebted to their par¬
ticipation in legislation by means of the House of Com¬
mons, than to their share in the administration of justice
in the capacity of jurors. Not only has the executive
been kept at bay by their interposition, for the legal veri¬
fication of the fact at issue, but the legislature has received
more than one useful warning from their collateral influence
on the law itself. For both these purposes it was indispen¬
sable that intimidation should be removed from a juror as
thoroughly as corruption; and that offences imputed to
him in the discharge of his duty should be investigated
and punished as cautiously, as reverently, and before as
impartial, if not as solemn a tribunal, as similar offences
imputed to a judge. The day when, in Bushell’s case, the
court relinquished the pretension of fining or imprisoning
a jury for its verdict, ought to be as memorable as any in
the annals of the victories of justice. It heralded in, and
was in no degree less important than, the day which made
it impossible that any successor of Pemberton (for even
the chief-justice who tried Russell had paid too much re¬
spect to freedom) should be arbitrarily displaced. In this
point of view the dissatisfaction expressed by Jefferson with
the corresponding rule in the constitution of the United
States, that the judges are irremoveable, except by a
resolution of two thirds of congress, is very surprising.
The exception would seem amply sufficient to secure the
legislature the necessary discretionary control. Consi¬
dering the position occupied by the ordinary courts of
justice in the United States and in England, it is impos¬
sible that they can make any serious encroachment on
the other departments of the state, without a degree of
negligence or connivance on the part of the legislature
utterly inconceivable. The cry against judge-made law,
on the ground of its being an unwarranted encroachment,
appears also, to the extent to which the common law courts
have carried their incidental legislation, to be quite un¬
founded ; and most of all in England, where the common-
law judges are much more justly liable to the inconsistent
accusation of standing too stoutly upon the letter and strict¬
ness of the law, and of having brought on the necessity of
an equitable jurisdiction and of irregular tribunals, from
their narrow adherence to precedents and forma. I hey
are not answerable for the main defects of the English
svstem, whether in the body of the law itself, in the cen¬
tralization of the metropolitan courts, or in the inadequa¬
cy of the local jurisdictions. .
A government, where in point of form the legislative
and judicial authority appears to emanate from the crown,
is certain to have placed its executive power solely in the
Laws.
Executive
power.
king. Long after the two former authorities have sue- Govern-
ceeded in gradually emancipating themselves from every ment an<l
thing but. the antiquarian recollection of their original sub¬
ordination, the latter arrangement will in all probability
retain its pristine vigour. This is the consequence cf
the substantial advantages which belong to a single and
permanent executive. Such, at least, has been the course
pursued in England. The founders of the republic of the
United States, from their near observations upon the
French Directory, and from their personal experience of
the disunion of executive committees during the war of
independence, admitted the propriety of placing the ne¬
cessary powers of the general administration in the hands
of a single individual. The name, whether king or presi¬
dent, is hardly worth discussing. The great questions are,
the mode by which this supreme magistrate shall be ap¬
pointed, and the powers with which he shall be invested.
In comparing with this view the English and the Ameri¬
can systems, the principal difference between them is in
the mode by which the executive is appointed, and not in
the amount or nature of its powers. In their jealousy of
the concentrating effect of power, the Americans have sub¬
jected all the members of congress, the senate as well as
the house of representatives, and the office of president
equally with the senate, to the principle of rotation; only
differing in the degree of rapidity with which the elective
wheel in the several cases performs its circle. By this
specific the evil tendencies of political power are supposed
to be reduced within manageable limits. Impartial specta¬
tors, on comparing the risks of hereditary descent as ex¬
perienced in England, with the risks already manifested
in the quadriennial presidential elections of America, may
perhaps be disposed to decide in favour of an hereditary
parliamentary title, with reference to the actual passions
and prospects of society. A four years’ lease of the pre¬
sident’s chair may be too exciting a prize to be safely left
to popular competition. Besides, the very character and
abilities most likely to be admired, are those on which the
temptations of such an elevation must act with the great¬
est force. It is one of the advantages of the English
system, that whilst the doctrine of descent greatly limits
the probability of dangerous talents in a sovereign, the
mechanism of the constitution is so well arranged and
understood as to do its work without them. Ihe poweis
vested in the royal executive are not extreme; for they
are nearly the same as those which it has been found ne¬
cessary to maintain in the United btates, notwithstand¬
ing all the advantages of a new country.
Under an ancient but progressive government, the exe¬
cutive authorities of the chief magistrate, like all the other
authorities of the state, must be capable of being consider¬
ed in three different points of view. These are, the histo¬
rical, the actual, and the philosophical. Its constitutional
history will vary, both in the facts which it exemplifies, and
in the reasoning by which it is explained, at different pe-
“X The correct legal description of it at any given
moment, for instance the present, can represent at most
only the law and practice of the age. The philosophical
conclusion, how far it ought to extend in reason, may be,
and probably will be, only obscurely signified in either of
those inquiries. Mr Allen, in his inquiry into the rise
and growth of the royal prerogative in England, and Mr
Hallam, in different parts of his constitutional history,
have left little to be added upon the first division. Mr
Bentham, in his treatise upon legislation, has generalized
upon the last. Ihe legal exposition of the second is all
that Blackstone properly undertook. Nothing certainly
can be more absurd than the language which he has co¬
pied, in order to express the paradoxical fictions of the
supposed attributes of sovereignty, perfection and perpe-
776 E N G L A N D.
Govern- tuity. The parliament which consented to describe the
ment and forfeiture of the crown by James II., under the eupho-
t Taws. n;sm 0f an abdication, proceeded in the selection of the
word on many precedents. Their ancestors, at every
compromise with royalty, had demonstrated much indif¬
ference to words, provided that the end and consumma¬
tion were substantially achieved. In English constitutional
law, an unlimited and almost oriental deification of expres¬
sion is found alongside of rights strictly limited and speci¬
fically defined. The Plantagenets, however, were much
more cautious than the Tudors in bringing this inconsist¬
ency to the test of a collision. Unluckily for the Stuarts,
they were mystified by the welcome homage of servile
civilians and meddling churchmen. By forcing on the so¬
lution of the problem, they learned too late, that from the
fact of the prerogative being incorporated with the law,
whatever was not found there could not possibly be with¬
in it. Even Locke’s definition of prerogative, which Black-
stone has thought fit to praise, is too liberal, not only for
the rights of reason, but for the rule of law. “ The dis¬
cretionary power of acting for the public good” does not
extend to all cases “ where the positive laws are silent;”
but to such points only as the constitution has expressly
reserved for this discretion. Otherwise we come to the
intermediate inherent power on which James I., in his
Flowers of Grace, claimed for royal proclamations the force
of temporary laws. The proper course on such extraor¬
dinary occasions is for ministers to act on their responsi¬
bility, and trust to parliament for an indemnity. The
Stuarts were doomed to make the additional discovery
that, among prerogatives strictly legal, there were some,
both prerogatives of authority and prerogatives of reve¬
nue, which, being false in principle and mischievous
in effect, the public had become sufficiently intelligent
and powerful to recall. Our early kings, in the insidious
reservations (salvo jurecoronce nostrce) by which they nar¬
rowed many of their most popular concessions, had suc¬
ceeded in a great measure in rendering that part of the
constitution unimproveable and fixed. This was the
course, before notions of an abstract jus regium by con¬
sent of nations, or the doctrine of a native immortality in
the prerogative, which acts of parliament even could not
reach, had been yet imported into courts of law. A
struggle which could only be kept up by these new and
desperate assertions, was evidently near its close. These
novelties were in part the penalties of the Reformation, at
least as applied to England. Henry VIII. obtained for
the crown a new prerogative on that occasion. It was
a more dangerous one than perhaps all before it, in conse¬
quence of the greatness of the subject which it concerned.
The act of supremacy was the corner stone of the high
commission court. Mr Hallam truly observes, that “ the
real aim of the clergy, in enormously enhancing the pre¬
tensions of the crown, was to gain its sanction for their
own.” They played into each other’s hands. If, as Mr
Hallam affirms, the nation might be considered, up to
1640, as having been, “ in regard to spiritual dominion, a
great loser by the Reformation,” it would have lost every
thing in regard to the crown, had civil liberty depended
on the loyal sophistries of the church. The apparent
strength of the executive on the breaking out of the civil
wars, presented so formidable an aspect, as to deceive
even Strafford not only into a desertion of the cause of the
people, but into the adoption of the language and senti¬
ments of Laud. From the example of former times, and
from the external superiority which necessarily surrounds
the throne, he egregiously miscalculated the means of the
two parties who were then about to decide this battle by
an appeal to arms. It is scarcely less surprising, after its
result, to find political judges like Jefferies so intoxicated
by the saturnalia of the Restoration, as to continue to ha- Govern,
zard these and similar insane dicta, down to the very eve ment and
of the Revolution. On that event the nation carried the *J,aws#
principle of the exclusion bill by acclamation. The ex
elusion bill was looked upon, from the time that it was
first mooted, as the extreme case. It was among the prin¬
cipal argumentative advantages of the Revolution, that it
put an end to all discussions founded upon the supposi¬
tion of inviolable prerogatives, then and for ever.
It is perhaps not too much to say that the direct prero¬
gatives, in respect of authority, which were objectionable,
are all either abolished, or, in case the law of England
allowed of desuetude, are obsolete. Some few incidental
ones remain, which appear to be in the course of removal;
since recent legislation has happily shown a desire to look
towards a reformation of the law. It is unfortunate that
the direct prerogative, which is on the face of it the most
revolting, nevertheless, from its having so long principally
supplied the king’s service with seamen, demands, in the
immediate modification of it, considerable caution. Ma¬
rine impressment, it must be remembered, came in, how¬
ever, upon no supposed necessity of this nature. It is the
remnant only of a doctrine and a practice which at one time
included soldiers, and many classes of civilians. Like most
other prerogatives, it was abused under Charles I. for the
purpose of extortion. Several of the common people who
refused loans are said to have been pressed into the navy.
There has fortunately been such little demand for prero¬
gative learning since the great argument of ship-money,
that the judgment of Sir M. Foster in Broadfoot’s case, in
the year 1743, in support of the legality of impressment,
was wanted to recall the attention of English lawyers to
the several conditions which the law requires as evidence
of a subsisting prerogative. The debates on the alien act
revived these discussions for a season. The lawyer and
the statesman look at questions of this kind from different
points of view. The first regards what is; the second,
what ought to be. For whether the particular powers
are wanted, and where they should be placed, are further
questions. In case these questions are settled in the af¬
firmative, it is unwise, by division, rotation, or a multipli¬
city of checks, to reduce their efficiency below a certain
point. Society loses more than it gains by such expe¬
dients, as often as necessary powers are thus incapacitated
for the due performance of their functions. I his was fre¬
quently attempted in ancient times. On the other hand,
governments cannot be too cautious against the abuses
which constitute the provocations to such restraints. Un¬
just interpositions of the nolle prosequi, and of pardon by
the crown, gave popularity to the appeal of murder. Lord
Holt, looking back rather than around him, called the
anomaly “ a noble remedy.” Several petitions were ve¬
hemently urged by the commons of former days against
the generous prerogative of mercy. The degradation
by James I. of the prerogative of honours, by bartering
them, for the first time in English history, for money, and
the subjecting the peerage by Queen Anne to the perso¬
nal ambition of a minister, have the same tendency. They
bring the prerogative itself, as well as the subjects of it,
into disrepute. The prerogative of making peace and
war was tarnished by the base negotiations of Charles II.
It was damaged later still, when Chatham himself was
not able to withstand the electoral prejudices of his sove¬
reign in behalf of a campaign in Germany. The observa¬
tion may be extended through every department of admi¬
nistration. It applies especially to the formation and the
government of so jealous and delicate an engine as that of
a standing army. The moderation which the executive
had displayed in the exercise of more qualified powers,
could alone have introduced into and kept in the mu-
ENGLAND.
Govern- tiny act the clause by which courts-martial are enabled
nient and to punish mutiny and desertion with death. It was insert-
e(j for tiie fjrst tjme jn 17tg . and it was on]y carried at
the time by small majorities. Of the impolicy of creating
an atom of waste power there can be no dispute. But if
the power is really wanted, they are sorry horsemen who
are obliged to keep the strength and courage of their
horse permanently below his work, as their only means of
riding him. On the supposition that the powers are fitting
powers for the executive magistrate to possess, the appro¬
priate remedy is to apply ministerial responsibility to such
cases, and to take care that the responsibility shall be a
reality and not a name. The healthiness and vis medicatrix
of the general system must do the rest.
The prerogatives of revenue depend on a different class
of considerations. The financial purchase of tenure by
chivalry from Charles II. and the subsequent arrange¬
ments entered into on granting successive civil lists, have
not gone so far towards completely sweeping out the holes
and corners of the exchequer as might have been wished.
The last fibres of the barbarous fiscal pretensions which
flourished there in former days have still to be rooted up.
The national revenue, properly considered, consists of the
portion of his property which each subject contributes to
the state, in order to secure the remainder. That being
the just principle, its demands should be limited in amount
to what is necessary for the proposed object, instead of
setting a fiscal net to catch an irregular and indefinite
number of certain matters. Further, by an accurate cal¬
culation and repartition, the necessary taxation ought to
be equally borne, in respect of their means, by all the
king’s subjects, instead of falling upon particular indivi¬
duals on the happening of particular contingencies. In its
original state most of the ordinary or prerogative revenue
raised the least possible sum with the greatest possible in¬
equality and inconvenience. The greater part of what
remains is only remarkable for its picturesque absurdity.
There is, however, one terrible exception, far too mons¬
trous to be left for mitigation to the humanity of the
treasury. Nothing can be worse than the wholesale for¬
feitures and confiscations which still sweep in the train
of our criminal proceedings. In spite of the praises be¬
stowed by Blackstone on Mr Yorke’s essay in defence of
the law of forfeiture, and although the people owe the 25th
Edward III., which has been called the magna charta of
treason, almost solely to a squabble between the king
and his grantees the barons, for their several portions of
the spoil, according as the late owner had been found
guilty of treason or of felony, it is impossible that the rea¬
son and humanity of a great country can much longer per¬
mit cruel iniquity, abandoned by the most civilized part
of Europe, to be justified upon antiquarian learning or by
metaphysical refinements.
Blackstone’s declaration at the commencement of his
chapter on prerogative, that the powers which are vested
in the crown by the laws, are necessary for the purpose of
society, may be thought even now, if their whole detail is
minutely examined into, to go something beyond the truth.
The exceptions, however, can be in practice of no great
consequence. The most obscure member of parliament
would have nothing to do at the present day but to attack
any indefensible exception, by a motion for its repeal.
From the era that a general control over the government
passed into the House of Commons, influence has so much
superseded force, that questions of pure prerogative have
lost much of their importance. According to present
usage, any transaction arising out of its exercise, if it is at
all interesting or doubtful, must be brought sooner or later
before the House of Commons. The difference in the
three modes of proceeding, between which alone a minis-
VOL. VIII.
777
ter has to choose, comes to little more than the option at Govern-
which of its stages the transaction shall be brought there, rnent and
This will depend on circumstances. It may be a case in _avv^>' ;
which there is no pretence of a prerogative, as on a sus-
pension of the habeas corpus act. Or the principle of a
prerogative may be pretended ; but it may be suggested
that the means for carrying it into effect are defective, as
was suggested in the alien act. If there be time to apply
to parliament to strengthen the executive, a prudent ad¬
viser would recommend, especially wherever a continuous
measure is required, of necessity, on the first of these sup¬
posed occasions, but on both of them would he equally
recommend, that the authority of parliament should be
called in. In case a temporary emergency arises, more
especially one which will not wait for parliament, as in the
instance of the embargo laid by proclamation upon vessels
laden with wheat in the scarcity of 1766, every adminis¬
tration is bound to take the responsibility of the measures
demanded by the emergency; and parliament is bound
to indemnify the authors of them for venturing upon a
discretionary rigour beyond the letter of every day’s law.
The third supposition yet remains to be mentioned. When
a minister is confident of the existence of the prerogative,
and that the necessity for exercising it has arrived, there
can be no occasion that the immediate representative of
the executive should advertise for a parliamentary discus¬
sion. Let him use the instrument in the manner in which
it was left by the constitution to be used. The opposition
for the time being have it always in their power (and
may be usually trusted for the inclination, as in the late
Dutch embargo) to press the question to issue, and obtain
the opinion of parliament upon both the point of right and
the point of policy. For, on state questions of this de¬
scription, the members of a government are as answerable
to the community which they serve, for mistakes in po¬
licy, as for mistakes in right. The distinctions were only
of use before the House of Commons ventured upon the
general superintendence which it exerts at present. Black-
stone observes, that “ the king, in the exertion of lawful
prerogative, is and ought to be absolute,” subject to the re¬
sponsibility of ministers. Yet, from the nature of the case,
as it is now understood, the king cannot be more or less
absolute, nor his ministers more or less responsible, within
than without these bounds. An unlawful prerogative may
be assumed, a lawful one may be abused. As long as the
constitution lasts, the king is in both cases alike person¬
ally secure. The unconstitutional adviser is in both cases
equally answerable upon impeachment, and to the same
degree. The decision against general warrants, when the
official practice of three quarters of a century was at last
brought into a court of justice, exemplifies the jealousy of
the law in its own defence. The truth is, that the most
satisfactory account of the mysterious maxim, that the
king can do no wrong, since for every act done by him
there must be responsibility somewhere, is an innovation
which even the Revolution itself did not immediately intro¬
duce. The earliest strong assertion of it which Mr Hal-
lam has perceived, is in a speech by the Duke of Argyll
in the year 1739. Public opinion must have stopped short
indeed, when a Whig, like Burnet, thought ministers were
liable for advice given at the council, but not for the
resolutions taken there ; that is, they were to be liable for
their own words, but not for the act, which might be the
act of the sovereign himself. Whilst this distinction re¬
mained in force, it was possible that the whole question in
these cases might turn on the limits of prerogative, and on
the fact, whether the necessity of coming to parliament
for fresh power could be evaded. This distinction, or
something not distinguishable from it, was the shield be¬
hind which, strange as it now appears, both Whig and
5 F
778
ENGLAND.
Govern- Tory ministers, Somers as well as Harley, alike retreated,
ment and smce the Revolution.
Prerogative, as above treated of, regards solely the
remnant of those powers and privileges which had been
vested in the crown from time immemorial by the com¬
mon law. What is left is a small portion of a heteroge¬
neous sovereignty, which had been originally wrested from
a weak community by mere force, or which pertains to
principles and circumstances long since decayed. From
a sort of obscure traditional feeling, the word prerogative
is more associated in men’s minds with the personal will
and pleasure of the sovereign, than with his political and
strictly legal duties. The thing itself has, however, gra¬
dually fallen into the general mass of executive authori¬
ty. Considered in this point of view, great additions
have in later times been made to it. These additions
consist of powers derived directly from parliament, and
transferred to the supreme magistrate on the simple sup¬
position that they are necessary for the public welfare.
The preliminary question, Are they indeed necessary?
occurs still more naturally on a demand that new povyers
should be granted, than on the suggestion that ancient
powers might properly be retained. It is only when that
point has been made out, that a prudent legislature will
enter on the consideration of the precautions by which
their abuse may be prevented, whilst their efficiency is
maintained. To mention only one or two examples : The
patronage of office has its risks in a free government.
Yet it must be remembered that Polybius saw, in the in¬
fluence which the contracts and public works gave to the
Roman senate, the necessary link by which its connection
with the Roman people was held together. At all events,
the disadvantages of the actual extent of ministerial pa¬
tronage belongs to the greatness of the British empire,
and to the nature of its colonial possessions. The most
rigid economy can alone reduce it within certain limits.
An enormous national debt must still leave the public
burdened with the additional evil of a proportionately
enormous fiscal law ; more equal in its assessment than,
but perhaps almost as harassing as, the ruder aids and in¬
cidents of feudal jurisprudence. It is made both more
costly and more pernicious, from the childish weakness
of insisting that the bitter pill, if it must be taken, shall
be concealed under the form of indirect taxation. The
difference in the powers, as given by the common law and
by the riot act, to public officers over unlawful assem¬
blies, is scarcely so great as to be considered a dangerous
augmentation to the force of any government. At the
same time, whatever it may be, the same authority, or
something very like it, may have become necessary for
the preservation of the peace, when avast manufacturing
population is collected together on one spot; liable to be
thrown out of employment at every moment by the oscil¬
lations of trade ; accessible, besides, and accustomed al¬
most daily to the most inflammatory appeals. This is the
case also with regard to the extension of a regular police,
and to the employment of the military in subordination
to a civil magistrate. The change, however, which would
most surprise Whitelocke and the patriotic parliament-
men who argued the militia question under Charles I.,
would be the mutiny act and the army list of the present
day. They would think that the king might well consent
to the concession of coming to parliament for its sanction,
as his portion of the compromise. The balance of power
in Europe was the only cause at first assigned in justifica¬
tion of a standing army; and it is still the burden of the
mutiny act preamble. Our immense provincial dependen¬
cies have also to answer for it in part. However, another
and a domestic necessity must have been silently making
prodigious way, when so cautious a statesman as the late
Laws.
Lord Liverpool defended in parliament the numerical in- Govern-
crease of the army, not by a reference to the state of Eu- ment an(l
rope or the colonies, but by a comparison between the
amount of the population now and in former times. It
would be impossible to govern with so slight a pressure
as society is at present used to, without a strong execu¬
tive. It is fortunate, therefore, that, from the systematic
regularity which prosperous civilization has favoured, the
actual powers of the executive government have become
more consolidated, and their operation more uniform. The
effect of the whole is, that in Mr Hallam’s opinion at the
time of writing his invaluable work on the constitutional
history of England, the English executive, “ though shorn
of its lustre, has not lost so much of its real efficacy, by
the consequences of theRevolution, as is often supposed;
at least, that with a regular army to put down insurrec¬
tion, and an influence sufficient to obtain fresh statutes of
restriction, if such should ever be deemed necessary, it
is not exposed, in the ordinary course of affairs, to any se¬
rious hazard.”
On the supposition that this opinion was correct at the
recent period when it was delivered, experience alone can
determine how far the supposed influence alluded to in it
has been affected by the subsequent change in the con¬
stituency of the House of Commons. I he supposed eu¬
thanasia of the English constitution, namely, the establish¬
ment of that simple monarchy which Hume and other
writers have predicted as its natural fate, has been thrown
back to an indefinite distance by parliamentary reform. If
any thing like the same good sense and good fortune which
have hitherto prevailed in the history of the people and
their government shall be continued, there seems little
reason why they should be thought to be hurried, hy a
measure of that principle and extent, within the perils of
the opposite extreme.
Neither the principle nor mechanism of the reform bill
has so changed the nature of the account. The differ¬
ence of opinion entertained by different persons on a ge¬
neral comparison of the forces at work in the English con¬
stitution, seems of itself positive proof that the variance,
whether before or since, has been only in the inclination,
but that the constitution is on its balance still. At the
same time it must be admitted, that the interest which
was strong enough to carry the reform bill, is tolerably
secure, it is not difficult to prognosticate what would
have been the issue of open resistance to the new politi¬
cal adjustment which has been settled upon its terms. It
was impossible, also, from the causes which urged it for¬
ward, that the adjustment could have been much longer
peaceably delayed. The impoverishment of the crown by
the alienation of the royal demesnes ; its abandonment of
claims and maxims become odious or ridiculous ; its po¬
litical incapacity to act on the House of Commons by the
disfranchisement of old or by the creation of new boroughs;
the scandal of private nominations, the still greater scan¬
dal of corrupt corporators and bribed freemen ; the doors
of parliament thrown open to the people through the
publication of the debates by means of a daily, almost
an hourly press ; the increase of dissenters, displacing the
monopoly of the clergy ; a liberty, nay license, of discus¬
sion, popularising crude analogies to a new and kindred
democracy in the United States, and reaching over every
question and up to every individual in the land ; public
opinion circulating from one end of the kingdom to the
other, and brought concentrated with electrical rapidity
at any moment to any point; the rights of conscience,
of free opinion, and of political equality, so proudly recog¬
nised that they overcame at last even all the recollections
arrayed against the Roman Catholic persecution of Pro¬
testant reformers; the universal responsibility of ministers
ENGLAND.
779
Govern- for every act of government now as universally acknow-
ment and lodged ; the rise of immense towns, swarming with active
Laws’ artisans easily excited and easily combining ; the con-
stant accumulation of numbers, competence, and intelli¬
gence in the great and powerful body of the middling
classes; the disappearance of the last relics of feudal
castes and prejudices ; the swamping of the ancient histo¬
rical nobility by a modern aristocracy of wealth, favourit¬
ism, and corruption ; the final breaking up even of the
court and country party, whilst in their stead had risen
up and found themselves face to face, those two parties
which must always exist in open commonwealths—on one
hand, the honest and also the servile partisans of power—
on the other, the seditious and also the constitutional
friends of the people ;—these are but a part of the altera¬
tions which had changed not only the face but the core of
England. A new soil, so to speak, had been turned up.
A revolution in society had outstripped the Revolution
of 1688. The rights of Englishmen, as Blackstone calls
them (but what are in truth the rights of man, wherever
man is civilized enough to understand and to preserve
them) had grown into fuller consistency and bulk. Ihe
national system, now in its manhood, made, as it were,
more blood, and required that the arteries should be en¬
larged which were to carry it to the heart.
A political student, after looking at the points to which
all governments should strive, at the imaginary com¬
monwealths of theory, and at the degree of approxima¬
tion which, from amongst their thousand experiments,
mankind appears to have ever realized, may think that
there is good reason to be content both with the end and
with the means which the English constitution recognises
and secures. He will perceive that English liberty was
long heavily mortgaged, but that the mortgage was never
foreclosed/ Its standard-bearers were sometimes down,
but the pennon itself was always flying. Nations who re¬
gard England as a model, whether to be copied or to be
surpassed, should remember that no nation can hope to
buy a suitable constitution ready made. The end ought to
be one all the world over, namely, the happiness of the
people. But the condition of the people may be so differ¬
ent, as necessarily to demand the greatest difference in the
means. The quantities with which moral and political
problems have to deal, so far from being fixed, are in con¬
stant fluctuation ; and the truths which they have to esta¬
blish can never be tried by taking extreme cases. An
assimilation and correspondence between that which acts
and that which is acted upon, are conditions grounded on
the nature of the human mind. In no case is strict atten¬
tion to them more indispensable than in the relation be¬
tween a people and its institutions. The best security for
this is gradual adaptation. The Americans take English
experience and English character into new circumstances,
with the woods to back them. They may ride with a
looser rein, and may try bolder tricks in legislation, than,
in an old, densely-peopled, and overwrought community,
any person, at least any reasonable person, acquainted
with human nature and the difficulties of the case, could
venture to recommend. They will not undervalue the
necessity of such compromises with the nature of things
and of events; since, in truth, no country ever made a
greater sacrifice to the predominance of circumstances
over principles than America has made, and is still mak¬
ing, over half her empire, in the most fatal of all excep¬
tions. It is a worse one than the barbarism of the bar¬
barous age of Magna Charta : an exception limited not even
by the test of freedom, but that of the colour of the skin.
It may be doubted whether the English experiment would
not have failed, as the same experiment failed elsewhere,
if its authors had rushed in the first instance to the point
where their posterity at present stand. Light things may Govem-
hurry forward, but the elephant must make sure of every nient and
step he takes. Laws.
A free government must be complicated in its parts.
The checks introduced by circumstances, habits, and opi¬
nions, and which have been subjected to gradual amend¬
ments, remain a hundred times more effectual than any
mere appeal to reason, which is all indeed that a totally
new system has to make. The latter, however theoretically
superior, must trust to its argumentative merits for its
hold on the minds and affections of mankind. Montaigne
expresses great contempt for long philosophical discussions
concerning the comparative advantages of different forms
of government. When he refers not only in opinion, but
in reality, to usage as the sole criterion in every case, he
is guilty of a gross exaggeration. This however ought not
to prevent due respect being paid to the truth on which
the very exaggeration is grounded. The whole history
of England is the narrative of a long preparatory school¬
ing to fit its people for their actual institutions. Institu¬
tions certainly are faulty which cannot stand the more
summary test of Pope, when he disposes of these ques¬
tions by a single line, “ whate’er is best administered is
best.” For this in sensible prose must be understood to
mean that the government is best which contains the best
provisions for securing a good administration of all public
affairs which depend on the relation of the governors and
the governed. This security, it will appear by the de¬
scription which has been given, it is the great object of
the English constitution to establish by the proper for¬
mation and distribution of the legislative, judicial, and
executive power.
II.—Laws.
The civil law approached to the character of a univer¬
sal language. The breaking it into fragments on the fall
of the Roman empire, and the substitution in its stead
of the coarse and mixed materials of the barbarian and
feudal codes, had the effect of the confusion of tongues.
Each code was nothing more than a partial dialect. Whilst
the rest of Europe fell back more or less under the legal
dominion of its ancient master, England alone stood out.
It was impossible, however, that it could altogether resist
an influence so universal; and it is probable that a great¬
er impression was incidentally received than contempora¬
ries were aware of, or than antiquarians have since been at
the trouble to retrace. Mr Hallam observes that a good
work, pointing out the extent to which the Roman law
affected Bracton and his successors, is a desideratum in
our legal literature. Nobody has yet felt a sufficient in¬
terest in, or been sufficiently conversant with, both sys¬
tems to supply it. The distance to which England was
thrown from the common orbit of classical jurisprudence,
appears to have been even something more than the differ¬
ence which separated the northern and southern divisions
of France, where the one was subject to a customary, and
the other to the Roman law.
English civilians and foreign scholars always treated
the vernacular common law with the greatest possible
contempt. John of Salisbury, in the reign of Henry II.
calls it aucupatio verborurn. Whitgift derides the learn¬
ing which is learning nowhere but in England. Erasmus
must have seen it to great advantage in the person of Sir
Thomas More; nevertheless he mentions its professors
in terms scarcely more respectful than the scurrilities of
the college-play of Ignoramus, got up in its ridicule for
the entertainment of James I. Evelyn is content so that
he escaped from it with no harder word than “ that im~
polished study.” The provocation given by Law-Latin and
780
ENGLAND.
Govern. Law-French has since been got rid of; that of tenures and
merit and their commentators still remains. Any insular jurispru-
Laws. derice, growing up during the middle ages, must have cer-
tainly suffered in its philosophy and its symmetry by ex¬
cluding the written wisdom of the Pandects. By way of
compensation, it is suggested that the alienation was of
great advantage to English freedom. Whatever was gained
in this direction is probably to be attributed more to the
class to which the professors of the two systems respec¬
tively belonged, than to the supposed exemption of black-
letter precedents from the arbitrary spirit of the imperial
constitutions. The Inns of Court were long the principal
seminaries in which the gentry of England completed their
education ; whilst, in the universities, the foundations for
the study of civil law rivalled those for the study of divi¬
nity. The civilians and canonists, cousins-german by de¬
scent, thus became twin-brothers in feeling. In fact, civi¬
lians were formerly almost always churchmen. The dif¬
ference of pedigree between them and the common law¬
yers was visible down to the time of Laud. The civil law,
in any comprehensive sense of it, may be said to be ex¬
tinct in England. To the degree, however, in which it
exists, the English constitution is likely to find as warm
supporters at present in Doctors Commons as in West¬
minster Hall.
The first point, on inquiring into the laws of a country,
is to ascertain where the power of making them is lodged.
It is very desirable that, as far as possible, the power
should rest exclusively with the distinct and supreme au¬
thority of a recognised legislature. In this manner, laws
adequately and publicly discussed will receive perhaps
as general and as efficient a promulgation as the subject
admits of. Certainly no better security can be devised
against the possibility of constructive and ex post facto
liabilities, than the practice of open debates, and the rule
that legislative measures shall be strictly prospective.
The connection between legislation and legislature is the
doctrine of the English law. It can nowhere be express¬
ed more strongly. But the history of what is called
the common law shows the difficulty of acting upon it
throughout. Popular customs will have already taken
root before a steady government is formed, or, at least,
before it is so far universally established, as to take under
its cognizance the whole field of legislation. With re¬
gard, therefore, to this class of self-sown customs, the
best thing probably that the legislature can do, when it
becomes adult, is to acquiesce in them. Certain divisions
of the law, and those not the least intricate and impor¬
tant, will from time to time be elaborately commented
upon in text-books. Particular rules will also be adopt¬
ed by the profession ; and these soon become the grounds
on which properties and expectations rest. For instance,
“ the practice of conveyancers” easily goes the length of
making by necessity the law in that department. Much
more is this the case with the opinions and the practice of
the regular tribunals. For this purpose it is by no means
necessary that the statute-book should contain an intima¬
tion corresponding to the threat of the Code Napoleon.
“ Le juge qui refusera de juger sous pretexte du silence,
de 1’obscurite, ou de I’insuffisance de la loi, pourra etre
poursuivi comme coupable de deni de justice.” Direct legis¬
lation must be infinitely more active, and must complete
its work in a far more workmanlike way, than the parlia¬
ments of the Plantagenets, and even than the parliaments of
to-day, not to leave vast chasms for judicial construction to
fill up. The English law at different periods has been in¬
debted to all these collateral sources in different degrees
for accessions to its wealth. Nobody can now determine
how far Alfred and our other supposed lawgivers collect¬
ed or composed the documents transmitted in their names.
It is not the less unreasonable to assume on that account, Govern-
with Chief-Justice Wilmot and others, that the “ common w^n
law is nothing else but statutes worn out by time.” Ma-
dox has observed that the laws of the Anglo-Saxon kings
are as different from the writings of Glanville as the laws
of two different nations. Some of the points are brought
out in contrast in the second volume of Mr Ilallam’s
Middle Ages. p. 466. Yet, if we are driven to any parti¬
cular date for the origin of the present common law, it
must be a moment not much anterior to the age of Glan¬
ville. He wrote as early as the year 1180; and the laws
called by the name of Henry I., which are in their spirit
thoroughly Anglo-Saxon, must, by their mention of Gra-
tian’s decree, be as late as the very end of the reign of
Stephen. Mr Hallam makes a very judicious suggestion.
He supposes that these laws, like the water ordeal for the
common people, contain the ancient usages of inferior
jurisdictions, whilst the treatise of Glanville, he conjec¬
tures, comprehends only the rules of the Norman lawyers,
by which, through the influence of the circuits, and by other
means, the former were gradually superseded. The un¬
written usages were become completely fixed by the time
of Bracton’s compilation, towards the end of the reign of
Henry III. There are no grounds whatever for conjec¬
turing that these fluctuations were preceded or ratified
by any direct legislative notice.
At a later period, namely, in the year 1322, it was ex¬
plicitly enacted that all matters to be established for the
estate and welfare of the realm should be treated in parlia¬
ment. After so solemn and public a declaration, it might
much more plausibly have been supposed that every subse¬
quent alteration, whether in the civil or in the criminal law,
would be accompanied by a parliamentary sanction in evi¬
dence of its title. What a change, however, took place both
in one and the other ; yet no “ statutes worn out by time”
can here be pretended. It is indeed remarkable that
the statutory changes long bear but a small proportion
to those which were obtained from other quarters. Al¬
though usage after this period can have crept in only
now and then imperceptibly, undoubtedly the sages of
the law kept insinuating their opinions, even extrajudici-
ally, from time to time into the system. But by far the
greater part of the innovations, real and apparent, were
derived through the means of judicial decisions preserved
in reported cases, and argued out by help of what has
been quaintly called the “ logical deduceableness” of the
principles of the common law. The grounds of every
judgment were set out on the record till the reign of Ed¬
ward III.; afterwards they were taken down by certain
grave and sad men in the year-books ; and latterly, they
have been left to reporters of a less accredited description.
These precedents constitute an immense repertory of case
law. If regard is paid to the smallness of the basis com¬
pared with the vastness of the superstructure, the ordi¬
nary course will appear to have been the synthetical for¬
mation of general rules out of the application and exten¬
sion of individual instances. The portion, however, is far
from being inconsiderable, in which the judicial classifica¬
tion of particular facts has proceeded according to the
allegata et probata, under certain established principles.
Looking at the history of the science, Burke was justi¬
fied in saying, in the report of the committee upon the
impeachment of Warren Hastings, that “ to give judg¬
ment privately, is to put an end to reports; to put an
end to reports, is to put an end to the law of England.
Reports of the leading cases are especially valuable where
society and the law are in a state of transition. With¬
out them, the law in such periods soon becomes what
Lord Bacon says the law of his time would have become
without the reports of Lord Coke, a ship without bal-
ENGLAND.
781
Govern- last. The whole equitable law of the court of chancery,
ment and n0w tied up as strictly as the common law itself, has been
Laws. Spun, with but very slight exceptions, out of maxims of
conscience and limits upon discretion, laid down judicially
at as late a day as that of Lord Nottingham and the Re¬
storation. That part of the English system where at pre¬
sent the lucubrations of twenty years are more wanted
than in any other, was still in its infancy little more than
a hundred years ago. Sir Mathew Hale said, in 1672, “a
little law, a good tongue, and a good memory, would fit a
man for the chancery.” Evelyn, noticing the death of
Chief-Justice Treby, in the year 1700, adds, “The chan¬
cery requires so little skill in deep law learning, if the prac-
tiser can talk eloquently in that court, that probably few
care to study the law to any purpose.” Lord Nottingham
could not have desired a successor more admirably qualified
than Lord Eldon, to remove from his court the last traces
of this reproach. His ingenuity and erudition, however,
only added still further to “ the mass of learning which no
industry can acquire, nor any intellect digest.” Vesey junior,
and his voluminous successors, have accelerated the pre¬
dicted “ crisis of a necessary reformation, when our laws,
like those of Rome, must be cast into the crucible. It
would be a disgrace to the nineteenth century, if England
could not find her Tribonian.” (Hallam.) Mr Bentham
admits that this legislative crisis will find, in the store-books
of our reports, materials of a higher and more authentic
character than were ever in the possession of any other
country. The amendments of the law in the session of
parliament for 1852 were more extensive than those of any
single reign since Edward I. They extend equally to com¬
mon law and to equity, and remove many of the objections
to the system of procedure, both in regard to expense and
delay.
A wise legislature will establish municipal rights in all
cases, when by so doing it increases the sum of human
happiness. These rights must be derived from the several
sources of human pleasure. They therefore necessarily
regard property, person, station, character, or opinions.
Rights are public or private. Out of the first arise ques¬
tions between the governors and the governed; to the se¬
cond belong the disputes of individuals. The classification
of these two descriptions of rights, and the specification of
the circumstances which are the occasions upon which they
vest, constitute the constitutional and the civil code. But
rights are delusive unless protected by adequate guarantees.
It is the first object of the remedial law, therefore, to define
the circumstances which amount to a legal violation ot what¬
ever rights the substantive law has conferred. If the in¬
jury is considered to affect the public, its recurrence is
sought to be prevented by subjecting the wrong-doer to the
penalties of the criminal code provided on behalf of society
at large. If the injury is of a private nature, the party in¬
jured is entitled to recover damages in the civil court for
his own personal satisfaction. The mode by which the ap¬
propriate legal remedies for an alleged injury are. ascer¬
tained, is called the trial. Since every case may involve
disputed points of law and fact, it is requisite to make com¬
plete arrangements for deciding both. The efficiency of a
trial will depend upon the constitution of the several^ courts,
and the rules for regulating their proceedings. Ihe first
part of this problem concerns the number and locality of
the tribunals, the principle upon which each ot them shall
be formed (as whether of a single judge or more, and with
or without a jury), and lastly, the scale of appellate jurisdic¬
tions. The chief considerations relating, to the proceed¬
ings concern the rules of pleading and of evidence, oi t le
method by which a party is required first to make his state¬
ment, and afterwards to prove it. W hen the trial has esta¬
blished the merits of the case, and fixed the nature o t le
remedy, nothing remains but that proper means should be Govern-
provided for carrying the judgment of the court into effect. In^^nd
This can be only done by making the property, and, on ^ ‘ )
just occasion, the person, of the defendant duly available to
the requisition of the law.
1. Constitutional Law.—This has been treated of in the
former section. The shape in which the Roman civil law
has come down to us, as recast at Constantinople by the
imperial jurists, contains not a syllable which can be re¬
ferred to the supposed resemblance between the mixed
forms of government, of ancient Rome and modern Eng¬
land. Excepting a few slight privileges belonging to the
peerage as members of a second legislative assembly, Eng¬
lish equality recognises no distinction but that of aliens and
natives. Our doctrine of the unalienability of birth-alle¬
giance, and our restraints on naturalization, are pushed to
an illiberal extreme. But it is a great blessing to have
escaped the useless and onerous diversity of castes by which
Roman policy was embarrassed and American freedom is
disgraced. England is safe from the interminable ques¬
tions of political rights and civil condition arising among
the ingenui, liberti, servi ; and under the discrepancies of
the various kinds of citizenship and the Jus Italicum and
Jus Latinum. Shades of colour have introduced the risk of
even still more dangerous collisions into the United States.
2. The Relations of Private Life.—Under the English
law these relations were for the most part either settled
upon, or have been since gradually brought within, the true
principle, namely, that of deriving from the connection the
greatest advantage to both parties, which, on a comprehen¬
sive view of their interests, the particular relation seems
qualified to produce. On legislating upon this subject, our
law-makers have not overlooked the painful fact, that there
is no occasion where it is more necessary to keep constantly
present to the mind the line which separates morals from
law. The poor-laws and the factory bill are doubtful ex¬
ceptions, in which the feelings of society may be suspected
of having got the better of its judgment. Otherwise, the
law has generally forborne from becoming responsible for
those private virtues which no lav; can possibly secure, and
has shrunk from an interference far too powerful not to tend
to defeat the end it is desirous of accomplishing. In the
service of adults, the contract between master and servant
is the only criterion both of their claims and of their liabili¬
ties. The maxim that slaves cannot breathe the air of
England, has at length comprehended our distant colonies
within its blessing. The extension of a haughty local pri¬
vilege into a national truth is the proudest triumph of the
humanity and justice of modern times. The relation of
parent and child is placed upon proper grounds. Parental
authority is reasonably limited to the degree of power
necessary for the adequate performance of the duties which
every parent is understood to undertake. I he most faulty
part of the legal distinction between legitimate and illegiti¬
mate children is not in the degree by which the parental,
obligation towards them is distinguished. The feelings of
society must first alter, and the policy ot our rules, and the
most effectual method of attaining our object, must be care¬
fully reviewed, or very little practical benefit will follow
from a nominal amendment of the letter of the law.
The difference by nature and education between the sexes
placed the female sex in the East, in Greece, and in Rome,
in a permanent tutelary condition. I heir disabilities were
doubtless represented, as in the case of minors amongst our¬
selves, to be in reality privileges of protection. Modern
civilization has transferred this state of imoecility from
women generally, to women who consent to assume the
character and status of wives. The marriage contract can¬
not be regarded as an ordinary partnership. Women are
certainly the half of the species much the most interested
782 ENGLAND.
Govern- in the rule, that a contract, more or less resembling the
ment and marriage contract as it is actually established, should sub-
Laws. s;st> on]y question which their advocates can raise
must be upon its terms. It is admitted that the terms are
partial. The question still remains, Can they be improved?
Nothing is more imprudent than to volunteer speculative
changes in an engagement of this domestic nature without
infinite caution in examining into the capabilities of the
case. It is impossible to equalize its effects and condition
to the two parties. There is an extreme risk of injuring
the female by the very precautions and facilities which it
has been proposed to interpose in her favour. The interest
which other parties (the children and society) have to keep
families together, the first of those concentric circles by
which a well-ordered community is formed, introduces a
new and paramount consideration. The more the subject
is reflected upon, the more will it appear that the English
law of husband and wife requires only very incidental modi¬
fications. By the late amended marriage act (3d George IV.),
the reluctant successors of Lord Hardwicke were compelled
to retrace his steps, and to submit, on the marriage of mi¬
nors, to the compromise of factum valet, quod fieri non
debet. The debates on that occasion affirmed in the most
striking manner the necessity of recognising the least of
two evils in this delicate chapter of jurisprudence. No
necessity, however, exists at all for making parliament the
sole tribunal where a marriage can be dissolved. It is a
singular anomaly, that this particular contract should become
the subject of individual and ex post facto legislation in every
case where parliamentary divorces for adultery are allowed
to break in upon the ordinary law. Our practice does not
leave a doubt that the contract should be legally voidable
for adultery. But it is very questionable whether, on trans¬
ferring this jurisdiction to a divorce court, as proposed by
the recent commission of inquiry into the law of divorce,
the interests of society in general, and of females in parti¬
cular, would be promoted by the admission of any other
grounds of divorce whatsoever. Nevertheless Cranmer, in
the proposed reformation of the ecclesiastical law at the
Reformation, was prepared to give to many of the causes
on which a separation takes place at present, the effect of
a complete dissolution of the marriage. The rule which,
subject to a few exceptions, prevents a husband and wife
from giving evidence either for or against each other, seems
very unreasonable. The legal consequences of marriage do
not depend, as Blackstone states, upon any canonical union
of persons, which can be supposed to suspend or merge,
during coverture, the legal existence of the wife. These
consequences are much better accounted for by the rustic
simplicity of ancient times, which regarded the wife as only
a servant of a better fashion. It is evident that a family
partnership, which, when it has once been formed, can be
determined only by death or by criminal conduct of a se¬
rious nature, requires a conjugal superiority on one side or
the other. In this view the law is censurable rather from
the discourtesy of the occasional language of some of its
authors, than the substance of its provisions. The superio¬
rity is certainly evident enough. There is the spiritual
promise at the altar to obey, and the legal solemnity which
makes it petty treason to kill her lord and husband. Mari¬
tal restraint and correction carry the power of domestic
discipline, in the case of a wife, a greater length than in
that of any other servant except an apprentice. The prin¬
ciple of considering the wife incapable of committing certain
crimes in the presence of her husband, owing to her sup¬
posed submission to his orders, is made additionally absurd
by the inconsistency with which the supposition is applied.
It is time that on one or two of these points the law should
be put into harmony with the fact. There might also be a
W'holesome relaxation of the rule by which a married woman
is prevented, under all circumstances except the civil Govern
death of her husband, from being sued as a single woman, ment and
The landed property of a wife could formerly be alienated Laws-
only by a fine. It was imperfectly protected against the
exercise of undue influence, on the part of a grasping hus¬
band, by her separate examination. Her real and also per¬
sonal estate may be made safe enough at present. As far
as property is concerned, the devices of a marriage settle¬
ment, and the interposition of trustees, seem to accomplish
everything which can possibly be accomplished by law.
3. Real Property.—The lawyers of Greece and Rome
had no idea of the necessity of two systems—one for land,
and the other for goods. In England the systems are en¬
tirely distinct. The civil law of England during a very
considerable period seems to have had little else but land
to treat of. It characterized land by the expressive deno¬
mination of reality; and distinguished it still further by
establishing its legal title and qualities on exclusively feudal
principles. Hypothesis and research will be equally at a
loss to make out any analogy between the Roman Institutes
and Littleton’s Tenures. The language of Craig would
have been unintelligible to Papinian. Where the same
word happens to be used, it only deepens the contradiction
by the difference in its meaning. Dower, for example, by
which the Romans described the property which a woman
brought with her on her marriage, signifies, in our modern
application of it, the life-interest which, on the death of her
husband, the widow acquires to a third of his land. rI he
changes in society gradually made it impossible to retain
the strictness and also the peculiarities of feudal learning.
The “old books” were already antiquated, and several of
their cases seldom came into practice in the time of Sir
Mathew Hale. The new reports, such as those of Coke,
Plowden, and Dyer, the exact perusal of which he pressed
upon his student, are now become “ old books” themselves,
and are approaching towards a similar fate, partly by statu¬
tory repeals, partly from desuetude or ignorance, under a
still greater revolution in the law. The wave from the
commonwealth which, during the reign of Charles the
Second, carried off part of the rubbish of former times, did
little in comparison with what was done in the first session
of the reformed parliament. The abolition of fines and re¬
coveries, the amendments in the law of inheritance and
dower, and of wills, hold out substantial encouragement to
expect that the labours of the different law-commissions
will in course of time be brought to a satisfactory legislative
conclusion. A code itself would be only a partial remedy,
unless it superseded the necessity of looking back into the
volumes which preceded it. Feudal doctrines are too com¬
pletely woven into them ever to be worked out of their text.
During centuries when the legislature either could not or
would not act, judge-made law wras by far the least of the
two evils to which the country was reduced. The judges
certainly did their best towards accommodating the law to
the altered condition of society, by means of the only in¬
strument in their power. But the course taken led natu¬
rally into a labyrinth of fictions and refinements, which it
will now require pretty much the same astuteness to unmake
as was originally employed in the making of them. Ihe
complaint is not that the law is difficult to be understood.
That might be expected. What shocks a reasonable person
at the present day, is the finding that so many of its rules,
when they come to be understood, are irreconcilable with
either common sense or with the usages of the community
which they govern.
Thus, in descent, in lead of regarding the just expecta¬
tions of near relations, the law is occupied in tracing the
blood of the first purchaser. In forfeiture, instead of ba¬
lancing the claims of the family on one side, and the claims
of injured society on the other, the law can see nobody but
ENGLAND.
Laws.
Govern- the original feudal donor. In questions of the lawfulness
ment and 0f a distress, the difficulties do not turn on the point, whe-
^ ther the goods which have been seized represent under the
circumstances the fair and natural security for the benefit
which the owner of the goods has derived from the pre¬
mises where they were found, but whether the landlord, on
putting an occupier in possession of the premises, had taken
care that the terms of the occupation were so expressed as
to be sufficient technically to raise a tenure. Independ¬
ently of judicial construction, successive legislative innova¬
tions have materially broken in upon the feudalism of the
common law. This is the case particularly in regard to en¬
tails and remainders, and in the exercise of the testamentary
power. The most important of all innovations is, however,
the extent to which the doctrine of trusts and uses has
brought the principal questions concerning land into a court,
where forms and principles in many respects essentially dif¬
fering from those of the old common law prevail. The in¬
termediate legislation respecting uses, from 50th Edward III.
cap. 6, to 27th Henry VIII. cap. 10, is a characteristic speci¬
men of the English method of creeping on step by step, after
the mischief has run, like the dry rot, into the frame of
society, instead of taking a comprehensive view of the ne¬
cessary consequences of the new system, and anticipating
the confusion by such a conclusive statute as, after all its
previous minute enactments, it was ultimately obliged to
pass. It answers in civil to the cautious manner with which
in criminal jurisprudence the law of mayhem advanced,
taking successively the different parts of the human body
under its protection, one after another, until at last came a
general measure known by the name of Lord Ellenborough’s
act. Blackstone, writing in 1765, observes that the Chan¬
cellors, “ by a long series of uniform determinations/ornow
near a century past, with some assistance from the legisla¬
ture, have raised a new system of rational jurisprudence,
by which trusts are made to answer all the beneficial ends
of uses, without their inconveniences or frauds,” Con¬
sidering the strictness of the doctrinal division between
legislative and judicial authority, and the traditional attach¬
ment to juries, the national submission to this legal revolu¬
tion, consummated by the great seal, is a remarkable proof
of the impossibility of working the system of the common
law in the present state of society. It may be questioned
whether any country ever adopted, at so comparatively an
advanced stage of civilization, so complete a change; with
little notice beyond an occasional murmur in some quarters
at what was going forward, and that general ratification on
the part of the public in the consent that comes from silence.
The nature of a jurisdiction like that of Chancery, must be
to enlarge, and not contract, its circle. It is now some
time since Mr Butler was of opinion that half the estates
in the kingdom were held in trust. But there are further
changes than those of form. The very substance of certain
titles which make a great figure in the law-books is wealing
out. Two species of incorporeal hereditaments, common
and tithe, to which an extravagant and superstitious import¬
ance was formerly attached, seem shortly destined to dis¬
appear ; and they will carry with them into oblivion a mass
of favoured learning. Common of pasture and of estovers
was supposed to be so necessary to the advancement o
agriculture, and to the maintenance of tenantry and yeo¬
men, that a case connected with it drew forth from Lotc
Coke the passionate exclamation, “ God forbid that the law
should not be so, for otherwise many commons in Eng an
would be avoided and lost.” Long after the Re ormation,
a still deeper horror continued to be expressed by pe man
and the clergy, at the sacrilegious spectacle of tithe in lay
hands, or of land discharged from the payment of tithe.
When the necessity of statutes of limitation has been re¬
cognised in all other cases, and when even the crown has
submitted to be barred by prescriptions of a reasonable ex¬
tent, the ecclesiastical rule which sent back the proof of a
modus to a time beyond legal memory (that is, previous to
the reign of Richard I.) was no less impolitic than absurd.
The tithe owner has to contend at present against passion
and prejudice, as well as against reason. A violent re-action
has taken place. The discouragement to agricultural im¬
provements, from a surrender of a fixed portion of the gross
produce, is a ground of objection in which the public at
large are interested. The result is, a demand for a general
commutation of tithe. Under the 6th and 7th Will. IV.,
cap. 71, and the various acts since passed for its amend¬
ment, a board of commissioners has been appointed to effect
a commutation, either by a voluntary parochial agreement,
or by the compulsory award of the commissioners, and the
tithes are commuted into a rent-charge, the amount of which
is adjusted annually, accoi’ding to the average price of corn.
4. Personality.—It is agreed that Bracton borrowed the
chief part of what he has said concerning personal property
from the civilians. But the reader of the year-books finds
himself at the x'eign of Henry VI. before goods and chattels
have become of sufficient importance to make their way as
the grounds of litigation into their records. The laws upon
property of this description, and on personal contracts gene-
rally, are very much the same all the world over. This is
pi'obably to be accounted for, not by the supposition that
similar laws must have had some common origin; but be¬
cause these things are too perishable in their nature, and
too much the subject of daily wants and traffic, to admit
conveniently, under any cficumstances, of any great devia¬
tion from a common line. The consequence is, that on
this point, beyond some occasional quaint distinctions be¬
tween what is realty and what is personalty, and a little
absurdity concerning things which are merely the subject
of base property and nullius in bonis, there is very little
which can be noticed as peculiar in the English law. Where
goods have been lost or stolen, the effect which, according
to circumstances, prescription and sale ought to have in
discussions between the original and the derivative owner,
has been settled upon no discriminating principle. The
rights belonging to an owner when he is out of possession
have been slowly recognised in most countries. Blackstone
hastily states, that unless a right of property were to be
transferred by the sale even of stolen goods, in market overt,
“ all commerce between man and man must soon be at an
end.” He should have recollected that England offers the
only exception in civilized Europe to the rule, “ nemo plus
juris in alium transferre potest quam quod ipse hahetr In
the new questions which have arisen out of the extended
intercourse and complicated interests of recent times, it is
fortunate for the legal reputation of the countiy, that the
demand for the development and application of the great
principles of commercial and maritime law should have taken
place at a time when Lord Mansfield and Lord Stowell pre¬
sided in their respective courts.
5. Private Wrongs.—Every right must have its remedy,
otherwise it is a right only in name. Verdicts with a far¬
thing damages are sufficient evidence that the expressions
damnum absque injuria, and de minimis non curat lex, are
confined in practice within nai'row bounds. The causes of
actions are, in other words, a list of the cases which the law
recognises as civil injuries, and which it accordingly promises
to redress in that character. One of the great boasts of the
English law is the means which it has taken to render ille¬
gal imprisonment almost impossible. This was at last ob¬
tained, but with infinite difficulty, under the final guarantee
of the Habeas Corpus act. There is nothing otherwise re¬
markable in its estimate of the wrongs either to the persons
or to the personal px-operty of individuals, or in the general
quality of the remedies provided by it. The injuries to real
ENGLAND.
784
Govern- property, and the peculiar remedies applicable in the several
ment and cases, partake strongly, at least in shape and in language,
Laws. 0f tiie characteristic subtlety and jargon in which the law of
real property itself is framed. There are instances, how¬
ever, with respect to personal property as well as real, where
the strictness of the rules at common law had the effect of
a denial of right, and drove the parties into a court which
undertook to adjust the remedy to the wants and feelings of
society. Chancery would never have obtained a tenth part
of its present jurisdiction, but that the common-law judges
contented themselves with damages, instead of insisting that
a contract should be specifically performed and goods spe¬
cifically restored; but this is now altered by the 17th and
18th Viet., cap. 125 ; and unless they had obstinately refused,
since the introduction of uses, to notice the existence of a
trust. The bankrupt law is also about to undergo revision
by the commission recently appointed, and it is to be hoped
that this branch of our law will be put upon a footing likely
to give, in its text and its administration, as much satis¬
faction as can be imparted to so untoward a subject. Nor
does it follow that tradesmen who complain of the million
that is discharged by a penny in the pound, are entitled to
lay the blame upon either the policy or the execution of in¬
solvent acts. The only effectual protection, that of more
cautious credit, is in their own hands. The Roman system
placed the debtor at the mercy of the creditor. The Ameri¬
can system, according to Chancellor Kent, throws the credi¬
tor at the feet of the debtor. The experience of all countries
seems to show, that in legislating upon insolvency it is im¬
possible to reconcile the claims of humanity and of justice
by the positive declarations of a universal rule.
6. Criminal Law.—Whenever the circumstances and
motive under which a legal right is violated imply an injury
to the public, it is reasonable that the remedy should cease
to be solely of a private nature. The English law is defec¬
tive in not endeavouring to combine reparation to the party
directly injured, as a subordinate object. But it properly
considers the mischief to the public, and the remedy for the
public, as the paramount concern of criminal justice. The
comparative alarm spread throughout society by different
offences is the test of their several degrees of responsibility ;
nor is society entitled to take a criminal cognizance of them
at all, save with the single aim of preventing their recur¬
rence. The original point in this respect, from which the
common law started, and the mode in which its circle
widened, were too coarse and vague to admit of much dis¬
cretion in the selection of the principle adopted, or of any
very uniform correctness in its application. Civilization has
tended gradually to exclude from the purview of human
punishment the spiritual doctrine of expiation and the savage
instinct of resentment. Proceedings pro salute animee are
left to the ecclesiastical courts: and the abolition, by 59th
George III., cap. 46, of appeals at the suit of the party in
all offences, has removed from criminal proceedings the last
symptom of private vengeance. Up to a very recent period
felony was heaped upon felony, as a matter of course, when¬
ever a new or temporary provocation happened to arise. No
wonder, where it was impossible that due attention could
have been paid to the nature even of the specific evil and
the proposed remedy, that the just proportion between the
new offences and the great body of the criminal law should
have also been neglected. In fact, they often seem to have
taken their place by chance upon the penal scale. During
the last few years the consolidation of great part of the crimi¬
nal statute-law has been performed in a very workmanlike
manner. The repeal of a multitude of obscure and almost
conflicting enactments has been of great service to the pub¬
lic, and still more to practitioners. It has simplified the
labours of future reformers. But a comprehensive view, a
consistent direction, and a rational arrangement of the whole
subject, is a task reserved for the commission now engaged Govern-
upon it. The interests of society, as protected by the cri- ment and
minal law, are technically called the king’s peace ; and all Laws-
offences against these interests are prosecuted in the king’s
name. But it is singular that, nevertheless, the burden and
the management of criminal prosecutions, and, in popular
language, the name even of prosecutor, should, contrary to
the practice of many countries, be thrown upon the party
injured. The principal legal consequence which has fol¬
lowed from taking the prosecution formally into the hands
of the state is, that society obtains the evidence of the party
injured, who would otherwise be excluded as being a party
to the suit. The original object of using the king’s name
in this formal manner was probably to entitle the king, as
a matter of course, to the penalties and compensations. A
barbarous and fiscal rapacity was thus tempted to scatter
wholesale forfeiture with indiscriminate profusion over the
field of crime. The 25th Edward III., called the magna
charta of treason, had no nobler origin than a contest be¬
tween the king and the barons, which of the two should ap¬
propriate the confiscations upon conviction. They belonged
to one or the other, according as the offence was treason or
ordinary felony. It may easily be \mderstood, therefore,
what little principle exists in the rude classification of
offences into felonies and misdemeanours, distinguished only
by the nature of the punishment; the one being subjected
to general forfeiture, and the other to special fine. Under
these circumstances, a strict revision of the entire depart¬
ment of the criminal law, keeping steadily in view the one
principle of the good of society, must bring to light anoma¬
lies and divergencies which it will be no less desirable than
practicable to remove. This is likely to be the case much
more in some questions than in others. For instance,
the purely religious sentiment was formerly mixed up with
the only consideration which can justify human laws in in¬
quiring into offences against God; and it still partially re¬
mains so. Judicial perjury is punishable simply under the
general description of being the violation of an oath. If
the religious obligation is alone regarded, it may be con¬
tended with some plausibility that the breach and the offence
must in all cases be the same. But if the danger to society
be the point in question, it is clear that the danger must be
materially affected by the nature of the case in which the
perjury takes place. In some instances zeal without know¬
ledge has been induced to pass the line by which morals
ought to be always kept separate from law. The political
economy of modern days has overturned many of the most
sacred rules of policy and trade invented by the common-
law wisdom of our ancestors. It is in vain that the corre¬
sponding statutes have been repealed, whilst narrow-minded
judges feel a pride in proclaiming that unitarianism, fore¬
stalling, and engrossing, are still indictable misdemeanours.
The same reasoning which annulled the statutory policy of
the intermediate generations ought to avail for abrogating
equivalent absurdities, supposed to have been embodied at
an earlier period in the original structure of the common
law. In many cases legal definitions, as formerly in larceny, or
the specific enumerations contained in an act of parliament,
or the purview of a preamble, or the recognised jurisdiction
of our actual courts, may be found to fall short of their
proper object. It is plain to the understanding of the pre¬
sent day, that the terms of the statutes of treason, which
left even Strafford’s case to forced constructions, were too
monarchical. The decay of the ecclesiastical courts, of the
court of honour, and the abolition of the star-chamber,
threw loose many offences which have never been examined
and arranged on system. It may be doubtful whether se¬
duction and adultery are properly left to a civil remedy only.
A doubt, however, can scarcely be entertained but that the
indictable character of words spoken, as distinguished from
ENGLAND.
785
Govern- words written, ought not to be derived solely from their
ment and containing a consequent breach of the peace in their ten-
Laws. tlency to lead to a challenge. There is little foundation in
reason for the general rule, which, in slander or libel, admits
the truth to be pleaded as a justification always in an ac¬
tion, but never in a prosecution. A careful investigation
of the true principles, which, in a compromise of difficulties,
may be the best guides on many subjects, will lead to an¬
other very important consideration. A great deal of need¬
less, and, what is worse, pernicious pains, appears to have
been employed in turning into fixed rules of law what it
would be much more satisfactory to the ends of justice to
have left as questions of fact. This must happen in all sub¬
jects and occasions where the nature and tendency of the
act depends on circumstances which it is almost impossible
to define beforehand. Supposing what we see no reason
to suppose that a common jury is incompetent to decide
questions of fact of this description, it becomes the duty of
society to create a competent tribunal. All offences of
opinion are of this nature. But there are numerous others.
Notwithstanding the complaint of Sir Thomas More against
the judges of his day, that, in order to escape personal respon¬
sibility, they threw everything on the jury, it is evident that,
honestly and dishonestly, English judges have brought many
points, as legal conclusions of the science, under their own
judicial authority, which, as questions of fact, would have
fallen, and much more properly belonged, to the province of
a jury. National character is involved in the history of the
public institutions and policy of a country. England, both
at home and abroad, labours under the imputation that the
letter, and even the execution, of its criminal law, are severe
beyond the example of other states scarcely its equals in
general civilization. The difference would appear by
comparing a scale of offences and punishments under the
English law with a similar table drawn up according to the
progressive mitigations which have been attempted by Ame¬
rica and France. It need not be feared but that the expe¬
rience of opposite systems, and a patient discussion of the
peculiarities of England, of the nature and circumstances
of its population, the distribution of its wealth, and the free
character of its legislation, are sufficient securities against
vague and theoretical innovation. The result would ascer¬
tain what degree of success has attended the humane en¬
deavours of the enlightened statesmen of other countries
towards the amendment of their penal codes, and whether
any just cause can be assigned why England may not safely
venture upon imitating their example. The comparison of
the nature of comparative anatomy between the laws of dif¬
ferent nations may be very useful. In this instance it would
be most satisfactory, were it to terminate, as some con¬
fidently insist, in proving that England has already redeemed
its right to the distinction which it lost in and after the
reign of Henry VII.—Nulli gentium mitiores placuisse
pcenas. The executions during the reign of Henry VIII.
are reckoned by Hollinshed to have averaged two thousand
a year. Towards the close of the reign of Elizabeth they
averaged annually about four hundred. Notwithstanding
the vast increase of our population, and the supposed in¬
crease of crime, the criminal return for 1830 gives, on
12,805 convictions, the sentences to death 1397, and actual
executions only 46. In France the criminal return for the
same year (1830) gives, on 4130 convictions, the sentences
to death 92, and actual executions 38. By the parliamentary
return for 1853, the convicted offenders in England and
Wales were 20,756. Of these 55 were sentenced to death,
but 8 only were executed.
7- Courts of Justice.—The occasions are few and strictly
limited, in which the English law allows the party injured,
or his immediate relations, to right themselves. A third
person cannot justify interfering on behalf of the private
VOL. VIII.
interest of even his dearest friend. It is only as a member Govern-
of society that he can step forward on the public grounds ment and
of preserving the public peace. The great singularity of Laws-
the chapter on preventive justice in the English system, is
not, as Blackstone states, that there should be one at all,
but that it is so short. There is nothing, however, which
a stranger is not privileged in doing, in order to prevent the
commission of a felony. In other respects, every one is un¬
derstood to have transferred the redress of whatever wrongs
he may sustain, as well of a private as of a public nature,
to the collective justice of the community. Under these
circumstances, it is the duty of the community to establish
tribunals for a prompt, cheap, and efficient adjudication of
the differences which must necessarily occur. The neces¬
sity of reconsidering the constitution and distribution of
courts, both of original and of appellate jurisdiction, has been
at last forced upon the English legislature. Original tribu¬
nals may be separated or combined upon four principles:
First, By the nature of the causes, whether civil, criminal,
or ecclesiastical: Secondly, By the importance of the pro¬
ceedings ; that is, according to the value of the matter in
dispute, or according to the amount of punishment to be
inflicted: Thirdly, By territorial extent: Lastly, By the
number and description of the judges, and by the different
forms in which justice may be administered in each. The
English system admits all these principles..
The supreme courts are classed on the first principle.
They were originally founded upon a positive metaphysi¬
cal division, which went so far as to parcel out particular
classes of civil causes to particular courts. Thus all con¬
troversies between subject and subject were to be taken
into the Common Pleas; all civil questions which might
affect the revenue were to be decided in the Exchequer;
whilst the King’s Bench had the proper cognizance of all
trespasses which savoured of a criminal nature, in right
of its transcendent authority for the correction of crimes
and misdemeanours. By means of rival measures of ludi¬
crous trickery, hardly worthy to be called astuteness, these
courts gradually obtained in most civil actions a concur¬
rent jurisdiction. But this jurisdiction unfortunately re¬
mained stationary while society advanced. In course of
time Chancery took under its charge the vast civil interests
with which the common law refused to interfere. Common
lawyers were for a time indignant; but they seem, after
the first unsuccessful struggle, to have shrunk from enter¬
ing into competition with the political ascendency of the
Chancellors. Consequently, the greater part of this equit¬
able jurisdiction is what no fiction or rule of court has since
been ingenious or venturesome enough to reach. Soon after
the Norman conquest, it was the policy, perhaps, of the
government, but still more of the church, to separate judi¬
cially the civil from the ecclesiastical authority. The King’s
Bench has revenged itself on Doctors’ Commons for the
encroachments of Chancery, and has always taken jealous
care,, by its prohibitions, to keep the ecclesiastical courts
within their peculiar province.. The province is still, how¬
ever, considerably larger than present opinion would have
made it; for it would be difficult to make out how matri¬
monial and testamentary questions are properly matters of
spiritual concern. The suspicion entertained by Mr Ben-
tham, that the metaphysical classification of courts must
have been the result of a scramble between competitors, is
not confirmed by our legal history. The scramble began
with and brought about the consolidation. Nevertheless,
although at first a deliberate arrangement, if seems to have
been an injudicious one; and as such, it has been in a great
degree abandoned. Every classification of the kind multi¬
plies the chances of clashing jurisdictions. It creates also
an additional risk of a failure of justice ; since there is a
chance the more of a formal error, by mistaking the appro-
786 ENGL
Govern- priate tribunal. Each court, having less to do as the busi-
ment and ness is m0re minutely subdivided, can supply the judicial
Laws, demands of a wider area. Thus is superinduced the further
disadvantage of extreme centralization. Circuits by the
supreme judges at stated periods only partially mitigate a
portion of these evils. They have been in use for many
ages, and have the very desirable effect of bringing the
metropolitan courts nearer to the great majority of the
suitors of the kingdom ; but it is difficult beforehand to
make the calculation of the probable business at the several
places of a circuit, with so much accuracy as not to become
the occasion of one or other of opposite inconveniences.
Causes are often hurried through with indecent haste, or
are got rid of by an almost compulsory arbitration ; or great
vexation and expense are incurred in waiting for a trial,
which, after all, is obliged to be put off until the next assizes.
The Common-Law Procedure Acts of 1852 and 1854 con¬
ferred on the common-law courts a considerable extent of
equitable jurisdiction in discovering evidence, examining
the parties, issuing injunctions, pleading equitable defences,
compelling thedelivery of specific chattels, and the reference
of disputed accounts.
The periodical visits of the supreme judges, and the pre¬
sence and example of the powerful metropolitan bar, have
doubtless a very wholesome influence in the provinces.
They constitute moveable local courts for the time being.
In the great majority of cases, trials at bar must have been
always out of the question ; and much more so, while the
metropolis was a place talked of rather than known in re¬
mote counties, than at present. From the earliest times,
therefore, the courts at Westminster could not dispense with
justices in eyre travelling to the spot.
The inferior courts for the administration of justice were
dispersed generally throughout the kingdom, but from one
cause or other these petty tribunals have fallen into decay,
although a new institution has recently been grafted on one
species w ith an enlarged jurisdiction. These courts were—
1. The Court Baron, which yet obtains so far as relates
to the surrender and admittance of copyholders to their
estates, while its jurisdiction as a court of common law for
the manor has fallen into almost entire disuse. 2. The
Hundred Court, which was held for all the inhabitants of
a particular hundred; but no resort to this court is at pre¬
sent ever made. 3. The County Court. Formerly this
court had only jurisdiction to hold pleas of debt or damages
under the value of 40s., but by the 9th and 10th Viet., cap.
95, the jurisdiction was extended to not more than L.20,
whether in balance of account or otherwise, excluding ac¬
tions of ejectment, or for libel, &c. This was raised by the
13th and 14th Viet., cap. 61, to L.50, or by agreement of both
parties the court w'as empowered to try causes although the
matters might be beyond its jurisdiction.
By an order in council, dated March 9, 1847, the whole
of England and Wales was divided into sixty districts, and
certain towns and places were specified where the court
should be held at least once in every calendar month.
The course of proceeding is regulated by statute, and the
trial is by the judge alone, or with the assistance of a jury of
five, whose verdict must be unanimous. There is a power
of imprisonment for any period not exceeding forty days,
and an appeal lies on any matter of lawr where the claim is
above L.20, to the superior courts at Westminster.
The size of France more naturally led to great pro¬
vincial institutions, like the old French parliaments, or
the actual Cours Boyales, with their divers subordinate
jurisdictions. The different courts existing in England for
different purposes vary considerably in the number of
their judges, and in the forms by winch justice is admi¬
nistered. Mr Bentham praises single-seated judicature.
Aristotle, on the contrary, insists that one or more coi-
A N D.
leagues are wise precautions against the moral or intel- Govern-
lectual obliquities of a single individual. The practice nient and
of England offers a choice of every kind. The varieties Liaws-
are varieties of accident apparently, not of principle. Courts
of equity, and most of the courts which do not pro¬
ceed according to the common law, have always afforded,
and still afford, only a single judge. But the number in
the supreme common-law courts fluctuated considerably in
former times. That of the Common Pleas, for instance,
has been nine, seven, six, four, and five ; of which latter
number the three principal courts of common law consist at
present. On the circuit the number drops down to one,
both in civil and criminal cases. The trial of a peer for
felony takes place before the whole body of the nobility.
The inferior courts vary equally. There are the mayor and
aldermen of corporations, assisted, or not, by their recorder ;
magistrates with summary jurisdiction, one or two in cer¬
tain cases, up to the indefinite scramble of the bench at
quarter-sessions. When members of a corporate body, and
justices of the peace, render their judicial services gratui¬
tously, the financial objection of a numerous judicature is
removed. But it is only the financial objection ; and a re¬
muneration, more than adequate to the services performed,
is likely to be often got in local influence, or some more ob¬
jectionable shape. When the aggregate numbers stop short .
of letting in the passions which seize upon all large assem¬
blies, even the majority may be yet likely enough to want
the requisite character and knowledge. It is absolutely ne¬
cessary to keep down this risk within certain limits. But
the importance of interesting the higher and middling
classes in the administration of justice may counterbalance
in this instance, as in that of a jury, a small percentage of
errors.
If no very good cause can be assigned for the numerical
varieties which appear upon the English bench on different
occasions, it is perhaps still more difficult to give a rational
account and justification of the distinctions by which the
presence or absence of a jury is determined. The precise
history of the institution, of its original object, and of tbe
transitions through which it has passed to its present state,
appears to be irrecoverably lost. But enough is left to
show that it was a trial by neighbours, acting in the mixed
capacity of witnesses, sometimes to facts, sometimes to
character, as well as in that of judges ultimately determin¬
ing the truth of the fact upon the result of the evidence.
They were always the patria, but only in certain cases the
pares, of the parties. As the law advanced to the dignity
of a cultivated science, the line of demarcation between the
facts which were to be proved, and the law which was to
be applied to them, became strongly (occasionally too
strongly) marked. If the temporary and casual inquest re¬
turned by the sheriff was recognised as the proper judica¬
ture for solving the question of fact, the permanent profes¬
sional representative of the sovereign was alone competent
to answer the question of law. The jury, growing up with,
and itself a part of, the common law, was thus made the
constant adjunct to its courts. It insured at all events pub¬
licity, without which every other excellence can give little
security for real, and none for apparent, justice. Yet ap¬
parent justice is the source of the general confidence and
satisfaction which forms one of the principal objects of go¬
vernment in all its branches. In their own limited depart¬
ments, courts of equity, admiralty, and chivalry, arose under
the civil law, and ecclesiastical courts under the canon law.
Knowing nothing of a jury, they knew nothing of the above
distinction ; and the professional judge was of course en¬
trusted with the decision both of fact and law. Before the
passing of the 15th and 16th Viet., cap. 86, sect. 15, cases
in Chancery, where an issue was directed, were the mere
exceptions of practice. There is nothing in the great ma-
ENGLAND. 787
Govern- jority of the questions which come before any of these
ment and courts, as compared with the civil questions which are tried
Laws. at tjie assiZes, to warrant a difference of this description.
The interposition of a jury is matter of command in the
one case, and of prohibition in the other; yet the rule rests
only upon prescriptive usage, and not on reason. The
legislature has often dispensed with juries, for obvious rea¬
sons. It is easy to understand how a jury is too popular
an institution to be trusted with the administration of un¬
popular laws; such as laws enforcing rates, excise, and
customs, must unfortunately always be. A more agreeable
reason will justify the absence of a jury in some, but in
some only, of the questions left to justices of the peace.
Many causes are too free from difficulties, and at the same
time too frequently recurring, to render it necessary or
prudent to fill a jury box by means of a legal conscription
on their account. Twelve citizens need not be summoned
from the farm-yard or the counter to superintend the pro¬
secution of all minor offences, and on every affair of cor¬
rectional police. Whilst accidental circumstances have
had the greatest share in establishing the distinctions by
which in the higher courts juries are admitted or excluded,
it would be as well to see in what cases some better cri¬
terion can be found. This would be wiser than the oppo¬
site courses which have been recommended by the extreme
advocates of reform; an indiscriminate reception, or an
almost indiscriminate refusal. A jury is an excellent tri¬
bunal for solving and appreciating ninety-nine out of one
hundred of the combination of facts with which criminal
justice has to deal. It is thoroughly qualified to determine
all cases of intention, and assess almost all questions of un¬
certain damage, as in actions of libel and of trespass. What¬
ever abuses may stain certain periods of our history, the
institution has well earned the traditional reverence with
which it is regarded. It is entitled, on collateral accounts,
to the respect of the lawyer and to the gratitude of the
people. The distinction by which a question belonged to
the judge or to the jury, according as it was a question of
law or of fact, impressed a peculiar character upon our
legal proceedings. It was the occasion of the remarkable
simplicity and precision with which these separate ques¬
tions were early discriminated in the English law. The
national character of Englishmen has become remarkable
for its almost judicial sobriety, and for the degree in which
a deep sense of justice and an invincible respect for pro¬
perty are singularly combined with popular public spirit.
How much of these, one or all, may be owing to the imme¬
morial co-operation of the people in the administration of
the law, is more than any one can presume to say. The
impression left by English history on Jefferson is recorded
in his declaration, that he would rather live without par¬
liaments than without juries.
It is for the interest of the parties as well as of the
public that a suit should be brought to a final termination
as soon as a reasonable certainty for a correct decision has
been secured. A government is bound to make its courts
of original jurisdiction as good as, with reference to the
circumstances of the case, it has the means of making
them. That is the first and indispensable security. Sup¬
posing, nevertheless, that there are grounds for suspecting
a failure of justice in any instance, on account of misdeci-
sion either upon the fact or the law, the course to be pur¬
sued depends on the stage which the proceedings have
r .'ached. There can be no reason for withholding from the
o iginal court, if it has still charge of the proceedings, the
power of doing justice. This is done in civil cases, in a
court of common law, by means of a new trial. On the
return of the record by the judges who were commissioned
to take the trial at Nisi Prius, the court from which the
record was sent can revise the law laid down at the trial by
the presiding judge, and can also exercise a discretionary Govern-
criticism on the verdict of the jury. In the event of the mLI|ltw^nd
question being transmitted to a second jury, the judge com- ^ *.
missioned to superintend, and the jurors summoned to re-
hear the facts, may be different individuals from those con¬
cerned in the former investigation; but the class which the
inquest represents continues the same. It is not a superior
court, but only another edition of the former. The judges
on this occasion have frequently an opportunity of putting
the parties to such terms as may appear to be advantageous
to the ends of justice, especially with regard to the new evi¬
dence to be produced. It was, before the loth and 16th Viet.,
cap. 76, a peculiarity belonging to the form of the action of
ejectment, that a party might give himself the benefit of a
new trial without the assistance of the court. In Lord
Bath’s case there had been five successive verdicts for
Lord Bath before the House of Lords decreed a perpetual
injunction. Justice Powell, in the year 1712 (1. Peere
Williams, p. 212), observes that new trials from Nisi Prius
are things of which he did not well know the foundation,
but of which he had found the courts in possession. Judges
of equity, possessing the whole case in their own hands,
have allowed themselves a somewhat greater latitude of
reconsidering and recalling their decrees, under the ana¬
logous forms of a rehearing and a bill of review. When an
original court has once pronounced its final judgment, such
a judgment is rightly made conclusive ever after, unless re¬
versed by a higher court. There is sometimes the reality,
and always the appearance of hardship in binding the losing
party to the possibly hasty or prejudiced opinion of a single
tribunal. He will often be desirous of appealing elsewhere
for the chance of its reversal. One chance of this kind, if
the superior tribunal to which it is carried up is at all pro¬
perly constituted, will be enough. This part of any possi¬
ble judicial arrangement contains a choice of evils. Unless
a power of removal or of appeal be given, one act of igno¬
rance or of injustice will be fatal to the unlucky suitor.
The other side of the risk was exemplified in the skeletons
presented by the inferior courts for counties, hundreds, and
baronies. If the power is given, either both courts are
really kept alive, in which case the temptation to run the
gauntlet of both will often take a party through two pro¬
ceedings, where he had much better have rested satisfied
with one; or society and the law-books will be taxed with
keeping up the cumbersome representation of a first court
long after it has fallen into disuse. The differences between
a writ of error from a court of common law and an appeal
from the Court of Chancery are unimportant. They are
the respective names by which the two systems mean the
same thing. The supreme court of appeal from other
courts of justice is the House of Lords. This high judi¬
cial office has been retained by them as the ancient consil¬
ium regis, which, during the early periods of English law,
administered justice with the assent of the king and the
assistance of the judges ; and it received statutory confirma¬
tion in the year 1340 from the 14th Edw. III., cap. 5. Their
claim to an appellant jurisdiction over causes in equity on
petition without reference from the crown, has been ex¬
ercised since the reign of Charles I.; and their jurisdiction
over causes brought on writs of error from the courts of
law, although that power was originally derived from the
crown, it was confirmed by the 27th Eliz. cap. 8. The opin¬
ion of the judges is taken on points of law on which the
Lords wish to be informed.
Appeals in ecclesiastical, maritime, or prize causes, and
colonial appeals, both at law and in equity, are determined
by the judicial committee of the Privy Council.
Criminal proceedings are carried on with or without a
jury. The latter are called summary convictions. They
were unknown to the common law. At present they take
ENGLAND.
788
Govern- place in frauds on the revenue, and in many minor offences,
ment and before the particular persons appointed by the several sta-
Laws- tutes which have created these extraordinary jurisdictions.
When the commissioner or magistrate has once pronounced
his decision on the case as brought before him, he is functus
officio. The privilege of appeal from his decision, in order
to obtain a second inquiry into the merits, is not of common
right; it only lies where it has been expressly given by act
of parliament. The word is connected with the comparative
novelty of the proceeding. For the word appeals had not
passed beyond the spiritual courts until the time of James
I. The earliest mention of appeals to the quarter-sessions
is in the beginning of the reign of Charles II.; and towards
the latter part of his reign they had come into general use.
On the other hand, the writ of certiorari, by which the
Queen’s Bench removes before itself the proceedings of all
inferior criminal jurisdictions, existed at common law. A
certiorari has the object and effect of a writ of error, in an
instance where, from want of learning, error was most likely
to occur. For this purpose, whenever it is granted, the
determination of the justices, like that of a jury in the case
of jury trial, is final as to the matter of fact; and the su¬
perior court, in reviewing their judgment, notices nothing
but what appears upon the face of the conviction. The
power of granting certioraris has been taken away by ex¬
press statutory prohibition upon many occasions since the
Revolution. Nevertheless the power is considered by the
Queen’s Bench as so beneficial to the subject, that the ex¬
tent of these prohibitions is as much as possible restrained
by the utmost jealousy of construction. A knowledge of law
travels down to the quarter sessions in the shape of opinions
obtained from the metropolis, and in the persons of an at¬
tendant bar. If one or other must be dispensed with, it
may perhaps therefore be fairly questioned whether the li¬
mited argument on a certiorari is not both more expensive,
and at the same time less beneficial to the subject, than the
more comprehensive re-investigation admitted upon an ap¬
peal. The conclusive nature of criminal proceedings before
a jury depends on an absolute rule which the common law
introduced, and which it has been able to preserve up to
the present day in its own favourite tribunal. No man can
be put in jeopardy twice for the same offence. As long as
appeals for felony were in practice, this maxim might have
been easily evaded. One precedent in direct contradiction
to it is reported by Foster in the trials of the Jacobites.
But when the jury lias once been sworn on a charge within
its jurisdiction, and upon a sufficient indictment, it is undis¬
puted law that the prosecutor cannot elect to be non-suited,
and that there can be no second trial. The points on which
a criminal judgment may be falsified or reversed by the
Queen’s Bench, or by the House of Lords, either with or
without a writ of error, are all independent of the merits.
Wherever the proceedings below are annulled on the sup¬
position that the party prosecuted has never been tried at
all, of course he still continues liable to prosecution in the
same manner as if the former nominal trial had never taken
place. The doctrine of attaints in criminal cases was at no
time held in terror over a jury. At moments of violence,
arbitrary judges, dissatisfied with a criminal verdict, formerly
imposed fine and imprisonment instead. This was equally
unjust, and was illegal into the bargain. In the nature of
things, however, there can be no reason why the presump¬
tion in favour of the correctness of a verdict should be
placed higher in criminal cases than in civil. Yet the one
is left carefully open to revision, while the other is as care¬
fully closed. The distinction is partly the result of acci¬
dent, partly of indifference. But it is probably in some de¬
gree to be attributed to the fact that it was an object to
bring litigation sooner to a close, where, owing to the po¬
verty of the parties, and to the rules concerning the costs
of an indictment, the litigation would be prolonged at the Govern-
expense of the public. The present popularity of the dis- ment and
tinetion is undoubtedly for the most part matter of tradi- Laws-
tion. The cause of it is to be found in the despotic prac-
tices of former times. The people gladly acquiesced in any
rule which lessened the number of criminal prosecutions,
and secured to a defendant the whole advantage which had
been hardly earned for him by the rare contingency of a
courageous jury. It is impossible that even the violent
condition of unanimity can make the first impression of any
court, especially of a court constituted like a jury, so com¬
pletely satisfactory that the conclusiveness of a single ver¬
dict can be consistent in all criminal trials with the ends of
justice. The rule in the present state of society operates
entirely in favour of the prisoner. It must do so as soon
as the crown has learned to exercise the prerogative of
pardon on purely public considerations. Amongst these,
and in the first rank, stands the necessity of protecting the
conscience of mankind against the possible suspicion of
punishing the innocent. If there has been any mistake in
fact or in law, or if any fresh evidence has come to light,
the prisoner is certain of receiving from the executive the
full benefit of the discovery, in mitigation or pardon. On
the other hand, unfounded acquittals are very injurious to
the best interests of a community. They turnback on so¬
ciety offenders whom impunity has hardened. They em¬
bolden all who are tempted by vicious propensities to prey
upon the public. They bear down the innocent man’s ap¬
peal to a verdict in vindication of his character, by the cry
of acquitted felons. They destroy the confidence of the
people in the truth and efficiency of the law. The ancient
scruples, by which the statutes of jeofails were not allowed
to amend errors in indictments, had no connection with
truth, justice, or sound humanity. As little can be said in
behalf of any scruple which refuses society, for the punish¬
ment of a wrong-doer, the same assistance as it affords a
private individual in satisfaction of his private injury. It
will not be to the credit of the reason and the temper of
the English public of the present day, if they are not able
to remove this inconsistency between the two systems, by
the interposition of checks and precautions, which, whilst
they give a proper chance of justice to the public, shall se¬
cure a prisoner against any further hardship than that of
having his case properly decided.
8. Judicial Proceedings.—On these points the English
practice bears a remarkable resemblance to the Roman
in some particulars, which have been comparatively aban¬
doned in countries where otherwise the civil law is the
principal authority. It is the more curious to find these
coincidences between two systems, which are otherwise
so different, that Selden observes they have not a term in
common. The original writs of the common law, by be¬
fog the tests whether a party has or has not a right, are
rude approximations to a code. Their analogy to the set
forms for actions adopted by the Romans is so striking,
that Duck and Noy agreed that the writs in the registrum
brevium must have been settled by great civil lawyers.
Blackstone (vol. iii. p. 117) speaks as if some similar stan¬
dard was in itself undoubtedly necessary to fix the true
state of a question of right; and he even subjoins, that an
equivalent method is recognised by all the modern legisla¬
tures of Europe. This is surely a proposition very difficult
to be maintained in the presence of the contrary experience,
both of Scotland, and of the English courts of equity and of
Doctors’ Commons. In the subsequent proceedings, most
judicatures leave the parties to tell their story in their
own fashion. But Mr Stephen, in his excellent work on
pleading, shows, by reference to Quinctilian’s account ot
the method of oratorical analysis, which he himself used
in forensic controversies (B. vii. c. 1), how artificially the
ENGLAND.
Govern- logic of a Roman advocate was directed to the object of
ment and bringing out the point in issue. Looking at the different
Laws, ways in which the testimony of witnesses may be extracted,
Mr Bentham says that cross-examination is, both in the
thing and in the name, peculiarly English; for every thing
of the sort is excluded by the interchange of written inter¬
rogatories from the present usage and vocabulary of the
civil law. However, in the seventh chapter of the fifth
book of his Institutes, Quinctilian has again sketched as
accurate a picture of examination and crosg-examination as
a Nisi Prius leader could desire. Every rule of positive
law is necessarily founded on a balance of advantages and
disadvantages. In many cases the line of prudent compro¬
mise between opposite mischiefs is extremely difficult to
draw and to preserve. Wherever the line is taken, nothing
is so easy or so unreasonable as to caricature it, by repre¬
senting only the inconveniencies which every compromise
assumes. This is particularly true with regard to judicial
pleadings. They are merely the statement made by both
sides of their case ; nevertheless they are a subject which, on
account of the opposite mischiefs of the Scottish and English
systems, has lately been the occasion in both countries of
elaborate debate and judicious propositions for their reform.
The nature of the mischiefs in these two instances is just
the reverse of what might have been expected. Scotch
pleadings, which were carried on under the superintendence
of the judge, erred by extreme looseness ; whilst English
pleadings, which, except in extreme cases, had been for
ages left to the discretion of counsel, became celebrated for
the characteristic error of an extreme strictness and tech¬
nicality. The intermediate course taken by the Court of
Chancery appeared upon the whole to be the most rational.
As the new rules relating to pleadings (of Hilary Term,
1853) have come into practice, it may be confidently trusted
that the common law will no longer labour under the evil
of voluminousness, or of technicality. Originally, parties
made their statements to the judge by word of mouth, with
as little form as a complainant tells his story to a magistrate,
or as counsel at present open the case orally at the bar.
During this period a great deal would depend on the talents
of the judge for abridging irrelevant details, and clearing
up ambiguous expressions. Afterwards, towards the middle
of the reign of Edward III. when writing became common,
the substance of the altercation, to which the evidence and
the argument were to be applied, was required (and very
properly) to be put down in writing in the first instance.
The moment of this transition was the golden age of Eng¬
lish pleadings. Serjeants drew them, and judges settled
them. The judges ceased by degrees to interpose at this
early stage of the suit. But, according to the scholastic
subtilties of that age, the science of special pleading was
encouraged to become more minute and complicated. A
proportionate degree of technical knowledge was rendered
necessary for the judge, since he had ultimately to award
the prize to the professional combatant who had manoeuvred
on behalf of his client with most success on this prelimi¬
nary arena. Fitzherbert, Littleton, and Coke expatiate on
the learning, the lucrativeness, the honour, and delights of
pleading. The reports of Chief-Justice Saunders are the
glory of this art; and his mind is a model of the sort of
astuteness which it cultivates. I he department calls for
but a small, and that far from the highest, portion of leal
judicial ability. It becomes only prejudicial craftiness the
moment that it passes the boundaries within which a strong
and logical understanding would confine the speeches of
advocates at the bar. I he degree at which an intimate
acquaintance with special pleading still ranks in the list o
qualifications for the bench, is a proof how much that boun¬
dary has been overpassed.
Besides mastering the merits of his case, formal difficulties
of great magnitude were, in this early stage of the inquiry,
thrown upon an English lawyer (before the passing of the acts
loth and 16th Viet., cap. 76). In the first place, he had to
select the appropriate form of action ; and having done that,
he must comply with the established principles on which
the forensic argument was to be conducted, and which,
mulatis mutandis, were equally applicable to all forms. Our
historical sketch of the transitions of English pleadings shows
what alone they ought to be when they are properly con¬
sidered. If they are nothing but the statement made by
the parties, of their respective cases, What is the only object
of an intelligent and honest statement? It can be nothing
else than to keep clear of extraneous topics, and to get to
the point in dispute as soon as possible. As every legal
question consists of the application of a supposed principle
of law to some one or other supposed fact, the first thing to
ascertain is, About what are the parties quarrelling? Do
they differ in their view of the law or of the facts, or both ?
The alternative cases present no difficulty. When there
is no dispute about the facts, there is a simple point of law
for the opinion of the judges. It is at once raised upon
what is called a demurrer. On the other hand, when the
dispute turns entirely on the facts, what is wanted is, that
they be brought out to the jury in so precise and definite
a shape that it is impossible to mistake the point or points
in issue. If the party is prepared to dispute the correctness
of the law as applied to the supposed facts, and further
also, the correctness of the facts as stated, questions of con¬
siderable difficulty and difference of opinion open on him.
Must he enter upon both issues simultaneously? or may
he take first one, and then the other? and, in the latter
case, with which of the two issues, that of fact or that of
law, ought he to begin ? The English common law dis¬
poses of these considerations by summarily making an ad¬
mission of the facts a condition of a demurrer. A legal
proposition can seldom be put forward so manifestly erro¬
neous that a defendant will not think it advisable to retain
both chances in his hands. It is on the facts—namely,
what he should prove, concede, deny—that he must be
careful to watch over his own interests. Points of law will
comparatively take care of themselves, and the benefit of
these is also secured at all stages. Demurrers are freed in
courts of equity from the above condition. The experience
in equity by no means justifies the apprehension entertained
by the common-law pleaders, that on the removal of the
condition every cause at common law would be forthwith
burdened with a tentative demurrer. The discretionary appli¬
cation of costs might easily be made a most effectual instru¬
ment for the suppression of such unwarrantable speculations
as might at first arise upon a relaxation of the former rule.
The abuses of special pleading have on many occasions in¬
duced the legislature to interpose ; and now special demur¬
rers are abolished by the 15th and 16th \ict., cap. 16, sec.
51. Particular defendants, as magistrates, for instance, have
been favoured, by way of exception, with the privilege of
pleading the general issue ; that is, they are allowed to deny
generally the wrongful act imputed to them, without being
called upon to state whether they mean to deny the law or
the fact, or to mention a single item of the hundred possible
special grounds of their defence. The English system prides
itself on its peculiar mechanism, every movement of which
necessarily tends to a clear and single point. The plea of
the general issue does much more than lose the advantage
for which so much is sacrificed. It covers everything with
a cloud. It gives the defendant the privilege of evading the
duty of speaking out, by adopting a common form, which
tells the opposite party absolutely nothing. The regulation
which refuses a prisoner a copy of his indictment till he
holds up his hand to take his trial, is scarcely in principle
more unjust. Fraud lies in generalities. On the one hand,
790 ENGL
Govern- a defendant or a prisoner has a right to know the particu-
ment and jars of t])e demand or of the accusation brought against
v Iiaw8‘ y him; something more than the mere assertion that he is
liable to a demand or charge of some sort; what it is being
left to appear on the day of trial. On the other hand,
plaintiffs and prosecutors are equally entitled to know be¬
forehand the particulars of the defence on which their claim
is to be resisted ; something beyond a direct negation. At
all events, when the power of pleading the general issue is
thrown over a party as a shield, the exception should rest
on the nature of the case, and not on the authority of the
person. A better distinction might be found than that of
official station. Pleadings drawn up and communicated by
the professional representative of the parties ought to con¬
tain a correct narrative of the transaction in writing. 1 bus
prepared, they might be expected to be more complete, and
at the same time more relevant and more concise, than any
judge could have obtained from their own mouths if present.
Yet what would be thought of parties in open court who
were to ramble into the jargon and exaggeration of a de¬
claration ; or who should indulge themselves viva voce in
the fiction of alleging the utmost preciseness of time and
place, whilst every syllable of the allegations was perhaps
notoriously and ridiculously untrue. It is difficult to ac¬
count for the origin of such extravagant falsehoods. They
are as indefensible in point of reason, coming from the pen
of a pleader, as if they came from the principal himself, pre¬
ferring his claim and conducting his cause in person.
9. Evidence.—What the pleadings have stated, it is the
object of evidence to establish. One of the most difficult
things to account for is the absurdity of the rules of judicial
evidence, which have prevailed in all ages and over all
countries. Sir William Jones observes, in his preface to
Isseus, that “ we may triumph in our elegant and philoso¬
phical theory of evidence, which Aristotle and Plato must
have admired, and by the strict rules of which all trials in
the world ought to be directed.” No panegyric was ever
less deserved. It is perhaps true that the English theory
on this subject is less objectionable than the theory of almost
any other country, inasmuch as its exclusions appear upon
the whole to be fewer and more strictly limited. But it is
faulty enough even in this respect; whilst whatever other
defects may be found incorporated in its principles, they are
likely to be felt more severely in practice, in consequence
of the unbending rigidity with which every rule is enforced
by English lawyers. Our judicial system is too careless in
requiring or preserving preconstituted written evidence,
even in the case of recurring events and deliberate transac¬
tions. The registries of baptisms, deaths, and marriages,
are still left as a part rather of ecclesiastical discipline than
of civil obligation. They are exposed to great irregularities
and losses, whilst a general registry of deeds remains yet to
be established. In criminal proceedings the attendance of
witnesses on both sides is secured by summary methods.
The duty of appearing for a prisoner as well as against him
is equally a debt due to society by its members; although
it is one which the law was disgracefully slow in recognising.
In civil cases witnesses are obliged also to attend; nor can
they insist upon more favourable terms than the tender of
their expenses. The English law formerly admitted of four
heads of personal incompetency in a witness: one intellec¬
tual, as want of sufficient reason; and three moral. Of
these, the first was a want of religious belief, extending as
far as to disbelieve the existence of a God and of a future
state of rewards and punishments; but by the 1st and 2d
Viet., cap. 105, such person may give evidence under the
!brm of oath, which he may declare to be binding. The
second was infamy of character, evidenced by a judgment
of felony, or for some offence considered by the law as in¬
famous. This has been done away with by the 6th and
AND.
7th Viet., cap. 85 ; and the last, or where the party has a Govern-
direct legal interest in the cause at issue, or in the question ment and
asked, has been removed by the same statute, as amended Laws-
by the 14th and 15th Viet., cap. 99. The only head of
incompetency from family relationship, is the case of hus¬
band and wife. It applies to both, and to evidence offered
either for or against each other. The only instance of in¬
competency from professional relationship, is the rule by
which a lawyer is prohibited from giving evidence against
his client concerning any facts with which he has become
acquainted under the sanction of that relation.
The objections are equally fatal, whether the acts to which
the testimony applies are sudden or deliberate. It would
be as difficult to justify the want of distinguishing between
these two classes, as to prove the propriety of the distinc¬
tions which, in some instances, prevail between the admis¬
sibility of the same evidence in criminal as in civil proceed¬
ings. The rejection of hearsay is also too extensive. It
may be doubted whether the rejection should ever be carried
further than to declarations made by a person whom it was
possible to have produced as a witness, and who might have
been compelled in the character of a witness to repeat his
supposed statement under the sanction of an oath or other
solemnity, and subject to cross-examination. It does not
apply to declarations, themselves a part of the transaction.
The tendency of the judges of latter days has strongly run
in the direction of letting in evidence. A witness is. not
bound to answer any question tending to expose him to
punishment as a criminal, or to any penalty or forfeiture.
There can be no doubt but that the examination of a pri¬
soner, humanely conducted, would be very favourable to
truth. But there is much doubt whether even an open
court could be trusted with the authority, and still more
whether the public would be satisfied with the change. AU
the objections above enumerated go to the competency of
a witness, and, where they apply, are fatal. All other ob¬
jections are of minor consequence. They go only to the
credit, and as such, they are questions, not of total exclu¬
sion, to be determined by the judge; but matter for obser¬
vation, turning on degrees of credit, more or less, to be
weighed by the jury. Two witnesses, or an equivalent, are
universally required by the civil law. With us, one witness,
if believed, was sufficient for all purposes, until parliament
made two necessary in treason, and until a rough sort of
comparative arithmetic established the demand for some¬
thing more than a single witness upon a charge of perjury.
Previous to January 1,1838, it was necessary to have three
witnesses to a will devising an acre of land, though a mil¬
lion in the three per cents, might be bequeathed by an un¬
witnessed testamentary paper; but now, by the 7th Will.
IV., and 1st Viet., cap. 26, two witnesses are sufficient in
either case. Courts of equity have imposed a limit on their
encroaching jurisdiction, by allowing the positive oath of
a defendant to be conclusive against the unsupported tes¬
timony of a single witness. The limit has probably a re¬
ference to the double origin of Chancery; first as a court of
conscience, and next as more closely connected with the
civil law. There are but few instances, and those intro¬
duced by act of parliament, where written evidence is of
absolute necessity. The policy of the celebrated statute of
frauds, 29th Car. II., cap. 3, was adopted from the French
ordonnance of Moulins; and it admits of no exceptions where
it applies. But writing is often used by the parties in trans¬
actions which are without the statute. I he common law is
equally strict in both cases, in preventing written instru¬
ments from being varied, added to, or explained by parole.
The rule has been broken in upon to a certain extent, by a
distinction between ambiguitas patens et latens, of which
Lord Bacon has the credit. The best justification to be
made for the exception which allows an ambiguity raised by
N
E N G L A N D.
Govern- external evidence, to be also removed by external evidence,
mem and appears to stand on the following considerations. It re-
Laws. strains the fear of perjury within a much narrower cii’cle.
In the next place, the author of the writing had not equal
means of protecting his intentions against an ambiguity of
this description. The admissibility of copies is tried by the
paramount rule, that the best evidence in existence must be
produced. Mere declarations acquire no further validity by
being committed to writing. They thus become only writ¬
ten hearsay. The mode of extracting oral testimony varies
according to the courts in which it takes place. Very little
can be added to the excellence of the system in the courts
of common law. A witness there delivers his evidence
viva voce, in the presence of the public, of the parties, and
of the deciding judge. There is scarcely a limit to the
range of examination and cross-examination, but the dis¬
cretion of the court. The practice in courts of equity was
before 1852 much more imperfect. The examination be¬
ing conducted on written interrogatories, and by examiners
out of court, lost all the advantages of viva voce suggestions
on the spot, of cross-examination, and of publicity. The
very demeanour of the witnesses was removed from the ob¬
servation of the judge who had finally to determine on their
credit. This defect has been removed by the 15th and 16th
Viet., cap. 86. Either party may require the evidence to be
oral. The proof of writings depends on the nature of the
instrument, or on the mode of its execution. The English
law does not affect to create a scale by which the value of
particular evidence may be determined. With the same
forbearance, it has refrained from establishing any judicial
standard concerning the amount of evidence which is or is
not adequate grounds for a judicial determination in any
cause. These are questions of fact, on which (beyond a
few hints, more valuable to a committing magistrate than to
the deciding judge) the less that is said in law-books the
better. The only security for correct decisions is the found¬
ing competent tribunals, and binding them to no other cri¬
terion than that of their own personal conviction. Mr Ben-
tham’s work on evidence, and his criticism on this branch
of the English law, are perhaps the most original, and at
the same time most useful, of all his writings.
10. Judgment and Execution.—The object of a civil ac¬
tion is either the recovery of a right certain, for instance,
particular lands, specific goods, a fixed sum as settled by
the agreement of the parties ; or the recovery of uncertain
damages, more or less, according to the extent of the injury
which the plaintiff shall be able to prove that he has sus¬
tained. The first class of cases, by the nature of the de¬
mand comprehended in it, relieves the tribunal from the
vague and discretionary inquiries arising under the second.
The amount of damage is a fact which a few impartial in¬
dividuals taken from the body of society are in the great
majority of cases peculiarly qualified to assess. This in civil
actions is accordingly the province of the jury. They are
likely to be far better acquainted than learned judges with
the real elements on which the calculation ought to pro¬
ceed. Damages evidently so excessive as to be explained
only by the imputation of gross ignorance or corruption, are,
however, one of the admitted grounds for sending back the
case to a second inquest. The judgment against litus
Oates, for scandalum magnatum, at the suit of the Duke of
York, where one of the juries of those days had assessed the
damages at L.100,000, was reversed after the Revolution.
The costs of a trial were never given at common law. In
most cases, however, they have for a long time followed as
the ordinary incident to judgment. Since the preliminaiy
oaths and pledges of former days have fallen into oblivion,
they constitute the only security of the defendant against
frivolous and vexatious actions. Costs are too mateiial an
item in litigation to be properly bound in any coui t by one
791
uniform ride. We are not disposed to recommend, for the Govern-
sake of consistency, that courts of equity should be brought ment ancl
under the strictness. It would be a better approximation Ijaws-
that the discretion of the courts of common law should be
assimilated to the latitude which courts of equity have as¬
sumed. It is easy to enlarge the statutory power given in
some instances to judges’ certificates, or to grant an ana¬
logous authority to the jury. Certificates for costs might
be made a sufficient restraint on fraudulent attempts against
the credit of the law and the interests of society. There
are occasions when personal vindictiveness combines unne¬
cessarily an indictment and an action in misdemeanours, or
when base practitioners multiply actions for the sake of
costs against several parties who happen to be all legally
liable. In ejectments, trespasses, libels, joint-stock com¬
panies, and all cases where many rights depend upon a
single title, or the ends of justice may be satisfied by a
single verdict, the law in its present state may be far too
easily and too profitably abused.
In consequence of the feudal restraints on the alienation
of land during a great period of English history, it con¬
tinued to be only partially liable for its owner’s debts of any
description, and was not liable at all for ordinary debts by-
simple contract. The restraint went far beyond the policy
of entails. To the extent that entails were permitted, a
tenant for life might, as far as the principle was concerned,
have bound the life estate, but nothing more ; since that
only is his own. This invidious protection of land, even
when owned in fee against simple contract creditors, has
been completely removed by the 3d and 4th Will. IV., cap.
104. Ever since the 29th Charles II., whenever land was
at all liable, it was equally so although held in trust for the
debtor, as when it was held in his own name. No feudal
principle interfered to protect personalty from a creditor.
Nevertheless, the absurd expression, that money could not
be sold, and the maxim, so inconsistently evaded in many
cases, that a debt or a right to sue another was not trans¬
ferable, had an equally mischievous effect. No sensible
reason could be assigned why the principle of foreign attach¬
ment should exist for the benefit of the citizens of London
only, and not for the benefit of every creditor in England.
There was even still less reason why funded property should
be placed beyond the reach of the law, on the technical dis¬
tinction arising from its subsisting in the form of an annuity
payable by the nation to the holder of the stock. And,
accordingly, the legislature has provided first by the 1st
and 2d Viet., cap. 110, that a distringas may be obtained
on stock by judge’s order, and secondly, by the 17th and
18th Viet., cap. 125, that a judge may order the attachment
of debts due from a third person to the debtor. And the
judgment of a court of law, duly certified on a^ recoveiy
against a stockholder, ought to have the same effect a,s the
signature of the accountant-general of the Court of Chan¬
cery for authorizing a transfer of the stock. There is a
dangerous tendency in facilities for credit to run to too un¬
limited an extent. The power of imprisoning the person
encourages this tendency; and, what is woise, it is f:e-
quently resorted to in the hopes of laying the innocent re¬
lations of a spendthrift under contribution. The humanity
of modern times has thrown open the doors of the debtors’
gaol, by discharges under the insolvent act, and by abolish-
ing arrest on mesne process under L.20. The security con-
tingent on the person of a debtor was never good for much.
In Its actual state, it is of far too little value to be worth
contending for. .
For the prevention of crimes, the law seeks to obtain a
counteracting influence in all directions; in its command
over property, character, liberty, and life. The jury find
merely the fact of guilt. The legislature has to most of¬
fences affixed a maximum of punishment, according to a
792 ENG
England rude calculation of the nature of the offence and the inte-
II rests of society. In a very few a minimum also is enacted.
English yjle p0wer of arbitrating between these extreme limits, and
Channel. mitjgating the penalties where no limit has been pre-
V"*'- scribed at the bottom of the scale, rests entirely with the
judge. The gradation of punishments seems to call for
further revision, with the object of proportion, mitigation,
and precision. The calculation of public damage proceeds
on the principle of prevention, and is set apart for the judge ;
that of private damage looks only to the satisfaction of the
party, and belongs to the jury. The distinction arose pro¬
bably on totally different grounds. It may be justified,
however, by the observation, that the calculation in the in¬
stance of crimes does not depend on the individual case,
but on a more comprehensive and general view of the bear¬
ings of the whole criminal law than a jury can well be qua¬
lified to take; and that a greater chance is thus afforded of
an approach to that uniformity or average which it is so
desirable to obtain. Pardon is a prerogative properly left
with the executive. This is so in America, notwithstanding
the foolish denial of the possibility by theoretical writers
against republics, equally as in England. The exercise of
the prerogative is of course greatly influenced by the re¬
commendation of either the judge or jury. The abuse of
it in favour of particular criminals was one of the scandals
of many reigns. This had reached so extravagant a pitch,
that Sir Thomas More praises Henry VIII. on the ground
that never king granted so few. Nevertheless, such was
the complication and severity of the law, that to execute it
ENG
according to its letter would have been not only unpopular, England
but impossible. At the very period when particular par- |]
dons were a national grievance, general pardons were looked English
forward to as public blessings. It is observed by Sir Bar- ^Channel.
tholomew Shower, that there were never five years without
a parliament pardon, and that eleven were published by
Elizabeth. “ These,” he says, “ it was which made parlia¬
ments and crowns the darlings and the desire of the people.”
The dispute whether the crown can pardon on impeach¬
ments, was one of the remains of the jealousies of former
days. It was raging, as a great political question, as late as
the Revolution ; and it is still open to argument as a point
of law. The dissolving parliaments to save his favourites
from impeachment, is charged even by Clarendon upon
Charles I. as a denial of justice to the nation. There is a
vast variety of writs of execution in civil suits of the most
trifling moment. By way of contrast, Blackstone notices
the slightness of the form by which a marginal note put by
the judge upon the calendar, is the sole authority for the
sheriff, even in a capital conviction. It is one only of many
instances of the comparative value set by our ancestors on
the formal administration of civil and criminal jurisprudence.
The execution of the law in all cases, of whatever descrip¬
tion, is intrusted to the official representatives of the execu¬
tive. Special jurisdictions have their special officers ; but,
by the common law, the sheriff is in all judicial matters the
proper minister of the crown.
Further information regarding the constitution will be
found under Parliament.
ENGLAND, Church of. See England; Bishop;
Benefice ; Episcopacy ; Reformation, &c.
ENGLISH CHANNEL, the Oceanus Britannicus of
the Romans, and La Manche of the French, is that narrow
sea or channel which separates the southern shores of Eng¬
land from the northern shores of France. It communicates
on the west with the Atlantic Ocean, and on the east with
the North Sea. It is narrowest at its eastern extremity
where it forms the Strait of Dover, being only 18 miles
across between Dover and Cape Gris-Nez. West of this
strait it rapidly increases in width ; and between Brighton
and Havre it is more than 90 miles across. Farther west,
however, the peninsula of Cotentin projects from the French
coast into the Channel; and between Cape Barfleur, its east¬
ern extremity, and Catherine’s Point on the Isle of Wight,
the distance is scarcely 60 miles. Between Sidmouth and St
Malo it attains its greatest width, being about 130 miles. At
its western mouth, between Land’s End in Cornwall and the
island of Ushant on the French qoast, the width is about 100
miles. The general average breadth is about TOmiles; eastof
Beachy Head it is 38, thence to Portland 67, and west of
Portland 83 miles. It is estimated to have an area of
23,900 square miles ; and includes the Channel Islands, the
Isle of Wight, and the Scilly Islands. The ports on the
French coast are shallow, none of them having naturally
sufficient depth of water to admit men-of-war, while Eng¬
land, on the contrary, has some of its finest harbours on this
part of its coast- To remedy this, the French have, at
great expense, constructed at Cherbourg two harbours, a
naval and a commercial, the former excavated out of the
solid rock, and having a depth of 50 feet at high water. (See
Cherbourg.) The English coast is 390, and the French
570 miles in length. A chalk ridge at the depth generally
of from 12 to 30 fathoms crosses the channel at Dover,
along which the submarine telegraph is laid. Hence the
depth gradually increases, but it is at no part considerable.
Westerly winds are prevalent, and render the navigation of
the channel at times difficult. In stormy weather the sur¬
face is raised two feet or more above that of the North Sea,
and the ports have several feet more of water in strong
westerly winds than at ordinary occasions. The current,
though not perceptible in any part, is generally, if not
constantly, running from west to east, as is evident from
the eastern tides being stronger than the western or ebb
tides, and their running longer in stormy weather from the
west. The channel abounds in fish, and the fisheries give
employment to a considerable number of men on both
coasts, the most important branch being the pilchard fishery
along the coasts of Cornwall and Devonshire, and the
oyster fisheries in the bay of Cancale.
ENGLISH LANGUAGE.
793
English ENGLISH LANGUAGE. When the Romans in*
Language, vaded the south of Britain, they found the country pos-
sessed by a people of Celtic origin, and speaking a dialect
of the Celtic tongue. This invasion took place about fif¬
ty-five years before the birth of Christ, and the invaders
retained their ascendancy till the commencement of the
fifth century. During this interval, the Romans impart¬
ed to the rude natives some tincture of their own intellec¬
tual refinement, but must have left the British language
as they found it: the foreign settlers were not sufficient¬
ly numerous to produce any change in the speech of the
original inhabitants. When the huge fabric of the Ro¬
man empire began to decay, the Britons, who had the ad¬
vantage of a remote and insular situation, found means to
assert their independence. They however divided them¬
selves into many petty states, and exercised many petty
animosities, which impaired the national strength, and
rendered them an easy prey to foreign invaders. The
pirates of Saxony had long been accustomed to make
occasional depredations on their coasts. The Piets and
Scots, that is, the Goths and Celts of North Britain, in¬
fested them on the frontier; and at length the sense of
common danger produced some degree of union in their
councils and exertions. In this condition of their affairs,
the Saxons obtained a permanent footing in the country.
In the year 449, Vortigern, king of the Britons, had re¬
course to the aid of Hengest and Horsa, who first appear¬
ed as allies, but were soon converted into the most for¬
midable enemies.1
The Saxons, like other Gothic tribes, derive their ori¬
gin from a mighty horde which wandered from the east,
and gradually overran the best portions of Europe. So
early'as the time of Ptolemy the geographer, this particular
tribe had proceeded as far to the westward as the banks of
the Elbe, and their primitive seat was between that river
and the Eyder. Although at first they were not very formi¬
dable for their numbers, they gradually obtained a power¬
ful ascendancy in Germany. Towards the middle of the
third century, they entered into a league with the Franks
for the purpose of opposing the Roman arms; and they
afterwards enlarged their connexions and increased their
influence till it predominated in a territory of great ex¬
tent, reaching from the Eyder to the Rhine. This wide
tract of country was not entirely peopled by Saxons: it
included various nations, united by the ties of a kindred
origin, and actuated by a sense of common interest or
danger; but such was the ascendancy of the Saxons that
they communicated their name to the entire confederacy,
which, among other nations, comprehended the Jutes,
who inhabited the south of Jutland, and the Angles, who
inhabited the adjacent district of Anglen. Hengest and
Horsa, the leaders whom we have already mentioned,
were not Saxons, but Jutes. The subsequent emigrants
were for the most part Angles, and their descendants
were long distinguished by the name of Anglo-Saxons.
The first part of the name denotes the predominant tribe,
the second denotes the original relation of that tribe to
the Saxon confederacy. The new country which they
acquired was denominated Engla-land, or the land of the
Angles. These German invaders established themselves
in the most fertile districts, and gradually displaced the
Celtic inhabitants, till at length they were chiefly con¬
fined to the fastnesses of Wales, where the prevalence of English
the ancient language still indicates the continuance of1^"^^
their race. Eight new states were formed by the Anglo- '
Saxons, who maintained their independence till the year
1016, when they were subjected to the yoke of a Danish
conqueror. Canute, and his two sons, Harold and Hardi-
canute, reigned in England for the space of twenty-six
years. A Danish court, and a Danish army, with other
settlers, must have had some influence on the common
speech, especially as the language of the conquerors was
not very dissimilar to that of the conquered. But the
laws and other public documents continued to be written
in the Saxon tongue, and this new dynasty soon finished
its course. The Saxon line of kings, which was restored
in 1042, terminated in 1066, when Harold the Second
was slain at the battle of Hastings, and William duke of
Normandy ascended the throne of England. The Saxon
dominion had thus continued for the best part of three cen¬
turies ; and as the great body of the people was still of this
race, it is obvious that their national language must have
survived their political power. A writ in the Anglo-
Saxon tongue was issued by Henry the Third, who began
his reign in the year 1216.
In the language spoken by this ancient people, a great
variety of literary reliques has been preserved. “ The
Anglo-Saxon literature,” says Professor Rask, “ possesses
in many respects, even for its own sake, no small degree
of interest. The numerous ancient laws throw consider¬
able light upon the laws of the old Germans and Scandi¬
navians, as well as upon their customs and civil institu¬
tions. The old chronicles and genealogies are important
sources for the ancient history of the Low German ana
the Scandinavian nations. The various documents illus¬
trate much in English history. Even the theological re¬
mains, shewing the constitution and doctrine of the an¬
cient church, are not devoid of value for ecclesiastical
history, especially to the modern English and Scottish
churches. The translation of several parts of Scripture
may likewise be advantageously employed in biblical re¬
searches. But of all, the poetical pieces are the most in¬
teresting, especially the great Anglo-Saxon poem in for¬
ty-three cantos, published at Copenhagen in 1815, by the
Royal Archivarius G. J. Thorkelin,2 which, from its com¬
mencement, he has aptly entitled Scyldingis. This is per¬
haps the only Anglo-Saxon piece possessing value on ac¬
count both of its matter and style, particularly for the
nations of the north ; the principal hero being Swedish
or Gothic, though the action lies in Denmark.”3 This an¬
cient poem, more generally known by the name of Beo¬
wulf, has been translated into Danish verse by Dr Grundt-
vig, and ably illustrated by Mr Conybeare.4
The language of the conquerors became the language
of the king’s court and of all the courts of law. The
pleadings of counsel and the decisions of judges were
couched in a dialect which is commonly described as
Norman French, but which in the mouths of English law¬
yers became utterly barbarous; and more curious speci¬
mens of composition are scarcely to be found than those
which occur in the reports of cases written in a jargon half-
French half-English. Lawyers have in all ages been con¬
spicuous for their stiff adherence, with or without reason,
to those forms and maxims in which they themselves have
1 Saxon Chronicle, p. 14. Ingram’s edit. Lond. 182.>, 4to. ...
" A more recent edition may be found in an elegant little volume bearing the following title.
^ Ai.i_ r* t?: with a p* ossarv to tl
The Anglo-Saxon Poems of Beo¬
wulf, the Traveller’s Song, and the Battle of Finnes-burh : edited, together with a glossary to the more difficult words, and an his-
tm-ienl nrpfnop hv John M Kemble, Esci. M. A. of Trinity College, Cambridge.” Lond. loud, ovo.
3 Kask’s Cram mar of the Anglo-Saxon Tongue, translated from the Danish by B. Thorpe, p. vii. Copenhagen, 1830, 8vo.
Kask’s Grammar of the Anglo-Saxon ’longue,
4 Convheare’s Illustrations of Anglo-Saxon Poetry, p.
VOL. VIII.
30. Lond. 1826. 8vo,
5 H
794 ENGLISH LANGUAGE.
English been duly trained. Long after French had ceased to be
Language, the language of legal proceedings, they adhered to the
practice of reporting cases in the motley dialect used by
their predecessors ; for, as Blackstone remarks, “ the prac-
tisers being used to the Norman language, and therefore
imagining that they could express their thoughts more
aptly and more concisely in that than in any other, still
continued to take their notes in law French; and of
course, when those notes came to be published, under the
denomination of reports, they were printed in that bar¬
barous dialect; which, joined to the additional terrors of
a Gothic black letter, has occasioned many a student to
throw away his Plowden and Littleton, without venturing
to attack a page of them.”1 2 By the 36 Edw. III. c. 15. it
was enacted that for the future all pleas should be plead¬
ed, shewn, defended, answered, debated, and judged in
the English tongue, but should be entered and enrolled
in Latin. The statutes of the realm long continued to
be promulgated in French ; and it was only from the ac¬
cession of Richard the Third that Englishmen were go¬
verned by laws written in their native tongue.
The Norman conquest proved fatal to the entire race of
Anglo-Saxon nobility, many of whom lost their lives, and
almost all of them their property. Not a few of the num¬
ber sought refuge in different monasteries. Some of them
became abbots, and others closed their career as monks.
The lands of the Saxon earls were occupied by the Nor¬
man barons, who found it necessary to consult their per¬
sonal safety by inhabiting fortified towns and castles.
They must have had but little intercourse with their vas¬
sals, whom they probably did not respect, and whom they
had much reason to fear. They retained their native
tongue, and seldom acquired any other. For a long pe¬
riod of time, the peasantry continued unmixed with fo¬
reign settlers: they continued to cultivate the same soil;
and when the written language of the kingdom had re¬
ceived many foreign accessions, the rustic dialect preserv¬
ed its primitive elements with very few material changes.
Much of the patois of different countries consists, not in
adulterations of the modern, but in remnants of the an¬
cient language. Many Anglo-Saxon words and idioms,
unintelligible to persons of a refined education, are still
current among the rural population of particular districts
of England.
The English monarchs of the Norman race were liberal
patrons of such literature as they themselves understood.
French poetry seems to have been much relished at the
court of England ; and, according to a very competent
judge, M. de la Rue, it was from England and Normandy
that the French received the first works which deserve to
be cited in their language. The wmrks of many Anglo-
Norman poets have been preserved, and they certainly
form a curious subject of literary research. In this de¬
partment, a learned lady, Marie de France, makes a pro¬
minent figure. Her poems have been recently edited by
M. de Roquefort; and one of the historical poems of Wace
still more recently by M. Pluquet. A history of the An¬
glo-Norman poets and poetry is speedily expected from M.
de la Rue, who has already exhibited sufficient evidence
of h is being well qualified for such an undertaking.
Of the language spoken by the great body of the peo¬
ple about a century after the conquest, the reader may
in some degree be enabled to judge from the following
specimen ofLyamon’s translation of Wace’s Brut d'Anyle-
terre. The translator describes himself as a priest of Ern- Engliah
lye upon Severn, and he is supposed to have completed Language,
his task about the year 1180.
Tha the masse wes isungen,
Of chirccken heo thrungen.
The king mid his folke
To his mete verde,
And mucle his du3ethe:
Drem wes on hirede.
Tha quene, an other halve,
Hire hereberwe isohte:
Heo hafde of wif-monne
Wunder ane moni en.*
“ When the mass was sung, out of the church they
thronged. The king amid his folk to his meat fared, and
many of his nobility : joy was in the household. The
queen, on the other side, sought her harbour (or lodging):
she had wonderfully many women.” Here, and in a much
more ample specimen of the same work, we perceive no
mixture of French words. The idiom is essentially Anglo-
Saxon, but with some indications of its being already in a
state of transition: the vestiges of the language, in its
more modern form of English, may be distinctly traced.
Of the language in a state more considerably advanced,
we find a specimen in a facetious poem published by Dr
Hickes.
Far in sea, by West Spain,
Is a land ihote Cokaygne,
There n’is land under heaven-rich
Of wel of goodness it y-like.
Though Paradise be merry and bright,
Cockaygne is of fairer sight.
What is there in Paradise
But grass, and flower, and green rise ?
Though there be joy and great dute,
There n’is meat but fruit;
There n’is hall, bure, no bench.
But water mannis thirst to quench.3
In this poem, which apparently belongs to the thir¬
teenth century, we perceive a further deviation from the
Anglo-Saxon idiom. In the preceding extract, the obso¬
lete spelling is not retained, and the language is thus ren¬
dered more intelligible. The subsequent quotation is
from a metrical history of England, written by Robert, a
monk of Gloucester, who appears to have lived about the
year 1278. This rhyming chronicle, as Mr Warton has
remarked, is totally destitute of art or imagination. The
author thus describes the island of Ireland, nor does he
fail to mention its exemption from venomous reptiles.
Yrlond ys aler yle best with oute Engelonde.
The sea goth al abouten hym eke as ich vnderstonde.
More he ys than Engoloncl, and in tho south half he ys
Bradder and more of ynow than in the north ende y wys.
Ajeyn the lond of Spayne he stond in the north syde ryjt.
Selde snowe ther inne lith, and nameliche thre nyjt.
So euene hot that lond ys, that men durre selde
Here orf in howse awynter brynge out of the felde.
Lese lasteth ther al the wynter : bute hyt tho more wonder be,
Selde me schal in the lond eny foule wormes se :
I'or nedres ny other wormes ne mow ther be nojt;
And jef he beth thider hi cas from other landes y bro3t,
Heo dyeth thory smel of the lond, other thor5 towchyng y wys i
Eche gras that ther inne wexeth a 3eyn venym yt ys.
For men that ben venymed, thor5 grases of Yrlond
Y dronke he beth y clansed sone, thoru Godes sonde.
Hony and mylk ther ys muche, mony folk and bolde.
This ys the stat of Yrlond, as iche habbe y tolde4
Another chronicler, who however belongs to a period
1 Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England, vol. iii. p. 318.
2 Ellis’s Specimens of the Early English Poets, vol. i. p. 61.
3Hickesii Linguarum Vett. Septentrionalium Thesaurus, tom. i. p. 231.
4 Robert of Gloucester’s Chronicle, vol. L p. 43.
ENGLISH LANGUAGE,
795
English somewhat more recent, was Robert Manning, more com-
Language. mon]y cane(l Robert of Brunnt. H has himself stated
that he had resided fifteen years at Brunne, or Bourne, in
the priory of black canons, when, in the year 1303, he be¬
gan his translation of Grosteste’s Manuel des Peches. This
version still continues in manuscript; but one portion of
his historical work, his translation from Langtoft, has been
edited by the indefatigable Hearne, who rendered a simi¬
lar service to Robert of Gloucester. The inedited por¬
tion consists of a translation from Wace’s Brut. Peter
Langtoft was an Augustine canon of Bridlington in York¬
shire, and is supposed to have died in the reign of Ed¬
ward the Second. The subsequent passage relates to Sir
William Wallace.
Whan Sir Jon of Warene the soth vnderstode,
That the Waleis gane brenne, an oste he gadred gode,
And went to Struelyne agayne Waleis William,
Bot the erle with mykelle pyne disconfite away nam ;
And that was his folie, so long in his bed gan ligge,
Untille the Waleis partie had vmbilaid the brigge:
With gauelokes and dartes suilk ore was non sene,
Myght no man tham departe, ne ride ne go bituene.
Thore first tham tauht how thei did Fawe kirke :
Alle gate the brigge he rauht, of nouht our men were irke.
Whan the erle herd say, the brigge how William toke,
He douted to die that day, that bataile he forsoke.
The Inglis were alle slayn, the Scottis bare tham wele.
The Waleis had the wayn, als maistre of that eschele.
At that ilk stoure was slayn on our side
God men of honour, that wald to the bataile bide.1
A more curious specimen of composition is to be found
in the Vision of Piers Plowman, which appears to have
been written about the year 1362, and which is common¬
ly ascribed to Robert Langland, a secular priest. The
work, which comprehends a series of visions, is replete
with satire on the different orders of men, especially on
the clergy, both regular and secular; but it is likewise
diversified by a succession of incidents, and furnishes
abundant evidence of the author s talents foi description.
His mode of versification is not unworthy of particular
notice. Alliteration supplies the place of rhyme: the
corresponding sounds are at the commencement, not at
the termination of words. Our extract from this remark¬
able work must necessarily be very brief.
And to the church gan ich go, God to honourie,
By for the crois on my knees knocked ich my brest,
Sykinge for my sennes, segginge my pater noster,
Wepyng and wailinge tyl ich was a slepe ;
Thenne mete me moche more than ich by for tolde
Of the mater that ich mete fyrst on Malverne hulles.
Ich sawe the feld ful of folk fram ende to the other,
And lleson revested ryght as a pope,
And Conscience his cocer by fore the kynge stande.
Reson reverentliche by for al the reame
Prechede and provede that thuse pestilences
Was for pure synne to punyshe the puple,
And the south west wynd on Saturday at eve
Was pertliche for prude, and for no poynt elles.
Piries and plomtrees were poffed to the erthe,
In ensample to syggen ous we sholde do the betere :
Beebes and brode okes weren blowe to the grounde,
And turned upward here tayl, in tokenynge of drede ^
That dedlych synne er domys day shal for do us alle.*
After these specimens of verse, we shall exhibit a spe¬
cimen of prose, selected from the seventh chapter of tie
Acts of the Apostles, as translated by John Wyclifie.
The translator, who was born about the year 13-4, ant
died in the year 1384, may be regarded as the father ot
English prose. He was the author of various works in English
Latin as well as English; but the most important of his language,
literary labours was a complete version of the Scriptures. w'V'wl'
He was the great precursor of Luther, who appeared after
an interval of one hundred and fifty years ; and it may
perhaps be safely affirmed, that to him the cause of refor¬
mation was more deeply indebted than to Luther himself.
“ This Moises ledde hem out, and dide woundris and
signes in the lond of Egipte and in the Reed See, and in
desert fourti gheeris. This is Moises that seide to the
sones of Israel, God sehal reise to ghou a prophete of
ghoure britheren ; as me ghe schulen heere him. This it
is that was in the chirche in wildirnesse with the aungel
that spak to him in the mount Syna and with oure fadris,
which took wordis of lyf to ghyue to us: to whom oure
fadris wolden not obeie, but puttiden him awei, and weren
turned awei in hertis into Egipte, seiynge to Aaron, Make
thou to us goddis that schulen go bifore us; for to this
Moises that ledde us out of the lond of Egipte, we wite
not what is don to hym. And thei maden a calf in tho
daies, and offriden a sacrifice to the mawmet, and thei weren
glad in the werkis of her hondis ; and God turnyde and bi-
took hem to serue to the knyghthood of heuene ; as it is wri-
ten in the book of prophetis, Whether ghe hous of Israel of¬
friden to me slayn sacrifices, either sacrifices of oostis fourti
gheer in desert? And ghe han take the tabernacle of
Moloch, and the sterre of ghoure god Renfam, figuris that
ghe han maad to worschipe hem : and I schal translate
ghou into Babiloyne. The tabernacle of witnessyng was
with our fadris in desert, as God disposide to hem, and
spak to Moises, that he schulde make it aftir the fourme
that he saigh: which also oure fadris tooken with Ihesu,
and broughten into the possessioun of hethene men, which
God puttide awei fro the face of our fadris til into the
daies of Dauid, that foond grace anentis God, and axide
that he schulde fynde a tabernacle to God of Jacob. But
Salamon bildide "the hous to him. But the high God
dwellith not in thingis maad bi bond, as he seith bi the
propnete, Heuene is a seete to me, and the erthe is the
stool of my feet; what hous schulen ghe bilde to me?
seith the Lord ; either what place is of my restyng ? whe-
thir myn bond made not alle these thingis ? 3
Contemporary with Wycliffe was Geoffrey Chaucer, who
is commonly regarded as the father of English poetry,
and who closed his life in the year 1400. Dr Johnson
has remarked that “ he may, perhaps, with justice, be
styled the first of our versifiers who wrote poetically.”4
He was a man of original genius, improved by a familiar
acquaintance with writers in several languages. For the
native poets who preceded him, he appears to have enter¬
tained but little respect: he sought for better models
amono- the Latin, Italian, and French writers, and in all
these languages he found works which he either translat-
ed or imitated. He possessed a lively fancy, and was a
shrewd observer of life and manners. He improved the
language, and refined the taste of his contemporaries. He
taught them to write, if not with new harmony, at least
with new terseness. The work by which he is best known
are his Canterbury Tales; and in these he not only ex¬
hibits many characteristic delineations of manners, but
likewise evinces a rich vein of native humour. 4 hey
commence with the following verses, which we have se¬
lected on account of the elaborate analysis to which they
have been subjected by Mr Tyrwhit.5
X Peter Langtoft’s Chronicle, as illustrated and improved ’ P 7
2 Vision of Peirs Plouhman, p. 80. Whitaker s edit. Lond.JSU, 4t0-
* New Testament, translated by Wiclif, p- 196. Baber s edit. Lond. 1810, 4to.
« Johnson’s Hist- of the English Language prefixed to his Duitionary.
‘ Canterbury Taxes of Chaucer, voi- iv. P- 106. Lond. 177^, 5 vols. «vo.
796 ENGLISH LANGUAGE.
Kn^lish Whanne that April with his shoures sole
Language. The droughte of March hath pierced to the rote,
And bathed every veine in swiche licour,
Of whiche vertue engendred is the flour ;
Whan Zephirus eke with his sote brethe
Enspired hath in every holt and hethe
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Earn his halfe cours yronne,
And smale foules niaken melodie.
That slepen alle night with open eye,
So priketh hem nature in hir corages ;
Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken strange strondes,
To serve halwes couthe in sondry londesj
And specially, from every shires ende
Of Englelcnd, to Canterbury they wende.
The holy blisful martyr for to seice,
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seke.
In the English language, as it thus appeared in the four¬
teenth century, the Anglo-Saxon vocabulary was still pre¬
dominant, but the words had been greatly curtailed in
their inflexions. This plan of simplifying the structure
of speech is to be traced in other instances, where a rude
or a strange race is mingled with a people who have cul¬
tivated a more complex language, bearing little or no re¬
semblance to their own. The most essential part of the
vocabulary may be acquired without difficulty ; but it is
not so easy to become acquainted with the inflexions of
nouns and verbs, or with some other niceties which be¬
long to language in its more complicated form. Many
French words had now been incorporated with the Eng¬
lish language; but the compositions of this period began
to be marked by an affectation of words derived immedi¬
ately from the Latin. If Chaucer did not set the exam¬
ple, he at least followed it; and when he aims at a more
ornamented style, his use of such phraseology is sufficient¬
ly copious. In this respect, he was however exceeded by
some of his successors, particularly Hoccleve, Lydgate,
and Hawes, who inherited no portion of his strength and
originality. Being deficient in taste as well as genius,
they devised a verbose and languid style, interspersed
with many sonorous and polysyllabic terms, with terms
“ aureate and mellifluate,” which did not assimilate with
their native tongue. The same false taste was at length
communicated to the Scotish poets. Dr Nott has remark¬
ed that Barbour had given his countrymen a fine exam¬
ple of the simple energetic style, which resembled Chau¬
cer’s best manner, and wanted little to make it tbe genu¬
ine language of poetry; and that other poets of the same
nation, particularly James the First and Henryson, ad¬
hered to this model of a simple diction, and affected no
other ornament than what the proper use of their language
supplied.1 But ultimately the false taste, which had in¬
fected the English poets, was communicated to their breth¬
ren of the north.
Gower and Lydgate, whose names are very frequently
mentioned with that of Chaucer, are well known to the
readers of early English poetry. Thomas Hoccleve,
whom his editor supposes to have been born about the
year 1370, makes a more inconsiderable figure in the li¬
terary annals of that age, but seems nevertheless to claim
a passing notice. He was deficient in the essential qua¬
lifications of a poet; and, in the opinion of Mr Warton,
“ his chief merit seems to be, that his writings contributed
to propagate and establish those improvements in our lan¬
guage which were now beginning to take place.”
1 he greater part of the fifteenth century was highly
unfavourable to the progress of literature in England. English
The repeated contests for the crown, and the civil warsIjanBuag0,
which they occasioned, were attended with a great waste
of human blood, and with that incertainty of possession,
and those reverses of fortune, which leave the mind but
little relish for such pursuits as are chiefly calculated to
gratify the taste. Some individuals, Sir John Fortescue,
and a few other writers, have left favourable specimens
of prose composition ; and they were succeeded by others,
who made further improvements in style. Among these
w’e must include Sir Thomas More, Archbishop Cranmer,
Sir Thomas Elyot, and Roger Ascham. But from the
death of Chaucer, more than a century elapsed before
another writer, deserving the name of a poet, appeared
in England. This writer was Henry Howard, earl of Sur¬
rey, son and heir apparent to the duke of Norfolk, whom
however he did not survive. He was beheaded in 1547,
in the thirtieth year of his age. Although thus cut off
before the full maturity of intellectual vigour, he lived
long enough to effect some very material improvements in
English poetry. The versification of preceding poets was
more properly rhythmical than metrical. Although some
improvements had been introduced by Chaucer, he left the
number of syllables too indefinite, and did not reach the
harmony and compression, of which this noble poet after¬
wards exhibited an example. One of the changes which
he introduced was the use of the heroic blank verse. Lang-
land and other poets had indeed dispensed with rhyme;
but their alliterative lines were constructed in a very dif¬
ferent manner. In the following sonnet, he bewails the
death of another eminent poet, Sir Thomas Wyatt.
Divers thy death do diversely bemoan :
Some, that in presence of thy livelihed
Lurked, whose breasts envy with hate had swoln.
Yield Caesar’s tears upon Pompeius’ head.
Some that watched with the murd’rer’s knife.
With eager thirst to drink thy guiltless blood,
W hose practice brake by happy end of life,
Weep envious tears to hear thy fame so good.
But I, that knew what harboured in that head,
What virtues rare were tempered in that breast,
Honour the place that such a jewel bred,
And kiss the ground whereas thy corpse doth rest,
With vapoured eyes, from whence such streams avail
As Pyramus did on Thisbe’s breast bewail.
Before the close of tbe sixteenth century, the English
language had in a great measure attained that form and
structure which it continues to exhibit. A great improve¬
ment of taste had been introduced by a more critical and
more general study of the ancient classics. William Lilly,
the famous grammarian, who had learned Greek at Rhodes,
and who had afterwards acquired a polished Latinity at
Rome, became the first teacher of Greek at any public
school in England. This was at St Paul’s school in Lon¬
don, of which he was appointed the first master about
the year 1500.2 The language soon began to be mere
regularly taught in the universities. At Cambridge the
study of it was zealously and successfully recommended
by Smith, Cheke, and Ascham, who were themselves dis¬
tinguished by their proficiency. The elegancies of Latin
style began to be better understood, and monkish barba¬
rism was gradually banished. Ascham and Haddon ac¬
quired distinction by the style of their Latin prose; and
some of the verses of Leland discover a classical vein pre¬
viously unknown to his countrymen. Before the close of
the century, many of the Greek and Latin writers appear¬
ed in an English dress, and classical story, with classical
Nott s Dissertation on the State of English Poetry before the Sixteenth Century (p. cxc.j, prefixed to the Works of Surrey and
Wyatt. Bond. 1815, 2 vols. 4to. J w »i J
* M arton’s Hist, of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 258.
ENGLISH LANGUAGE.
797
English mythology, was rendered familiar to the common reader.
Language. jn addition to the French, the Italian and Spanish lan-
guages attracted a great degree of attention; and from
aU these languages, especially the two former, many works
were likewise translated. New sources of knowledge, as
well as of fancy, were thus opened, and the English
tongue was enriched with a more copious and variegated
phraseology. Surrey and Wyatt were succeeded by poets
of great genius, by Shakspeare and Spenser, as well as by
many others who, though of inferior powers, were yet pos¬
sessed of a vigorous and brilliant imagination. The prose
compositions of Bacon and Raleigh, partaking of the na¬
tive energy of their authors, exhibited specimens of a
condensed and forcible style, to which the preceding age
had never attained. During the earlier part of the seven¬
teenth century, ancient learning was assiduously cultivat¬
ed ; and men of great erudition, Selden, Gataker, and
others, adorned the literary annals of their country. The
prevailing taste of scholars had however a strong tenden¬
cy to what was scholastic, if not pedantic; and even the
poets, such as Donne and Cowley, substituted the subtil-
ties of metaphysical conceits for flights of poeUc fancy.
Many words, derived immediately from the Latin, were
introduced by the learned writers of the period to which
we now refer. A considerable number ot these has been
subsequently rejected, while others are incorporated in
the vocabulary. In the mean time, English poetry had
nearly reached its highest limits. Milton s Paradise Lost,
so eminently distinguished as a work of creative genius,
affords the most remarkable illustration of the compass,
power, and harmony of the language. Nor is Dryden un-
worthy of being mentioned with this mighty master ot the
English lyre. His powers of mind were no doubt differ¬
ent in kind and degree, but he was possessed of a genius
truly poetical; and his prose, as well as his verse, exhibits
a rich and copious vein of English phraseology.
The subsequent progress of the language our narrow
limits will not permit us to trace. The history of the
Scotish language is involved in more obscurity. I he Cel¬
tic tongue is supposed to have been originally spoken in
every district of this kingdom ; nor has it been found an
easy task to account for the introduction of a Gothic dia¬
lect, bearing a very close affinity to English. I hat the
Scotish language is merely a dialect of the English, seems
indeed to be the more prevalent opinion ; and this foreign
speech is supposed to have been gradually adopted by
the Piets, who are at the same time described as a people^
of Celtic origin. The ancient history of every race of
men which is possessed of no ancient records, and which
has not attracted much attention from more enlightened
nations, must ever be involved in doubt and incertainty.
In the present instance, we have little to guide our en¬
quiries, besides a few scattered and contradictory notices,
added to the ordinary and well-ascertained progress of
human speech. When other records fail, the history o
a nation may sometimes be traced in tbe history ot its
language; and a very moderate degree of reflection wi
enable us to determine the probability of a Celtic people
thus unlearning their native tongue, and from deliberate
choice adopting another speech completely and radically
different. TV
Dr Geddes, in a Dissertation on the Scoto-baxon Lna-
lect, has strenuously maintained this extraordinaiy opi¬
nion, which has likewise been adopted by a more recent
writer, possessing no portion of his acuteness 01 earning.
“ The names,” it is stated, “ of all the rivers, mountains,
towns, villages, and castles, of any note 01 antiquity, iom
Berwick-law to Buchanness, and from Buchanness to Ar- English
der-Sier, are all evidently Celtic. We must then either ^nguage.
suppose that the language of the Piets was a dialect of
the Celtic ; or that they were not the original inhabitants
of the country ; or, in fine, that, after the extinction of
the Pictish empire, or rather its union with the Irish-
Scots, the language of these latter universally prevailed,
and effaced the very remembrance of its Gothic prede¬
cessor. The second of these suppositions is contrary to
history ; the third is belied by experience ; the first then
is the only one that is founded in probability.”1 Ibis ob¬
servation with respect to the prevalence of Celtic names,
though too strongly stated, is not without foundation.
We may therefore admit that the south of Scotland was
at some remote period inhabited by a Celtic people ; but
it is not a necessary inference that this people must be
identified with the Piets. Whatever hypothesis may be
adopted, it is not denied that many Celtic names of places
have been retained where the inhabitants have long ceased
to speak any dialect of the Celtic language. It may very
easily be conjectured that this primitive race of Celts was
finally supplanted by new settlers ; and that those settlers,
whether Scandinavians or some other Gothic tribe, adopt¬
ed many of the names which the original inhabitants had
applied"to mountains, rivers, and other conspicuous ob¬
jects. That a similar process has been followed in innu¬
merable instances, must be obvious to every person ac¬
quainted with the history of European settlements in
other quarters of the globe; the native appellations are
almost always retained to a certain extent, and are mingled
with other names, borrowed from the language of the co¬
lonists.
If we should suppose the Piets to have been a Celtic
people, a very hard problem will remain to be solved:—
by what extraordinary means could a distinct race of men,
placed in such circumstances, be induced to reject one lan¬
guage, and to adopt another? I his radical and unpiece-
dented change Dr Geddes is disposed to ascribe to the
operation of such causes as the following; to the tempo¬
rary subjection of the southern provinces of Scotland by
the Northumbrians; to the immense number of captives
seized during the ancient wars with the English ; to the
planting of English garrisons in several of the Scotish
towns; to the amicable intercourse of the Piets with the
English ; and, finally, to the influence of Malcolm Can-
more’s courtiers, whom he supposes to have learned the
English language from Queen Margaret and her re¬
tinue. But it may without temerity be affirmed that, in
the entire annals of the human race, such an effect was
never produced by such causes. In a more refined state
of society, the love of knowledge, the hope of gain, or the
influence of fashion, may induce many individuals to be¬
take themselves to the acquisition of foreign languages ;
but the great body of the people will ever be disposed to
rest perfectly satisfied with the speech, whether rude or
cultivated, which they have derived from their parents.
It is only by some great revolution, by a total conquest,
or by an overwhelming extent ot colonization, that the
current language of a country can be mateiially changed.
M'ter the Norman conquest, when French became the
lano-uage of the court and of the law, and when Norman
barons were planted in almost every corner of England,
did the combined operation ot such causes eradicate the
old, and establish a new language in its place ? Many new
words were unquestionably introduced, but these were
merely engrafted on the old stock of the Anglo-Saxon.
“ Had the Saxon,” as Dr Jamieson well observes, “ found
» Transactions of the Society of the Antiquaries of Scotland, vol. i. p. 408.
798 E N G E N G
English its way into Scotland in the manner supposed, it would This race of men, confined to a remote island, and main- EngrailfdL
Language, necessarily have been superinduced on the Gaelic. This taining but little intercourse, either of peace or war, with
has always been the case, where one language prevailed other nations, has preserved its ancient language with
over another; unless the people who spoke the original singular purity.5 The Swedes and Danes, more extensive-
language were either completely or nearly exterminated, ly engaged in the pursuits of commerce, and more close-
Thus was the Norman gradually incorporated with the ly connected with the rest of mankind, have exhibited a
Saxon, as the Frankish had been with the Latinized Cel- different progress : but while both languages have reced-
tic of France. But the number of Gaelic words to be ed very widely from the Islandic, they have not receded
found in what is called Broad Scots bears a very small very widely from each other ; a similar state of society,
proportion to the body of the language.”1 And this soli- similar relations with other countries, and the study of
tary fact is indeed sufficient to evince that the inhabitants the same foreign authors, have produced corresponding
of the south of Scotland cannot be sprung from Celtic changes in both. In the history of these two languages,
ancestors. Dr Geddes has ventured to specify the reign we do not find a complete parallel with that of the Scotish
of Malcolm the Third, which commenced in the year and Englis.. the Swedish and Danish are both dialects
1057, as the period of a general denization of the Saxon of the ancient Scandinavian, while the Scotish is deriv-
tongue in Scotland. “ That monarch,” he remarks, “ had ed from the Scandinavian, and the English from the an-
been bred in England, and married an English princess, cient German. But the Scandinavian and the German
Her retinue were all English. English, in consequence, proceeded from the same common stock ; and when we
would become the language of the court. The courtiers ascend to a period sufficiently remote, they are only to be
would carry it to their respective homes ; their domestics regarded as dialects of the same language,
would be ambitious to speak the language of their masters ; It is not to be concealed that Barbour, Winton, Henry
and thus it would be gradually introduced into every fa- the Minstrel, and other early poets of Scotland, have de-
shionable circle.”2 But to introduce a language into every scribed their native language as English.6 This applica-
fashionable circle, is somewhat different from rendering it tion of the name has been explained, with at least some
the current speech of the people : French has long been degree of plausibility, by referring to the circumstance .
the court language, and the language of fashionable circles of the Gaelic being then denominated the Scotish lan-
in England, and yet the great body of the people still per- guage.7 A Celtic and a Gothic dialect could not well be
sist in speaking English. described by the same term; and “ when, by a necessary
The insuperable difficulty of accounting for such a tran- contingency, the Gothic language had in the same space,
sition as has thus been supposed, a transition from a Cel- though in different nations, retained much the same hues,
tic to a Gothic dialect, renders the conclusion obvious and the name of that dialect, which was spoken by the greater
unavoidable, that the Gothic speech of Scotland was de- and politer people, was imparted to the other, inhabiting
rived from a Gothic race of ancestors. Nor is this con- a contiguous part of the very same island.”8 Mr Pinker-
clusion altogether free from difficulties, though they are ton is less fortunate in another suggestion ; namely, that
of very inferior weight to those which are to be deposited it is not more strange to perceive that the Italian, French,
in the opposite scale. It is the opinion of a late writer, and Spanish languages were originally termed Romance,
who has investigated the subject with much ability, that They were all described by this common name, because
the Piets emigrated from Scandinavia ;3 and, according they were all derived from the language of the Romans ;
to this opinion, the Piets and Saxons must have spoken but we are not inclined to believe that the Scotish and
two dialects of the same original tongue. The history of the English tongues stand in precisely the same relation
these kindred dialects may be illustrated from that of to each other. . . I'^
some others, derived from the same Gothic origin. The ENGRAFTING, in Gardening, the insertion of a scion
Llandic, Swedish, and Danish languages are all descend- of one tree or plant into another for propagation. See the
ed from the ancient Scandinavian. Island, which, as the article Horticulture.
learned Bishop Muller has remarked, is entitled to parti- ENGRAILED (Fr. gresle, grele, hail), in Heraldry, in-
cular attention as the foster-mother of northern history,4 * 6 * 8 dented or made rugged at the edges, as if broken with
was peopled by a colony of Norwegians in the year 874. hail; indented in curve lines or semicircles.
1 Jamieson’s Dissertation on the Origin of the Scottish Language (p. 21), prefixed to his Dictionary.
2 Verstegan reasons in nearly the same manner. (Restitvtion of decayed Intelligence, p. 180. Antwerp, 160o, 4to.) See iike-
wise the preface to Dr Wallis’s Grammatica Lingua; Anglicame, p. xxii. and Mr Boucher’s Introduction to his Glossary ot Obsolete
and Provincial Words, p. li. . , „ ^
* Pinkerton’s Enquiry into the History of Scotland, vol. i. p. 168. Lond. 1789, 2 vols. 8vo.—Mr Roberts inclines to the same
opinion : “ The Piets, or more properly Phichts, probably a colony of Scandinavians, originally from Scythia, as they are said to
have come over the northern sea. Triad 7 ” (Sketch of the Early History of the Cymry, or Ancient Britons, p. 125. Lond.
1803, 8vo.) Professor Magnusen, who has more recently investigated the origin of the Piets, bestows sufficient commendation on
Mr Pinkerton’s learning and research, and to a certain extent is disposed to adopt his leading opinion ; but at the same time he
declares himself unable to approve of all the arguments by which it is supported, especially of those which rest upon erroneous inter¬
pretations of Scandinavian words and antiquities ; nor does he fail to express his disapprobation of this writer s unseasonable invec-
lives against the Celts. (Om Picternes og deres Navns Oprindelse, S. 56. Kidbenhavn, J8175 6vo.)
* Muller’s Sagabibliothek, Bind i. S. 4. Kiobenhavn, 1817-20, 3 Bind. 8vo. _ . . . »
8 Dr Sharpe has well stated that “ war, invasion, conquest, treaties, intercourse with different nations, commerce, colonies, rise
arts, logical refinements, controversies, time or age, and the humours of a people, are all causes of alteration in language. wo
Dissertations, upon the Origin of Languages, and upon the original Powers ot Letters, p. 35. edit. Lond. 1751? 8vo.)
6 Barbour’s Bruce, p. 82. Winton’s Cronykil, vol. i. p. 4. Henry’s Wallace, p. 231. .
T “ Duobus enim utuntur linguis, Scotica videlicet, el Teutonica, cujus linguae gens maritimas possidet et planas regiones . mgua;
vero gens Scoticae montanas inhabitat, et insulas ulteriores.” (Forduni Scotichronicon, vol. i. p. 44. edit. Goodall.)
8 Pinkerton’s Essay on the Origin of Scotish Poetry (p. Ixxi.), prefixed to Ancient Scotish Poems. Lond. 1766, 2 vo s. vo.
799
EN GRAYING.
Engraving, Exgravixg is the art of cutting metals, wood, and pre-
cious stones, and representing thereon figures, letters, or
whatever device or design the artist chooses.
Engraving, being properly a branch of sculpture, is di¬
vided into several other branches, according to the matter
on which it is employed, and the manner in which it is per¬
formed. This art is practised most commonly either on
copper or steel, or on wood.
Engraving on Copper is the making, conformably to
some delineated figure or design, such indented lines on a
smooth surface of copper, either by cutting or corrosion, as
render it capable, when charged properly with any coloured
fluid, of imparting by compression, to paper or any simi¬
lar substance, an exact representation of the figure or
design.
Whether we consider the art of engraving with regard to
the utility and pleasure it affords, or the difficulty which at¬
tends its execution, we cannot but confess that on every
account it deserves a distinguished rank amongst the polite
arts. By means of this art the cabinets of the curious have
been adorned with the portraits of the greatest men of all
ages and nations; and it is by this art also that the paint¬
ings of the greatest masters have been multiplied, and the
lovers of the polite arts enabled to enjoy those beauties
from which their distant situations seemed to have for ever
debarred them; while persons of moderate fortune have
been enabled to become possessed of all the spirit and all
the poetry contained in those miracles of art which seemed
to have been reserved for the temples of Italy or the cabi¬
nets of princes. When we reflect, moreover, that the en¬
graver, besides the beauties of poetical composition, and the
artful ordinance of design, has to express, merely by the
means of light and shade, all the various tints of colour and
clear-obscure—to give a relief to each figure, and a truth
to each object; that he has now to represent a sky serene
and bright, and then one loaded with dark clouds—now the
pure tranquil stream, and then the foaming sea tempest-
driven ; that here he has to express the character of the
man, strongly marked in his countenance, and there the
minutest ornament of his dress; in a word, that he has to
represent all, even the most difficult objects in nature;—we
cannot sufficiently admire the vast improvements in this
art, and that degree of perfection to which it has at this
day arrived.
Engraving is an art which for the most part is of modern
invention, having taken its rise no earlier than the middle of
the fourteenth or fifteenth century. The ancients, it is true,
practised engraving on precious stones and crystals with very
good success; and there are still many of their works re¬
maining equal to any production of later times. But the
art of engraving on plates and blocks of wood, in order to
afford prints or impressions, was not known till after the
invention of painting in oil.
The different modes of engraving are the following:—
1. In strokes cut through a thin wax, called etching
ground, laid upon the copper, with a point, and these strokes
bitten or corroded into the copper with aquafortis. This is
called etching.
f 2. In strokes with the graver alone, unassisted by aqua¬
fortis. In this instance the design is traced with a sharp
tool, called a dry point, upon the plate ; and the strokes are
cut or ploughed upon the copper with an instrument of an
angular form, distinguished by the name of a yrhver.
3. In strokes first etched and afterwards finished with
the graver. By this expedient the two former methods Engraving,
are united.
4. In dots without strokes, which are executed with the
point upon the wax or etching ground, bitten in with the
aquafortis, and afterwards harmonized with the graver, by
means of which instrument small dots are made, or with the
graver alone, as in the flesh and finer parts, unassisted with
the point.
5. In dots first etched and afterwards harmonized with the
dry point, performed by a little hammer—called opus mallei,
or the work of the hammer, as practised by Lutma aiyd others.
6. In mezzotinto, which is performed by a dark barb or
ground being raised uniformly upon the plate by means of
a toothed tool. The design being traced upon the plate,
the light parts are scraped off by instruments for that pur¬
pose, in proportion as the effect requires.
7. In aquatinta, a later invented method of engraving, in
which the outline is first etched, and afterwards a sort of
wash laid by the aquafortis upon the plate, resembling draw¬
ings in Indian ink, bistre, &c. See Aquatinta.
8. On wood, consisting of a single block, on which the
design is traced with a pen, and those parts which should
be white carefully hollowed out. This block is afterwards
printed by the letterpress printers in the same manner as a
book is printed.
9. On wood, consisting of two, three, or more blocks,
the first having the outlines cut upon it, the second being
reserved for the darker shadows, and the third for the sha¬
dows which terminate upon the lights; and these are sub¬
stituted in their turn, each print receiving an impression
from every block. This mode of engraving is called chiaro¬
scuro, and was designed to represent the drawings of the
old masters.
10. On wood and on copper. In these the outline is
engraved in a bold dark style upon the copper ; and two or
more blocks of wood are substituted to produce the darker
and lighter shadows as before.
Of all these modes of engraving, the most ancient is that
on wood ; or, to speak more properly, the first impressions
on paper were taken from carved wooden blocks. For this
invention it appears that we are indebted to the brief-malers,
or makers of playing-cards, who practised the art in Ger¬
many about the beginning of the fifteenth century.1 From
the same source may perhaps be traced the first idea of
moveable types, which appeared not many years afterwards ;
for these brief-malers did not entirely confine themselves to
the printing and painting of cards, but produced also sub¬
jects of a more devout nature, many of which, taken from
holy writ, are still preserved in different libraries in Ger¬
many, with the explanatory text facing the figures, and the
whole engraved in wood. In this manner they even formed
a species of books; such as Historia sancti Johannis,
ejusque Visionis Apocalypticce, and Historia Veteris et
Novi Testamenti, known by the name of Poor Man's Bible.
These short mementos were printed only on one side ; and
two of them being pasted together, had the appearance of a
single leaf. The earliest date on any of these wooden cuts
is 1423, and the subject is St Christopher carrying the
Infant Jesus over the Sea, preserved in a convent at Bux-
heim near Menningen. It is of a folio size, illuminated in
the same manner as the playing-cards; and at the bottom
is the inscription, Christoferi faciem die quacunque tueris.
Ilia nempe die morte mala non morieris. Millesimo CCCC°
XX° tertio.
1 Such playing cards, however, were in use in Germany as early as the year 1275. See Card.—-Ed.
ENGRAVING.
800
Engraving. Upon the invention of moveable types, that branch of
the brief-maler’s business, as far as it regarded the making
of books, was gradually discontinued ; but the art itself
of engraving on wood continued in an improving state ;
and towards the end of the fifteenth and the beginning of
the sixteenth century, it became customary for almost
every one of the German engravers on copper to engrave
on wood also, as may be seen from the first printed books,
in which the initial letters were for the most part highly
ornamented with various appropriate devices. The works
of Albert Durer in this style of engraving are justly held
in the highest esteem. Italy, France, and Holland have
produced many capital artists of this description ; but, for
boldness and spirit, the palm must be given to the prints
of Christopher Jegher, who worked under the direction
of llutjjjps, and was without doubt assisted by that great
master.
The invention of that species of engraving which is dis¬
tinguished by the appellation of chiaro-scuro is also claim¬
ed by the Germans, and seems to have been first practised
by Mair, one of whose prints of this kind is dated 1499.
Many excellent works in chiaro-scuro have also been pro¬
duced in France; and in Italy it was honoured with the
performances of Titian and Parmegiano ; but the attempts
of Jackson, Kirkall, and others in England, have not been
equally successful. Since these times, which may be call¬
ed the infancy of wood engraving, the art has been car¬
ried to very great perfection in Britain ; and the present
day may boast of higher attainments in this branch than
were reached at any former period.
In Germany, about the year 1450, prints from engraved
copper first made their appearance. The earliest date of
a copperplate print indeed is only the year 1461 ; but how¬
ever faulty this print may be with respect to the drawing,
and however defective in point of taste, the mechanical
part of the execution has by no means the appearance of
being one of the first productions of the graver. We have
also several other engravings, evidently the work of the
same master, in which the impressions are so neatly taken
from the plates, and the engravings so clearly printed in
every part, that according to all appearance they could not
be executed in a much better manner at the present day,
with all the conveniences which the copperplate printers
now possess, and the additional knowledge they must ne¬
cessarily have acquired in the course of more than three
centuries. Hence we may fairly conclude, that if these
were not the first specimens of the engraver’s workman¬
ship, much less were they the first efforts of the copper¬
plate printer’s ability. It is likewise to be observed, that
Martin Schoen, who is said, with great appearance of
truth, to have worked from 1460 to 1486, was apparently
the scholar of Stoltzhirs ; for he followed the style of the
latter in engraving, and copied from him a set of prints
representing the passion of our Saviour. Now, allowing
Stoltzhirs to have preceded his disciple only ten years,
this carries the era of the art back to *1450, as was stated
above. But there is no ground to suppose that it was
known to the Italians till at least ten years afterwards.
The earliest prints which are known to be theirs are a set
of the seven planets, and an almanack by way of frontis¬
piece, on which are directions for finding Easter from the
year 1465 to 1517 inclusive; and we may be well assured
that the engravings were not antedated, for the almanack
of course became less and less valuable every year. In
all probability, therefore, these prints must have been
executed in the year 1464, which is only four years later
than the Italians themselves lay any claim to. The three
earliest Italian engravers are, Finiguerra, Botieelli, and
Baldini. But if we were to refer these prints to any of
the three, we should naturally conclude them to be the
work of Finiguerra or Baldini; for they are not equal Engraving,
either in drawing or composition to those ascribed to Bo-
ticelli, which we know at least were designed by that ar¬
tist ; and as Baldini is expressly said to have worked from
the designs of Boticelli, it appears most probable that Tiey
belong to Finiguerra.
With respect to the invention of etching, it is not well
known to whom it ought to be ascribed. One of the ear¬
liest specimens is the print by Albert Durer, known by
the name of the Canon, dated 1518, and thought by some,
with little foundation, to have been worked on a plate of
iron. Another etching by the same artist is Moses receiv¬
ing the Tables of the Law, dated 1524. Etching was also
practised in Italy soon after this by Parmegiano, in whose
productions we discover the hand of the artist working out
a system as it were from his own imagination, and striving
to produce the forms which he wanted to express. We
see the difficulty he laboured under; and, from the exami¬
nation of the mechanical part of the execution of his works,
we cannot doubt that he had no instruction, and that it was
something entirely new to him. If the story be true that
he kept an engraver by profession in his house, the novelty
of the art is rendered so much the more probable. He
died in 1540.
The art of engraving by corrosion, or what is called
etching, with aquafortis, must have very early suggested
itself to the discoverers of copperplate printing; for it
seems to have been the method used by the manufactur¬
ers of warlike implements in their decorations ol sword-
blades and the like: and thus the same artists would soon
perceive the facilities afforded by a mode at once easy and
expeditious when applied to higher branches, such as the
copies of pictures and works of art in general.
As to that species of engraving in which the modes of
etching and cutting with the graver are united, it must
have been found necessary immediately upon the inven¬
tion of etching: it was, however, first carried to perfec¬
tion by Audran, and is now almost universally practised,
whether the work is in strokes or in dots.
Engraving in dots is a very old invention, and attribut¬
able to the Italians. Agostin de Musis, commonly call¬
ed Augustin of Venice, a pupil of Marco Antonio, used it
in several of his earliest works, but confined it to the flesh,
as in the undated print of An Old Man seated upon a
Bank, with a cottage in the background. He flourished
from 1509 to 1536. We also find an example of this me¬
thod in a print of “ A single figure standing, holding a cup
and looking upwards,” by Giulio Campagnola, who engrav¬
ed about the year 1516. The background is executed with
round dots, made apparently with a dry point; the figure
is outlined with a stroke deeply engraved, and finished
with dots, in a manner greatly resembling those prints
which Demarteau engraved at Paris in imitation of red
chalk ; and the hair and beard are expressed by strokes.
Stephen de Laulne, a native of Germany, followed the
steps of Campagnola ; and many of his slight works are
executed in dots only. Jean Boulanger, a French artist,
who flourished in the middle of the last century, and his
contemporary Nicholas van Plattenberg, improved greatly
on this method, and practised it with much success. It
is only, however, of late that it has been considered as an
object worthy of general imitation. John Lutma execut¬
ed this kind of work with a hammer and a small punch or
chisel.
The method of engraving in mezzotinto was invented
about the middle of the seventeenth century; and the in¬
vention has generally been attributed to Prince Rupert.
See Mezzotinto.
Of the method of engraving in aquatinta an account has
already been given under that word. (See Aquatinta.)
ENGRAVING. 801
Engraving. But it appears to us not out of place to give the following
general directions; and for more particular information
the article already mentioned may be consulted.
Engraving in aquatinta was originally invented by Le
Prince, a French artist. For a long time, however, his
process was kept secret; and his prints, it is said, were
at first sold for draw ings. As a proof that the art rose
at once to perfection, as has already been mentioned, the
prints which were executed by him are still admitted to
be the finest and best specimens of the art. It appears,
however, that he was only acquainted with the powdered
grain, and the common method of stopping out. The first
who practised this art in England w^as Mr Paul Sandby.
By him, we are informed, it was communicated to Mr
Jukes, whose works afford excellent examples of the per¬
fection to which the art has been carried; and although
it is now generally practised all over Europe, yet in no
country is this done with greater success than in Britain.
The principle of this process consists in corroding the
copper in such a manner that an impression from it ex¬
hibits the appearance of a tint laid on paper, or a draw¬
ing in Indian ink. This is accomplished by covering the
copper with some substance which assumes a granulated
form, and prevents the acid from acting where the parti¬
cles adhere ; and thus the copper is only partially corroded.
The more minute the particles are, it is obvious the im¬
pression from the plate will more nearly resemble a wash
of Indian ink, or a drawing; but the larger the particles
are, the granulation becomes more distinct. The powder
or granulation is called the aquatinta grain, and is pro¬
duced in two ways.
The process for using the powdered grain, which was
first employed, is the following. The outline being etch¬
ed on a copper-plate, some substance, which easily melts
with heat, adheres to the plate when cold, and resists the
action of the aquafortis, is to be finely powdered and sift¬
ed. Besides asphaltum, resin, and gum sandaric, the sub¬
stances which have been mentioned in the article already
referred to, Burgundy pitch, gum copal, gum mastic, as well
as some other resins and gum resins, may be employed.
Gum Copal, it is observed, produces a grain which resists
the aquafortis extremely well. Whatever the substance
be which is to be employed, the great object of the artist
in its application is, to have it equally distributed over
the plate. This is an essential part of the operation, and
requires considerable attention. The usual method is to
tie up a quantity of the powder in a piece of muslin, and
to strike it against a stick held at a considerable height
above the plate. Thus managed, the powder settles equal¬
ly over it. The plate being thus covered equally with the
dust or powder, the latter is to be fixed upon it by the
application of a gentle heat, to melt the particles. This
is usually done by holding lighted pieces of paper rolled
up, and moving them about till the whole of the powder
is melted, which is known by its changing to a brown co¬
lour. It is now allowed to cool, and after being examin¬
ed with a magnifying glass, if the particles appear to be
uniformly distributed, the artist proceeds to the next part
of the process.
Those parts of the design or drawing to be engraved,
which are perfectly white, are to be observed and marked,
and the corresponding parts of the plate must be covered
or stopped out. This is best done by means of mastic
varnish, diluted to such a consistence with turpentine as
to work freely with the hair pencil. To give it colour, lamp¬
black should be mixed with it, in order that the touches of
the pencil may be distinctly seen. When those parts of the
plate which are stopped out are sufficiently dry, a border
of wax is raised round the plate, in the same manner as
in etching, and the aquafortis, diluted with water, is pour-
vol. vm.
ed on. This, being the most precarious part of the pro-Engraving,
cess, requires the greatest experience. When it is sup-
posed that the aquafortis has remained on the plate for
such a length of time that when the impression is taken
it will produce the lightest shade in the drawing, it is
poured off, and the plate is washed with water and dried.
The lightest tints are then stopped out, and the aquafortis is
again poured on; and this process is repeated as often as
there are tints or shades to be produced in the plate.
Many plates are entirely etched in this way, by alter¬
nately stopping out and biting in. It is, however, found
to be extremely difficult, and indeed impossible, to pro¬
duce impressions of minute and complicated objects with
the requisite degree of delicacy and freedom. To obvi¬
ate this difficulty another process has been proposed, by
which the touches are laid on the plate with equal ease
and expedition as on drawings made with Indian ink. Fine
washed whitening is mixed with treacle or sugar, and di¬
luted with water in the pencil, that it may work freely.
This is laid on the plate covered with the aquatint ground,
in the same way as ink upon the drawing. When this is
dry, the whole of the plate is varnished over with a thin
turpentine or mastic varnish, and when this is dry the
aquafortis is poured on. The varnish immediately breaks
up in those parts of the plate where the treacle mixture
was laid, and thus they are exposed to the action of the
acid, whilst the other parts of the plate remain untouch¬
ed. Thus the touches or places of the plate where the
treacle has been applied are bit in deeper than the rest,
and have the precision of touches done with Indian ink.
The plate being thus completely bit in, the bordering
wax is removed, by gently heating it with a piece of light¬
ed paper. It is then cleared from the ground and var¬
nish by means of oil of turpentine ; and being wiped clean
with a rag, it is ready for the printer.
But in this method of aquatinting it is found difficult to
produce the necessary degree of coarseness or fineness in
the grain ; and plates which are engraved in this manner
afford but a small number of impressions before they are
worn out. On this account it is now more rarely followed.
The other method of producing the aquatint ground,
which is most generally adopted, is the following. A re¬
sinous substance, as common resin, Burgundy pitch, or
mastic, is dissolved in spirits of wine. This solution is
poured all over the plate, which is inclined, till the whole
of the superfluous fluid is drained off, and what adheres to
the plate becomes quite dry in a few minutes. The plate
being then examined with a magnifying glass, it will ap¬
pear that the whole of the spirit having evaporated, the
resinous matter is left in a granulated state, or is crack¬
ed in every direction, and adheres strongly to the cop¬
per. In this way a regular and beautiful grain is easily
produced, which will be found preferable, at least for
most purposes, to that which is produced by the former
method. The grain being thus formed, the other parts
of the process are conducted in the same manner as be¬
fore described.
Such are the usual methods of conducting this process.
We shall add a few hints which may be found useful
respecting the different parts of it. With regard to the
materials which are employed, it is to be observed that
the spirits of wine should be rectified, and of the very best
quality. Resinous matters, as common resin, Burgundy
pitch, and gum mastic, yield grains of a different appear¬
ance and form ; so that advantage may be taken of this
circumstance by using them sometimes separately, and
sometimes mixed in different proportions, according to
the views and taste of the artist. Different proportions
of resin may be employed to produce grains of different
kinds. When a coarse grain is intended, a greater propor-
5 i
802 ENGRAVING.
Engraving, lion is to be employed ; and when a fine grain is wanted, of execution, however, and facility in acquiring the prac^ Engraving.
v—»-Y-w a smaller pronortion of resin only is required. The pro- tice of the art, are followed with the unfoi tunate circum-
per proportions may be ascertained by providing a num- stance, that they favour the production of an indiscrimi-
ber of spare pieces of copper; on these the liquid may nate multitude of prints, which, it is to be feaied, may
be poured, and the grain examined, before it is applied to rather tend to vitiate than improve the public taste,
the plate which is to be engraved. After the solution is Engraving with the tool was the kind onginally prac-
made, it should remain undisturbed for a day or two, till tised, and it is yet retained for many purposes, ror
the impurities of the resin have subsided, and the liquid though the manceuvie of etching be moie easy, andot ler
becomes quite limpid. This is the best method of free- advantages attend it, yet where great regularity and ex-
ing it from impurities; for if it be strained through linen actness of the stroke or lines are requned, the \voiking
or muslin, it is mixed with hairs, which are extremely in- with the graver is much more effectual; on which ac-
iurious to the grain. It may be added, that the apart- count it is more suitable to the precision necessaiy in
ment in which the fluid is poured on the plate should be the execution of portraits, as there every thing the most
perfectly still, and entirely free from dust; for if any fall minute must be made out and expiessed, according to
on the plate while it is wet, the grain forms a white spot, the original subject, without any license to the fancy o
which cannot be removed. Great care should be observ- the designer in deviating from it, 01 varying t le e ect
ed in cleaning the plate before the ground is laid on. either by that masterly negligence and simplicity m some
This is done with a bit of rag and whitening. The small- parts, or those bold sallies of the imagination and lan
est stain or particle of grease produces a streak or blem- in others, which give spirit and force to history painting,
ish in the grain. Still, however, with all the attention Ihe principal instruments used in engiaving wit i t ie
which can be employed, and with the utmost delicacy in tool are, gravers, scrapers, a burnishei, an oil-stone, an a
the management, it is necessary to observe that the pro- cushion tor bearing the plates.
cess is extremely precarious and uncertain; and even the Gravers are made in seveial forms with respect to tie
most experienced artists find themselves frequently sub- points, some being square, otheis lozenge; tie square
ject to very unaccountable accidents. graver being designed for cutting broad and deep, an tie
Artists have frequently complained of the inconvenience lozenge for more delicate and fine strokes and late les.
arising from the fumes which proceed from the action of Ihe most generally useful are those of a form between
the acid upon the copper when the plate is large. To re- the square and lozenge; and they should be of a goo
medy this inconvenience, the following arrangement, which length, small towards the point, but stronger upwaids,
seems well calculated to answer the purpose, was sug- that they may have strength enough to beai any stress
gested by Mr Cornelius Varley, an artist who distin- which there may be occasion to lay upon them; for it they
guished himself no less by his mechanical abilities than be too small and mounted high, they will bend, w uc i re-
by the exquisite productions of his pencil in water co- quently causes their breaking, especially it they be not
lours : “ Get a frame made of common deal, or any kind of employed for very small subjects.
wood, three or four inches deep, covered with a plate of Ihe burnisher is used to assist in the engraving on
glass, and open at one side ; and let the side opposite to some occasions, as well as to polish the plates. It is made
this have a round opening, communicating by means of ol fine steel well polished. Ihe burnisher is sometimes
a common iron pipe with the ash-pit of any little stove or formed at one end, and a scraper on the other, each about
other fire-place, shut up from all other access of air but an inch and a half long from the point, between t lem
what must pass through the pipe. It is obvious that any about four inches of the instrument is made round, and
fumes rising from a copper-plate laid under such a frame serves as a handle, and is thickei in the mi e t lan at
will be carried backward into the iron pipe by the cur- the necks, where the burnisher and sciapei begin, w 11c i
rent of air required to maintain combustion in the stove, necks are only a quarter of an inch in diametei. ie
and will by this means be carried up the chimney, in place principal application of the buimshei in engraving, esi es
of being allowed to fly about in the apartment. The pipe its use in polishing the plates, is to tone an larmonise
may be very conveniently used by carrying it down the work, and to take out any scratches or acci enta e-
through the table to the floor, and so along to the place facings that may happen to the plates dm mg tne engrav-
where the chimney may chance to stand; and when the ing; or to lessen the effect of any par ts t rat may e too
frame is not wanted, the pipe at one of the joinings strongly marked in the work, and lequue to be ta en own.
may be made to answer the purpose of a hinge, by which A cushion, as it is called, is likewise sometimes use
to turn up the frame against the wall, where it may be for supporting the plate in such a manner t >at it may e
secured, while out of use, by a button or any other con- turned every way with ease. It is a bag o mit lei e
trivance.”1 with sand, and should be of the size which will best suit
This method of engraving in aquatinta seems to be the plates it is intended to bear. Cushions aie lound,
chiefly adapted for slight subjects in general, and for imita- and about nine inches over, and three me les in t nc ness,
tions of sketches and washed drawings. But for the pro- Ihe cushion, made as above directed, being ai on t ie
duction of prints from finished pictures it is by no means table, the plate must be put upon it; and tne giavei eing
calculated, because it is not susceptible of that accuracy held in the hand in a proper manner, tie point must e
in the nice management of the tints which is necessary applied to the plate, and moved in the proper irection
for this purpose. It is equally unsuitable for book plates, for producing the figures of the lines intende , o sei v-
because, without retouching the plates, the number of ing) in forming lines, to hold the plate stea y 011 116
impressions which can be thrown off is very small. On cushion, and where they are to be tmei, to pi ess more
these accounts, therefore, it is to be considered as greatly lightly, using greater force where they aie to be ion ei
inferior to the other modes of engraving. But as it is and deeper. In making circular or othei curve mes>
more expeditious, and may be attained with greater facility, hold your hand and graver steadily; and as ^ou M'°I »
it is undoubtedly useful when it is confined to those sub- turn your plate upon the cushion against youi graver,
jects for which it is peculiarly calculated. This rapidity otherwise it will be impossible for you to make any cucu-
1 Philosojthical Magazine, vol. xxiii. p. 137.
ENGRAVING.
803
Engraving, lar or curved line with that neatness and command of hand
which by this means may be acquired. After part of the
work is engraved, it is necessary to scrape it with the
scraper or graver, passed in the most level direction over
the plate, to take off the barb or roughness formed by the
cutting of the graver ; but great care must be taken not to
incline the edge of the scraper or tool in such a manner
that it may take the least hold of the copper, as it would
otherwise produce scratches in the engraving ; and, that
the engraved work may be rendered more visible, it may
afterwards be rubbed over with a roll of felt dipped in
oil. In using the graver it is necessary to carry it as le¬
vel as possible with the surface of the plate ; for otherwise,
if the fingers slip betwixt them, the line that will be pro¬
duced, whether curved or straight, will become deeper and
deeper in the progress of its formation, which entirely
prevents strokes being made at one cut that will be fine
at their extremities and larger in the middle, and occa¬
sions the necessity of retouching, to bring them to that
state. For this reason it is very necessary for those who
would learn to engrave in perfection, to endeavour, by Engraving,
frequent trials, to acquire the habit of making such strokes,
both straight and curved, by lightening or sinking the
graver with the hand, according to the particular occa¬
sion. If, after finishing the design, any scratches appear
or any part of the engraving be falsely executed, such
scratches or faulty parts must be taken out by the bur¬
nisher, and further polished, if necessary, by the above-
mentioned roll.
The dry point, or needle, which has been of late much
used in engraving, is a tool like an etching point, which
being drawn hard on the copper, cuts a stroke and raises
a burr ; the burr is scraped off, and there remains a stroke
more soft and delicate than can be produced in any other
way.
Although the instruments for the use of the engraver
above enumerated and described are very simple, yet
we have thought it advisable to subjoin the following
figures illustrative of their forms, and about half the dimen¬
sions of those emplo}7ed.
Fig. 1.
Graver.
Fig. 4.
Burnisher.
Fig. 5.
Ball of Etching Ground, covered
with silk.
Fig. (J.
Dauber, covered with silk, and stuffed with
cotton or wool.
The plate is covered with etching ground m the follow¬
ing manner: Heat it upon a stove or otherwise till it melt
the ground in the silk bag, fig. 5, which must be spread
equally over the surface of the copper by means of the
dauber, fig. 6. The ground is then to be moderate y
smoked all over with a candle, and when the plate is cold
it is ready for use. . , , m
Etching ground is composed of virgin wax and asphaltum
each two ounces, and of black and Burgundy pitc eac i
half an ounce. Melt the wax and pitch in a new-glazet
earthen pot. and add to them by degrees the asphaltum
finely powdered ; boil the whole until such time as, by
taking a drop upon a plate, it will break when it is cold,
on bending it double three or four times between the fin¬
gers. The ground, being sufficiently boiled, must be take
off the fire, and, being allowed to cool a little must be
poured into warm water if the weather be . cold, or co d
water if the contrary, in order that it may beten^
easily worked with the hands ; for it should be pulled a long
time to mix the ingredients more completely, when it
may be divided into small balls for use. Ihe fire must be
moderate, for fear of burning the ground ; and the ingre¬
dients must be stirred during the whole time of prepcra-
tion, particularly when the asphaltum is being put in
Wax for surrounding the plate in the process of biting
in with aquafortis is made of one pound of Burgundy
pitch or black pitch, and of bees wax half a pound, melt¬
ed over a slow fire. When melted, add about a gill of
sweet oil, and when moderately hot, pour the whole
into water, pull it well, and fashion it into balls for use.
In the conduct of the graver and dry point consists the
whole art, for which there are no rules to be given, all
depending on the habitude, disposition, and genius of the
artist. However, besides the explanations already given,
some general observations and directions may not be im¬
proper. As the principles of engraving are the same
with those of painting, a person cannot expect to attain
any considerable degree of perfection in this art who is
804
ENGRAVING.
Engraving.nr* a good master of design; and therefore he ought to
''■'''Y'’'*'' be well acquainted with both perspective and drawing in
general ; for, by the proper degradations of strong and
faint colours, he will be enabled to throw backwards the
figures and other objects of the picture or design which
he proposes to imitate, and which the painter often in¬
trusts to the discretion of the engraver. In working, the
strokes of the graver should never be crossed too much
in a lozenge manner, particularly in the representation of
flesh, because sharp angles produce the unpleasing effect
of lattice-work, and take from the eye the repose which
is agreeable to it in all kinds of picturesque designs; we
should except the case of clouds, tempests, waves of the
sea, the skins of hairy animals, or the leaves of trees,
where this method of crossing may be admitted. But in
avoiding the lozenge, it is not proper to get entirely into
the square, which would give the work too much of the
hardness of stone. In conducting the strokes, the action
of the figures and of all their parts should be considered;
it should be observed how they advance towards or re¬
cede from the eye; and the graver should be guided ac¬
cording to the risings or cavities of the muscles or folds,
making the strokes wider and fainter in the light, and
closer and firmer in the shades. Thus the figures will
not appear jagged ; and the hand should be lightened in
such a manner that the outlines may be formed and ter¬
minated without being cut too hard. However, though the
strokes break off where the muscle begins, yet they ought
always to have a certain connection with each other, so
that the first stroke may often serve by its return to make
the second, which will show the freedom of the engraver.
In engraving the flesh, the effect may be produced in the
lighter parts and middle tints by long pecks of the graver
rather than by light lines, or by round dots, or by dots a
little lengthened by the graver, or, best of all, by a judi¬
cious mixture of these together.
In engraving the hair and the beard, the engraver
should begin his work by laying the principal lines, and
sketching the chief shades, in a careless manner, or with a
few strokes; after which he may finish it at leisure with
finer and thinner strokes to the extremities. When archi¬
tecture or sculpture is to be represented, except it be old
and ruinous buildings, the work ought not to be made
very black ; because, as edifices are commonly construct¬
ed either of stone or white marble, the colour, being re¬
flected on all sides, does not produce dark or brown shades,
as in other substances.
In engraving cloths of different kinds, linen should be
done with finer and closer lines than any other sorts, and
be executed with single strokes. Woollen cloth should
be engraved wide, in proportion to the coarseness or fine¬
ness of the stuff, and with only two strokes; and when
the strokes are crossed, the second should be lighter than
the first, and the third than the second. Shining stuffs,
which are generally of silk or satin, and which produce
flat or broken folds, should be engraved more clear and
more straight than others, with one or two strokes, as their
colours are bright or brown ; and between the first strokes
other smaller ones may be interlined. Velvet and plush are
expressed in the same manner, and should always be in¬
terlined. Metals, as armour, &c. are also represented by
interlining, or by clear single strokes. In architecture the
strokes which form the rounding object should tend to the
point of sight; and when whole columns occur, it is pro¬
per to produce the effect as much as possible by perpen¬
dicular strokes. If a cross stroke is put, it should be at
right angles, and wider and thinner than the first stroke.
In engraving mountains, the strokes ought to be frequent¬
ly discontinued and broken for sharp and craggy objects ;
they should be straight, in the lozenge manner, and ac¬
companied with long points or dots; and rocks should Engraving,
be represented by cross strokes more square and even.
Objects which are distant towards the horizon should be
kept very tender. Waters that are calm and still are best
represented by strokes which are straight and parallel to
the horizon, interlined with those that are finer, omitting
such places as, in consequence of gleams of light, exhibit
the shining appearance of water ; and the form of objects
reflected from the water at a small distance upon it, or
upon the banks of the water, are expressed by the same
strokes, retouched more strongly or faintly as occasion may
require, and even by some that are perpendicular. For
agitated waters, as the waves of the sea, the first strokes
should follow the figure of the waves, and may be inter¬
lined, and the cross strokes, if any, ought to be very lo¬
zenge. In cascades the strokes should follow the fall, and
may be interlined. In engraving clouds, the lines should
sport, when they appear thick and agitated, in turning
every way, according to their form and agitation. If the
clouds are dark, so that two strokes are necessary, they
should be crossed more lozenge than the figures, and the
second strokes should be rather wider than the first. The
flat clouds which are lost insensibly in the clear sky should
be made by strokes parallel to the horizon, and a little
waving; if second strokes are required, they should be
more or less lozenge; and when they are brought to the
extremity, the hand should be so lightened that they may
form no outline. The flat and clear sky is represented by
parallel and straight strokes, without the least turning. In
landscapes, the trees, rocks, earth, and herbage, should be
etched as much as possible ; nothing should be left for
the graver but perfecting, softening, and strengthening.
The dry point produces an effect more delicate than the
graver can, and may be used to very great advantage in
linen, skies, distances, ice, and often in water, especially
in small engravings. In most things it is proper to etch
the shadows, only leaving the lighter tints for the dry
point, graver, and other instruments.
Much excellence may be attained, and a great deal of
time saved, by the process of rebiting, particularly in land¬
scape. This process is effected in the following manner:
When all the strokes have been laid in upon the portion of
any subject to be rebit, the lines upon the plate should be
very carefully cleaned out with turpentine and a piece of
stale bread. It is then to be heated, and the dabber, with
a moderate portion of etching ground, applied dexterously
to the surface, care being taken, however, not to permit the
ground to sink into the lines, but only to cover the inter¬
mediate surface effectually. The aquafortis is now to be
applied, and the lines bit down or corroded to the depth
required. This process is, comparatively speaking, of
recent invention, and was wont to be esteemed precarious
and difficult in the management; but a little experience,
and the great demand for illustrated works of late years,
have been the means of rendering this, as well as other
matters of detail in the engraver’s art, much more cer¬
tain.
To imitate chalk drawings, a mixture of varied and ir¬
regular dots are used, made more or less soft, so as to re¬
semble the grain produced by the chalks on paper. Every
stroke of the chalks on paper may be considered as an in¬
finite number of adjoining points, which are the small emi¬
nences of the grain of the paper touched by the chalk in
passing over it. When the copper-plate has been proper¬
ly prepared with etching ground, as in the common me¬
thod of engraving, the drawing to be imitated may be
counterproved on the ground of the plate. If this cannot
be conveniently done, black-lead pencil or red chalk must
be applied to varnished or oiled paper, and this chalk or
pencil transmitted to the ground. The outlines of the
ENGRAVING. 805
Engraving, object must be formed in the etching by points, whose it is our pride to acknowledge that it has been not a little Engraving,
magnitude and distance must be determined by the qua- beholden to the elegant etchings of the great masters in
lity of the strokes in the original drawing. The artist painting, as well as to their drawings in pen and ink in
may be provided with pointed instruments or needles of its early stages, by which means an eminent degree of
various sizes, with single or double points. In forming taste was introduced into the art, particularly in the de-
the light and shade, he should distinguish between those partment of linear disposition ; amongst those, the draw-
hatches which serve to express the perspective of the ob- ing of a Raffaelle, Michel Angelo, and the learned Da
ject, and those which form the ground of it. The princi- Vinci, some of which we have occasionally seen and ad-
pal hatches should be more strongly marked ; the middle mired. Some by Da Vinci were hatched in a square but
tints, if etched, should be marked lightly, or they may be delicate manner, with a white fluid, on dark-coloured pa-
left till the varnish is taken off, and be perfected with a per. Those of Michel Angelo and Raffaelle inclined
greater degree of softness by needles, or the point of the more to the lozenge, in black or brown ink. They even
graver, as the original may require. There is nothing carried this style of hatching with the pencil into their
peculiar in the method of applying the aquafortis in this pictures, some of which adorn the Vatican ; and in the
kind of engraving; but it may be observed that it should famous cartoons in the Royal collection by Raffaelle.
not be left so long as to corrode too much the lighter Baccio Bandinelli generally hatched his lines in one di¬
parts. If the light parts are sufficiently corroded, they rection, particularly a Taking down from the Cross, which
may be stopped up with turpentine varnish and lamp- was sold in London at the sale of the late Sir Joshua Rey-
black mixed together, and the aquafortis may be applied nolds’ drawings. Vicenzio Dante hatched in a similar
again to the stronger parts ; for it will be no detriment way about the year 1550. Julio Romano used also to
to them, if the points which compose the shade burst into draw in this style with the pen, several of which are still
one another, provided the extreme be avoided. When to be found in the most select cabinets of men of taste ;
the work of the aquafortis is finished, and the varnish and for near a century and a half after the invention of
taken off the copper, it will be necessary in the softest etching, it is rare to mention a painter of eminence who
parts, such as the flesh, to interstipple with proper points, was distinguished in drawings, who did not annex this art
as an effect will be thus produced more delicate than it is to that of painting. But with the application of the burin
possible to attain with the aquafortis only ; and the strong- the art has been gradually improving till the present pe-
est shades will require additional strength to be given them riod. Linear2 engraving is nothing more than drawing
with small strokes of the graver. Drawings made with elegantly on copper. It became more studied as it was
chalks of different colours may be imitated in this man- found capable of representing the various appearances of
ner, if a plate be provided for every colour. This method nature. The texture or surface of objects became pro¬
of engraving is intended to form a kind of deception, so portionally discriminated by such peculiar modifications
that the connoisseur may not be able, on the first inspec- of the line as seemed most suitable to the subject icpre-
tion, to distinguish between the original drawing and the sented, although, at the same time, it rendered it much
engraving made in imitation of it; and it is extremely more arduous in the execution. Hence arose that diver-
useful, as it serves to multiply copies of drawings left by sity of style, and that scope for succeeding excellence,
those masters who excelled in the use of chalks, and thus which, by combining elegance with simplicity and beauty,
to form and improve young artists, who could not have distinguished those artists who have been most conspicu-
access to the originals in the practice of drawing. ous in its improvement. _ . .
To this account of the history and practice of the art “ It has been said that we are indebted foi the origin of
of engraving we shall annex the following ingenious ob- this art to an ingenious Florentine, Masso Finiguerra the
servations by an eminent artist.1 We present them to our sculptor. He was succeeded by a number of other
readers without alteration or abridgment. nious men, among whom we rank Botticelli, Andrea Man-
On the li- “ When compared with painting, the art of engraving is tigna, and other able designers ; and in Germany, Albert
near art in but a recent invention, being coeval only with that of Durer, Aldgrave, and Lucas van Leyden, who severa ly
general. printing ; and, like that noble art, it possesses not only a contributed their labours. But in the fifteenth century
similar, but a greater power of multiplying and extending the works of the divine Raffaelle began to be multip led
the productions of genius over the world, for its language by the correct graver of Marco Antonio, an artist whose
is universally understood. prints were the delight of that great painter. Antonio
“ It would have been well for the art if it could boast had many imitators, but none who equalled him tor just-
of a more remote date, as we might then have had many ness of contour, for which his works will be eJei highly
more of the finest designs of the first painters of antiquity, appreciated among the early productions of the art.
now doomed to oblivion, saved from the rude ravages of Having had occasion to mention a few of the principal
t;ine< artists who reared the scaffolding of this elegant art, we
“ But this invention seemed to be reserved for the four- shall proceed to those who have so much distinguished
teenth century, and its improvements for the age of Louis themselves in finishing the superstructure. Among those,
XIV.; an age in which a number of artists, who may be Augustino of Venice began to introduce a better disposi-
said to have invigorated the art and invested it with beau- tion of line in his shades, as well as the ingenious Bo og-
ty, arose both in France and Italy. nese, Augustino Caracci; whilst Lgedms Sadelaer dis-
“ Lines, in the first state of the art, like every other pur- played no less zeal in Germany. In the sixteenth century
suit whose excellence is progressive, were comparatively the art displayed still more vigour and taste, and seemed
rude and unmeaning, and had nothing more to recommend to have but little more wanting; foi all that meagre c ry-
them than merely representing a particular sort of mark- ness of line began to disappear, which so manifestly marks
ings, or slight hatchings with the pen, without any other the early works of II ledesco, Aldegiaff, and other ait-
apparent degree of execution or expression ; although ists of a former period. Their works became consequent-
1 Francis Legal, Esq. historical engraver to George IV • when Prince of Wales, and I*. A. S. E. .
» The author has taken the liberty of adopting here the word linear, from its strict analogy to this mode ot engraving, and with
the approbation of some of the first professors, both in painting and engiaving.
806
E N G K A V I N G.
Engraving* ly more rich in style, by embracing the best productions
of the pencil; and as they were applied to a greater
number of ideas, they became still more interesting and
successful.
“ Patrons were numerous and liberal; and it is but pro¬
per to remark, that the various artists, on their part actu¬
ated by a becoming zeal which was highly creditable to
themselves, were indefatigable. This is a circumstance
not less worthy of imitation than the many admirable mo¬
numents of the art which they produced. Few but ad¬
mired the works of Masson, Poilly, Nantueil, and Rous-
selet; and some time after the death of the ingenious
Cornelius Bloemart, who had given a grace to his lines
hitherto unknown at Rome, the matchless Audran and
Edelinck displayed their excellent productions at Paris.
But arts are liable to fluctuate; and when the art of en¬
graving began to decline abroad, it gradually displayed
a high degree of lustre in our own country; and the
variety of styles which has since sprung from the original
manner of engraving, shall be the subject of the follow¬
ing sketch.
« We shall, therefore, treat more particularly of the dis¬
position of the lines, and their consequent effects, distin¬
guished by the terms linear expression, imitation, disposi¬
tion, and harmony ; with a strict investigation of the first
and most approved subjects, either in etching or engrav¬
ing, and of their essential beauties, as far as they may
tend to illustrate the subject.
“ As the great object of this mode of engraving is to
adopt those lines the most expressive of the form and
character of whatever happens to be represented, it is ne¬
cessary to begin by maturely investigating not only the ac¬
tion, but the cause and correspondent effects, of the origi¬
nal picture, in order that the artist may avail himself of
all that is most beautiful in his translation, and efficient
in the aggregate, either with respect to the expression,
spirit, or sentiment.
On linear “ When historical subjects consist of several figures
expression where there is generally a variety of draperies, some of
and dispo- them appearing thick and cumbersome, others more thin
and flexible, sitting close and elegant on the limbs, being
composed of a finer texture or thread ; the coarser stuffs
are consequently more effectually represented by a bolder
line, as the thinner sort, by the application of a fine line,
gives a more lively representation ; a discrimination which
has been observed of late by the most approved modern
artists in linear engraving. Observations of this descrip¬
tion, when treated in a liberal manner, not only superadd
a degree of truth, but even render the subjects sweeter
to the eye of fancy. In the early stages of the art some
excellent artists have been led into particular and limit¬
ed systems. In the works of such as have affected to de¬
scribe every subject in the same line indiscriminately,
even the arms of the most delicate women are often en¬
graven as if perfectly polished, by approaching to a me¬
tallic appearance, a mode not uncommon among the se¬
cond or third class of artists about the beginning of the
last century ; by which manner all that softness and deli¬
cacy was neglected which is so happily effected in the
linear productions of Strange, Bartolozzi, Morgan, Sharp,
Heath, and others. Those who are acquainted with the
works of the ingenious Chaffard, must with pleasure have
perceived in his foliage how even the texture of flowers is
imitated from the delicate line-like fibres of which they are
composed, issuing from the stem and spreading their silk¬
en beauties to the sun ; and in this class of imitation, the
clear transparency of glass, the rough texture of woollen,
the thinness of lawn, the flickerings of satin, or the light¬
nings of steel, as well as the rude rock, the lucid lake, or
the flashing of the torrent, are all admirably adapted to
sition.
linear effect by the almost infinite diversity in their con- Engraving,
struction and general constituent principles, strictly ob-
serving on what laws the beauty of lines consists, by ever
keeping in view the due balance of taste, and a noble sim¬
plicity of style throughout. It is the business of the
skilful artist to overpower and subdue the difficulties in
his profession ; for no excellence in art is of cheap or vul¬
gar acquisition. Let it be remembered, that with forming
steel even the enchanting graces of the Venus de’ Medicis
were hewn from a rock, "and the almost breathing Apollo
from a block of Parian stone.
“ An elegant English poet, in a critical essay on poetry,
observes that the sound should seem an echo to the sense ;
so should the lines in a fine print seem to harmonize with
the subject, by flowing with the external cast of the fea¬
tures, and the predominant passion expressed in the ori¬
ginal picture; for the same character and disposition
of the lines that suit the action of the muscles in one
passion, will be found to appear more vacant and less ex¬
pressive when applied to others, however graceful they
may appear.
“ As this is a point of view to which the art has never
yet been fully extended, perhaps it may meet with some
degree of attention, as it will be found of utility in form¬
ing a principle respecting disposition, more particularly
in historical subjects, where the passions are required to
be nicely expressed; and although it may admit of some
slight exceptions, it is a principle that will in general be
found to be true.
For example, let it be supposed that the passion of the
figure represented is that of joy, the lines should seem to
expand and swell, with every acting muscle, in the most
delicate manner possible.
“ But, on the contrary, if the subject displays deep sor¬
row, they should rather incline downward, partaking some¬
what of the half straight, seeming to act apparently in
perfect unison and conformity with the features of the
face, with all due subordination to the general effect of
light and shadow.
« Various observations may be made in this manner on
the principal passions expressed in the human counte¬
nance, which are but few comparatively, even from the
slightest movement to the boldest action. We often find,
on examining the works of those masters who aie not so
conspicuous for great clearness of execution, that they
have been occupied by the disposition and energy of the
lines, as in the magnificent and masterly prints of the bat¬
tles of Alexander, from the pictures of Charles l_e Brun, en¬
graved by Gerrard Audran, where the executive depart¬
ment is no less conspicuous from the burin of the Cheva¬
lier Edelinck in the fine print of the tent of Darius; whilst
Audran displays the true spirit of art, but larely avails
himself of much of the mechanical principles. The field
and tumult of battle seemed admirably calculated to call
forth his rapid powers, particularly in works of magnitude.
“ The less active scenery of the tent of Darius was well
adapted to the splendid talents of Edelinck, who was ad¬
mirably qualified to display subjects of this nature. This
is sufficiently obvious from the beautiful and interesting
group of the queen mother, and her illustrious family,
kneeling at the feet of the conqueror ; his impressive print
of the Magdalene, or his most admirable portraits of the
dignified clergy, distinguished authors, and eminent artists.
These, in point of engraving, are no less remarkable for
taste in the execution, than for truth and nature in ex¬
pression. .
“ In one of the battles of Alexander, the group where
Porus is wounded and supported by the soldiers, the roug i
discrimination of line finely accords with that bold deport¬
ment of character in the grim visage of that gigantic
ENGRAVING.
807
Engraving.prince, whilst a more delicate line marks the youthful
countenance of Alexander; a discrimination which is to¬
tally lost in the large Dutch copy by De Vos.
“ In the same print the figures of Alexander and Clytus
are finely relieved from the distant scenery by the varied
description of engraving on their armour, drapery, and
horses. The latter are managed with such freedom and
spirit, that it is difficult to say whether the horses or figures
teem the most with masterly execution ; particularly the
white war-horse on the right extremity of the print.1
“ Had Audran superadded a still greater portion of the
delicacy and clearness of handling so conspicuous in Ede-
linck and other eminent artists since that period, it would
undoubtedly have given an additional beauty to his other
transcendent acquisitions ; namely, the vast spirit of his
lines, and power in drawing.
“ But it is seldom the lot of an individual to combine
every excellence. Arts too have their infancy, for they
generally require the labour of ages to bring them to ma¬
turity and perfection; and it yet remained to unite and
ameliorate the polish of Edelinck, to the spirited style of
Audran. Without prejudice or partiality, a considerable
degree of this excellence will be found in the best works
of British art, as we shall hereafter exemplify.
“ Another fine specimen of linear engraving, and of a dif¬
ferent class, is the celebrated storm of Balechow, from a
picture of the famous Vernet. In this print he has trans¬
mitted with the graver a certain fluidity and action in re¬
presenting the liquid element, to which the art had never
before attained. To a grandeur of style in the bold swell¬
ing of the waves he has superadded the utmost transpa¬
rency of line ; at the same time having attended to all
that light restless spray which seems sporting to the gales
as they roll along. In a fanciful mood one might almost
imagine they heard the motion of the water ; so finely did
this discriminating artist translate this admirable picture.
“ When we consider the period in which this distinguish¬
ed work was engraved, and that little or nothing had been
previously done in that department of a similar excellence^
it is hoped it will be a sufficient apology for the degree of
admiration here expressed ; for, as Lord Verulam truly
observes, “ we are too prone to pass those ladders by
which the arts are reared, and generally reflect all the
merit to the last new performer.” We have already ob¬
served, they are seldom reared with rapidity, and often¬
times that which is considered an invention is only a long
succession of trials and experiments, which have gradual¬
ly followed each other, and ought rather to be considered
as a series of human mind than the knowledge of an indi¬
vidual, being the works of ages. In any point of view,
the present subject will ever be considered as a high im¬
provement and an elegant acquisition in the annals of the
linear art. But in historical subjects this artist is by no
means equal in point of taste or discrimination. His print
of St Genevive undoubtedly ranks high in the first classes
of engraving. Had his taste in other respects been equal
to his powerful clearness of execution, it would have been
almost unparalleled ; but it betrays a want of that essen¬
tial, even in his mode of thinking. Patience and labour
are everywhere too prevalent. It remained for Woollet
to excel both in figures and landscapes.
“ In the various styles and modifications of this expres¬
sive art, from the neat to the feeble, and from the bold
to the extravagant, taste stands sole arbitress; in brief,
it is she who distributes variety with spirit, and conceals
the appearance of intricacy and labour ; who, by a due
modification of line, unites clearness to softness, arresting Engraving,
the hand of the skilful artist from every effort inconsis-
tent with her powers ; producing at once to the mind all
that agreeable finished combination or harmony which ever
accompanies and constitutes the perfection of true art.
“ In the execution of subjects of imagination, there is a
perpetual scope for calling forth the fancy of the engra¬
ver, as the various combinations of lines are inexhaustible,
uncommon effects, such as aerial spirits, or celestial be¬
ings blended with the light, or ghosts commingled with
the gloom, or fairy elves by moonlight, who trip the sands,
and yet no footing seen ; or wood nymphs laving their
taper limbs in the limpid element. Such subjects, in point
of style, depend entirely upon the beauty, lightness, and
transparency of execution ; for those that are merely or¬
namental or grotesque demand a style of a different cast
from that of the serious or historical, as they require a
less degree of truth even from the burin. In these cases
the style may be as capricious as the subjects. Those of
llaffaelle, in the Vatican, display an uncommon degree of
taste, and particularly in the elegant flow of line with
which they are composed.
“ In all works of taste and genius, those which may ap¬
pear the most simple at a transient glance, will be often
found to contain the most art on a more mature investi¬
gation. The first impression may strike the fancy, but
the second generally calls up the discriminating powers of
the judgment.
“ Arts generally rise in our esteem according to the de¬
gree of exertion of the mental powers which they require ,
and, as lines are capable of various styles, those which are
most congenial to the subject represented ought to be ad¬
hered to in preference to every other consideration. Te¬
niers and Gerrard Douw demand all the fidelity and de¬
licacy of the burin in describing the various draperies and
individualities which belong to that class of painting; but,
in proportion as the contour is composed of fewer parts,
and the forms more full and elegant, the beautiful flowing
qualities of the graver are increased, and its lines glide
more gracefully over the figures, as may be found in the
works of Strange and others, from Guido and Correggio.
This distinction will not appear so obvious on a superfi¬
cial view of the art. But, on a due investigation, it will
be found, that not only a different modification of lines is
necessary to the various classes of painting, but that even
a different description of style is requisite to characterize
some of the masters in each particular class, from the su¬
blime and elevated figures ot a llaffaelle and IMichel An¬
gelo, to the simple cottagers of Adrian Ostade.
“ When we take a more comprehensive view of the art,
we often find, that the styles which are adopted in the
different countries in Europe by the artists where the art
has in any degree been cultivated, are generally regulated
by the modes of painting, drawing, and even the colouring
respectively in each, whether historical, portrait, or land¬
scape, and is proportionably appreciated according to the
effective beauty and elegance of the execution.
“ It is not improbable that the clear mode, which at pre¬
sent constitutes the modern German school, is a refine¬
ment on the simple style of Cornelius Bloemart.
“ In Italy, Jachimo Frey, that astonishing Swiss, from his
masterly expertness in drawing, and a rapid use of the
etching steel and the nitre, almost produced an entire re¬
volution in the art. The unprecedented richness and ease,
the freedom and energy of his style, and the number and
magnitude of his works, attracted all Italy, and tended
1 Whenever M. Bartolozzi happened to speak of these prints, he always expressed himself with a great degree of enthusiasm,
ing himself extremely fortunate in having works of such excellence in his possession.
think-
808 ENGRAVING.
Kngraving.greatly to improve the Roman school. About the year
•'V"*-'' 1672 we find him working jointly with the nervous Do-
rigny Frezza, and Vanauden Aird. From this source we
can perceive the style of Wagner, of Cars in France, and
various masters now living ; namely, Francisco Bartoloz-
zi, Giovanni Volpato, Dominico Cunigo, and some of the
early works of the excellent Raphael Morghen.
“ In many instances Frey indicates, that if he had con¬
sidered it of sufficient consequence to the art, he could
have engraved with more clearness, particularly by his cu¬
rious copy, from the celebrated print by Edelinck, of the
Madona and Child, with St John and Angels, from Raf-
faelle ; and, although but an imitation of another style,
tends to show the versatility of his talents, when the judg¬
ment is for a while suspended to know which is the origi¬
nal. We find a performance of Frey’s, entitled La Cha-
rite Humaine, dated 1723 ; a print was afterwards engrav¬
ed from the same subject at Paris by Daulle, dated 1763,
in which he has rather been too profuse in the more me¬
chanical part of the art, and destitute of that ardour which
a well engraved work should not only inspire but maintain.
“ It is not enough for lines to be only well disposed, but
also full of expression ; neither is it enough for a line to
be only clearly cut, but it must also be free ; for in a cer¬
tain free light spirited lines convey an idea of animation,
and are suited to subjects of that description ; while the
long, sweeping, and bold lines are better adapted to the
solemn and majestic productions of the pencil.
“ A fine print, like a miniature picture, ought to be view¬
ed near the eye ; as in itself, from the nature of the art,
will be found a due subordination of effect, ever receding,
from the bold and articulated lines in the fore ground, to
those which are more evanescent and remote.
“ The graceful birch, the mountain ash, and the oak,
have each their peculiar bark and texture ; and these, when
freely indicated, stamp their mark and character most com¬
pletely to the eye. Much of this, as has been formerly
mentioned, depends upon, and is regulated by, the pecu¬
liar style of the picture and the skill of the engraver.
“ As lines seem to partake of motion, in proportion as
they deviate in gentle bendings from the straight and pre¬
cise ; even so also in the motion of water seemingly in¬
creased, whether they undulate with the simplest wave,
or swell with the fierce and tempest-curled surge. This
character is sufficiently illustrated in the works of Bale-
chow and Woollet.
“ In the late Mr Brown’s large print of St John preach¬
ing in the wilderness, no engraver has ever more fully dis¬
played the true spirit of Salvator Rosa, particularly in the
original mode of treating the rocks, and the bold style of
the surrounding scenery; in short, in the aggregate it is
a chef d’ceuvre unparalleled in any country. This is free¬
ly acknowledged, not only by every man of taste, but by
the first landscape engravers.
“ But Brown was perhaps less happy in the companion
to the above, from the celebrated Both, by adapting a si¬
milar mode to that finished and delicate painter. For the
style should ever vary with the subject.
Whate’er Lorrain light touched with softening hue,
Or savage Itosa dash’d, or learned Poussin drew.
“ His admirable etchings of the cottager and its compa¬
nion, and the Celadon and Amelia, are fine specimens of his
discriminating powers, and characterized with so near an
approach to truth, that we cannot help exclaiming with
• the poet,
He sees no other, nature’s self who sees.
“ The engraving of the above subjects was finished by Engraving,
the matchless Woollet with the same happy taste. And
it must be acknowledged that it is but seldom that we see
so many excellencies united; for it is equally rare to see
the finest engraving united to the finest drawing, as to
find it in painting combined with the choicest colouring;
yet each have their decided fascinations in the gallery,
the cabinet, or the portfolio.
“ Woollet, whose works abound with nerve and intelli¬
gence in point of character, his style of landscape is de¬
lightfully descriptive ; whether rocks, water, trees, or sky ;
as the Niobe, the Ceyx and Alcyone, and other master¬
pieces from the great Wilson, evince. In the winter scene
from Smith of Chichester he has admirably contrived to
convey the effect of the drifted snow by delicate dotting;
and with no less precision he has described the transpa¬
rent ice with clear lines. Of trees, he was the first that
ever faithfully characterized the graceful larch; as may
be seen in his views of the noblemen’s seats. In the print
of the fishery he is indebted to the masterly etching of
John Brown, particularly the shipping, in which there is
perhaps no subject more articulate and perspicuous. The
engraving of this subject is finished by himself. In his
figures he was the founder of a style most happily adapt¬
ed for modern dresses and historical portraiture ; a style
in which he moved with unrivalled reputation. His print
of the death of General Wolf, painted by Mr West, is an
admirable example, and does honour to the British nation.
It occupied him no less than four years. The print of
the battle at La Hogue is another fine specimen of his
knowledge of linear discrimination. In short, when we
consider the talents of this artist, it is difficult to decide
whether he most excelled in modern history or landscape.
The art has to regret that he, who was so eminently qua¬
lified to adorn any line of the profession, has left no works
in ancient history. We have little doubt, from his know¬
ledge, and a real love of the art, he would have left a suf¬
ficient monument in that department also for the pleasure
and contemplation of the real connoisseur and of posterity.
Engraving in this country sustained a heavy loss when he
died; and if the death of so excellent an artist may be
considered as a public loss, it is certainly the more felt
with respect to Woollet, who died while he was yet im¬
proving in that excellence.1
“ Chattelaine has been termed a mannerist in his draw¬
ings, but he must certainly be allowed to be an excellent
one; his etchings are variety itself. Perhaps in the de¬
partment of etching no artist has so happily translated
the pictures of Claude de Lorraine as Francis Vivares;
that is, with respect to aerial perspective, the peculiar
characteristic of Claude. But his merits are not confined
to this master alone ; for he followed Ruysdale, Berghem,
Gainsborough, and Cuyp, with great success. He has
such a free delivery of style, that almost every one who
examines his works is irresistibly impressed with an idea
of performing the very same. Few artists, it has been
mentioned, have excelled in the etching department. We
cannot, however, omit the name of Peranezzi; who, to
originality of style, which is apparently spontaneous, joins
a certain grandeur which had never been surpassed. He
has transmitted to posterity so spirited a representation
of the Greek and Roman edifices and ruins, that travel¬
lers have often confessed that they have raised their ideas
beyond the magnitude of the superstructures themselves.
It is certain that in works of this stupendous nature, a de¬
gree of ruggedness in the execution corresponds with the
sublimity of the subjects, and thus produces a still great-
* Although we are now contemplating linear engraving, it is but proper here to observe, that chalk engraving, mezzotinto, and
aquatinta, have also made ample improvements in this country in their various styles of excellence.
ENGRAVING. 809
vitig. er power over the mind than if they had been more po-
lished. Some have censured his figures, and not without
cause. This defect has been ingeniously palliated by an
excellent artist, M. Bartolozzi. “ For,” said he, “ if the
purchasers of the works of Peranezzi get so much for
their money in the building way, the figures may be sup¬
posed to be given for nothing.” Doubtless those vast
piles of perishing grandeur were never more judiciously
presented to the eye than by this astonishing artist, or
better calculated to affect the mind by calling forth its
most sublime ideas.
“ We have another striking instance of spirited etching
in a different pursuit of the art, in the works of Ridinger,
a name which brings along with it all the savage scenery
of nature.
Assembling wolves in raging troops descend 
They fasten on the steed, and pierce his mighty heart.
For we shall ever find some peculiar beauty to admire,
even in the slightest productions of genius, as well as in
the most perfect productions of the burin.
“ There are few artists who do not regret that etching
was unknown to Bolswert, who has done so much without
its aid; from which we may easily suppose how much
more he could have effected with this charming acquisi¬
tion. For the truth of this remark we may appeal to his
landscapes from Rubens, his animated portraits from Van¬
dyke, and his productions from the Flemish school of his¬
tory, particularly his large print of the taking down from
the cross, from Rubens.
“ There is a fine instance of linear effect in a print of a
Flemish conversation piece by Wille. One of the figures
is drinking out of a glass, and the artist has most decep¬
tively described the texture of the drinker’s face through
the glass. In the same print a female figure shows great
skill in this way; even the floor is characterized by lines;
and the whole strongly marks the most proper mode of
treating subjects of a mere local nature. Ihe beautiful
print of the Petit Physicien is also an admirable imitation,
particularly the little pellucid globule which has just
mounted from the shell. When lines are engraved in a
square acute method of crossing, they generally convey
the idea of hardness to the subject represented. The
scientific Picart seems to have been so much aware of
this, that in a print of his engraving of a large marble
group of horses, from the animated chisel of Perriere, he
adopted this style in order to heighten the imitation.
“ Mason’s print of Marshal Harcourt is one of the many
fine efforts of portrait engraving; and although it was
executed at an early period of the art, it abounds with no
small degree of taste. The celebrated print (called the
table-cloth), from Titian, of the Last Supper, also con¬
tains a considerable degree of linear discrimination, al¬
though he sometimes carries it to affectation. He is ra¬
ther singular in his mode of engraving hair. Yet the
portraits of Marshal Harcourt and Brisasiere the secre¬
tary may be deemed exceptions.
“ While, by the magic of his tooling, he is too apt at
times to give his works indiscriminately the appearance of
bronze ; and we frequently find the same in the figures of
Balechow ; but it seems to have been reserved for Strange
to give the softness of carnation to copper, and to Wool-
let to give force and clearness with discriminating taste;
Bartolozzi in his lines, elegance, delicacy, and drawing;
while the works of Audran teem with boldness and sim¬
plicity. In the prints of Sir Robert Strange, the greatest
excellence is perhaps his rich and harmonious tones, as
well as the whole effect, which is supported by an expies-
sive style, which he seems in a great measure to have in¬
vented for his most favourite painters, Correggio, litian,
Guido, and Guerchino. The softness, the gusto, and the
VOL. VIII.
flowing draperies in the works of these masters, were his Engraving,
delight. His sleeping Cupid from Guido, and the prints ^
of the Venus and Danae from Titian, will ever be esteem¬
ed as chef d'oeuvres in the linear art.”
Having thus attempted to fulfil our original intention
of discriminating the most expressive combinations of
lines, and of analyzing and illustrating their various pow¬
ers and effects in engraving, we shall now conclude these
observations; and if, from the nature of the subject, and
from the limits of the sketch, we have failed in marking
every brilliant star in the galaxy of the art, it must at
least be acknowledged that we have not omitted some of
those of the first magnitude.
Engraving upon Steel. On the first discovery of the
art of printing from engraved metals, experiments would
most probably be made with a view of ascertaining the
fittest metal for the purpose. Indeed it is known that
copper, tin, and silver were employed by the early artists ;
and there are some prints by Albert Durer which are
considered as impressions from plates engraved or etch¬
ed on steel. In the collection of Albert Durer’s prints in
the British Museum there are five of these prints, the
chief of which are, Christ in the Gardenia print six inches
by eight and a half, dated 1515 ; the Lady and the Mon¬
ster, twelve inches by eight and a fourth, dated 1516 ; and
the Canon, twelve and three fourth inches by eight and a
half, dated 1518.
But, for the usual purposes of engraving, copper has,
till within a few years, been supposed to have some ad¬
vantages, which have led to its being nearly always em¬
ployed in preference to other metals; and in one instance
only have we found that steel-plate was used for engrav¬
ing upon in this country, before the late attempts to pre¬
vent the forgery of bank-notes. The plate we allude to
is the Ceiling of the Star Chamber, in the Topographical
Illustrations of Westminster, engraved by Mr J. T. Smith
in 1805.
The great expense of renewing plates for bank-notes,
when any superior engraving is introduced for rendering
imitation difficult, suggested the idea of employing a hard¬
er material than copper to engrave upon. Steel-plate was
tried, and found capable of affording from twenty to thirty
times the number of impressions that could be obtained
from a plate of copper, whilst it was not much more difficult
to engrave upon. The advantages derived from employ¬
ing steel were first made public in this country in 1818,
by the inquiry respecting the prevention of forgery, insti¬
tuted by the Society for the Encouragement of Arts in
London, when a specimen of engraving on soft steel was
presented to the society by the late Mr Charles Warren;
and it appeared from evidence collected by the commit¬
tee, that notes with ornamental borders, printed from steel-
plates, were then in use in America. Soon after this period
Messrs Perkins and Fairman from America, in conjunction
with Mr Heath, an eminent engraver of London, formed
an establishment for printing notes and other engravings
from steel blocks.
The methods of engraving on steel now universally
adopted are similar to those employed in engraving on
copper ; differing only as far as was necessary on account
of the nature of the material and the process of harden¬
ing the plates in use in the earlier stages of this inven¬
tion. In addition to these methods, Perkins, Fairman,
and Heath employ a mechanical process for increasing
the number of steel plates. They first make the en¬
graving on a thick plate of soft steel; the plate is then
hardened, and the impression is transferred, in a spring
press, to the surface of a soft steel cylinder, by rolling the
cylinder repeatedly to and fro on the engraved plate, un¬
der a very considerable pressure. The transfer thus ob-
5 K
ENGRAVING.
810
Engraving, tained is in relief; and the cylinder being hardened, it is
^ made, by the same spring press, to repeat as many impres¬
sions as may be desired on soft steel, or on copperplates, for
the purpose of printing from. They usually impress steel
blocks, each of which will afford several thousand impres¬
sions ; and when the cylinder becomes worn by transferring,
a new one may be impressed from the original engraving ;
and, consequently, an inconceivable number of plates may
be obtained from one original plate.
It ought, however, to be remarked, that an engraving
cannot be transferred from steel to steel without injury;
and that the injury will be greater in proportion to the
delicacy of the work. Indeed, where engravings are to be
considered as works of art, it will always be preferable to
engrave or etch on softened steel, and print from it with¬
out hardening. A sufficient quantity of impressions may
thus be obtained, and of a superior kind; because steel
being harder and more compact than copper, it is conse¬
quently less worn by the process of wiping off the printing
ink either with the cloth or the hand.1 But the power of
transferring is of great value in all cases where a great
number of impressions is the chief object desired, as in
notes, plates for school-books, ornamental borders for pot¬
tery, labels, and the like.
In preparing steel-plates, either for engraving or etch¬
ing, the surface should be well polished, so as to render it
compact, of an equable degree of hardness, and perfectly
smooth. The same tools are used as for copper, but they
should be of the kind of steel which is endowed with the
greatest degree of toughness. When a plate is to be
etched, the point which removes the varnish should be
sufficiently hard to penetrate the polish on the surface of
the plate; the acid will then bite more freely, and to a
greater depth, without spreading so as to produce a broad
and shallow line. A point of diamond is, we believe,
sometimes employed, particularly where the lines are drawn
with the ruling-machine invented by Mr Wilson Lowry,
the founder of a new' school of engraving, which has been
of infinite use in diffusing correct taste in architecture and
sound knowledge in mechanics. The same ingenious
artist observed, in the first etchings on steel, that the lines
were broad without depth; and, in consequence, tried to
find a menstruum which would answer the purpose better
than the common acids. In this he perfectly succeeded,
and was enabled to bite the lines deep, and yet preserve
the desired degree of fineness.
Of the common acids, diluted muriatic acid seems to
answer best; but diluted nitric and nitrous acids produce
nearly the same effect.
When the graver is to be much employed on a plate, it
should be annealed, in order to render it uniformly soft.
The plate, after being engraved, may be hardened most
effectually, and with the least injury to the engraving, or
risk of warping the plate, by heating it in a metallic bath,
and quenching the whole in a cooling fluid. A bath of the
fusible alloy of lead, tin, and bismuth, which Dr Wollaston
proposed for hardening delicate steel-work, will perhaps
answer better than any other. (See Cutlery.) It will
always be an advantage to employ a perfectly fluid medium
for cooling; and we have reason to conclude, from some hasty
experiments, that water heated to its boiling-point is better
than cold water for cooling steel. The quick abstraction of
heat, by converting wrater into steam, seems to have more ef¬
fect than the mere cooling power of a large body of cold water. Engraving.
Plates to be hardened should be about half an inch thick.
Being engaged to get up about 100,000 one-pound notes,
and not having had time to case-harden the plate, the writer
was enabled to produce the quantity by means of partially
repairing it; and upon mentioning to Sir David Brewrster
the circumstance, he accounted for it on the ground that
steel, when soft, is tougher and closer in the grain -than
when hardened.
Mezzotinto engraving on steel is also found to answer
well; and upon that metal some very fine prints have lately
been done ; and the great number of impressions which a
steel plate affords will cause this beautiful style of engrav¬
ing to be more generally cultivated.
As printing from engraved steel is now much used as a
means of preventing forgery, we shall close this article with
a few remarks on that subject. It appears to us that there
should be nothing complex in the figures which are selected
for the engraving ; their excellence should consist in the
perfect evenness and parallelism of lines, whether straight
or curved ; but curved lines of difficult kinds should be pre¬
ferred. Many crossings render a pattern intricate and con¬
fused ; they distract the attention and dazzle the sight.
Wavy patterns, with scattered lights, have the same effect.
In such cases it is difficult to compare one specimen with
another, and a general imitation is not so easily detected.
It will be desirable to combine the work of an artist with that
of a mechanical engraver; and in such cases the subject
should be of sufficient size to allow of its being distinctly
made out, because it will increase the difficulty of imitation.
Where the circulation of notes is limited, good engraving
on the note will be some check upon forgery; but the notes
of different banks should be made as distinct as possible,
instead of the same work being introduced in different notes;
as may easily be done with steel cylinders. Where a whole
empire is served with one kind of notes, the temptation to
forge is so great that it cannot perhaps be altogether pre¬
vented; and, therefore, whilst every proper expedient should
be used to increase the difficulty of forgery, no apparent
difficulty of copying should render bankers and others less
on their guard against it.2
The invention of the ruling machine by Lowry was sure
to produce other methods of shortening the labour incident
on engraving entirely by the hand ; and thus we have the
ingenious modes practised by the Americans in their bank¬
notes, bills, &c., and also the process known by the name
of anaglyptography. The public are in possession of some
very beautiful copies both of ancient and modem art——the
work of that machine—in what may be called basso-relievo ;
but after the death of the inventor, Mr Bate, the art was
taken up by Mr Stokes, who carried the invention to such
excellence as to produce copies from entire statues.
Stokes’s engraving machine is constructed to give a pei-
spective likeness of the statue operated on. It consists of
two parts, which are fixed on a stand. The first part is
what is called a section apparatus ; and the second part a
projection rod. The section apparatus consists of two con-
nicallv-shaped arms, jointed together a.nd balanced on an
axis—this axis being parallel to the axis by which the co¬
nical arms are jointed together—thus compelling the end
of the smallest arm attached to a sliding frame to move in
a plane at right angles to the axis on which they are sus¬
pended ; thereby giving the plane of the sections on the
1 A steel-plate which had not been hardened has been known to afford 95,000 impressions without material injui). -vvu-o nnd
3 At the ordinary meeting of the Society of Arts, held December 1854, a paper was read “ On the New Ban o no ’ d to
the substitution of surface-printing from electrotypes for the ordinary copperplate-printing.” Mr Smee state a e P A
the Bank a system whereby surface-printing from electrotype should be substituted for the plate-printing, and t a , wi ^
and Mr Coe, typography had been brought into successful operation for all the numerous forms of notes and c ec r2<l ‘
originals of the devices and letters were never employed for printing, but are simply used as mould-makers, from w e tp„™.
are taken by the use of the ordinary Smee’s battery and precipitating trough. The bank-notes, by this system, are prm e a a s , ,
press, constructed by Napier; and no less than 3000 notes are printed per hour. By this system the most perfec i en i y wou
insured. This method has now been put in operation at the Bank of England.
ENGRAVING. 811
Engraving, statue an inclination of 45 degrees to the plane of the drawing
board on which the copy is to be made, and always parallel
to itself whilst it is moved up and down a prism-shaped pil¬
lar, which is accurately graduated by a dividing apparatus.
The projection rod is a light hollow arm, which is
strengthened by stays and tension wires, and balanced by
a universal joint to a fulcrum firmly fixed on the stand.
At one end of the rod is a slider, moving freely between
four friction rollers, the slider being also attached to the
section apparatus by a universal joint; while at the other
end of the rod is the etching point, working against a ver¬
tical drawing board.
When the machine is to be used, the universal joint on
which the projection is balanced is adjusted to the point of
view at which it is determined previously the copy of the
statue shall be made.
The section apparatus being raised sufficiently high, the
operator takes the slider of the projection rod, and presses
it lightly against the statue, while moving it from one side
to the other. As the section apparatus is attached to the
slider, it causes it to move in the plane which it describes,
and allows it to move freely between the friction rollers in
the projection rod. The slider thus describes the outline of
a surface, or makes a section of the statue, while the etch¬
ing point at the other end of the projection rod describes
a perspective projection of the same on a prepared plate
fixed on the draw ing board. The operator then lowers the
section apparatus one division, and proceeds as before ; thus
alternately lowering one division and describing a line, un¬
til the whole of the statue has been carefully passed over.
See Report of Committee of the Society of Arts, on the
Mode of Preventing the Forgery of Bank Notes, 8vo, Lond.,
1819 ; Edinburgh Philosophical Journal, vol. iii., p. 140.
The method of engraving on copper, in which the lines
or strokes, instead of being cut with a tool or graver, are
eaten in wuth aquafortis, is styled Etching. It is of later in¬
vention than engraving with the tool, of which it was at first
only an imitation, practised by painters and other artists, as
offering greater facilities of working than the graver. But
being considered at first as a counterfeit kind of engraving,
and inferior to the other, it was little cultivated; the close¬
ness of the resemblance of the work to that performed by
the graver being made the test of its merit, and the principal
aim in those who pursued it. This restriction of the art of
etching to the imitation of engraving greatly retarded its
advancement, and many of the most able masters cramped
their talents by the observance of so narrow a rule. This
may be seen in the instances of Sadelers, Swaneberg, Vil-
lamena, and particularly Le Bosse, who, in his treatise on
engraving, has laid it down as a principle, that the perfec¬
tion of this kind consists in the close similitude of the work
to that executed with the tool. But this absurd preposses¬
sion is now removed ; and the method of working with aqua¬
fortis has been so far improved, that instead of being now
deemed a spurious kind of engraving, it evidently appears,
in many modern works, the foundation of an excellence that
could never have been produced without it; since, though
the neatness and uniformity of the hatchings which attend
the use of the graver is more advantageous with respect to
portraits, yet the liberty and facility of etching gives great
opportunity to exercise the force of genius and fancy in his¬
torical engraving, where the effect of the whole, and not
the minute exactness in finishing all the parts, constitutes
the principal value.
There are two methods practised of engraving in this
way; the one with a hard varnish or ground, and the other
with a soft. The hard varnish was at one time much used,
being better accommodated to the intention of imitating the
engraving with the tool; as the firmness of the body of the
varnish gave more opportunity of retouching the lines, or
enlarging them writh the oval-pointed needles, called by the
French echoppes, as was practised by Le Bosse and others Engraving,
for that purpose. The soft varnish has now almost wholly su-
perseded the use of the other, by the free working it admits
of; which affords a power of expression incompatible with
the greater inflexibility of the hard varnish, that confines the
lines and hatches to such a regularity and sameness, as give
stiffness of manner and coldness of effect to the work.
I he combination of the use of scratching tools and aqua¬
fortis, which are now both employed in many cases, has
given to etching that perfection it at present possesses. The
truth and spirit of the outline which the method of working
with aquafortis affords, and the variety of shades which the
different kinds of black produce in this way, as well as other
means of expressing the peculiar appearance and character
of particular subjects, furnish what was defective in the sole
use of the tool; whilst, on the other hand, the exactness
and regularity of the lines, which are required for finishing
many kinds of designs, are supplied by the tools; and by a
judicious application of both, that complete finishing is ob¬
tained which either of them alone must necessarily want.
The manner by which this is performed, is by covering
the surface of the plate with a proper varnish, or ground,
as it is called, which is capable of resisting aquafortis, and
then scoring or scratching away, by instruments resembling
needles, the parts of this varnish or ground, in the places
where the strokes or hatchings of the engraving are in¬
tended to be; then, the plate being covered with aqua¬
fortis, the scored and scratched parts (which are exposed
by the removal of the ground or varnish) are corroded or
eaten away, whilst the remaining portion of the plate, being
secured and defended from the action of the acid, is un¬
touched.
There are two methods of etching, as has been already
observed, the difference of which consists as well in the
kind of the varnish or ground as in that of the aquafortis
adapted to each kind; but the general methods of per¬
forming them are alike in both cases. These varnishes or
grounds are distinguished by the names of hard or soft;
for in their consistence, or the resistance which they give
to the needles, lies their essential variation from each other.
The hard varnish, it is with good reason conjectured, was
not the first in use, but soon took the place of the other,
and was for some time the most received in practice, on
account of its admitting the work to be made more like
that of the graver ; the soft has since, however, in its turn
prevailed, to the exclusion in some degree of the hard, ex¬
cept in the case of particular subjects, but not so entirely
as to take away the expediency of showing how it is per¬
formed. The manner of etching with the soft varnish is
now, however, one of the most important objects of the art
of engraving; and it is at present in universal use, some¬
times alone, but more frequently intermixed with the work
of the tool, and in some cases with great advantage, even
where the whole is intended to pass for being performed by
the graver.
Preparation of the soft varnish, according to Mr J^aw-
rence, an eminent English engraver at Paris.—“ Take of
virgin wax and asphaltum each two ounces, of black pitch
and Burgundy pitch each half an ounce. Melt the wax
and pitch in a new earthenware glazed pot, and add to
them, by degrees, the asphaltum, finely powdered. Let
the whole boil till such time as that, taking a drop upon a
plate, it will break when it is cold, on bending it double
two or three times betwixt the fingers. The varnish, being
then enough boiled, must be taken off the fire, and, letting
it cool a little, must be poured into warm water, that it may
work the more easily with the hands, so as to be formed
into balls, which must be rolled up, and put into a piece of
taffety for use.”
It must be observed, first, that the fire be not too vio¬
lent, for fear of burning the ingredients, a slight simmer-
812
ENGRAVING.
Engraving, ing being sufficient; secondly, that whilst the asphaltum is
V - v ”tt; in> and even after it is mixed with them, the in-
eredients should be stirred continually with the spatula ;
and thirdly, that the water into which this composition is
thrown should be nearly of the same degree of warmth with
it, in order to prevent a kind of cracking that happens when
the water is too cold. .
The varnish ought always to be harder in summer than
in winter; and it will become so if it be suffered to boil
longer, or if a greater proportion of the asphaltum or brown
resin be used. The experiment above mentioned, of the
drop suffered to cool, will determine the degree of hardness
or softness that may be suitable to the season when it is used.
Preparation of the hard varnish used by Callot, com¬
monly called the Florence Varnish.—Take four ounces of
fat oil, very clear, and made of good linseed oil, like that
used by pamters ; heat it in a clean pot of glazed earthen¬
ware, and afterwards put to it four ounces of mastich well
powdered, and stir the mixture briskly till the whole be
well melted; then pass the whole mass through a piece ot
fine linen into a glass bottle with a long neck, that can be
stopped very securely; and keep it for the use that wi
be below explained.
Method of applying the soft varnish to the plate, and of
blackening «Y.—The plate being well polished and bur¬
nished, as also cleansed from all greasiness by chalk or
Spanish white, fix a hand-vice on the edge of the plate
where no work is intended to be, to serve as a handle for
managing it when warm ; then put it upon a chafing-dish,
in which there is a moderate fire, and cover the whole p ate
equally with a thin coat of the varnish ; and whilst the plate
is warm, and the varnish upon it in a fluid state, beat every
part of the varnish gently with a small ball or dauber made
of cotton tied up in taffety ; which operation smoothes and
distributes the varnish equally over the plate.
When the plate is thus uniformly and thinly covered with
the varnish, it must be blackened by a piece of flambeau,
or of a large candle which affords a copious smoke; some¬
times two or even four such candles are used together, for
the sake of despatch, that the varnish may not grow cold;
which if it does during the operation, the plate must then
be heated again, that it may be in a melted state when that
operation is performed; but great care must be taken not
to burn it, which, when it happens, may be easily perceived
by the varnish appearing burnt and losing its gloss. 1 he
following expedient is made use of for the more commo-
diously blackening the varnish, and is particularly necessary
where the plates are large: Fix a strong hook in the root
of the room, through which pass four pieces of cord of equa
length, at the end of which are fixed four iron rings of about
four inches in diameter, for supporting the corners of the
plate. The plate, being thus suspended in the air, with the
varnished side downwards, may be blackened with great
convenience; but this is not, however, absolutely requisite,
excepting in the case of large plates, which could not, with¬
out difficulty, be suspended, unless this or some other such
contrivance were made use of.
It is proper to be very cautious in keeping the flambeau
or candle at a due distance from the plate, lest the wick
should touch the varnish, which would both sully and mar k
it. If it appear that the smoke has not penetrated the var¬
nish, the plate must again be placed for some little time
over the chafing-dish ; and it will be found that, in propoi-
tion as the plate grows hot, the varnish will melt and incoi-
porate with the black which lay above it, in such a manner
that the whole will be equally pervaded by it.
Above all things, in this operation, the greatest caution
should be used to keep the fire all the time moderate; and
to move frequently the plate, and change the place of all
the parts of it, that the varnish may be alike melted every¬
where, and kept from burning. Care must also be taken,
that during this time, and even till the varnish be entirely Engraving,
cold, no filth, sparks, or dust, fly on it; for they would then
stick fast and spoil the work. . . .
Method of applying the hard varnish. This is precise y
the same as that for the soft; it is spread equally over the
warm plate with the taffety-ball, and smoked m the same
manner ; only, after it is smoked, it must be baked, or dried
over a gentle fire of charcoal, till the smoke from the var¬
nish begins to decrease; taking care not to overheat the
plate, which would both soften it and burn the varnish.
The plate being thus prepared, and an exact drawing ot
the outlines of the design made upon thin paper, the other
side of the paper must be well rubbed with chalk or Spams i
whitening, or, which is better, with red chalk scraped to a
powderthe loose chalk is then cleared off with a linen rag,
and the stained side of the paper is laid upon the varnish,
fixing the corners to the plate with wax or wafers, to pie-
vent its shuffling ; and with a blunted needle or pointer the
drawing is slightly traced, and communicates to the varnish
an exact outline of the design to be etched.
A variety of pointers is necessary for the work. I hose
used for the broad large strokes ought to be very blunt, ex¬
ceedingly round, and well polished at the point; the sole
of a shoe answers very well for polishing the points. I he
finest ought to be as sharp as a needle. If any scratches or
false strokes happen in the working, they are to be stopped
up with a hair pencil dipped in Venetian varnish m.xed
with lamp black, by which means these places will be de¬
fended from the action ot the aquafortis.
The next operation is that of eating or corroding the
plate with aquafortis, in order to which a border ot soft wax,
being a composition of bees-wax melted and tempered with
a little Venice turpentine and tallow, must be fastened
round the plate about an inch high, m the form of a little
wall or rampart, to contain the aquafortis. At one ot the
corners of this border a gutter is usually made, which serves
for commodiously pouring the aquafortis oft the plate. I lie
plate being thus' bordered, take a due quantity of the re¬
finer’s aquafortis, mix it with half its quantity of common
water, and pour it gently on, till it rise a finger s breadth
above the surface of the plate ; then, if all things have been
rightly conducted, it will soon be seen that the aquafortis
exerts its action in the hatchings which have been strongly
touched; but those more weakly engraved will appear at
first clear, and of the colour of the copper. The menstruum
must therefore be suffered to continue on the plate till its
effects become visible on the more tender parts ; then the
aquafortis should be poured off, the plate washed with clean
water, and dried before the fire; after which take a small
pencil dipped into the Venetian varnish, and cover with it
the lighter parts of the plate. This being done, the aqua¬
fortis must again be poured on, and suffered to continue a
longer or a shorter time, according to the strength of the
menstruum or the nature of the engraving ; after which it
must be poured off as before, and the plate immediately
washed with water. c ™
It may be observed that, when the aquafortis is on the
plate, a feather should be used to cleanse away the foulness
of the verdigris that gathers in the hatchings by the ope
tion of the aquafortis, and to give it more room to e^rt it
action ; for by moving the aquafortis to and fro on the p ate
by the fea.hel, and brushing away the black sahne matte
where it appears to be formed, the hatchings mil be cleansed
and the aquafortis exert its whole force equally on even part.
The plate being thus sufficiently corroded by the aqua¬
fortis, and well washed with water, it must be warmed at
the fire, and the border of wax removed ; after which t
must be made hotter till the varnish melt; then it must
be well wiped with a linen cloth, and afterwards rubbed
well with oil of olives, when it will be ready to be retouched
and finished by the graver.
ENG
Engraving. Etching on Steel is performed in the same manner as
on copper. Of late years steel has generally been preferred
to copper for this purpose, as, owing to its superior hard¬
ness, a much greater number of perfect impressions can be
taken from the plate.
Etching on Glass is performed in the same manner, by
first laying on a ground of bees’ wax ; then drawing on this
surface with the needle, as in etching on copper; then
pour on it sulphuric acid and flour spar, or fluoric acid
sprinkled on it. After remaining on the glass for four or
five hours, it may be taken off, and the work cleaned with
oil of turpentine.
Engraving on Precious Stones is the representing of
figures or devices, in relief, or indented, on various kinds of
hard polished stones.
This art is at least as ancient as the time of Moses.
From the Book of Exodus (xxviii. 9) we learn that he was
commanded to take two onyx stones and engrave on them
the names of the children of Israel, according to their birth,
with the work of an engraver on stone, like the engravings
of a signet. From this passage wre may conclude that the
Israelites had acquired a knowledge of the practice of gem
and seal engraving, as well as of other arts, during their
captivity in Egypt.
In the Book of Exodus (xxxv. 32) we learn that Bezaleel,
the son of Uri, “had knowledge in all manner of work¬
manship, to devise curious works in gold, and in silver, and
in brass, and in the cutting of stones to set them ; and with
him was Ahobab, an engraver and a cunning workman.”
The art of engraving on precious stones is one of those
in which the ancients excelled ; there being various antique
agates, cornelians, and onyxes, which surpass anything of
the kind which the moderns have produced. Pyrgoteles
among the Greeks, and Dioscorides under the first empe¬
rors of Rome, are the most eminent engravers we read of.
The former was so esteemed by Alexander, that he forbade
anybody else to engrave his head; and Augustus’s head,
engraven by the latter, was deemed so beautiful that the
succeeding emperors chose it for their seal. The extrava¬
gant passion of the Roman matrons for engraved gems was
satirized by Juvenal, and Pliny remarks that they “loaded
their fingers with princely fortunes; ” but these costly or¬
naments were not limited to the person ;—this extravagance
gradually extended to the wearing apparel oi both sexes,
and to other articles, and the dress of the wealthy Romans
sometimes absolutely glittered with engraved gems.
All the polite arts having been buried under the ruins
of the Roman empire, that of engraving on stones met with
the same fate. It was retrieved in Italy at the beginning
of the fifteenth century, when one John ol Florence, and
after him Dominic of Milan, performed wmrks of this kind
no way to be despised. From that time sculptures of this
kind became common enough in Europe, and particularly
in Germany, whence great numbers were sent into other
countries ; but they fell far short of the beauty of those of
the ancients, especially those executed on precious stones ;
for, as to those on crystal, the Germans, and after them the
French, &c., have succeeded well enough.
In this branch of engraving artists make use either of the
diamond or of emery.
The diamond, which is the hardest of all stones, is only
cut by itself, or with its own matter. The first thing to be
done in this branch of engraving is, to cement two rough
diamonds to the ends of two sticks large enough to hold
them steady in the hand, and to rub or grind them against
each other till they be brought to the form desired. I he
dust or powder which is rubbed off serves afterwards to
polish them; and this is performed with a kind of mill that
turns a wheel of soft iron. The diamond is fixed in a brass
E N L 813
dish, and, being thus applied to the wneel, it is covered Engoulee
with diamond dust, mixed with oil of olives ; and when the II
diamond is to be cut facet-wise, first one face, and then an-
other, is applied to the wheel. Rubies, sapphires, and to- v y
pazes, are cut and formed in the same way on a copper v
wheel, and polished with tripoli diluted in water. As to
agates, amethysts, emeralds, hya inths, garnets, rubies, and
others of the softer stones, they are cut on a leaden wheel,
moistened with emery and water, and polished with tripoli
on a pewter wheel. Lapis-lazuli, opal, and some others,
are polished on a wooden wheel. To fashion and engrave
vases of agate, crystal, lapis-lazuli, or the like, a kind of
lathe, like that used by pewterers, is made use of to hold
the vessels, which are to be wrought with proper tools.
That of the engraver generally holds the tools, which are
turned by a wheel; and the vessel is held to them to be
cut and engraved, either in relief or otherwise—the tools
being moistened from time to time with diamond dust and
oil, or at least emery and water. To engrave figures or
devices on any of these stones when polished, such as medals,
seals, and the like, a little iron wheel is used, the ends of
whose axis are received within two pieces of iron, placed
upright, as in the turner’s lathe, and so adjusted as to be
brought closer, or set further apart, at pleasure. At one
end of the axis are fitted the proper tools, which are kept
tight by a screw. Lastly, the wheel is turned by the foot,
and the stone applied by the hand to the tool.
The tools are generally of iron, and sometimes of brass.
They vary in form, but generally bear some resemblance
to chisels, gouges, and the like. Some have small round
heads like buttons ; others are like ferrels, to take the pieces
out; and others again are flat. When the stone has been
engraved, it is polished on a hair brush-wheel with tripoli.
For engraving on stone, see Lithography. (w. h. l.)
ENGOULEE, in Heraldry, a term applied to crosses,
saltires, &c., when their extremities enter the mouths of
beasts, as lions, leopards, &c.
ENGRAINED, in Dyeing, dyed in the raw material.
ENGUERA, a town of Spain, province of Valencia, and
32 miles S.S.W. of the town of that name. Pop. 5244.
ENHARMONIC. See Music, §§ Harmony and Mo¬
dulation.
ENIGMA. See ^Enigma.
ENIPEUS, now the Fersauiti, a river of Thessaly, ris¬
ing in Mount Othrys,and which, after uniting its waters with
those of the Apidanus, falls into the Peneus. There is also
a small river of this name in Macedonia, and another in Elis.
ENKHUYZEN, a fortified town of Holland, province
of North Holland, on the Zuyder Zee, 28 miles N.N.E. of
Amsterdam. The harbour, which was formerly very con-
modious, is now, from the accumulation of sand, all but
useless. It has, however, extensive herring fisheries, and
some trade in cheese, fish, salt, timber, &c. Pop. 6000.
ENLISTMENT, in British naval and military affairs,
denotes a voluntary engagement to serve as a private sol¬
dier or sailor. The term of service in the army may be
either indefinite, as during the continuance of a war, or for
a fixed period ; which period varies in the different classes
of troops. In the infantry, this period cannot exceed
ten years; in the cavalry, artillery, or other ordnance
corps, twelve years ; and in the East India Company’s ser¬
vice it may be either indefinite, or for twelve years. In
each case, if the recruit be under eighteen years of age, his
term of service is to be reckoned from the day of his attain¬
ing that age. The term of enlistment in the marine forces
is limited to twelve years. (See acts 10th and 11th Viet.,
cap. 39.)
In the British navy, according to an act passed in 1835,
a man is allowed to enlist for a period not exceeding five
814 E N N
Enmanche years ; and on the expiration of that term he is entitled to
his discharge, under certain restrictions, if he should desiie
Ennius. t0 qUjt the service.
ENMANCHE (Fr. manche, a sleeve), in Heraldry, an
epithet used when lines are drawn from the centre of the
upper edge of the chief to the sides, to about half the
breadth of the chief, as if it had sleeves upon it.
ENNEAGON, in Geometry, a polygon with nine sides.
ENNEATICAL (iwea, nine), relating to the ninth of
anything; as the enneatical days (or every ninth day) of
a disease.
ENNIS, a municipal and parliamentary borough and
market-town of Ireland, capital of the county of Clai'e, si¬
tuated on the Fergus, here crossed by 4 bridges. Distance
from Limerick, 20 miles W.N.W. The town is meanly and
irregularly built. The principal edifices are the parish
church, a Roman Catholic chapel, used as the cathedral for
the diocese of Killaloe, a Methodist meeting-house, an en¬
dowed and two national schools, county court-house, fever
hospital, infirmary, gaol, workhouse, and market-house.
At a short distance from the town is Ennis College, founded
by Erasmus Smith. Ennis has a considerable trade in
grain, flour, and other commodities, which are conveyed in
lighters for shipment to Clare, 3 miles lower down the river.
There are extensive flour mills in the town. Market-day,
Saturday. Races are held annually in the neighbourhood.
A railway is in course of construction between this town
and Limerick. Ennis returns a member to parliament.
Electors (1&51) 143. Pop. (1851), in town 7800; in
workhouse 3542; gaol 727; infirmary 96.
ENNISCORTHY, a market-town of Ireland, county of
Wexford, and 13 miles N.N.W. of the tovyn of that name.
The town, which is situated on the declivities of steep hills,
on both sides of the river Slaney, is well built and thriving.
The chief public buildings are the parish church, Roman
Catholic chapel, convent, Methodist and Quaker meeting¬
houses, court-house, market-house, hospital, bridewell, and
an old castle. It is a place of considerable trade ; and two
extensive quays have been constructed along the river.
There are tanneries, breweries, flour-mills, a distillery, rope-
walk, and an earthenware manufactory. Market-days,
Thursday and Saturday. Pop. (1851) 7735. In the vici¬
nity of the town is Vinegar Hill.
ENNISKILLEN, a municipal and parliamentary bo¬
rough and market-town of Ireland, capital of the county of
Fermanagh. It is situated on an island in the strait or river
which connects the upper and lower lakes of Lough Erne,
102 miles N.W. from Dublin. The town occupies the
whole island, and is connected with two suburbs on the
mainland on each side by two bridges. The chief public
buildings are the parish church, a Roman Catholic chapel,
Presbyterian and Methodist meeting-houses, county court¬
house, prison, infirmary, town-hall, Royal School founded
by Charles I. and richly endowed, three national schools,
union workhouse, and three barracks. It has also a brew¬
ery, two tanneries, and a small manufactory of cutlery; and
a considerable trade in cattle, timber, coal, provisions, and
linen. Market-days, Tuesday and Thursdays Enniskillen
distinguished itself during the war of 1689 by its attach¬
ment to the liberal side, and by its resisting and defeating
a superior force sent against it by James II. Part of the
brave defenders of the town were subsequently formed
into a regiment of cavalry, wdiich still retains the name of
the Enniskillen Dragoons. Pop. (1851) 5998. It returns
a member to parliament. Registered electors (1851) 172.
ENNISTYMON, a market-town of Ireland, county of
Clare, on a small river of the same name, near its mouth
in Liscanor bay, 14 miles W. by N. of Ennis. Pop. (1851)
1729, exclusive of 1070 in workhouse and 12 in bridewell.
ENNIUS, Q., a celebrated Roman poet, born at Rudiae
in Calabria, b.c. 239. Of his early life nothing is known,
E N N
save a tradition that he entered the Roman army and Ennius,
rose to the rank of centurion., In the thirty-eighth year of v—“
his age he went to Rome under the protection of Cato ;
but he left it shortly afterwards, and served in the Greek
campaigns under M. Fulvius Nobilior. Through the son
of this commander, Ennius, when far advanced in years,
obtained the rights of citizenship, at that time the greatest
honour for which an alien could look in the Roman com¬
monwealth. During the wars with Greece he made him¬
self thoroughly master of the language and literature of that
country; and on his return to Rome he formed the bold
design of modelling the Latin language on the basis of
the Greek, especially in so far as the metres of the latter
tongue were capable of being adapted to the genius of the
former. The success with which he worked out this idea,
and his general reputation as a man of learning (for he
spoke no fewer than three different languages—a very rare
accomplishment in those days), gained for him the respect
even of the haughtiest patrician families whose children he
instructed. With the Scipios, in particular, he lived on
terms of the greatest intimacy ; and when at length he died
in the seventieth year of his age (b.c. 169), he was buried
in the tomb of that illustrious family.
The works of Ennius have long since perished ; though
at what date cannot be exactly determined. A. G. Cramer
believes them to have existed entire so late as the thirteenth
century, though there are good reasons for doubting the
correctness of this statement. Such portions of his works
as are quoted by Cicero and other ancient writers, though
they amount in all to some hundreds of lines, are yet so
fragmentary and unconnected that it is impossible to form
from them any estimate of the works from which they are
extracted. Some few of these quotations are in themselves
complete and perfect pictures, often of much originality and
force, such as that preserved by Aulus Gellius, in which
the duties of a client to a patron are set forth. Though we
cannot now judge for ourselves of Ennius’s merits as a poet,
yet if the testimony of the most competent judge among
his own countrymen be believed, he possessed no mean
claims to the title of the Roman Homer. As in the case
of the Grecian bard, there arose a race of men who earned
a livelihood by reciting his martial strains to the rural popu¬
lation in the Roman provinces, and even to the more refined
audiences of the metropolis. It is no mean attestation to
the genuine worth of Ennius’s lays that they suited the
tastes of every grade of Roman society, and retained their
popularity unimpaired till the days of the empire. Cicero
more than once speaks of Ennius as the greatest of Roman
poets ; and Virgil not only praised him, but borrowed from
him some of the finest thoughts which adorn the 2Eneid.
The service which Ennius rendered to the Latin as a
national tongue we have already alluded to. The benefits
which he conferred upon it are analogous both in kind and
in degree to those which Chaucer conferred upon the Eng¬
lish tongue. Before his time the Romans could hardly be
said to possess a regularly constructed language, or any li¬
terature beyond the rude ballads which they received by
oral tradition from their ancestors. He left them both a lan¬
guage and the basis of an independent and national literatuie.
In the fragments of his works which have survived to
our day we observe traces of the most intense nationality.
They all breathe a high spirit of independence, and display
loftiness and vigour of thought, and an energy of expression
such as none of the later poets of Rome ever attained, and
which amply compensate the trouble of mastering the
archaic forms in which he delighted. The reader who will
not allow himself to be repelled by the apparent clumsiness
or even coarseness of this antique phraseology, will probably
admit that after all they are better adapted for expressing
that style of thought which Ennius cultivated than the more
refined dialect of a later era.
E N S
Enoch The mosc important of his works was his Annalium Libri
Ensiled XVIIL ; an epic poem in which was related the history of
 ’ Rome, with all its mythological and fabulous incrustations,
from the era of Mars and Rhea till the end of the second
Punic war. Nextin importance were his plays, which were for
the most part translated or adapted from the Greek, the ori¬
ginal metres being preserved. Of his tragedies, the titles
and fragments of twenty-six have been preserved. Similar
remains of four comedies have come down to us. His satires,
which may rank third in importance, were written in four
or six books, and in a great variety of metres. His other
works are very miscellaneous in their character. These
are—Scipio, a panegyric upon the elder Africanus; Epi-
charmus, a didactic poem, which, from some fragments
which have descended to us, may be conjectured to have
borne a strong resemblance to Lucretius’s great work;
Phagetica, a treatise upon edible fishes, believed to be a
translation from Archestratus, Epigrams, of which only
two upon Scipio now remain ; Protreptica, a work on prac¬
tical ethics, but whether prose or poetical, cannot now be
decided. The first edition of the poetical fragments of
Ennius appeared at Paris in 1564, from the press of the
Stephenses; but a much more complete and correct edition
appeared at Naples about the close of the same century,
under the care of Jerome Colonna, which was reprinted
with the notes of Voss and Delrio at Amsterdam in 1707.
This must still be regarded as the best edition of Ennius.
ENOCH, one of the antediluvian patriarchs, son of
Jared, and father of Methuselah. After a life of 365 years
spent in walking with God, he was miraculously translated
into heaven. The apocryphal book bearing his name was
composed originally in Chaldee or Hebrew, but both the
original version and the Greek translation seem now irre¬
coverably lost. The loss of these has been partly supplied
by the Ethiopic version, which Bruce brought home with
him from Abyssinia, and which was translated into English
by Dr Lawrence in 1821. From the chronological notes
to be found in the book itselfj Dr Davidson supposes it to
have been written probably about b.c. 40: and, on this
supposition, it throws considerable light on the Christology
of the age preceding our Saviour’s advent. Liicke and
Stuart, however, suppose it to have been written by a Jew
already instructed in Christianity. The language ascribed
to Enoch in the Epistle of Jude, is to be found, with some
variation, in this work.
ENOS, the ancient EEnos, a seaport-town of European
Turkey, province of Rumili, sanjiac of Gallipoli, and 38
miles N.W. of the town of that name. It is situated on
the S. side of the gulph of Enos, near the mouth of the
Maritza, and is in fact the seaport of Adrianople. Its posi¬
tion is admirably adapted for trade ; but a sandbank has been
allowed to form at the mouth of the harbour, so that none
but vessels of the smallest size can now enter, all others be¬
ing obliged to load and unload outside the bank. Pop. of
town about 7000. The gulf of Enos is 14 miles in length,
by 5 in breadth.
ENS (from esse, to be), in Metaphysics, entity, being,
existence. This the schoolmen call ens raz/eand ens posi-
tivum, to distinguish it from their ens rationis, which exists
but in the imagination.
ENS, a town in the Austrian province of the Upper Ens,
situated on a steep bank, near the junction of the Ens with
the Danube, 10 miles S.E. of Linz. It is surrounded by
old walls, and has some manufactures of iron and steel.
Pop. 3500. Ens was the headquarters of Napoleon in 1809.
Ens, or Enns, a river of Austria, falling into the Danube.
It forms the boundary between the two provinces of the
Lower and Upper Ens, commonly called Lower and Upper
Austria, and constituting the Archduchy of Austria. See
Austria.
ENSEELED, in Falconry, is said of a hawk that has her
ENT 815
eyes closed by a thread drawn through her upper eye-lid Ensham
and made fast under the beak. II
ENSHAM, a village, formerly a market-town of Eng- EntalE
land, county of Oxford, on the Isis, 64 miles from London,
It has two handsome stone bridges over the Isis, a fine
Gothic church, a singular and very ancient tapering cross, and
remains of an extensive abbey. Pop. of parish (1851) 1941.
ENSIGN, in the military art, a flag or banner under
which soldiers are ranged according to the different com¬
panies or parties to which they belong.
The Turkish ensigns are horses’ tails; those of the European
nations generally are made of silk, and ornamented with
divers figures, colours, arms, and devices. We learn from
Xenophon that the ensign borne by the Persians was a
golden eagle on a white ground: the Corinthian standard
was the winged horse or Pegasus : the Athenians adopted
the owl: the Messenians the Greek letter M: the Lace¬
daemonians the A. The Romans, at different times, had
various ensigns, as the wolf, minotaur, horse, and boar ;
till at length they assumed the eagle, in the second year of
the consulate of Marius. A military ensign on a medal of a
Roman colony indicates a colony peopled with veterans.
Ensign is also the designation of the officer who carries
the colours. He is the lowest commissioned officer in a
company of infantry. See Commission, Military.
Naval Ensign, a large standard or banner hoisted over the
poop of a ship on a long pole called the ensign staff. It is
used to distinguish ships of different nations, or to charac¬
terize the different squadrons of the same navy. The British
ensign in ships of war is known by a double cross, viz. that
of St George and St Andrew, formed upon a field which is
either red, white, or blue.
ENT, Sir George (1604-1689), an English physician,
born at Sandwich in Kent. He received his medical de¬
gree at Padua; was afterwards president of the college of
physicians in London; and received the honour of knight¬
hood from Charles II. His principal work is a defence of
his friend Harvey, entitled Apologia pro Circulatione San¬
guinis, contra EE milium Parisanum.
ENTABLATURE, in Architecture, that part of an order
which rests upon the abaci of the columns. It is composed of
the architrave, the frieze, and the cornice. See Archi¬
tecture, Plate LXII. fig. 1.
ENTAIL, an arrangement for adjusting or limiting the
succession to landed property in a line of succession pre¬
determined by the entailer. The term, though it is of fre¬
quent use in the legislature and the courts of justice, is rather
colloquial than technical, being applicable in England and
Ireland to the form of estate technically called a Fee Tail,
and in Scotland to the destination technically called a tail¬
zie. The w’ord is of doubtful origin : some would derive it
from the Latin talis, as being an indication of certain per¬
sons who are to succeed ; but the most commonly received
derivation is from the same root with the French tailler, to
cut; and Spelman tells us, that a fee is called talliatum
when certain faculties are cut away from it so that it can
pass to no heirs save those springing from a particular body.
Under the head of the Law of Entail it has been customary
to treat the policy of restraints on the right to possess and
dispose of landed property, in connection with history, poli¬
tics, and political economy; and though the intricacies and
niceties which have been adopted to carry out particular
destinations, or to defeat them, are of considerable import¬
ance in the science of conveyancing, it is in connection with
the policy of restraining or freeing the commerce in land
that the subject of entails is chiefly interesting.
There has been a remarkable difference in the history of
the entail system in England and Scotland, connected with
the differing political progress of the two countries. It is
said that from very early times the judges administering the
common law in England were accustomed to aid in stripping
816
Entail.
E N T A I L.
destinations of land of their conditions and limitations, by
o-iving effect to fictitious sales by tenants in possession and
reconveyances into their bands, which endowed them with
fee-simple or unlimited ownership. The passing of the sta¬
tute of Westminster, in 1285, is generally supposed to have
been a remedy sought by the aristocracy against those
practices of the common lawyers which they deemed an in¬
fringement of their territorial power. This statute is pecu¬
liar and argumentative in its phraseology, complaining that
in certain enumerated cases “ feofees had power to alien
the land so given, and to disherit the issue of the land
contrary to the minds of the givers, and contrary to the
form expressed in the gift;” and it enacts, “ that the will
of the giver, according to the form in the deed of gift
manifestly expressed, shall be from henceforth observed.”
Blackstone tells us, that during about two centuries when
this statute was observed,—“ Children grew disobedient
when they knew they could not be set aside; farmers were
evicted of their leases made by tenants in tail; for if such
leases had been valid, then under colour of long leases the
issue might have been virtually disinherited; creditors wrere
defrauded of their debts; for if tenant in tail could have
charged his estate with their payment, he might have also
defeated his issue by mortgaging it for as much as it was
worth ; innumerable latent entails were produced to deprive
purchasers of the lands they had fairly bought—of suits in
consequence of which our ancient books are full; and trea¬
sons were encouraged—as estates-tail were not liable to
forfeiture longer than for the tenant’s life.” (B. ii. chap, vii.)
It is said to have been owing to the encouragement which,
for this last reason, King Edward III. extended to a judi¬
cial remedy, that the judges in the celebrated case of Tal-
tarum gave countenance to a new fiction for checking the
course of entails. When it was brought into form, it was
known by the name of common recovery. 1 his was a
judgment in a fictitious suit, in which the tenant of the
estate was made defendant. In its simpler form the tenant
or possessor appeared to the action, and called upon a ficti¬
tious person to vouch or warrant his title. I hat person’s
default was the break which judicially stopped the course of
the entail, and other proceedings more or less complex, ac¬
cording to circumstances, restored the estate in fee-simple
to the tenant. The form became a systematic but com¬
plex department of English conveyancing, until it was sim¬
plified in 1832, by the passing of the 3d and 4th Will IV.,
c. 74, which substituted a deed enrolled for the fictitious
process. A subsequent act, passed in 1838, facilitated the
realization of entailed estates for the benefit of creditors.
In Scotland, the history of the entail system is so far dif¬
ferent, that it was there created and strengthened by the in¬
genuity of lawyers, who, as fast as their brethren discovered
assailable points in the usual form of the deed, fortified it
with new clauses. The simplest form of the deed was a
mere nomination of a certain series of heirs, or direction to
invest them,—this was easily defeated, and the “ prohibitory
clause” was inserted to prohibit tbe heir in possession from
altering the destination. Still when he did alter it, it was
but a precept disobeyed, and did not change the condition
of the property; hence the claues “irritant” was introduced,
by which the contravene!' forfeited his title. 1 here was
still a deficiency—the forfeiture might be incurred, yet no
one had a rignt to come forward and enforce it by claiming
the estate forfeited, and the form was completed by the in¬
troduction of the clause “resolutive,” which devolved the
forfeited estate on a claimant who might prosecute on the
forfeiture as the true owner. Sir Thomas Hope, a lawyer
famous in the religious disputes of the seventeenth century,
lias the reputation of being the inventor of these clauses,
which were sanctioned in the year 1685, by a statute which
reduced entails in Scotland to a systematic form. An entail
scientifically and accurately constructed, not only deprived
the heir in possession of all power to alter the line of suc¬
cession, but protected the estate from his creditors, and
transmitted it untouched to the next in succession. It pre¬
cluded provision to widows and children ; but measures were
adopted for partially remedying this part of the evil effects.
During the eighteenth, and nearly the half of the nine¬
teenth century, the practice of entailing crept like some
great blighting disease over the soil of Scotland, not only
perpetrating gross injustice to creditors, and creating great
personal hardships by condemning to destitution the chil¬
dren of parents enjoying large estates, but checking the
progress of agriculture, and interrupting the commerce in
land. The practice of the law made a curious and faint pro¬
test against the progress of the system, by requiring that
the terms of an entail were to be held strictissimi juris;
that is, that the meaning of the clauses should never be
sought for, or be explainable by even the simplest and
most obvious process of interpretation, but that any defect,
such for instance as a clerical error in the deed or the record
by tbe omission of a word, should vitiate the entail.
The effects of the system were felt as sufficiently alarm¬
ing by the public at large ; but the great patrimonial interests
involved in existing entails seemed to unite in their defence a
body too formidable to be assailed, while the tract of country
already subject to tbe influence of the restraints was so
large as to render any remedy which was not capable of dis¬
entangling existing restrictions comparatively ineffective.
In 1847, when the evil had reached its climax, the legal
administration in Scotland was fortunately in the hands of
Andrew Ilutherfurd, then Lord Advocate, a man of very
signal attainments, and among the greatest British lawyers
—-certainly the greatest Scottish lawyer of his age. Being
engaged in a general plan for the simplification of the tenure
and transference of landed property (see Conveyancing),
he undertook the arduous task of an equitable adjustment
of the entail question. The .main objects were the pro¬
tection of all interests founded on just expectations a
freedom to dispose of such well-founded interests at the
option of the owners, for the purpose of disentangling pro¬
perty of the restraints of an entail, and general freedom to
the holders under future entails to convert their limited hold¬
ings into property. For this object, the first of August 1848
was made the turning point. Persons then in existence,
and holding under entails of prior date, were enabled to dis¬
entail them only by certain intimations and equitable con¬
sents. Persons unborn at that date had greater facilities, and
entails made after the assigned date were placed at the virtual
disposal of the heir in possession when of full age. 1 he
number of advertisements containing tbe statutory notices of
disentails which followed this measure gave ample evidence
of its success ; and there is no doubt that it will greatly in¬
crease the productive value of land in Scotland, and promote
the general prosperity of the country. (j- H- B0
Entail
END OF VOLUME EIGHTH.
NEILL AND CO., PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
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